Chapter 13
Max couldn’t hold on to the coughing men and crawl, so he got to his feet and squatted down. “Stay low, and I’ll take you to safety,” he said, struggling to breathe in the thick acrid air. He pulled them forward as best he could and moved toward the door.
The flames grew all around them, and Max had to really concentrate to figure out the way out. The smoke was starting to overwhelm his ability to think. Breathing became his only focus.
“I can’t make it,” one of the men gasped. “I can’t . . . can’t breathe.”
“Bohdi, you have to keep going,” the other man called out.
“Come on, fellas, it’s not that far.” Max saw a glimmer of light ahead. That had to be the open door to the outside.
Reaching around, he pushed each man forward. “There’s the door. We’re nearly out of the building. Keeping moving. I’m right behind you.”
Seeing them quicken their crawl, Max felt certain they’d renewed their hope.
He watched a moment to make certain they reached the door.
When both men had cleared the exit, Max moved forward, but the crackling of timber overhead drew his attention.
He glanced upward just in time to see a large piece of the roof come down.
Something struck him, and then there was nothing but blackness.
_____
Max felt a burning heat in his throat as he stirred back to consciousness.
He couldn’t tell what was happening, but he knew he was being moved.
He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t see.
He heard someone talking, saying something about a boat.
For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why there would be a boat. Was he at the lake?
The lake had been like glass that day he and Evie had gone with her brother and friends. It was the most pleasant of memories. She had laughed and talked with him as if they had been old friends instead of new acquaintances. Max had never enjoyed anything more.
Evie.
Where was she? Was she here? He tried again to look around, but there was nothing but blackness and the sound of men’s voices. And then the voices faded away and there was nothing.
_____
When Max finally came to, he could feel the rocking of the boat, and someone was wiping his face with a damp cloth.
“Mr. Garrison, you’re safe. Wake up, we’re almost to shore.”
Max looked at the dark-headed man. He was Italian and came from a big family who lived in a neighborhood of people from his homeland.
What was his name? John? Michael? No, it was Matteo.
That was it. Max tried to speak, but his throat felt raw and all he could do was cough.
The smoky air around them did nothing to help.
“Just relax, Boss. You’re hurt, and we’re taking you to the doc. They have a medical wagon set up on Nicollet Island. Just lie still.”
Max had no other choice. Once again, he felt the darkness closing in. Looking up, he could see nothing but smoky skies and the worried faces of three of his best employees.
Evie was grateful there weren’t too many injured.
Occasionally someone came to them with severe burns, but there weren’t nearly as many needing medical services as Evie and her father had first expected.
In fact, so far they hadn’t heard of a single death.
That alone was most peculiar for a tragedy of this magnitude.
Charlotte Van Cleve and the ladies of the Aide Society had set up tables and food on the east shore of the river.
Mother had left her station near the medical wagons, going to help her friend and make certain that plans were being made for housing.
With the additional medical staff now on site to help her father, Evie excused herself to join her for a short time to see what else might be accomplished.
“Evie, how goes the medical needs?” Mrs. Van Cleve asked. “Do you have enough bandages? I’ve brought more with me.”
“We’re doing fine. We haven’t had nearly the problems we anticipated. We haven’t had any deaths.”
“Well, there are two reported, but not exactly from the fire itself,” Mrs. Van Cleve explained. “A child fell from a second- or third-story window and broke her neck. She was watching the fire unsupervised. Then there was a man who suffered a heart attack.”
“It’s amazing that no one has burned to death in their homes or businesses.
I suppose it’s natural that the businesses should be fairly deserted on Sunday.
And I suppose, too, that given it was a Sunday afternoon, many were either out enjoying the day or at least awake and able to hear the bells of warning.
” Evie glanced at the numerous groups of people sitting on the grassy bank.
“Where are all these people going to sleep tonight?” she asked.
Mother handed her a glass of iced tea. “We were just speaking to the mayor about that, along with Chief Runge. We’ve put out a call for tents of every size.
We even wired up to Duluth and St. Paul for any they could spare.
I’ve pledged money for their purchase. But for the night, they will open a couple of the large meeting halls and house people there. ”
Evie was glad to hear that at least everyone would have somewhere to go. “How many people are we talking?”
“Possibly more than one thousand men, women, and children,” Mrs. Van Cleve replied. “The fire chief said that at the rate the fire is burning, it could be even more.”
Evie had trouble even imagining a thousand people. She glanced out over the hundreds already gathered. The sea of stunned and frightened faces was almost more than she could bear. Her heart was breaking for those who’d lost so much. How could she best help them now?
“I should get back to Father.” She took a long drink of tea, then handed the glass to her mother.
“The wind has shifted some. At least that makes the air a little more breathable. If it gets really bad for you here, I recommend damp handkerchiefs tied around the face, especially for the elderly and littlest children. The smoke could easily cause them the most problems.”
Mother nodded. “We’ll see to it, Evie.” She gave her a hug and then kissed her cheek. “Please tell your father not to take any chances. If the fire shifts, get out of there in a hurry. Don’t try to be heroes.”
Evie smiled. “I’ll tell him, but you know him better than anyone.”
“Can I be of help?” a voice asked.
“Claudette! Of course you can help,” Mother said, embracing her sister-in-law. “Is Daniel here too?” She glanced around for Claudette’s husband.
Evie leaned in and kissed her aunt. “It’s good to see you, Auntie. I must get back to work, but hopefully, I’ll see you later.”
She made her way back to where her father stood talking to several of his colleagues. As she approached from one side, Chief Runge moved in from the other.
“Gentlemen, we have hope. The fire is slowed by the brick frame of the Minnesota Brewing Company. There’s also been a shift in the winds, and if it continues, it might well blow the fire back on itself.”
“We’ll pray it might be so,” Dr. Bolton replied. Evie had met the man earlier, along with Nurse Treadwell. The two worked with Dr. Overton at a clinic on the far west side of town.
“I wonder if I might get a couple of you doctors to follow me back to where we have several injured firemen. They didn’t wish to leave their posts, yet they need some attention.”
“Dr. Bolton and I can go, if it’s all right with him,” Dr. Overton said, pointing to the older man. “We can take Nurse Treadwell with us.”
Evie glanced at the older nurse. She was a no-nonsense kind of woman who reminded Evie of her supervisor at school.
“Of course. Let’s go,” Dr. Bolton replied. He gave a nod to Nurse Treadwell, who quickly gathered their bags.
They left Evie and her father and headed off with Chief Runge just as Jacob and Andrew drove up in the wagon.
“We’ve got a patient,” Andrew declared, setting the brake. He looked at Evie and then their father. “It’s Max Garrison. He’s unconscious. The men who rescued him said they were on Boom Island at the sawmills, and some burning beams fell on him. They pulled him out right away and got him to a boat.”
Evie felt as if a band had tightened around her chest. She hurried with Father to the end of the wagon and peered inside. Max lay completely still. There was blood on his head and burned fabric around his left shoulder and neck.
“Bring him to the other wagon. We have everything there sterilized as best we can,” Father instructed.
Evie rushed ahead of them and picked up the scissors to help cut away Max’s coat and shirt.
As soon as they placed him on the wagon bed, she went to work.
Max moaned and moved ever so slightly as she took hold of the burned lapel.
She quickly cut away the cloth, and the shirt soon followed, all while Father examined Max’s head wound.
“Bring me more light,” he ordered, looking to the boys.
Jacob went to where several lighted lanterns were waiting. He quickly brought one back and placed the handle over a hooked pole that had been erected on the side of the wagon.
Evie swallowed the bile in her throat. This was Max, and he needed her at her best. She whispered a prayer for all three of them, asking God to help her and her father to best treat Max’s wounds and that God would also heal Max and help him regain consciousness.
With the clothes cut away and the extra light, Evie was relieved to see that although Max was burned, it was minimal and not overly widespread.
Apparently, the men who had helped him were able to put out the fire before it did too much damage.
Still, the burns he had suffered were bad enough to require treatment and cause concern of infection.
She reached for the pot of cool clean water and pulled out one of the soaking pieces of cloth. Without bothering to wring it out, she let the water drench the wounded area. With great care, Evie repeated the process and cleaned the area around Max’s neck and shoulder.
“His burns are second and third degree. They are contained to the shoulder and neck area with some charring on the worst injuries,” Evie told her father. “There is also impact bruising and minor lacerations along the collarbone.”
“Yes, it would seem the beam impacted the side of his head before hitting his shoulder,” Father replied. “He’ll need some stitches, but the gash isn’t the worst I’ve seen. Go ahead and clean the wound. I’ll get the sutures ready.”
Evie did as instructed and took up soap and warm water. She gently scrubbed the damaged area and spoke to him. “Max, it’s Evie. You need to wake up now.”
He stirred and moaned, but nothing more.
Evie continued to clean him up. “Max, you’ve been injured, and my father needs to stitch you up. It’s going to hurt a bit, and it would be better if you would wake up so that you knew what was going on.”
His eyes opened for just a moment, then closed again. He seemed to be coming around.
“Max, come on. Wake up.” She touched his cheek.
Feelings that she’d never known seemed to surge to life, and she found herself completely overwhelmed by the rush of emotions.
She cared about this man. Cared a great deal.
Seeing him injured caused her great concern, more than she normally felt with patients.
In her training she had learned to distance herself from feeling too much for a patient. A clear and unemotional head was needed to perform the duties required. It had always been taught that working on loved ones should be avoided for just such reasons.
She glanced down and found he was watching her. She smiled and ran her hand along his jaw. “It’s about time you woke up.”
“Am I—” He coughed and sputtered. “Wa-water, please.”
Evie reached for a bottle and helped him raise his head just enough to get a drink. “Not too much, Max. Not too fast.” She helped him to lie flat once more.
“Am I dead?” He closed his eyes again, and Evie feared he was slipping away.
“Wake up,” she said rather sternly. “You aren’t dead.”
“But I saw an angel.” A grin spread across his lips.
“Wake up now!” she said a little louder than intended.
He opened his eyes, and his smile broadened. “You’re a bossy nurse.”
She laughed. “Yes, I am.”
“I thought—” he coughed again—“I thought you were an angel.”
She rolled her gaze heavenward. “I’m no angel, and as soon as I start helping my father stitch you up, you’ll know that well enough.”
“Do your worst,” he murmured.
Father returned with his suture kit and gave Max’s eyes a close inspection. “How are you feeling? You took a hard blow to the head.”
“And shoulder. Hurts a great deal.”
“You have some bad burns there,” Evie explained.
Father waved her back. “Try to raise your left arm, Max.”
He tried but cried out in pain. Father stilled his efforts and felt along the shoulder.
“Collarbone is broken, and the worst of your burns are located around the same area. It feels like the collarbone fell back into place, but I’ll double check it momentarily. First, I’ll get you stitched up. Then we’ll tend to the burns and collarbone.”
Max looked at Evie and again gave her a hint of a smile. “Will you hold my hand?”
Evie’s father laughed out loud. “That’s probably a good idea. That way when I stick this needle in, you won’t be able to punch me.”
Max shook his head ever so slightly. “I promise to mind my manners.”
Evie took his hands. “Go ahead, Father. I’ve got a good grip.”
Max tightened his hold on her. She met his gaze and saw something in his expression that suggested his feelings for her had somehow deepened.
She didn’t know what it was about his look, but it caused a shiver to run up her spine.
Her eyes widened slightly as she considered the feelings coursing through her. Was this love?