The Ranch, June 26, 1989
The lowing cows signaled that Who-see had stopped at the river’s edge, an unforeseen obstacle as they escaped down the dirt road through the thick cedar grove. The thunderhead with its suction of atmosphere now passed, it left behind an ominous stillness as the 100-degree heat continued its sizzle of the parched prairie. Jerry followed behind the cows and calves, leaving no one behind. A bleating calf had found refuge in a break in the thickly interlaced branches of the towering cedars. It staggered with a limp. Jerry dismounted and spoke in a low, calm voice as he approached the calf. He placed his open hand to the calf’s muzzle as he stroked her neck. The calf calmed. Inspecting her legs and hooves he found no broken bones, but palpating and kneading the hips she flinched, likely from a compression bruise as she was squashed between two cows during the tight squeeze through the fence opening.
He placed a lead rope around her neck and led her from beneath the trees to the chuck-wagon road. Mounting Sky, they led the calf at a slow walk to the river bottom. The herd had calmed and watered, some belly deep in the flat bottom river that cut through the sandy layer beneath the prairie sod, its edge receded from the outer banks that towered over them.
The snap and crackle and the roar of fire-wind approaching, caused Jerry to look from where they had come and then skyward. The air was still, but the shimmering above the treetops indicated that the wildfire was consuming the red cedar Christmas trees at the grove’s edge. Brownish white smoke belched when each tree ignited. He knew the tree barrier would slow the fire’s ground advance, but a new wind caused by the rise of air sucked skyward, flamed like a blowtorch. The tree canopy would soon look like a cake smothered with lit birthday candles. He passed through a gap at the river’s edge and led the calf to drink. The heat-stricken three-month-old readily lapped—content to be with family.
The challenge was not crossing the still water, lazy from the drought. Instead, it was finding an opening on the other side to ascend the bank. The herd nestled on the sandbar across from the elbow of the river bend, a protrusion into the river that formed a cove of water cut deep as it turned on itself during the flood stages of a wet spring. The rope swing dangled from the sycamore branch, a sand bottom beneath, the swimming hole had receded into a giant puddle.
“Who-see, Who-see, Who-see!” Jerry sang out. He prodded Sky further into the water until his stirrups skimmed the river’s surface. The current was slight but sufficient for a leisurely float to the next bend that would have a sandbar exposed on the right bank. The herd lined the beach shoulder to shoulder and watched him with interest.
“Mooooo!” bellowed Who-see as she stepped forward to advance through the water. The herd followed. Jerry nudged Sky towards the outer bank where the river was deepest. The water filled his boots, and the calf bobbed from the lead rope and bleated a plaintive cry. The rocking of Sky’s walk subsided as they floated together with the herd converged behind them, a channel of cattle heads bobbing.
Moonwalk trotted down the one lane dirt road that bordered the fence perimeter of the pasture and hayfield that surrounded the homestead. Rick would start the backfire at the northern corner. He dismounted and stayed his horse, their six-year friendship like that of the Lone Ranger and Silver. Gathering a clump of dry grass, Rick switched a match to set it afire. Removing the firestick’s cap to allow it to dribble the gasoline and diesel mix, he then dropped the plug end into the fire. The gas ignited with a whump. Moonwalk snorted and eyed the flames, the dark and round eye reflecting the spreading flames as he mounted.
Rick surveyed the wall of fire now just a quarter mile from the road’s edge and sighted the middle of its advance. He would create a fire-wedge, an inverted V that would burn out as it reached the perimeter road. His fire was a controlled burn. The wind subsided from the dry storm’s advance to the east, its black retreat a vivid contrast with the blue sky veiled with smog. The danger of a mass of tall grass consumed by a ten-foot wave of flames was its fury advance without notice of direction or speed. It could leap across the pasture. It could encircle and trap. He had a half-mile to traverse to the other end of the fencerow to secure the safety of the homestead that Noah had built. The pipe dragged along behind, the gasoline dribbling and bouncing out, setting grass ablaze in a continuous string of fire. As he approached closer to the advancing wall of fire, he felt a different heat from that of the summer day. Whatever moisture was in the air was sucked dry, and the temperature parched desertlike hotness. The wind crossed his face as the flames consumed oxygen, the roar intensifying with complete combustion of the grasses. Dizzy and with a throbbing headache, he gripped the saddle horn for balance and fought to maintain focus on the turning point where he would ride away from the consuming fire.
Water shed from Jerry’s legs as Sky climbed out of the muck of the submerged sandbar. He led the calf to the sloping higher ground, this bank void of trees and brush from the annual burns that maintained the prairie to the water’s edge. Further upstream, the grove, now a towering inferno of 50-foot trees shooting flames another fifty feet in the air, blocked all view of the burning prairie that lay behind it as the cows and calves trod their way to the safety of the neighboring pasture.
Jerry dropped the rope leading the lame calf and heeled Sky to gallop up an eastern knoll to gain vantage of the fire’s advance—the burned out prairie behind it smoldering a white haze. Through it, Jerry saw the orange wall advance—a menacing front line of ground warriors consuming its foes. Reaching the slopes plateau, he saw the fire line set by the firestick, the vertex of a V intended to stop the advancing firewall as his dad rode diagonally across the pasture towards the road.
The sharp vertex of the V began to widen as the two sides coalesced in flame stoked by the leaping flames from the rushing wind of the approaching wall of wildfire. The firestick’s diagonal stroke of fire behind Moonwalk began to shorten as the vertex continued to widen. From his vantage point, he realized the unfolding danger.
Scorching heat surrounded Rick. He was moving away from the wall of fire on his right, but he saw flames spontaneously erupt behind and on his left side. Moonwalk broke into a run. He pulled on the reins to slow him—finishing the backfire line was essential. He fought the adrenaline pumped impulse to flee, and in panic response, pulled the reins tighter. Moonwalk raised his head with a fight and kicked up on his hind legs and whinnied above the sound of the roaring hellfire.
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Excerpt from PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff Cambridge.
Author of transformational fiction—
Realistic characters in real life drama that tell the story of their transformation to become a better person.
To read the scenes sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A Novel – Prologue”
Located in the May Blog Archive. Click on the episodes and enjoy.
This episode is pre-published. The book will be available Spring 2018.
Your comments are welcomed and appreciated. Check one of the reaction boxes below, write a comment, or email me at lightbycambridge@gmail.com.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and locales are intended only to give the story a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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One mistake changes the course of three lives…
Jessie – chasing the dark side of destiny
The daughter of an alcoholic father in prison for manslaughter and a mother who has abandoned her for her latest boyfriend, Jessie has but one objective in life – to find the big ticket out of her miserable childhood.
Christina – striving to bring comfort and light
The daughter of a nurse who served in the Army medical corps, she follows in her mother’s footsteps, pursuing her passion to care for the disadvantaged. A ballerina – a thousand eyes behold her, the dance flowing seamlessly.
Jerry – living in the grey of his circumstances
The son of a sixth-generation Kansas rancher, his desire is to make it rich – to find the American Dream. A cowboy with a tender heart and crystal blue eyes, he finds love in unforeseen places.
An allegory of destiny and choices, of wasted dreams, of paths that lead to nowhere… of trials, we face every day.
PURSUIT
Where will the chosen path lead?
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Copyright 2018 © Jeff Cambridge
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