E.B. laughed. “Either way, maybe they could compete with Prestonshire on Elm.”
“Not likely. Denbigh isn’t going to stop until he owns the whole valley,” Putnam said.
“Please, let’s not spoil a perfectly lovely evening talking about Nigel Denbigh,” Sue pleaded. “I don’t care to hear his name again.”
“I agree,” Amanda said. “We hear enough about that monster as it is. There is no need to let him destroy our evening.”
E.B. held up his hand. “All right,” he said. “You have my solemn oath that I won’t mention that son of a bitch’s name again.”
“E.B.!” Sue scolded. “Your language!”
“Well, what else could I say, Sue? You said I couldn’t mention his name again.”
Ralph laughed out loud. “I think he got you there, Sue.”
Suddenly, someone burst through the front door, startling everyone with his unexpected entrance. His clothes were dirty and torn. His face was scratched by brush, his hat was gone, and he was bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. It was Leo McCann, Ian’s son. E.B., Ralph, Sue, and Helen went over to him.
“Leo, what in heaven’s name is it?”
“Mr. Fowler! Mr. Putnam!” Leo said, gasping for breath. “You gotta come! You gotta come quick!”
“Come where, son? You have to tell us what is going on.”
“Our ranch has been hit!” Leo said. “Curly and Slim have both been shot dead.”
“What?” Sue gasped.
“And they’ve set fire to the ranch. Our house is burnin’ down, Mr. Fowler. I expect it’s purt’ nigh burnt to the ground by now!”
“Who would do such a thing?” Helen asked.
“It was Denbigh, ma’am,” Leo replied.
“You saw Denbigh?” E.B. asked.
“No, sir, I didn’t see Denbigh, but it was him that done it all right, ’cause I seen a lot of his men that I recognized. Slater, Dillon, Wilson, Carver, and that new fella he has workin’ for him. Meacham, I think his name is.”
“Pa, come out on the porch! I can see the fire from here,” Green called back into the house.
E.B. and the others ran out onto the front porch, where they could see a red glow in the night coming from the direction of the McCann ranch.
For a moment, everyone just stood there, mesmerized by the scene. Then, E.B. gathered his senses. “Come on!” he shouted. “If we get over there in time, we might be able to save some of it! Sue, you gather all the buckets you can find. I’ll hitch up the wagon.”
“I’ve got some more buckets back over at my house,” Putnam said. “I’d better go get them.”
“Do that, I’ll meet you there,” E.B. said as he started toward the barn. “Green!”
“Yes, Pa?”
“You saddle Rhoda—no, wait, better make it Patch, he’s stronger and faster. Ride as fast as you can and go to as many farms and ranches as you can get to. Tell them what is happening and tell them to meet us at McCann’s.”
“All right,” Green said. He was disturbed by the fact that the house of one of their neighbors was being burned down, but excited over the prospect of riding Patch. He was not only going to ride his father’s favorite horse, he was going to ride him at full speed.
“Which way you goin’ first, Green?” Leo asked.
“I’ll go east,” Green said. “Startin’ with Mr. Byrd’s house.”
“All right, I’ll go north, starting with Mr. Donovan’s place.”
Even before E.B. had the wagon hitched up and brought around to the front of the house, Green and Leo left, both riding at a full gallop.
Sue ran out of the house carrying six empty buckets that she threw in the back of the wagon. No sooner was she in her seat than E.B. snapped the reins against the back of the team and the wagon lurched forward, reaching full speed quickly.
By the time they arrived, a few others, who were closer to the McCann Ranch and had seen the fire, were there also. A bucket brigade had already started with a line of men passing buckets filled from the well toward the men nearest the fire, while a line of women passed the empty buckets back for refill. E.B. and Sue added their buckets and joined in, just as the Putnams arrived.
d
3
Chapter Twenty-seven
The next morning, the cool morning air was redolent with the smell of smoke and charred wood as the sun peeked up over the eastern horizon. More than a dozen wagons were parked in the soft, morning light, and in the wagons, nestled among the quilts and blankets, slept the very young children of the families that had come to help fight the fire. By light of day, the damage done by the fire could be clearly seen. The house had burned all the way to the ground, and was now nothing more than smoldering ashes. The stained-glass transom that was one of the
