“These people were my friends.”
“God judged the town.”
Heather put her cup of tea on the table with a little more force than necessary. She was surprised the china didn’t shatter. “I don’t think that it is...”
“Mrs. Barnes do not interrupt me. I have been through town. I’m seeing Mr. Blanchard gather the bodies. There are too many bodies to count.
“Perhaps you should be offering prayers over those bodies.”
Pastor Collins pulled on his frock. “Perhaps I should.”
“What about our husbands?” one woman asked. “We should send a rescue party after them.”
“We probably need to get more of us together,” Millie said.
Heather cleared her throat. “Sheriff Applebee was going to start a list of those who had lost loved ones in this disaster. Perhaps we could all meet at the church tomorrow afternoon and piece together what we know. Maybe we could implore him to put together a party to go find our husbands.”
“I don’t need a party,” Millie insisted. “I’ll go out there on my own.”
“Sit down, Millicent,” Heather admonished. “Let’s put a notice up in the front of the mercantile and ask everyone to gather at the church.” Heather turned her eyes to Pastor Collins and gave him a little smile. “That is, if it is alright with you?”
“Of course, my dear,” Pastor Collins said. “You are most fortuitous because the church is a place where all lost and hurting souls should congregate. Beatrice, we should leave. I need to make my rounds in town.”
Beatrice handed her cup to Heather. “Thank you for the visit,” she said softly, following her brother out the door.
“I need to check up on my own animals.” Heather dreaded the long walk to the chicken coop. The pasture was dotted with the cattle she had left out to graze. The horses and goats inside the barn only had frostbite and were very loud, demanding to be fed. The feed bucket had been knocked over, which told Heather the animals did have something to eat.
She thought about the cows again. If she had only brought them into the barn. But she was in such a hurry to make her rounds.
If only…
The women said their goodbyes and left, leaving Heather and Millie alone for a few moments.
“What about the livestock?” Millie asked.
“What about them?”
“The field is dotted with cattle.”
Heather rubbed her brow. She had the start of a headache. “Millicent, the animals are dead.”
“You can’t leave them there.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do with them. My only help went on the hunting trip. They are still partially frozen. I can’t think about it right now. Do you want to drop the notice off at the mercantile or should I?”
Millie shook her head. “I really need to get home. When are you going to call the meeting?”
“I’ll put the notice up in the morning at the church and mercantile. Ten o’clock.”
Millie nodded. “I’ll be sure to be there.”
She picked up her shawl and headed out the door. It was still warm as Heather watched Millie walk in the direction of her house.
Heather pushed back her hair with her arm. Her hands were full of wood, and she didn’t have a spare pin to hold it in place.
“Got room for any more?” a voice called from behind her.
Heather dropped the cottonwood onto the fire and closed the door before turning around. Mr. Walker hopped down from his wagon seat and moved around to the side of his wagon. He was an older gentleman. His wife had passed before Heather ever arrived in Last Chance. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly, and he walked with a slight limp.
“Has it already been butchered?” Heather asked.
Once the initial meeting was held at the church, it was decided that the town needed to save as much of the meat as they could instead of letting the carcasses rot in the field. The smell was already drawing predators. Heather had seen cougar tracks in the muddy ground. She wished Jackson were here to help her. The men gathered to work their way around the farms, butchering the cattle, hogs, and horses that perished outside. The women butchered goats and chickens.
Heather assisted the women in setting up makeshift smokehouses at the farms. Some were as simple as using the lean-to against the barn and covering it with blankets to make sure the smoke didn’t escape. Others were fancier, using a stove and a smokestack to funnel smoke into a closed space.
Heather expanded the smokehouse at the butcher shop by using a canvas tent and draping it over the fenceposts in the back of the shop. She could smoke thirty quarters at once. The meat that wasn’t smoked, was stored in barrels filled with salt. Those barrels mostly consisted of pork and some cuts of beef. The moisture would be drawn from the meat into the salt and it would form a casing around the meat. The meat could keep almost indefinitely through salt packing.
“We quartered it for you.”
“I’m running out of room, but let’s get these up.”
Heather created a hole in a tendon with a sharp knife and ran a metal hook in the hole. Mr. Walker helped her carry the heavy quarter and finagle it under the canvas. Racks had been created from wet trees and Heather hooked the meat on one of the smaller trees. The hook fit perfectly, and the meat didn’t touch the ground. She prayed that the rack would hold.
They repeated the process with the last quarter when Heather heard shouting from the depot. The voices were getting louder.
“What did he say?” Mr. Walker asked.
“I think they said someone was coming.”
