Chapter nineteen- Beatrice

Beatrice watched in complete surprise as Gilbert sprinted away. She still felt dazed and off kilter after that mind-numbing kiss. All she could think was how desperately she wanted him to come back and kiss her again. She had been so lost in that passionate embrace that she forgot all else. Her only thought was how could he kiss her like that and just run off? Hadn't he felt anything? She could barely think or even catch her breath, let alone find the physical strength to rush off like that.

Her body ached to be held in his arms again, and yet she also wanted more. She didn't understand exactly what 'more' entailed. She had no idea what came after those delicious kisses of his but she was certain there was more than that. There had to be something and he was withholding that knowledge. She yearned for him to teach her. This needy wanting had her desperate to experience the rest and she found herself instinctively moving to follow him.

But then a large group of women marching past, heading down the slope to the bridge, jarring her from that passion-induced haze. Recalling the duties assigned by Mayor Howard, she lifted her skirts and scrambled after the others. There would be time for mooning about later. She caught up to them just as they reached the other side of the bridge.

"What do we do now?" One young woman asked.

"Spread out girls." An older, grey-haired woman directed. "Stay on the outskirts of the village but look for anything that will hold water. Buckets, pitchers, bowls, anything you can find."

They all scattered. Beatrice and another young woman hurried towards a burned-out building together. There wasn't much left of the little structure. A couple of half-burned walls and a doorframe. Beatrice wasn't as familiar with this end of town. She couldn't tell if the building had been someone's home or one of the small shops in town.

"I don't think we're going to find much." The brunette scowled doubtfully at the charred ruin.

"We just have to keep looking." Beatrice replied.

She stepped carefully across the threshold and found a water bucket sitting just inside. Considering the condition of the rest of the building, it was a sheer miracle the bucket was fully intact. It looked virtually untouched by the fire. Plucking it up off the floor she turned and passed it back to the other woman.

"Here, you take this to the river and I'll see what else I can find."

As the woman raced off, Beatrice returned to her search. The floor of the place was barely visible through all the blackened debris. Fallen beams and charred remnants of walls blocked her way. She dare not go any further so she backed out and moved on to another building. There didn't seem to be anything else salvageable in the next place, so she turned and moved on. After searching two more ruined structures and finding only one washbasin, she gave up the search and hurried back to the river.

Apparently, her search had been no more successful than the any of the rest. Between the group of them, they only had a dozen or so containers. But at least they had something. The women quickly formed a line from the river with a few teenage lads ferrying the buckets at the end of the line nearest the fires. It didn't take long until all the containers were filled and passed through to the men.

"What do we do now? We have no more buckets." Another young blonde woman asked.

Beatrice looked down at her soaked skirts and suddenly remembered the Sheriff's suggestion. The material was old and worn but still good quality wool. Not only would it soak up and hold five times more water than some of those small containers, it would also be useful to beat the flames.

"Take off your skirts." She exclaimed, bending to yank her own off.

"Our skirts." One woman protested, horrified.

"Soak them good and pass them along. The men can use the wet cloth to beat at the flames." Beatrice explained, ignoring the scandalous expressions of some of the women.

Then the older woman stepped up and gruffly commanded, "Come on girls. Get them skirts off." She proceeded to yank at her own skirts.

"But Miss Mabel," The blonde protested.

"This is no time for modesty. The men need something to fight the blaze and we have nothing else." Miss Mabel argued gruffly.

She finally ripped her skirt free and dropped it into the river at her feet. Several other women quickly followed suit. Before long every one of them stood in just their petticoats or even bloomers as many of them had sacrificed even their underskirts to the cause. By the time they passed the last of the cloth through to the men, the buckets were returned and they loaded them up again. Beatrice stood in her spot near the water's edge and mindlessly shifted containers back and forth until her arms felt like wooden slats and her back began to throb and ache. The skirts were not returned but it was understood the men were using the wet cloth to beat back the flames.

Several times throughout the night they heard crashes and shouts. Each time the women paused and several of them could be heard praying for the safety of their men. But Miss Mabel would admonish them to keep on and they returned to their work. Once they even heard a man scream and every one of them cringed with fear and worry.

Beatrice told herself it couldn't be Gilbert as the man couldn't utter a sound. It had to be someone else. But that didn't stop her worrying. All she could think of was that painful looking scar that ran over his shoulder and down his back. He had suffered horribly in a fire in the past and survived, but what if something horrendous happened to him this time? He couldn't call for help. No one would be able to locate him in this dense smoke. Especially if he was caught inside some collapsed building. She wanted nothing more than to rush off and find him just to see that he was safe and unharmed.

But then, she reminded herself, every woman here was probably thinking the same thing. Their loved ones were also out there in the night, fathers, brothers, lovers, friends, fighting just as hard to extinguish the flames and force this fire into submission. She looked around, seeing her own fears reflected in their drawn faces. They were all just as worried as she was. A few of the younger women were weeping openly and yet they kept working. When they began to lag with aching exhaustion, Miss Mabel railed at them.

"Come on girls. If the men can keep up the pace, so can we." She told them.

And the women would gather renewed strength from somewhere and continued to supply the water needed to extinguish the blaze. They couldn't stop. The men needed a continuous supply of water and it was their job to keep providing it. After what seemed like an eternity the blaze finally burned down until it was only smoldering. Having consumed almost the entire town, the flames had run out of fuel to feed upon. What few structures still stood were made of mortar and stone.

The women maintained their bucket-brigade, continuing to fill every vessel they had and pass them down the line, but the sense of urgency was gone. Exhausted as they all were, they dared not relent until every flame was extinguished. They could see the men moving through the destruction, dousing little fires here and there. Some beat at the flames with blackened cloth. Some kicked at smoldering rubble and douse it with water. Buckets and bowls were constantly being returned and refilled.

Beatrice watched carefully for any sign of Gilbert but the big man was nowhere to be seen. She knew he had to be about somewhere, and there was nothing more she would like than to go and find him, but she had a job to do. If there was one thing her parents had taught her, it was a sense of responsibility. She remained at her post.

Then, through the darkness she caught sight of a huge, misshapen figure stalking towards them through the destruction. She squinted, trying to discern details. It appeared to be some sort of beast of burden but it couldn't be a horse because she definitely recognized two human legs. As the figure drew closer, she was able to make out more details. She realized it was a massive, giant of a man carrying something bulky on his back.

The only man of such gigantic proportion she knew was Gilbert and she nearly sagged with relief. He was alive, but what was he carrying? Another man she recognized Mr. Sumter hurried along in the big man's wake. Beatrice felt some appreciation that the two of them had stayed together. Both seemed unharmed but she still couldn't see what Gilbert was carrying on his back. Obviously, the burden was too cumbersome and heavy for the skinny clerk to manage but what was it?

No, not what, who? It was a body. A man by his mode of dress. A big, bulky man wearing what had once been a fine quality suit of clothes. It wasn't until they turned to cross the bridge that she recognized him and gasped with surprise.

Mr. Narwhal. The man was still as death. His clothes were singed and smoking, covered in soot and grime. She had never seen the pompous merchant looking so disheveled. Gilbert carried the man on his back like a sack of grain. Once again, his massive size worked to his advantage as people hastened to make way. Beatrice watched until they disappeared around the last bend, heading for the church. Then she returned her attention to passing containers up and down the lines.

It was just after sunrise when the Sheriff called a halt. Most of the fires were out. Those still smoldering would soon be extinguished. Most of the women climbed up onto the grassy bank and collapsed. Many of the men joined them. Some even stretched out and fell asleep right there. They had been successful. The fires were out, but everyone was far too exhausted to celebrate.

All Beatrice wanted to do was collapse right there with them but she also desperately needed to see Gilbert. Only once she was reassured that he was unharmed, could she allow herself to relax. She forced tired limbs into action and hobbled across the bridge, heading for the church. She was passing the bell tower when she heard the chorus of childish voices calling.

"Aunt Bea!"

Before she could even turn around she was surrounded and engulfed in a massive embrace. The children were babbling excitedly, so happy were they to see her. Beatrice couldn't understand a word they were saying. It was all a massive jumble in her ears. And then Gilbert stepped out of the church into a brilliant beam of sunlight and she sagged in relief as exhaustion finally claimed her. The last thing she remembered seeing was his panicked expression as he rushed to her side. Then everything went black.