"You still like the good stuff, Dev?" J.B. asked.

"When I can get it. I've grown kinda fond of Kentucky bourbon of late."

"Rose," J.B. turned to a young woman with a tray in her hands, "bring my friends here a bottle of Madam Cliquot. You want that over ice, Dev?"

"You're kiddin' me, right?"

"Nope. They cut it from the Republican River in the winter, and we store it in barns through the summer. It costs me six cents a pound, but on a hot day, it's worth it."

"I'm game. Never had ice in the summer, though."

"Now what do ya say to a couple of steaks with all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs?" J.B. asked, rubbing his hands together as if he were making a sale.

"Please, J.B., I been on the trail for two months. I'm sick to death of beef," Devlin complained.

"Okay, okay. We got a ham steak about an inch thick served with fried potatoes and greens."

Devlin smiled and looked over at Matthew, who nodded eagerly. "Sounds like a deal."

"Okay, I'll let you two eat in peace and I'll come back when you're having your coffee. Rose, treat my guests here well."

"Yes sir, Mr. Carpenter." The waitress returned with Devlin's whiskey. She filled the gla.s.s with ice from a silver bucket, which she left on the table. She then poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into the heavy crystal gla.s.s and turned to Matthew. "And for you, sir?"

Matt looked surprised that the waitress was talking to him, but Devlin answered for him. "He'll have milk."

"Aw, Dev. Don't I get to have no fun?"

"I'll give ya fun," she said with a smirk. "Oh, okay, quit lookin' at me with your mother's eyes. You know the difference between a sip and a swallow?" she asked the waitress. When Rose nodded, Devlin continued. "He can have a sip."

Rose smiled and poured no more than a tablespoon of whiskey in Matt's gla.s.s. "Enjoy. If you need anything at all, just ask. I'll be back with your dinners in no time."

Devlin held her gla.s.s up toward Matt. "This is the smoothest whiskey you'll ever taste in these parts. You did a good job this summer, Matt. Here's to a quick train ride home."

They tapped their gla.s.ses together and Matt smiled at the musical ring the crystal gave off when they made contact. He drank the small amount of liquor in one swallow. It burned his throat going down and his eyes watered. He appeared to be holding his breath.

"Don't be proud, boy." Devlin pushed a gla.s.s of water in front of Matt. "Take a drink."

Matt gulped the water until his throat felt better. When his breathing returned to normal, Devlin set her gla.s.s down.

"So what did ya think?"

"You're right...smooth," Matt said hoa.r.s.ely.

Devlin laughed at Matt's antics. "I hope you enjoyed it. That's the last alcohol I want to ever catch you drinking for some time yet."

"How long?"

"Until you're as tall as me."

"Aw, Dev, that'll be forever!"

Devlin laughed once more and remembered how Matt had grown this summer. "Not nearly as long as you think, son. Not nearly as long."

"Well, was he as green as I was on my first drive up the trail?" J.B. asked. They all sat around the table getting to know one another. Devlin was dead tired, but she enjoyed the conversation with her old friend.

"n.o.body was as green as you were. Come to think of it, no one's ever been as bad a drover as you."

They laughed some more and J.B. turned to Matt. "She ain't kiddin', either. Dev ended up pullin' me outta quicksand, mud, and p.r.i.c.kly pear bushes. Once I was ten seconds from goin' over a waterfall that would have left me in lots of little pieces at the bottom. Dev grabbed me just in time."

"Matt pulled me out this time. He roped me in just when I thought I was a goner," Devlin said.

"Is that so? Well, I reckon you've got the makings of a real cattleman here," J.B. said as he leaned back in his chair. "I reckon Dev and I became fast friends on the day I promised her I wouldn't ever step foot on the trail again." He laughed so hard his belly shook.

"Did ya really tell Dev you'd kill her the next time ya saw her?" Matt asked.

"Sure did. I wanted to kill her something fierce. I was sore, hungry, tired, and miserable all the way to St. Louis. I cursed her name with every step I took. 'Course, I think it was the tin can incident that prompted Dev to tell me that if she ever saw me workin' as a drover again, she'd cut me up and feed me to the buffalo."

Devlin was now laughing as hard as J.B. was. She turned to Matt. "He was ridin' night watch over a herd of about fifteen hundred head. Somehow, the jacka.s.s let his horse step into a tin can. What was worse was that the animal got it stuck on her hoof. All h.e.l.l broke loose. Between this one," she jerked her thumb in J.B.'s direction, "and his horse, it looked like they was doin' a dance hall act. The sound broke the herd and they stampeded in about five different directions. Took us three days to get 'em back together and we still never found all of 'em."

"Like I said, I was one bad drover."

"But he's one great businessman," Devlin added. "I hate to stop all the reminiscing, J.B., but I'm about asleep on my feet and the sun ain't even down yet."

"It was great seeing you again, Dev. Matt, you watch out for her. I'll have someone show you to your rooms."

After their good nights, when they were alone in their adjoining rooms, Devlin heard a knock on the connecting door. "Come on in, Matt."

Devlin was half lying on the soft bed. "Ever felt a mattress this soft in all your life?"

"It sure is something," Matt said sleepily. "I just wanted to say thanks, Dev. For...well, I guess for everything ya done with me today and bringin' me along in the first place."

"You're welcome, Matt. You earned your way on this one. You ought to be proud of what you accomplished. I know I sure am. Your mother will be, too. Now go on and get some sleep. No wanderin' around the town alone, that's an order."

"Yes, boss." Matt smiled at Devlin, who looked like she was already fast asleep.

Chapter 21.

"Sakli, it is time."

Tima's voice woke Sarah from a sound sleep. Once Sarah took a few moments to put her head in order, she realized where she was. She had stayed in the chuka of Hotti's family. The elderly matriarch's granddaughter had a difficult time the previous evening with the birth of her first child. Tima and Sarah had stayed up through the night keeping an eye on the unstable newborn and his equally temperamental mother. It was nearly sunrise before Sarah laid her head down to rest.

Now that she had her eyes open, Sarah feared that Tima was telling her they had lost the baby. It wasn't until she took a deep breath that she realized what Tima's words meant. She smelled smoke. Not the sort of smoke that rose from the hickory kindling in the cooking fires, but the unmistakable odor of burning gra.s.s and wood.

Sarah jumped up from her p.r.o.ne position on the ground and hastily pulled on her knee-length moccasins. She ran from the chuka and had to pause to shield her eyes from the bright sun. Blinking her eyes to adjust them to the light, she took in the sight to which Tima referred. Far to the northwest, billows of black and white smoke rose up from the horizon like a great wall. It was quite a distance away, but she guessed that by midday, the wall of smoke would rise so high and hide the sun.

"The elders are at the promontory, Sakli. Perhaps you can see more from there," Tima said.

Sarah nodded absently and accepted the reins to her pony. A young man stood patiently by, having already saddled Coal for her. "I'll be back," she called out to Tima as she jumped into the saddle.

"Do not forget what you have learned, my child," Tima whispered to herself as she watched Sarah's pony race up the hill.

Once Sarah was near the top of the hill, she dismounted and let Coal pick his way among the sandstone boulders. When she reached the top of the rise, Kontonalah and the elders were deep in discussion. As she entered their midst, the men and women inclined their heads in a gesture of respect.

"Sakli, you have made your mark within the Thunderbird clan. Your vision has come to pa.s.s," Keeho said.

"I'm wishing I could have been wrong," she said. The fire was a considerable distance to the west, but the direction of the trees bending in the breeze told everyone that their prairies would feel the ravages of fire before afternoon.

Sarah listened to the conversations around her. She sat quietly since she didn't have much to add. The clan had been through prairie fires before, and they would be again. They already knew the way of survival from watching and imitating nature. Besides, the village was a stone's throw away from the river. The water wasn't high, perhaps knee deep this time of year, but it was three hundred yards from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. Even the small ants in the prairie knew how to defend themselves against such a predator as fire. Knowing they could not hope to outrun an open fire, the ants crawled upon the leaves that floated out onto the surface of the river. If all else failed, the clan would do the same.

The others rose, but Kontonalah called out to Sarah. "Stay and sit with me for a time, Sakli." He directed her to sit beside him on a fallen log overlooking the prairie far below. "The sacred hoop makes itself known today."

"But in such a large way," Sarah said. "So much death."

"It is the way of things," Kontonalah said. "We do not simply live, we are a part of all life itself. Everything has life and a place on the circle, even the gra.s.s beneath our feet. Sometimes renewal only comes after devastation."

Sarah thought about that statement and saw the truth of it in her own life. If her mother hadn't died when Sarah was a child, her father never would have brought her up in the manner he had. If her father hadn't taught her skills usually reserved for a son, she would never have found her way to the place she sat at that moment. She would never had met Devlin if it hadn't been for Peter's death, never had the freedom to be her own woman if not for her Uncle Art's death. Her life had been a picture of the perfect prairie. Everything happened for a reason and all the events fit together in perfect harmony and balance, just like in nature.

"It is a renewal," Kontonalah said. "Mother Earth knows when to revive herself. She has an amazing ability to know when to begin again. Do you know, Sakli, that some of the gra.s.ses on the prairie will not grow in our gardens? They die when tended too closely. They need devastation to begin anew. The seeds will only sprout after they have been through the heat of a fire. Many times, we burn the hillside in the spring to provide new gra.s.s for our ponies."

Sarah listened intently to Kontonalah's words. He had such a casual, yet dedicated way of accepting life and all its calamities. She closed her eyes and let his words surround her. A gusty breeze on her face caused her eyelids to snap open. Instantly, Kontonalah was on his feet beside her.

"It's moving." He cast a worried glance south, in the direction of the town and the acres of cattle ranches.

Sarah saw the wall of smoke that had been moving from northwest to southeast collide with another wall of smoke that pushed in from the north. The gray and black clouds smashed into one another, forming a ma.s.sive tower of smoke. She could see the column of flames now.

"I have to get down there and warn them," Sarah said. "They won't know it's moving toward them faster than it's moving east."

"Sakli, it is too dangerous."

"Miko, they are my people, too. I can't turn my back on them any more than I could the clan."

Long moments pa.s.sed before Kontonalah finally nodded. "You must not go alone, though. I will send strong men with you to warn the people in the white man's village. You are the clan's mother, Sakli. I can only allow you to go so far in sacrificing yourself."

Sarah hugged Kontonalah hard and found that she was staring into Devlin's eyes. It was apparent that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. The same ancient wisdom lurked beneath the pale irises. She whistled once for Coal and nearly ran down the rocky hill to meet the gelding halfway. She heard the old man shout out one last warning.

"Let Mother Earth be your teacher, Sakli."

She ran into the camp and arranged to leave. She spoke first with Tima and Hannah. Tima said nothing in front of Hannah that would frighten the child, but Sarah could read the concerned expression on Tima's face. By the time she changed into the riding clothes she had worn to the village, ten young men waited for her.

"I have to make sure the people at my ranch know that the fire's turning, Nali, I have to go. I have to try to help them," Sarah said from her position atop her pony.

"I know, Sakli. I understand that you have a responsibility to them also." Tima held onto Hannah as the girl waved goodbye to her mother. "Take care and stay clear of brother Luak," Tima called out to Sarah as her party rode away from the village.

As they rode across the prairie, Sarah explained to the young men what she needed to do. She was thankful that Kontonalah had selected strong men who spoke small amounts of English. That way, they could separate and cover more ground at one time. She pulled Coal to a stop and instructed two of the men to head for the town and give the warning to Frank Grayson, her old friend who owned the general store. She split the other six into two groups and had them ride southwest of her ranch to warn the other cattlemen. That left Sarah with Hanan and Anoli.

Sarah turned away from the open prairie when Anoli noticed the wind had grown stronger. He brought her attention to the specks that had begun to float through the air like cottonwood seeds. The particles were ashes from the fire and the knowledge urged her to stay closer to the creek. As they rode along at a fast gallop, she spied a small herd of buffalo leaving the open land to wade into the same creek. Some of the large animals rolled in the muddy bank, coating their dense coats with a thick layer of mud.

When Sarah and her Chahta friends reached Double Deuce land, she was unhappy to see that the men hadn't completed the fire breaks in time. The fire breaks were deep ditches and furrows plowed into the ground in the hope that when the fire met with the open s.p.a.ce, the flames would have nowhere to spread. The riders from her ranch met her as she rode under the wooden gate that marked the entrance to the ranch house.

"Mrs. Tolliver." Bud, the ranch foreman, eyed the men with Sarah. "Strange time for you to come back."

"It's the fire, Bud. We're not that much ahead of it anymore," Sarah shouted back.

"The fire? But it looks like it's headed-"

"Not anymore. It's moving south faster than it's blowing east. No one can tell with that wall of smoke blocking the view."

"Good Lord! We're in a h.e.l.l of a fix now. We had to give up working on the breaks around the main yard. The ground's like diggin' into solid granite. We got a nice one dug around the main house and that's all."

Suddenly, for the first time that day, Sarah thought of Devlin. She desperately wished her lover could have been there with her. The men respected her and she had a commanding presence that caused them to believe in her. Sarah tightened her jaw, and to anyone who knew her, it was apparent that she'd made a decision. She jumped off her pony and handed him off to a waiting rider. The Chahta men followed her closely without saying a word.

"All right," Sarah barked. "First thing you do is open up the barns and let all the horses free, then make sure there aren't any animals in the corrals."

"Let them go?" Bud asked in disbelief.

"That's what I said. I won't have any of them burn up in there. Let them run free and we can worry about getting them back later. Where's Angelia and Maria?"

"They're both here, in the house."

"Make sure everyone, including the girls, have mounts, Bud. If that fire sweeps down this way, I plan on doing everything I can to fight it off, but if it gets to the point where it's a lost cause, have everyone left ride out toward the river."

"Yes, ma'am," Bud said.

Sarah continued to bark orders at the men as she walked around the ranch. She knew that the men would only follow her orders if they believed in her. She set her mind to the task of commanding their respect with her knowledge and an air of confidence.

"What about the ranch house, Mrs. Tolliver?"

Sarah looked around. The house had a fire break around it, but that was no guarantee that the flames wouldn't leap it. Anything could happen to set the house ablaze, from burning tumbleweeds to hot embers falling from the sky.

"How about we douse it real good with buckets of water?" Bud asked.

"Yes," Sarah said with a slow drawl. Her mind focused on something she felt pertained in some way to their predicament.

Let Mother Earth be your teacher, Sakli.

Sarah heard Kontonalah's farewell in her ears as if he were beside her. Once she opened her mind, the answer came to her easily. An image of the buffalo at the edge of the river filled her mind's eye. They had been rolling around in the mud, coating their bodies with the thick mixture.

"Mud," Sarah said.

"Ma'am?" Bud asked as the men looked at one another, then back at Sarah.

"Use mud to cover the house. Throw on a bucket of water, then a bucket of dirt, just like a mud dauber's nest. It won't stop real flames, but it'll keep falling embers from catching."