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Still, the fire needed to be contained. Thankfully, the air was stifling with no breeze but a wind could pick up anytime and if that happened, the fire could spread rapidly. Arthur sped at a breakneck speed, sensing Carter’s urgency.
They raced past a thick forest of cedar trees and then to the open plains. Carter and the horse flew past the stone filled road to the ranch, past the main ranch house and to the back, towards the pasture. His breathing came hard and fast. As he got nearer to the hill, he was relieved to find the ranch head, Richard Burk as well as his brother, James in charge of the operation.
About fifteen men in total were engrossed in fighting the fire. They had arranged themselves around the hill and within minutes, they had lit burning strips of prairie. Fire would fight fire. Arthur neighed, the sound rising until it was a mad sound in the midst of the crackle of the grass as it burnt.
Carter slid off the horse and let it canter away back to the safety of the barns. He joined the men in creating a ring of fire. He took one of the hazel brushes on the ground and used it to beat the outer edges of the flames so that the fire spread upwards to the top of the hill. There it met the main fire and slowly, it battled the larger flames.
The fire under control, Carter looked around at the men, their faces coated with smoke and dust. He spotted James and walked to him.
“How did it start?” Carter asked.
James shook his head. “The new ranch hand, Brian, thought to burn the patch of spurge to get rid of them. He lost control of the fire.”
Carter swore under his breathe. It was always a risk taking on inexperienced ranch hands but the boy had begged him for a job. Carter searched for his unlined face amongst the men.
“He’s probably run off,” James said.
“Just as well,” Carter muttered. There was no telling what he would have done to the boy. He was eighteen years old and he should have known better.
“I haven’t seen Hoss either,” Carter commented, watching as the men wearily trudged down the hill.
James looked around and grinned. “Now that you mention it, he isn’t here. The only person who is surprised Carter, is you.”
Thick smoke hung above the prairie, creating a black canopy. The hillside now stood bare, the fire having consumed all the brush and grass.
“He should be here,” Carter said stubbornly. “The ranch is our responsibility.”
“He’s probably lost in his paintings,” James said with a shrug.
Carter whirled around and without another word, he proceeded to march down the hill. He did not care what he took to get Hoss to take up responsibility, even though he had to shake his shoulders to drum it into him. He was never there when the ranch needed him.
In long, fast strides, Carter strode past the house, to the eastern side to the ranch house which Hoss lived in. He marched up the steps to the porch and pushed the door open. Hoss was not in any of the ground floor rooms and he took the stairs two at a time. He had an idea where his brother would be.
He did not turn back even as Carter noisily flung the door to the room on the attic open. Hoss had his back to the door and propped up on an aisle, was a huge painting of the ranch house and the surrounding gardens. Carter stopped and was taken aback by the real looking painting.
Hoss had captured every detail of the ranch house, including the beams that gracefully wrapped the house. Hoss had hinted at the prairie wilderness that lay beyond the house and had painted pine woodlands and in the long grass, rabbits frolicking in the grass.
“I take it you like it?”
Carter snapped back to the present and sighed.
“There was a fire in the prairie Hoss,” Carter said, his tone cold.
“Your presence tells me that it was contained?” Hoss asked tugging at his blond too-long moustache.
“That’s not the point,” Carter said, his voice rising.
“What is the point?”
“Do I need to point it out to you? The ranch belongs to the three of us. Father’s wish was that we run it together. And you don’t pull your weight.”
“Father’s wishes were not mine. I have offered to sell you my part but you won’t have it, so where does that leave us?”
Carter glared at him. Hoss held his stare.
“We will abide by Father and Mother’s wishes,” he hissed.
Hoss shrugged and turned back to his painting. His brother infuriated him, Carter thought with rising frustration. Why could he be like the rest of them and accept that ranching was their life?
