Nancy McClure: Prairie Fire

Chapter 5

The living quarters for the scouts and their families stood outside and away from the fort at a short distance.  I was glad for not living in the middle of all the construction activity, mostly for the reason that the men showed little respect for women, their mouths being as filthy as their sweaty clothes.  Most of them were  “Galvanized Yankees,” otherwise known as Confederate prisoners who agreed to wear the blue uniforms for the promise of not being sent south to fight their former comrades.  As you might imagine, they were a sullen bunch that didn’t relish the thought of working for their old enemy, even though it did get them freedom away from the prisons.  I stayed away from them whenever I could.

I found some kindred souls, though, with whom I could spend time with.  A hunting band of Metis arrived and set up camp near the fort so they could trade with the sutler.  During the summer, they roamed around the prairie in search of meat and furs, and with the approach of winter, they’d head back north to their permanent homes.  We could hear them coming even before we saw them because of the terrible high-pitched screech made by the wheels on their two-wheeled carts. 

We could converse a little which let me befriend two young girls named Lucie and Cecile who liked to come and listen to the stories I told them.  If only I would have had some books with me because I know they would have enjoyed me reading to them.  Young as they were, they had chores and one was driving their  pony cart to the spring and carrying water back to the camp.  That poor skinny little pony didn’t look strong enough to pull anything, but they kept on coaxing him along each time.

The day started out like most days except that it was a bit windy, enough to ripple the canvas on the tents.  Both the haycrew and the woodchoppers had gone out that morning to work at their jobs while construction continued at the fort.  I’d heard the woodchoppers griping and wishing they could be cutting hay up on the prairie where the breeze kept the mosquitoes away, and the haycrew griping about wanting to be out of the sun and in the cool shade of the river bottom.  

Women in the Metis camp busied themselves at their cook fires, but I didn’t notice any men walking about yet.  I knew they’d traded the sutler out of some whisky the day before and were probably sleeping off the night’s swill.  Lucie and Cecile could be seen in the distance exploring the prairie in their pony cart.  

Maybe we should have sensed danger after seeing a long gray cloud hanging for a long while on the horizon.  It reminded me of a lazy old cat stretched out on a windowsill.  Gusts of wind grew stronger and the strong smell of smoke reached us.  One of the men working on top of a building could see farther and shouted out.  Major Crossman ordered a cannon fired to signal the work crews back to the fort.  Now we could see the fire coming right at us.  That cat on the windowsill was coming for us.

With the front of the flames in sight, I noticed wild animals running ahead of it.  I’ll never forget those coyotes running with their tongues hanging out, exhausted, lying down in front of the fire to rest until the flames started licking at their backsides again, then get up to run again until they could no more and gave themselves to the fire.  

Years later, someone gave me a yellowed clipping from the Cleveland (Ohio) Leader in which Major Crossman wrote about the event, “The fire rolled down on us with terrific rapidity, and was accompanied by immense banks of smoke.  I had thrown myself down on my face to save my eyes and get a breath when the recollection flashed upon me that six hundred pounds of powder were stored in the sutler’s.  By this time the whole camp would have been destroyed, but a sudden change in the wind drove the fire past the flank of the camp, jumped the plowed ground around the haystacks, devouring our six hundred tons of hay (our whole winter’s supply), struck the corner of the post, setting fire to a few outer buildings and the cords of wood, dashed up the side of the hill, and was off on the prairie, destroying the half-breed camp, burning men, women, children and animals, leaving us suffocated with smoke and cinders, and blinded with the ashes.”

After reading this old news article, I was reminded of so much about the fire which I will relate next week.