Ashes to Ashes

Jesse knew something was wrong. For the first time in years, his sister hadn't come to visit him with a platter of some or another type of food Mama used to make. Since the year Mama died, and Jesse was on his own, Sarah had brought the kids over Sunday evenings for a supper of whatever she'd rounded up to eat. It was her way to make him feel less alone. And, he thought, in some sort of way to apologize for leaving him that way. 

When she'd off and married Billy, Sarah had only been a kid herself. So never mind that Jesse wasn't old enough to shoot a gun. Mama wasn't all bad. It's just the men she brought to spend a few hours in her bed were never particularly kind. Whenever Mama came home with another stranger, Sarah would take Jesse by the hand, and pull him back into the fields to hunt for prairie dogs. She knew exactly what Mama did, and why she did it. But Jesse didn't. Not until Sarah left and he didn't have anyone to pull him by the hand out of earshot.

The wind whipped Jesse's coat open, and he grunted. His horse had thrown a shoe the night before, and if Mama had taught him anything, it was that Sundays should be free from work. Funny how that was the commandment she loved the most when others said she was a godless woman. So Jesse walked, despite the wind and the single flakes of snow that would whizz past him now and again.

The first thing he noticed was not the glow of the flames. He didn't see the smoke rising in the sky either. The evening was too dark for that. The first thing that told him something had gone terrible bad was the smell of it all. It burned his nostrils, and he knew what it meant. His feet broke into a run almost the minute it processed through his mind. He tripped over rocks and gopher holes and all the other things he couldn't see. And then as he got to the top of the hill that separated their land, Jesse saw the house engulfed in the biggest ball of fire he'd ever seen. The flames stretched high, well over where the roof he'd built for Sarah had once been. They trailed into the sky, trying their hardest to touch the stars but falling just short.

He couldn't see anyone. All he saw was a small cluster of hens running towards the fields with their wings outstretched, screaming to high heaven. His breathing grew labored, whether from the thickness of the smoke or the steep hill, he couldn't tell. But he kept running until he got close enough to feel the heat on his face and had to squint against the flames that made the night seem like day.

"Sarah!" he screamed above the whining of the wooden boards as they snapped and cracked and fell away from the walls. "Sarah!"

There was nobody on the sides of the house, or out front. Nobody hid at the edges of the field, or by the barn. And then a cold stone fell to the bottom of his stomach when he remembered the kids. Theo and Abby would be fine, he thought. They were old enough to take care of themselves, and were responsible enough. But the baby was just barely old enough to sit on his own, much less walk. Funny how his mind didn't even think of Billy. But he'd spent the last number of years trying to forget Billy even existed. It was easier that way. Besides, he never came with Sarah for Sunday dinners, so they rarely saw one another at all.

The left side wall of the home caved in, and the fire roared furiously, spitting sparks and hissing out smoke. Jesse's heart was beginning to skip beats now, and he was surprised at the way his voice cracked when he screamed his sister's name. He started running around the house, peering into the windows as well as he could. It made no sense to, but then none of this made sense.

At last, when Jesse turned the corner, he saw her. Sarah stood as still as the statues he'd seen at a travelling art show once. Her hair was loose, and thrashed around her body like a dozen bull whips. When he drew nearer, Jesse could see that she'd been crying, and her eyes remained fixated on the house.

"Sarah!" he yelled, running to her side. She didn't move. He grabbed her shoulders, and gave her a little shake, but her eyes looked straight through him. "Sarah, listen to me, are you ok? Sarah, where're the kids?"