Not the whole structure, not yet. But the fire had a hold on the drywood above the hay storage, and it was moving with the deliberate terrible patience of something that knows it has time, the ranch hand. A young man named Will, who had been with Daniel for 2 years, was passing buckets from the trough. Daniel was on the ladder against the barn wall, throwing water at the highest point of the flames. Clara joined the line without being asked, passing and filling, passing and filling her arms, burning her eyes streaming, not thinking past the next bucket.
Rose appeared at the edge of the yard. "I told you to stay on the porch," Clara called. "I brought the kitchen buckets," Rose said, holding them up with both hands, entirely serious, entirely focused. Clara almost stopped breathing with something that was not quite love and not quite terror and was very much both. Good girl, she managed.
Go back to the porch. Rose went. They fought the fire for 40 minutes. It was not the barn they saved. The east wall was a loss by the time the flames were fully out, and a quarter of the hay stored against it was gone with it.
What they saved was the structure, the main body of the barn, the remaining hay, the animals. When it was finally over, Daniel sat down on the ground in the yard with his back against the trough and his forearms on his knees and his head down. He was ash gray across the face, and his hands were shaking, and he was breathing in the controlled, deliberate way of a man holding himself together through force of will. Clara crouched in front of him. "Are you hurt?"
She asked. "No." His voice was rough with smoke. "Look at me," he raised his head. His eyes were red rimmed from smoke or from something else, and they moved over her face with an exhaustion so complete it looked like grief. "Hollas," he said.
"We don't know that," she said. Clara, his voice was flat and certain. The east wall, the hay. They knew exactly where to hit to cost me the most and damage the least that could be proven. She held his gaze.
"Yes," she said quietly. "I know. He's telling me to back down." "Yes, he burned my barn to tell me to back down." She stayed crouched in front of him.
She did not offer comfort. That wasn't real. She did not tell him it would be all right because she didn't know if it would be. What do you want to do?" She asked.
He looked at her for a long moment. The yard was dark and smelled of smoke. The three girls were on the porch. She could see them from the corner of her eye, huddled together under one blanket. Emma's arm around both her sisters watching their father with the wide, careful attention of children who understand that something important is happening.
Daniel Hayes looked at his daughters on the porch. He looked at his burned barn. He looked at Clara. I want to fight, he said. Then we fight, she said.