Silas returned from the lower pasture and stopped when he saw them beneath the fading light. Toby slept peacefully in Clara's arms, one hand closed around the silver button. "You always wanted children," Silas said. Clara looked down at the boy. "Some wishes arrive late."
Silas removed his hat. Some men do, too. Their eyes met. Then the wind changed. A hot blast swept across the porch, carrying ash and the sharp smell of burning pine.
Silas turned toward the northern ridge. The thin line of smoke had grown into a towering black wall. He crossed the yard and took Toby from Clara's arms. "Get inside," he ordered. Clara stared at the darkening sky.
"How close is it?" A deep roar rolled over the hills. Silas looked at her, and the fear in his face answered before he spoke. The fire crossed the creek. The fire crossed the creek.
Silas's words were almost lost beneath the roar coming over the ridge. The sky changed from blue to a dirty yellow as thick smoke swallowed the sun. Clara took Toby from his arms. What do we do? Wet every blanket you can find.
Pack food, water, and anything you cannot replace. Keep Toby near the wagon. Silas ran toward the barn. He threw open the gates and drove the horses into the southern field. The cattle followed, frightened by the smoke and falling ash.
Inside the cabin, Clara wrapped a damp cloth around Toby's shoulders. She kept his face uncovered so he could breathe. The child heard the fire and began to cry. "Papa!" Silas appeared in the doorway carrying two wet burlap sacks.
"I am here, son." Toby reached for him, but Silas could not stop. "I am not leaving you," he promised. Not for one second. Clara froze at those words.
Silas had left her once, and the pain had lasted 12 years. Now, with the valley burning around him, he was giving his son the promise he had failed to keep with her. Silas rushed back outside. He tore dry grass from around the cabin and soaked the porch with water. Clara placed Toby in the wagon, then carried bucket after bucket from the weakening pump.
The windmill groaned above them. Each turn brought less water. Sparks began falling across the ranch like burning snow. Silas climbed onto the cabin roof and beat them out with the wet sacks. Every time he killed one, three more landed nearby.
A burning branch struck the north fence. Flames raced along the dry rails and entered the yard. Silas, come down. I can still hold it. No, you cannot.
A gust of wind pushed the smoke over the cabin. Silas vanished inside it. For several terrifying seconds, Clara could not see him. Then he appeared near the edge of the roof, coughing and beating flames away from the wooden shingles. Clara looked at the porch Arthur had built.