“Mommy!” Webb called as the hat turned askew. “Daddy’s home an’ he’s all black. Come quick an’ see!”
The door was opened the rest of the way by Lorna, who came in response to her son’s call. Astonishment wiped the slight frown from her forehead as she stared at him with her mouth opened.
“There was a prairie fire,” Benteen explained his appearance. “We managed to put it out.”
“Are you all right?” A little shiver broke the motionless grip of surprise. She moved toward him, her hands raising hesitantly to touch him. “You look charred.”
“It’s just smoke and ash,” he assured her tiredly. “It will wash off.”
Her fingers came away smudged when she touched his shirt. Satisfied he was unhurt, Lorna grimaced at his blackened clothes. “I don’t know if that shirt and pants will ever be clean again.” She scooped the hat off Webb’s head, but it had already left a blackened ring on his forehead. She shooed the little boy into the cabin ahead of them. “Stay clear of your father. I don’t want you getting all dirty, too.”
She handled his hat gingerly, hanging it on a peg inside the door. Her nose wrinkled at the strong smell of smoke and singed hair that clung to his clothes and skin. It tainted the air in the cabin. Little Arthur took one look at Benteen and let out a squawl of fright, trotting over to hide in Lorna’s skirts.
“I know he doesn’t look like him, but that’s your daddy,” Lorna assured the toddler.
“Wait until I get my face and hands washed.” Benteen sent a weary smile to his younger son and crossed the cabin to the washstand. As he filled the basin with water from the pitcher, he noticed the food cooking on the stove. “Supper nearly ready?”
“Yes. We’ll eat as soon as you’re washed.” She picked up two water pails and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Benteen half-turned.
“To bring some water for your bath,” she answered without pausing. “It can be heating while we eat.” Little Arthur hurried after, whimpering because the voice belonged to his father but he still wasn’t sure it was him. Lorna stopped at the door. “Webb, mind your little brother until I come back.”
Webb took his young brother forcefully by the hand and pulled him away from the door. Arthur immediately sent up a loud protest despite Webb’s adultlike attempts to shush him.
The soap lather turned into gray-black bubbles when Benteen scrubbed his face. It took repeated soapings before the rinse water washed away clear. When Lorna returned with the buckets filled, he was blotting his stinging eyes. Arthur watched him with a thoughtful finger in his mouth; then a smile split his face.
“Daddy!” He pointed a wet finger at Benteen in happy recognition.
“That’s right.” Benteen draped the wet towel over a corner of the washstand and bent down to his younger son.
“Don’t pick him up,” Lorna ordered, dishing up their supper plates. “You’ve still got that ash all over your clothes.”
“Sorry, fella.” He rumpled the top of Arthur’s hair and took hold of his hand to walk to the table.
After Lorna set the plates on the table, she went back to the stove to put kettles of water on to heat. Benteen and the two boys started eating without her. The food was nearly cold when she finally joined them.
“How did the fire start? Do you know?” she asked.
“No.” There was a brief shake of his head. “We’ll probably never know. Half a dozen things could have started it.”
“Was it bad?” Worry began to set in now that he was safe and looking halfway human again. She had frightening visions of him fighting the fire while it blazed around him.
“Bad enough,” he answered. “We won’t really know until we’ve been able to check the burned area.”
“I thought I smelled smoke in the wind. Was it to the south?” Her question received an affirmative nod. She shivered a little. “If it had kept burning, it could have reached here.”
“It’s out. Barnie and Shorty are camping there to make sure no hot spots flare up,” Benteen said to assure her there was no further danger.
“Do me and Arthur have to have a bath?” Webb asked, ready to make a face of protest.
“Not tonight,” Lorna replied. “We’re just going to clean up your smelly father.” She glanced at his plate. “Don’t forget to eat your potatoes.”
When supper was through, Lorna dragged out the squat, oblong tub and positioned it in front of the stove. She alternated filling it with buckets of water and the heated water from the kettles. While Benteen shed his smoky clothes, she put the boys to bed. She carried the pile of smelly clothes outside and hung them over the clothesline that ran from a corner of the cabin to a tree so they could air.
When she returned, Benteen was sitting in the short tub with his knees bent, letting the medium-hot water soak his tired body. Fatigue drooped his muscled shoulders and closed his eyes. He was making no effort to soap himself down.
“You’ll never get clean that way,” Lorna remarked, and moved to the side of the tub. “Do I have to wash behind your ears the way I do the boys?”