Fire Horse

By Allan J. Bassler

If you would, please, son, scootch me an inch closer to the stove. Yessir, like that. Thank you. Better. Old man’s bones get cold faster. And I could use another one of these. Yes, just like this. Right. Thank you. Now. I promised you a tale, didn’t I? Well, this is a good one. One of the best I’ve got. This is one from a long time ago but not so long ago, depending on how you look at it. I’ve been around for a few summers now and sometimes I can remember that day like it was just yesterday. But sometimes it seems like it happened to another man. Funny how you get like that when you’ve put a lot of years behind you. Can’t remember where I left my cane, but I can remember Billy Richard’s moustache like he was just here in front of me. God rest his soul. Billy’s been gone now – what – twenty years. Twenty years. Twenty years gone by. He died in the big mill fire. All that chaff in the air … he was on the wrong side of the wall when it went up. Lost three men that day. Three good firemen. That was a bad time. Well, that’s part of fighting fire, isn’t it? There are the times you won and then there are the times you didn’t. But we always tried.

Well, anyway. Don’t want to wander too far off the path there. Sorry about that. This story … well, it’s about a loss. Yes, we definitely took a loss. But we won, too. I suppose now I sound like I’m just talking nonsense, so let me get to it. Would you get me another one of these, please? Yes, just like this one. That one went down pretty quick.

This was back … well, back in the final days of old Station Three. I was the senior man there. When I say senior, I mean that I was still on the payroll but I wasn’t one of the strong young lads anymore. One thing about firefighting, like war fighting, I guess. By the time you know enough, you’re too old. So they keep the old guys like me around and we know enough to let the young men take on the fires direct. We let them do the hard work. We tell ‘em what to do and they do it. We learn fire, how it acts, how it thinks. Bet you don’t think fire thinks. Well, maybe it does and maybe it doesn’t, but it sure acts like it does. So if you’re going to get ahead of it, then you’d better act like it’s the smartest and sneakiest thing you’ve ever been up against.

So back in those days, I was a senior man but not an officer. Never made it up those ranks. There were a couple of reasons for that, and I’m not going to lie to you. One of them is right here in my hand now. I was a steady a man as you ever saw on the fire ground, but I did like a drink now and then. Never drunk at work. Ever. Never would put my comrades in danger like that. But the fire service has its own politics and I never went for that either. So I got as high as senior fireman, kind of like being a private first class. Never went past that. But I knew fire and they knew that I knew fire. Still do. I can watch a building burn and tell you exactly what’s going to happen next. I can tell you when a wall’s coming down and when the chimney’s coming off. I can tell you when you’re safe to knock the windows in and when you’d better not unless you’d got a strong desire to meet St. Peter in the next second. That’s what got old Pete McGill. Opened the wrong door at the wrong time. They found what was left of him two rooms away. Yup. Blew him right through two plaster-and-lathe walls. Blew most of the walls away, too, but too bad for old Pete that he got there before the blast did. The wall was still there for him to hit. That was one of the last big ones I was on, the Grand Hotel fire downtown. Sixteen stories up and – oh, there I go again. Wandering off down the wrong path.

Alright. So. This was back in the biggest fire any of us was in. Any of us still alive. Before you were born, but not too much. Started in an alehouse. Back room. Someone went to get a keg and left a lantern lay. Something knocked it over. Fire spread fast in those old boards. And most of those buildings downtown were old. Old and dry. The alert came into Station Three. We were second due and word was that it was a big one and cookin’. The boys had already harnessed up because we’d smelled the smoke, so they had both engines out the door as soon as the joker box dinged. Later, the telegraph wires burned through, of course, and that’s why they had to send Big Bonner for me. But anyway. I’m getting ahead of myself here.

So, as I said, the boys took both front-line engines and all four horses that we had on site. Charged right on out of there, all full of piss and ready to fight fire. All they left me was the old engine, the big heavy boiler, Number One. Used to take three horses to haul that one decent and that’s one of the reasons she became a reserve. A good boiler, and she would pump water like a demon, but she was built back when they didn’t trust steam like they learned to later. So they overbuilt her by a factor of 50. Made her damn heavy. She sure could hold her fire, though, and that was important that night, too. But I’ll say more about that later.

What’s that? Well, yes, that’s back when all the engines were pulled by horses and powered by steam. They were boilers built on wheeled carts. The boilers burned coal and heated water up under pressure. That pressure was used to drive a pump. The pump, of course, pumped water. Both of them together were mounted on a carriage and called an engine. Sorry if I’m telling you what you already know. But not everyone knows that. I will say one thing, and that is that those old engines could pump. I talk to people today who think that that water that came out of those engines was a trickle. Well, let me tell you that a good boiler like Number One – well, I’ve seen that engine throw out a stream of water that could knock down a two-course brick wall. Yes, that’s right and I’m not telling tales. Those old engines could throw water and a lot of it in a hard, tight stream. Today they have trucks with petroleum-powered engines in the front. The engine drives the truck to the fire and all they do is throw a gear and then the same engine powers the pump. No horses anymore. These days, the pumps take themselves to the fire. Back then, you had horses and they pulled the engines on big wheels. And that’s another thing. One thing about firemen, we’ve always liked to get to the fire fast. People think that those old carriages took their time getting to the fire because they were pulled by horses. Well, let me tell you that those were spirited horses who liked pulling. They were specially chosen. Not more than one or two in a hundred could be a fire horse. And when I say that they wanted to get to the fire fast, I mean what I’m saying. Imagine carriage with a big brass boiler on it, steam spraying out the top, pulled through the city streets at a full gallop by a team of horses. Full gallop, mind you. We didn’t waste any time getting to the fire. In fact, I was one of those who was sad to see the horses go. They were good old beasts and they were reliable. People like these new petrol-fired trucks, but I’ve seen a fireman crank and crank them and the thing won’t catch. I never had trouble starting a horse, let me tell you. Those horses were raring to go when that fire whistle sounded. They’d stand there and dance as soon as they heard the siren. Couldn’t wait to go.

So, as I was saying, I was left behind at Station Three because I had a few years on me and chasing fire up and down stairs just wasn’t something I was good at any more. But I’d been around fire all my life. Never was anything other than a fireman after I turned 17. You were supposed to be 18 before they’d let you join but I swore I was and they let me in. So that tells you something about how long I’ve been a fireman because the good Lord has given me 70 years since that day.

So when the boys lit out for the big downtown fire, I knew that they might be back for that old boiler. Sure, she was old. Sure, she was heavy. But she could pump like nothing else. The new ones couldn’t put any more water, they were just lighter for the horses to haul and for the men to maneuver around on the fire ground. So she sat at the back and waited and waited. Well, one principle of fighting fire is that you’ve got to be ready. You’ve got to be ready to go at any time. Moment’s notice and you’re off. Fire takes hold fast and if you don’t get there to slow it down, it’ll eat a house before you can get out the door. So I figured they’d be back for the big boiler. So I got some hard coal into her and got her going. That was another thing about her – she was a little harder to get going than the new ones. The boys always complained when they had to get her going, but I never had any problem. It was like everything else in the fire service. You have to know what you’re doing and then do it at what an old chief of mine used to call a measured pace. No hurrying, other than to get to the fire. Once you get there, you know what has to be done. So you race like hell to get there but once you do, it’s everything at a measured pace. So you’re not rushing. Get to rushing and you get to making mistakes.

So I got the old boiler going and she built up a good head of steam in no time. Had her all ready to go. Only problem was, there was nothing to haul her to the fire. The boys had taken both pair of horses and there weren’t any more. I gave that some thought. They might leave the engine at the fire ground and come back with a team to get the old boiler. They might. But they might not. They might just call for the old boiler. Now, how was I to get her to the fire? The only thought that I had was for Comet, a mare we’d just sold a few weeks ago. She’d been a good fire horse, but every horse reaches its limit and she hit hers. After five years, they were done, no matter what kind of shape they were in. Hauling those boilers at a full clip across brick streets takes its toll on an animal. You couldn’t have animals giving up the ghost as they were pulling an engine to a fire. So after five years we sold them, usually for dray service. That was the company’s way. Comet had gone to a grocer down the street a bit. Hauling vegetables and fruits around on a wooden cart at a sane rate of speed was a lot easier than hauling those heavy boilers at a full run. So Comet might miss the excitement but she was likely to live a damn sight longer. Well, maybe. Anyway.

Oh, sorry about that language. Don’t mean to swear so much. There was a lot of that in the firehouse and you kind of had to learn to turn it off when you went home to the wife, you know. Or when the mayor and his bunch of hangers-on would come in for a tour. There you’d be shining up some brass and one of the firemen would come running in and say, “Mayor’s over at Station One!” So then we had about an hour to get everything ship-shape. Not that things weren’t, usually. But if you know a big wheel was on the way, you’d take a few minutes and make sure that things were extra-special nice, if you know what I mean. Things put away. Anyway. Don’t mean for you to hear all those old curse words. But I could use another one of these, if you don’t mind. Right. Just like that. Very nice. Thank you.

So where was I? Oh, yes. Right. Here I am with a problem. I’ve got a boiler all fired up but nothing to haul her to the fire. She’s not going to do a lot of good here in the station and I can’t be sure that they’ll be able to spare a team to come back and get her. So I started thinking about how I could get a team together. That’s part of being a fireman, too. You have to think as you’re moving. Think on the fly, as it were. But I didn’t have too much time to think before Big Bonner comes skidding into the firehouse. He had Dangle, our Dalmatian, with him. He was all covered in soot and his eyes were lit up like stars. I could smell the smoke on him before he even got close to me.

Now, a word about Big Bonner. First, he wasn’t so big. He was maybe 10 years old at that time and skinny as a rail. Just a kid. But he sure loved the fire service. He would come down to the station every day before and after school and sometimes when he was supposed to be in school. He’d run any errand for us, polish any brass, fetch whatever we wanted fetched. He was way too young to fight fire, but he just liked being around the firehouse and the firemen. If you were testing an engine, you could send him for a bucket of good hard coal and he’d be back in a jiffy. He never complained about any job we gave him. He was a scrawny little kid, but he’d work like a horse. He got the name Big Bonner from the time – oh, never mind that. It’s a long story for another time. I’ll just say that little boy Bonner had a pretty big heart. He did grow up to be a fireman. Made it all the way to captain. Never went any higher than that because he was all fireman and had no room for politician in him. The fire service has always had its politics and like me, he just didn’t have the stomach for the games that they wanted you to play. So.

Anyway, he comes galloping into the station and he says to me, Mr. Duke, sir, they say they need the big boiler downtown. Cap says they already lost three blocks and if we don’t get every stream we’ve got on the fire, we’re going to lose the whole damn town and that’s what he said sir so please excuse my language.

Well, that much I was expecting. That’s why I’d fired up the old boiler. But I was still short a team. And me and Donner surely weren’t going to pull that old iron and brass contraption to the fire downtown. We’d kill ourselves getting that pile of metal onto the apron, let alone getting her up Dutch Hill. So I told Bonner to run down to the grocer’s and tell him that we needed Comet back just for the night. Like he always did, he said yes sir and took off running. Like I said, he was a good boy. Dangle the Dalmatian went with him. I proceeded to get the harness ready. I had to fix it so it would take one horse centered, not a team. Now, Comet was a hell of a horse, but she was only one horse. It was going to take everything she had and then some to get that engine to the fire. But it was the only choice I had. Not just any horse can be a fire horse. For one thing, they don’t know the commands. For another, most horses are afraid of fire. You can’t get them close enough to put the engine to work. And last, most of them just plain weren’t strong enough. It took a special kind of horse and some special training to turn a horse into a fire horse. They had a system to rank them. The horses that hauled the light loads like a hose reel had to weigh eleven hundred pounds. The engine horses had to weigh at least fourteen hundred. That was Comet. The biggest horses, seventeen hundred, hauled the hook-and-ladder carts. I wished I had a hook-and-ladder horse, but all I had was Comet and she was going to have to do. I figured that right now she was the only fire horse left in the city that wasn’t downtown. So I set the harness up for one. I was just finishing up when Big Bonner brought her around the corner and – well. Give me a second here.

Ah. I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. All black except for a white streak up her nose and a touch above each hoof. A big, strong, tough fire horse. Every inch a fire horse and that’s a compliment I don’t hand out lightly, let me tell you. And she was raring to go. She was practically pulling Bonner up off the ground by tossing her head. She’d heard that fire whistle blow and she was ready to go. Just like a fireman.

She was already up and ready to go, sir, Big Bonner told me. I believed him. Once a fire horse, always a fire horse. She trotted right over to her old spot, where she would have charged out of her paddock and lined up right in front of engine Number Two. Just like she’d been trained to do. She was dancing around and ready, but I had to lead her back to Number One. She went with me because she was a good horse but I knew she was wondering why the harness hadn’t dropped from the ceiling like it was supposed to do. Back in her service days, the harness would hang right above her neck and then the first fireman down the pole would harness her up. Second man down took the horse on the other side. But those teams were gone and the harness for Number One Engine had to be lifted up onto her.

Now, there are people out there who say that horses aren’t that smart and people who say that horses can’t understand people. Well, I know some people who aren’t real smart, either. I know that Comet was a smart horse and she was a fire horse and she knew that there was a fire. I figured that the only thing she couldn’t understand was why she wasn’t already harnessed and pulling an engine toward the smoke. So Big Bonner helped me get her rigged up. We got the big padded collar on her and started strapping it down. Big Bonner knew what to do so I checked the boiler while he was finishing her up. She kept jerking the straps out of our hands, she was so fired up. She was just bouncing around, all ready to go. The boiler was good to go, so I grabbed my coat and my hat. I walked up to Comet’s head and tried to gentle her down a little. I told her that it was big fire and we needed her, but she was going to be hauling the big old boiler all by herself. And Dutch Hill stood between us and the fire. Now, I said about how some people don’t understand horses. But as I sit here tonight, I swear to you that she stopped bouncing and looked me right in the eye. I looked right into that big brown eye and she looked back and all I saw in that eye was determination. Let’s go, she was saying. They retired me too early. I can haul this. Let’s go. So I gave her a pat and took my seat. I checked the boiler by reflex and she was hot and ready and it was time to go.

I looked down and there stood Big Bonner, just waiting. No way I could leave him out, so I said to him, well, what are you waiting for? Get on up here. I never saw anybody move so fast. He was up and that seat before I could blink twice. I handed him the bell rope. I’m going to be busy with Comet, so you need to ring that bell like you’re trying to wake up God, I told him. He nodded back and I swear to you I’ve never seen a boy happier. Hang on to the rail with your other hand, I told him, and hang on to your hat with your third hand, because here we go. I snapped the reins and Comet strained and we moved. Dangle started barking and Big Bonner started clanging that bell and I hit the steam whistle lever with my heel and we were out of the firehouse and onto the street and I remembered again why I loved the fire service. Clanging and whistling, we bounced down the street with Dangle barking and leading us to the fire. Big Bonner was working that bell like a champion and he had a grin on his face so wide I thought he might split his own head in half. I didn’t have to do a thing with Comet. She was pulling hard and we moving. She knew to follow Dangle and he knew to follow his nose right to the fire.

Yup, we were moving pretty good. Comet got up to a full gallop fast and I bent over a bit to cut back on the wind blowing past me. The boiler was venting steam and it whipped out behind us. With that bell and me blowing that big brass steam whistle, we had the other carts were scattering out of our way. There weren’t too many on the road at that hour, but those that were out didn’t waste any time getting out of our way. We cleared a path like a boat cuts through water. I could tell that Comet was working hard, but she was going fine. I could see her big muscles bunching and moving and she was keeping us going at a good clip. She was as anxious to get there as Big Bonner was. I was a little worried about Deer Street. It was a sharp backwards turn, where you kind of turned back on yourself. But I’d forgotten what a fine fire horse Comet was. She slowed herself down, easy, and I helped her by giving the carriage a touch of brake. She took that corner without any direction from me at all. I looked back and she pivoted that back right wagon wheel around that curb as nice as you please. The carriage never even tilted. And then she was right back on the pull, moving us along. Before you could spit, she had us back up to a full gallop. What a wonderful animal.

The next obstacle, though, I knew was going to be tougher. Dutch Hill. So if you wouldn’t mind another one here, just like this one. Yes. That’s very nice of you. Thank you. Well, telling a tale like this makes a man thirsty. So what was it? Oh, yes, we made it around the Deer Street bend just fine, but Dutch Hill was ahead of us. It was a steep bastard, if you’ll pardon my language. That hill should have been leveled or had a tunnel dug through it, but it was one of the older streets in town and all they’d ever done to make it easier on horses was to cobble it so their hooves could get a purchase. Comet eased down as we got close to Dutch Hill and I told Big Bonner to jump out. We had to take as much weight as we could off the carriage or Comet would never get up the stretch. I was already a little worried about it. In my younger fire service days, I’d seen a fire horse team or two dragged backwards down the hill when the driver lost the brake and the team lost its pull. I had to stay on the engine to work the brake, but every pound counted so I had Big Bonner jump off. We wouldn’t be going up that hill at any more than a walking pace anyway, especially with Comet pulling by her lonesome. I had Big Bonner take the water pail off and the canvas bag of tools. Every pound counted. I didn’t want Comet pulling anything she didn’t have to. So if it wasn’t attached to the engine, I had Big Bonner pull it off.

I had Comet hit the bottom of the hill as fast as I dared. At that point, I could see lights in windows and people leaning out to watch. They knew that watching a fire horse team take an engine up Dutch Hill was something to see. I just wished that they could have done more than watch. I’d like to have put them under harness. But firemen are firemen and fire horses are fire horses and we had to do this on our own. Dangle started barking faster. He wanted us to move it along, but I didn’t want to give Comet more than she could do. Get on up there and talk to her, I told Big Bonner. Tell her she can do this. He was a smart boy, and he knew how serious this was so he ran right up there and started petting her and whispering to her. I grabbed the brake lever as we started up the hill and held it just grazing the metal so it wasn’t holding Comet back but I only had to haul on it hard and it would bite and stop a backslide.

I saw Comet’s muscles working as we started up the hill. She took each step deliberately, keeping moving but slowing way down. She pulled hard with each step, each hoof placed and then a hard drag to move the carriage another foot. Step, step, step, step. That’s how she got us up Dutch Hill all by herself hauling an engine that usually needed three horses. At first I was worried the she was going to so slow that she’d already tired too much and we’d never finish the climb. I cursed myself for allowing giving her the reins at the beginning. She’d burned all her hay on speed and now she had nothing left when she needed it to pull.

But then I noticed that she was pulling slow but steady. Slow but steady she was doing it. A step at a time. She was a smart horse. She knew how much she had in her and she was parceling it out. She was moving that big old boiler up Dutch Hill a damn foot at a time, at a pace she knew she could keep up. Midway up the hill, she was still pulling strong. One step, one step, one step. One step at a time, she pulled and pulled. She started to sweat pretty good and a froth broke out and ran down her jawline. But she pulled. Three-quarters of the way up, I kept praying and I kept my hand on that brake. I vented the boiler with a long whistle even though I knew that the steam released didn’t weigh enough to make a difference. But every ounce counted. A feather falling from the sky onto the carriage might have been just that much too much. But Comet was a true fire horse and she never stopped pulling. She was going to get us up or die in harness on that hill. Fifty feet from the top was the first time I let myself hope that we’d make it. Then it was forty. Then thirty. Then twenty. The crest was right there. I could spit and hit it. Then ten. Then the people watching out the windows gave a cheer when the engine’s front wheels broke over the crest. I remember cursing them for jumping the gun. The game wasn’t over until the rear wheels were safely on the level too. It was only a minute later that they were, and I allowed myself to breathe. She pulled that carriage right up over Dutch Hill. And let me tell you, I’ve never seen a horse pull like that and I never will again. Ever. I’m sure of that. I went to take my sweaty hand off the brake and found that my hand was so cramped I almost couldn’t let go. I clicked the reins to stop her once we were safe and called for Big Bonner to get her a drink. He grabbed the leather bucket, flipped it open and it took it up to her. She stuck her head in and drank deep. A shudder ran down her body from head to tail. She pulled her head out of the bucket, gave a great sneeze, then ducked it and drank more. Big Bonner held that bucket up for her like he was waiting on a queen. I saw the pride in his eyes and I knew just what he was feeling. What a fire horse. Magnificent. That’s the only word for her.

Big Bonner brought the water bucket and the canvas bag back and put them back on board. She’s quite an animal, isn’t she, he said. She is and don’t you forget it, I told him. Now get back up here. It’s time to go. I could smell the smoke and Dangle was barking his fool head off. Comet took a deep breath and I knew she could smell the smoke too. There was a fire. It was time to go. She shook herself and I snapped the reins and we were off again. She started slow, but as the smoke thickened, she sped up. Soon we were clattering along at her best speed again. Big Bonner was working that bell again, and I was venting the boiler with big long blasts.

We covered a few more blocks and then I Big Bonner took his hand off his hat long enough to smack me on the arm. I looked at him and he pointed up at the sky. I’d been so focused on Comet and her path that I hadn’t looked up. I looked up expecting to see a column of smoke. Instead, it looked like the bottom of hell. Black smoke had blotted out the evening sky and fire flicked across it like red lightning. Big Bonner’s eyes were wide. I suppose mine were, too. In all my years, I’d never seen a fire do that to such a big stretch of sky. Not even the McGuff mill fire. Nothing had ever looked like that. I couldn’t imagine the fire that could blanket the sky.

Just then, we saw a man racing towards us on a horse. He pulled up as he saw that we were a fire wagon. I could see that he was a captain by his uniform. Station Three? He yelled. I yelled back yes. You’ve got to get her to the river right speedy, he said. They’ve already lost half the downtown and they’re going to lose the whole town if they don’t get every stream we’ve got on the fire. We already lost a Station One engine when a wall went over on it. We’re in a bad way. I’m on my way to round up a bucket brigade to save the Lutheran church, he said. That bad, sir? I asked him and he just shook his head. Get her up there, he said. We need every engine and every man we’ve got. I saluted and he was off to round up some brave civilians to throw water on a fire that was eating downtown and was hungry for the rest of the city. 

So as Comet got moving again, I leaned forward and said, Comet, I need it all, girl, I need all you’ve got. I slapped the reins and bless her, she picked up speed. She somehow found more to give me and that’s why I’ll never forget her. That’s why I’m telling you this story. And remember now, she was doing all this while hauling an engine that usually called for three horses. There was never a fire horse like her and people need to remember that.

So we went barreling down Market Street and by then it was getting foggy with smoke. It was black and brown and swirled around us. The smell was strong. Ahead, I could see figures in the streets running. We turned the corner onto Crosstown and there was hell before me. I could see the black figures against the flames and the flames were three stories high. The whole riverfront was burning.

A captain with wide eyes ran up to me and grabbed Comet’s harness as I eased her down. Station Three, Engine One reporting for duty as ordered, I said, snapping a salute. Get her to the front, he yelled. Get her to Water Street. We can’t stop it and it’s headed for the hotel. I nodded and clicked to Comet and we were off right into the fire. She didn’t bat an eye. She wasn’t afraid of fire.

Like I said, there’s horses and then there’s fire horses and Comet was a fire horse. She trotted right past that inferno like she was crossing a pasture. I did notice that she had picked up a little stumble on her left side, but after what she’d been through, I couldn’t expect that she’d be in perfect form. We trotted past other engines with their brass and bronze shells reflecting the flames. Firemen in long coats wrestled fat hoses, spraying big white jets of water onto buildings that could barely be seen behind the sheets of red and yellow fire. We stayed behind the other engines, staying away from the rat’s nest of hoses. We did have to carefully cross a few hose lines they’d set up to suction water up out of the river, but they’d used wedges to build wheel bridges up and over the hose so our metal wheels didn’t cut the hose jacket or cut off the pressure.

It was a terrible scene and my fireman’s sense told me that we were losing. They were right to call for the engine I that I was manning with Big Bonner. That evil demon fire was going to win this one and its prize would be the whole town. I had a quick flash of the entire town the next day as one big pile of smoking charred beams and nothing left standing at all.

We turned onto Water Street and I saw my boys. Captain Wagner motioned me over and I directed Comet to him. When I got close, I could see black soot on his face and a burn across his cheek. He was waving his speaking trumpet. Set her up over there, he yelled. You up to pressure? Almost full, sir, I said. Give me a minute and I’ll have her up full. Good because we need everything, he said. I positioned the carriage as ordered and set the brake. I told Big Bonner to unhitch Comet, lead her back aways and get her some water and feed. She’d earned it. Stay close but not too close, I said. Like the fireman that he was becoming, he gave me a salute and did as he was told. I turned to the boiler and got her up to full pressure. A couple boys ran a hose cart over to me and we hooked them up. One of my boys connected my supply line. I let them stretch the attack hoses out and then I cranked open the valves. The hoses hissed and slithered on the ground like big snakes as my pump pushed water through them. Then they jumped up hard as rock and water spat out the nozzles. My boys put the water square on the fire in a big white arc and it jumped and danced away. They chased it as I kept my eyes on the valves and the boiler pressure. It was touch-and-go from the beginning and my boys needed every ounce of pressure I could give them. I did my best to keep the water flowing and the pressure steady. That old boiler did its job, I must say. She held the pressure steady as long as I kept her fire up.

It seemed like a minute later but it was much longer by my pocket watch when I felt a tug at my sleeve. I looked down to see Big Bonner. I expected to see his big grin and eyes shining like stars, but instead he looked scared. Mr. Duke, it’s Comet, he said. You have to come right now. I could see that he was scared so I got one of my boys to stand in for me on the engine and I followed Big Bonner back away from the roaring fire and the heat to a darker, cooler patch of grass he’d found. I looked for Comet’s figure in the light from the flames but I couldn’t spot her. At first I thought that she’d run away and that was why Big Bonner was so worried. Then I saw that she was down. Laying down. On her side. I rushed over as fast as I could get there. She was breathing hard, her sides heaving. Foam was at her mouth and on her nose. There was a little trickle of dark running out of her nose and I didn’t have to touch it to my lips to know that it was blood. I moved around so I could hold her head on my lap. I stroked her. I talked to her. There wasn’t anything else I could do. I knew that she’d given her all and she was slowly slipping away. I’d asked her to give everything she had and she did just that. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. She’d blown up her big strong heart and the only thing I could do was stay there and stroke her neck so she wouldn’t die alone. Big Bonner stood there looking as sad as I’ve ever seen anyone look. She’s not gonna make it is she, he asked me. No, Bonner, she’s not, I told him. We took everything she had. He looked like he was going to cry, so I patted the ground next to me. Sit down here, I said. Tonight you learned how to be a fireman. Now I want you to learn a lesson that every man has to learn.

In your life, friends – people and animals – are going to come and go. That’s a fact of life. They come into your life and you enjoy it while they’re there. But they leave one day, for many reasons. Sometimes that reason is because they leave for good. But that doesn’t mean that the time you had with them was meaningless. In fact, maybe you learn a good bit from them. They did something for you, something good. Now Comet, she’s a fire horse and she’s going to die on the fire ground, after hauling an engine to the fire to help put it out. She did her job. She did what she was born to do. She was going to die one day, I told Bonner. And I bet that she’d just as soon die here as in a cold dark stall somewhere, I told him. He just nodded and helped me pet her but I could see that he was miserable. But there wasn’t anything we could do. So we stayed with her until the end. I talked to her a lot and I told her what a fine fire horse she was and how she did her duty right up to the end and how no one could have asked more from her. I wish I could tell you that I looked into her eyes to see some kind of forgiveness or acceptance but the truth is that it was too dark to see her eyes and she died there on that grassy patch as the fire roared and the hoses hissed. I sat there holding her and watched as bit by bit, the fire retreated and shrank until it was clear that we’d defeated the demon one more time. It had been a close one. But we’d won and she had done her part.

Well. Dawn was on its way when Captain Wagner found his way over to us. I jumped up to salute, but he waved to me to sit back down. We were all too tired for formality. His face was frowning but he didn’t look quite as grim. He looked down at Comet. He asked if it was her and I said, yessir, it was the only horse I could find to pull Engine One up here. He nodded. I couldn’t afford to send a team back for you, he said. I figured you’d find a way. Yessir, I said. We did. He noticed the we and looked down at Big Bonner. He did his share tonight didn’t he, he asked. If I might speak freely sir, I said, I couldn’t have done it without him. He did a full fireman’s job this night. Captain Wagner nodded at Bonner and I could see him saving that tidbit away in his head. It took every man we had, he said. They even had a bucket brigade running. Looks like we stopped it over at Second Avenue. Lost the Lutheran church and I don’ t know how many merchants, but we stopped the bastard. He looked down at Comet. We needed everything we had, he said. We needed Engine One, especially after Company One’s engine went down. He nodded his head a little bit and looked at Big Bonner. I think he could see how torn up he was over Comet. Our Engine One helped turn the tide, he said. She got it here. Big Bonner nodded and hugged Comet’s head. You hear that, girl? I said to Comet. You saved the city.

Captain Wagner looked like he was going to walk away, but then stopped. Dutch Hill? he asked. All by herself, sir, I said and pride filled my heart. All by herself. And then all the way here. At full speed. She even gave me a little more when I asked for it. The captain blinked and looked at Comet again. I have to say that I’m pretty sure a tear slid down my cheek then, but I didn’t wipe it. Captain looked at me. Hell of a horse, he said. Yessir, I said. She’s a fire horse.

He nodded at me and walked away. And that’s the story of Comet. She saved the city, plain and simple. They gave her a full fireman’s funeral. Every fireman was there. People lined the streets. She was on a fire carriage pulled by six of her brother and sister fire horses. Boy, did the brass shine that day. And I’ll tell you there weren’t many dry eyes. Station Three led the parade and Big Bonner got to ride with me on Engine One. I insisted. No one argued. And I guess that’s the end of my tale.

They don’t use horses any more. Maybe the new ways are better, but maybe they’re not. All I know is that when I see a fire engine running down the street to a fire and there’s no horse team out front, I can’t help but feel that something is missing. Something important. Maybe something that shouldn’t be missing and can’t be replaced.

Now if you could help me push back a bit here. That stove is nice and warm, but I’m a little close. And if you could get me one more of these. I’ve probably had more than enough. But if you get me one more, you can get one more for yourself. And then we can toast Comet, one great fire horse.

Yes, thank you. Just like that. Just like that.