COUNTRYSIDE YARNS
Tall Tale or Truth? You Decide!
Sarah’s Story, Part 4
by Janis Stein

Join in the continuation as the McAllister family makes their way into Marlette after the Great Fire of 1881 to learn what havoc the fire caused in town. Will having faced two fires in 10 years be too much for this couple, or will they find strength enough to rise up once more?

The road to Marlette was littered with carcasses, and people were out, looking for their family members, caring for their dead. I put my arm around Jeremiah a bit tighter, and the rhythm of the horses hooves clopping along the dirt put my exhausted son right to sleep. I was thankful sleep spared him the gruesome sights along the way.

From a distance we could see that the stores along Main Street were still standing, though the street lacked its usual hustle and bustle. J.P. tied the borrowed horse to the hitching post, and together the three of us went inside. No sooner had I opened the door when I heard the hushed sobs of a little girl. Worried now, I made my way into the store’s back room, and there I found a bedraggled Isabella lying down, whispering soothing words to her little sister Anastasia who was sobbing in her sleep. I put my arms around both of them and gathered them in. Isabella broke down instantly, and in between her barely coherent sentences I pieced together that her whole family had perished in the fire. Their house was gone too, as were all their belongings and, not knowing what else to do or where to go, Isabella came to the store carrying her sister in her arms.

We took the girls in, of course we did, and while Isabella was almost old enough and of age to be on her own, we would never expect it under the circumstances. While Anastasia settled into a deeper sleep, I asked Isabella to mind Jeremiah. I looked up then, when I heard the bell, and saw J.P. come in - I hadn’t even realized he had left - carrying a box with various items he purchased from the General Store. I could always depend on J.P. He suspected right when he assumed the girls had had nothing to eat since the fire. While Isabella bit into her apple, Jeremiah sucked his peppermint stick to a sharp point.

J.P. nodded in approval when he saw that I intended to make some dresses for the girls. I pulled out a blue floral bolt of cloth that I knew Isabella preferred and began cutting the pieces I would need to make matching new dresses for each. J.P. took Jeremiah’s hand and said they would go see if they could learn who needed help the most. When Isabella was done eating, I encouraged her to help me. She loved to sew, and I knew from my own experience 10 years prior, that this simple task of concentrating on stitching would give her mind a welcome reprieve from reliving the horror of all the fire claimed.

I kept one eye on her as we worked, me making her dress and she, her sister’s. We worked in silence for a time, comfortable with each other, and it was then she asked where Joshua was. The look on my face must have been explanation enough, and we both sat down then and had a good cry all over again. Before our tears had a chance to dry, Anastasia awoke with Isabella’s name on her lips.

Isabella brought Ana out to the front room, and I motioned that she should make sure the little girl ate something. J.P. returned then with a washtub that he hauled out back. The girls would get a bath and clean clothes before the day was out.

Caring for the girls, in addition to giving extra attention to Jeremiah, gave both J.P. and I a firmer resolve to rise above the tragedy. We took the girls home with us, and made up an extra bed for them to sleep. Before we had laid our heads to our pillows that night, I asked J.P. if he thought it alright to offer Isabella a partnership in the store. Not only did he agree, he said he would work at turning the back room into living quarters, so that if Isabella chose to, in time, she and Ana could live right at the store, thereby giving them the independence of a place of their own. Without any extended family in the area, if they chose to live with us for a time, or indefinitely, we would be happy to have them.

Isabella joined J.P. and me at the table in the morning and, over coffee, we discussed the future’s options. Like so many of our neighbors affected by the fire, Isabella would take no charity. She said she would like to work at the store, and give a portion of her pay back to cover the cost of renting the back room. She thought the idea of creating living quarters at the store was a good one; it would be a short walk for Ana after school, and Ana would have a good place to work on her studies while Isabella finished out the work day. With a shaky voice, she expressed her gratitude.

And so it was, each morning, J.P. loaded all of us –Isabella, Ana, Jeremiah and me – into the wagon and drove us to town. Isabella and I put long hours in at the store, making clothes for all those burned out by the fire. I told Isabella if folks didn’t have the money to pay, we would take anything they had to barter – or nothing at all if that was the case. I knew it was important for folks to keep their pride, and besides, we had plenty enough to get by. Ana, too, was a big help, occupying and distracting Jeremiah by teaching him new games. Though three years his senior, Ana and Jeremiah became the best of friends, so much so that they were inseparable.

Each night, J.P. returned to bring all of us home. Isabella and Ana would remain with us until enough time passed that they felt comfortable and ready to reside at the store. Many nights, Isabella and I brought work home with us, and we stitched late into the night.

The local papers eventually recovered to report the news in our county and that of our neighboring counties. After the children were asleep, J.P. read the paper aloud in the evening, with what I thought was morbid fascination. I only wanted to forget. For many it would be a rough winter, but as with any calamity the goodness of mankind shone through, evident in the donations of clothing, food and the lumber needed to rebuild.

When I began to feel sorry for myself, I only needed to look around to see others who bore even more pain and sorrow. One news account stated “over 14,000 people were rendered destitute, and 300 lost their lives…For those who survived, there was little left to keep them from wishing that they too had perished!”

Another report reflected the widespread losses. “Minden was the center of the burned district, and in Bridgehampton and Marion Townships each, the entire property of 25 to 30 families was consumed, and nearly everybody lost something.”

Be sure to look for the continuation next month to learn more about the message then-Governor Jerome gave in a special session of the State Legislature after the 1881 fire.

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Have a yarn you’d like to share? We’d be happy to spin it. You may write to Janis in care of The Lakeshore Guardian, P.O. Box 6, Harbor Beach, MI 48441, or give us a call at 866-479-3448 to share your story.

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