Though it was her policy not to use her cell phone while driving, Maggie saw black smoke billowing up on the horizon near County Road 60 and decided this time was different. She called home.
Jim was using the toilet at the time, his blue jeans bunched in a pile at his ankles. When the phone rang, he hunched over to dig it out of a front pocket.
“Did you see the smoke coming up at the Cauty’s?” Maggie said.
“I’m not outside.” He said.
“It’s black. I mean black-black.” She said.
“Did you see what it was? Maybe they’re just burning a brush pile.” Jim said.
On Maggie’s end, his voice sounded a bit echoey. “Where’re you?” She asked.
“I’m in the house.” He said.
“Oh. Just sounds funny.” She said. “Do you think we should call Bill and see if everything’s OK?”
“If it’d make you feel better.”
After hanging up, Jim finished in the bathroom and stepped out onto the back porch. From there he could see the Cauty’s place in the distance across the east beanfield. A broad column of smoke was rising high into the otherwise clear sky. Maggie was right; it was very black. It didn’t look like smoke from a brush pile.
Jim found Bill Cauty’s number on his cell phone and gave it a call. No one picked up. He stood and watched the smoke for a bit longer and then went into the house and rummaged through the hall closet searching for a pair of binoculars he knew he had somewhere. He finally found them stashed behind a sticky, half-empty bottle of old sunscreen. When he went back outside, Maggie had pulled up and was standing next to her truck, shielding her eyes from the sun, squinting into the distance toward the smoke.
When she saw the binoculars in his hand, she said, “Good idea.”
“I tried to give Bill a call but he didn’t pick up.” Jim said. He held the binoculars to his eyes. It took a moment to adjust them correctly.
“See anything?” Maggie said.
Jim didn’t respond immediately. Then he said, “Oh, my. Geez.”
“What?” Maggie reached for the binoculars.
“Everything over there’s on fire. Looks like, at least.” Jim said. He handed her the binoculars and asked for her keys.
“I’m driving over there to see what’s what. It might be a good idea for you to call 911.” He said.
“I’m going with you.” She said.
While Jim drove, Maggie made the call. She didn’t know the Cauty’s exact address, but gave the fire department her best guess. “It’s on County Road 60, past where it splits off from Grover. They’ll see the smoke, trust me.” She said to the dispatcher.
The Cauty’s farm was only a mile down the road from Jim and Maggie’s place. Jim drove fast. As they neared, Maggie could only shake her head, not believing what she was seeing. Every structure on the property was ablaze, with smoke and flames spilling out of doors and windows; the house, the barn, the chicken coop, the big outbuilding where Bill parked his combines, all alight. The barn was the worst off, completely swallowed in flames and black smoke.
Jim pulled the truck into a shallow ditch near the entrance to the Cauty’s drive, out of the way of any emergency vehicles that might be arriving soon. He hopped out of the truck and said, “Maggie, stay here. Keep an eye out for the fire truck.”
“Be careful.” She said.
Jim ran toward the house first. The front door was wide open. A good sign, hopefully. As he approached the steps leading up to the porch, the heat coming from the house caused him to halt. Nothing could be alive in there, he knew that.
He ran around the side of the house, watching the windows for movement. The glass had broken on many of them and smoke poured out. He shouted for Bill and Carol, but it was difficult to hear his own voice over the noise of the fires surrounding him.
He returned to the front of the house and stood. There was nothing to do. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Bill’s number again. Just as the voicemail message began playing, Jim heard a car horn honking. He turned toward the road. Maggie was still in the truck, trying to signal him by pounding on the horn.
Jim quickly saw why she was so excited. Thirty yards from the road stood Bill Cauty. He waved and shouted something Jim couldn’t hear. Bill was holding a camera, filming the burning structures around him.
Jim ran to him. “Bill, what happened?” He said, taking a deep breath. “Is Carol safe?”
Bill continued filming.
“She’s fine. She and our oldest went to Des Moines this morning. She won’t be back till tonight. It’s just me.” He said.
“Maggie called 911 on our way over. How’d this start?” Jim said.
“Oh,” Bill said, “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. I guess you could say it was intentional.”
“It was what?” Jim said.
“I used some gasoline on the barn and the garage. Used barbecue lighter fluid in the house and on the coop.” He said. “I let the chickens out first.”
Jim said, “Well.”
Suddenly Maggie was with them, standing beside Jim.
“Bill, everyone okay?” She said.
“Everyone’s safe.” He said.
“I called 911. They’re on their way.” She said.
“I think it’ll all be gone by the time they get here.” Bill said.
“Bill,” Jim said. “What are you gonna say when they ask how this happened?”
Bill kept filming. He nodded his head and said, “I wish I knew. I needed to say something about my life, but I don’t know if it can be said. I thought maybe it needs to be shown in some way.”
He panned the camera across the burning farm. “Well, here it is.” He said.
The sound of sirens was growing in the distance.
* * * * *
To learn more about Why the K Foundation Burned a Million Quid, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.
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