firemen were carrying water from wells and trying to put out the
blaze. And people were looking for Bill and Rita and Nettie. “Come
on men, there’s a woman in there,” one rescuer cried out.
The justice of the peace had joined the search, and so had
Mathis and the Shoun brothers. Even before remains were found,
the Big Hill Trading Company undertaker had arrived with his
hearse; a rival undertaker showed up as well, the two hovering like
predatory birds.
The searchers scoured the ruins. James Shoun, having once
owned the house, knew where the main bedroom had been
situated. He combed in the vicinity, and that’s when he heard a
voice calling out. Others could hear it, too, faint but distinct:
“Help!...Help!” A searcher pointed to a smoldering mound above
the voice. Firemen doused the area with water, and amid the
steaming smoke everyone began clawing the rubble away. As they
worked, the voice grew louder, rising over the sound of the
heaving, creaking wreckage. Finally, a face began to take shape,
blackened and tormented. It was Bill Smith. He was writhing by
his bed. His legs were seared beyond recognition. So were his back
and hands. David Shoun later recalled that in all his years as a
doctor he’d never seen a man in such agony: “He was halloing and
was in awful misery.” James Shoun tried to comfort Bill, telling
him, “I won’t let you suffer.”
As the group of men cleared the debris, they could see that Rita
was lying beside him in her nightgown. Her face was unmarred,
and she looked as if she were still peacefully sleeping, in a dream.
But when they lifted her up, they saw that the back of her head
was crushed. She had no more life in her. When Bill realized that
she was dead, he let out a torturous cry. “Rita’s gone,” he repeated.
He told a friend who was there, “If you’ve got a pistol...”
Ernest, wearing a bathrobe that someone had handed him to