The Fire in my Belly

“Mr. Furnace, it started years ago. I remember it like it happened yesterday. Listen closely; I’m becoming an old man and may not remember it much longer. You’re an important part of the story, Mr. Furnace, for you were born after we arrived. You’re my ninth child and the only one still listening to me.” Pa chuckled with mock offense. All his children listened to what Pa said, maybe more than what he didn’t say. “That was a tough time for us. We disliked the Barron so much that we never even said his given name. I can’t say he cared much for us either.” The furnace laughed, making a small puff of smoke rise into the chimney. It’ll be a pleasant night, as both entered Pa’s story like fleas watching it unfold. # The icy wind blew snow against the closed door. The ragged family joyfully huddled around a small, rough plank table, celebrating the harvest. Crops were safely stored or sold for high prices, meaning the family had money left. With his back to the crude door, Pa glanced at where he hid his money and silently mused. We can pay our taxes to the Barron and get something nice, perhaps a bolt of cloth or a new rope. Maybe both, and I will still have money left for emergencies. The mud fireplace burned brightly, serving as heat and stove for the family. Pa liked watching it; he was proud of his building efforts. Fueled by an ample meal, the children's laughter echoed through the tiny room. Pride swelled Pa’s massive chest as he admired his wife and four children. The boys are growing up. Luis is the quiet one. He is so dependable. Unlike our dreamer and troublemaker, Herman, Luis works hard and enjoys farm work. Edith and Mae will make fine wives someday. Ma does so well with what we have. She keeps some food on our table and clothes on our backs. How does she find cloth? I don’t know what I would do without her. If only she weren’t so thin. Our good harvest is due to everyone’s hard work. Even my little girls worked, pulling weeds from the garden. Edith tried cutting wood without telling anyone. Most of her pieces were small splinters; several were longer than the fireplace. Pa secretly cut them smaller but publicly bragged about her efforts. Pa’s mind filled with optimism as he contemplated the prosperous year. Maybe this year, I can get everyone a shirt without holes. He made their shoes from old rags, rope, worn leather, and bark. Mae was the family expert in finding dead animals with useable fur and hide. Maybe I can save the hide from the calf and use it. If - a big if - the Barron doesn’t claim it first. His giant hand automatically clenched into a fist at the thought of the Barron taking his unborn calf. “Pa, everything okay?” Ma was always observant. “Just fine, there are no problems,” was Pa’s taciturn response. At least not yet; there was no sense in burdening her with his concerns. A soldier burst through the wooden door without warning, loosening the cast iron hinges from the jam and the wooden latch. The broken door fell to the side as he erupted into the hut. He was in full winter uniform, complete with shoulder tassels, cloak, fancy hat, and a sword by his side. Snow dusted his magnificent mustache and his neatly trimmed hair. White gloves made his hands more threatening than effeminate. His heavy, leather boots shone brightly, and through the damaged doorway, the family saw several more similarly-dressed men standing at attention. Wind began drifting snow into the tiny house, now lacking a door, while the family shivered in the cold. The sudden breeze caused the fire to throw sparks into the chimney. “What!” Pa rose to face the intruder. The others, startled, carefully watched Pa. His black, bushy eyebrows seemingly stood on end, his massive, clenched fists hanging at his side. His eyes narrowed until they were little more than slits. The furious serf’s appearance should make anyone think twice about breaking down his door. Ma thought; his uncombed hair and ragged beard make his eyes look like burning coals. However, the soldier never acknowledged Pa’s fiery stare. “A message for Luis and Herman Schumerhass from our beloved Barron. Monday, at dawn, in one week, you’re to present yourselves at his estate for induction into his army.” Without waiting for a response or acknowledgment that the two boys were in the room, the soldier turned and marched, with his comrades, into the night. Herman jumped up and, with Pa’s help, fit the heavy door into the broken jam, blocking most of the wind and snow. Ma pulled from the corner several heavy, ragged comforters made from old rags tied together, giving one to each side of the table. At the same time, Pa reached for his tattered coat hanging on the peg by the door. The room cooled quickly despite the roaring fire. Ma tried using the last comforter to block wind from most of the holes around the damaged door, vainly attempting to keep the room warm. Everyone pulled their thin clothes tighter and put their coats on. Their necks felt the cold the worst. They tugged on their fur hats to cover their ears and necks and put on their mittens. The children put their hands into their tattered pockets and looked around, wondering what would happen next.