By: Vicki Scammell

“Vicki, Vicki wake up the barn is burning!”

“Yeah whatever.”

“Vicki the house may catch on fire too. GET UP.”

That was the beginning of the most terrifying four hours of my life.

The night of January 10, 1996 had started off like any other evening on my farm. I had my two barns of chores to do and then I planned to go out. I was in hurry because I didn’t want to be late to meet with my friends, so I rushed about my barn doing my chores. Chores consisted of the care of one hundred and seven cattle and our three wonderful horses: Clover, Smokey and Flicka.

Mom bought Clover a little over three years ago. Smokey had belonged to my sister since the middle of the summer and Flicka and I had made a great team for a little over a year.

Flicka was my pride and joy. We had developed a special bond over the past year. She became a successful barrel racer and an accomplished jumper within that year. She was also a wonderful pet. She was my best friend.

Because of my lack of time, I only spent a few minutes playing with Clover and Smokey and though I wanted to spend more time with Flicka, she only got a few minutes of attention as well. Once I had hurriedly completed the rest of my chores I ran into the house to get ready.

After I had showered and dressed, mom dropped me off and told me she would pick me up around midnight. From there I spent three carefree hours of fun laughing, gossiping and goofing off. When mom came to get me at midnight my friend Amy said good-bye and told me to have a good night. I laughed at her out-of-character remark. Little did I know that that would be one of the worst nights of my life.

When I got home I flopped on the couch as I so often did and turned on the television. I guess I was more tired than expected because I fell asleep. The next thing I heard was my mom screaming at me to get my sister up and get outside. I grabbed a pair of pants and headed to the window.

It was a horrifying sight. Our large red and white barn was engulfed in flames. I could see feed burning, large beams flaming, paint blistering, and steel siding collapsing. My sister and I chased my mom out the door.

Upon meeting the night air, I just about vomited. It was much worse than the sight I had seen through the window. I could hear loud snapping and popping noises and the heart-breaking sound of animals wailing. The stench of burnt flesh and hair was gut-wrenching and unbearable.

My first thought was of my beloved horse. I began to scream her name. Next I dashed for the hellish barnyard. My attempt to save my friend was short lived because before I came within fourty feet of the barn my mother had grabbed me and was dragging me to the truck.
While sitting at the end of the lane-way, neighbours began to show up and the fire trucks went speeding by. I began to cry. My horse was trapped in the closest thing I had ever seen to Hell and there was nothing I could do to help her. My next thought was to pray.
I have never been a religious person but I do believe in God and thought that this may be my only hope of seeing my gorgeous sorrel mare again. While choking out my prayer for about the hundredth time I saw three figures walking down the lane-way.

My first thought was that my mom had been hurt but once I distinguished her figure I calmed down. I realized that the figures were leading a horse. I bounded from the truck and sputtered in a rasping voice “is it Flicka?”

When she heard my voice my mare broke loose and ran the length of the lane-way directly into my arms. Tears poured down my face. My beautiful horse’s hair was singed and she was covered in burns but she was alive. I couldn’t have been happier at that moment.

As it turned out my mother had heard Flicka’s screams of terror and with the help of two firemen rescued my friend from the barnyard. The horse pen gate was tied back with a rope and it had burned entrapping all three horses. Everyone believed that my screams had convinced my mare to run through a section of flaming foundation to safety.

In the light of morning we found that we had lost Clover and Smokey and seven head of cattle that were locked in awaiting a sale the next day. All of the carcasses were found anticipating escape at the gates of their pens.

Whether it was my faith in God at four a.m. on January 10, 1996 or it was Flicka’s faith in me, I will never know. But whatever it was, it saved a lot of heartache and tears and strengthened the bond between teenaged girl and her magnificent horse.