Brutal Winds & Good Grass
Part 1: The Windy Deuce Wildfire of 2024
Fritch Fire Chief Zeb Smith called Sanford Ranch Foreman Casey Bright on February 27, “Hey, bud. Fire’s jumped the highway. It’s going across the north side of your ranch.”
“What do you need from me?” Casey asked.
“From your place, let me know what you see.”
Driving to the ranch’s northern most pasture which ends at the south side of the Fritch city limits, Casey opened gates for livestock as he passed through and then parked at a high vantage point. What he saw was not good.
Casey phoned Chief Smith. “It’s jumped the creek and is heading uphill.”
What lay in the wildfire’s path was a neighborhood located on the East side of Fritch.
Thinking most of the ranch might be safe except for about 200 acres which had already burned, Casey phoned his dad, Chris Bright. “I think it’s going to miss us.”
“The wind may change so watch the smoke.” Chris told him. “If it gets too bad, you need to leave.”
Chris was an hour away on a job site but closely followed a wind finder app which showed a norther picking up activity in Kansas. Still a long way from the Texas Panhandle so he wasn’t concerned.
Casey hurried back to headquarters for the road grader with plans to cut a fire break across the pasture next to the slowly burning fireline. A 20-30-mile-per-hour southwesterly wind pushed it west. The thought crossed Casey’s mind that this might be the wildfire that had ignited the day before, but he dismissed the idea. That fire had started over 20 miles away on the far side of Lake Meredith.
As he bladed a path through the pasture, smoke swirled and shifted from one direction to the next. Burning tumbleweeds rolled past igniting the dry grass in his path. Flames moved faster than he anticipated as smoke and fire surrounded the road grader. The engine stopped. Casey’s knuckles were hot as he gripped the steering wheel. In an instant the fire had reached an intensity he had not seen earlier that day. The grader started again. There was no time to move livestock.
Casey called his dad. “Calves are burning, and their Mama’s won’t leave them. I think the wind has shifted.”
“You’re too close,” Chris said. “Do what you can to save the headquarters. If you can’t see, get out. The smoke will kill the grader engine. I’m on my way.”
Casey did not mention that he had already learned that about smoke and diesel engines. He drove several miles back to Sanford Ranch headquarters and lay blade to the pasture behind his house.
A Prevailing North Wind
The national weather service accurately predicted a shift in the wind from the north as a cold front moved into the area. And when it hit, it hit with determined force. From ten to fifteen miles per hour gusts the day before when the fire ignited, the norther would reach forty to sixty miles per hour. What no one could know at the time is that it would drive an unstoppable fifteen-mile-wide wildfire south across ranch land while the little town of Fritch smoldered.
At ranch headquarters, Casey watched the smoke rise hundreds of feet in the air in every direction. By the time he made one pass, bright orange flames advanced towards him. The smaller, fenced trap behind his house had grown thick with knee-high blue stem from previously wet springs and summers. It now fueled the fire. His face and arms grew hot inside the grader cab.
As he worked to complete a second pass next to the first to widen the fire break, smoke rolled in thick and black. The front of the grader disappeared, and he wasn’t sure of his exact location. Casey then realized he might have stayed too long. He could make a run for the livestock water trough if the engine died again or if his pick up truck did not start.
Suddenly, the grader tires bumped into a cement pad which gave him the location of a one of the barns. With a hard turn he passed through a gate and parked. Pieces of flaming leaves and grass hung heavy in the air burning his arms as he dashed towards his vehicle. The engine started. Reaching 40 miles per hour, flames passed him on both sides of the road.
For the second time Casey second-guessed his decision. If his truck died now, he would be trapped. Chris stayed on the phone and told him to keep driving south until they meet on the county road.
Within seconds after Casey made it out of headquarters, Chief Smith had routed two tanker trucks from Fritch and Silverton. Using the path bladed by Casey, volunteers beat back the advancing fire and successfully saved the buildings.
With cell service finally working, everyone gathered at a convenience store on Interstate I-40. Casey’s girlfriend, Lexi Sharp, had the ranch dog. Buddy visibly upset, still trembled and would not stop panting. Ranch hand Justin Lake arrived. Chris and his youngest son David parked. And finally, Casey pulled into the parking lot.
The group converged on the nearest table, bound by the experience of a horrific wildfire yet no one spoke of what had been seen or experienced.
Chris finally broke the silence. “There is no way anything could survive that.”
To be continued…
Part II Click Here.
And watch for an article appearing soon in RANGE Magazine about the organizations that came to the our aid and made a difference in the community following the devastation.
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Natalie Cline Bright has written 20 books for adults and kids. She is a blogger at “Prairie Purview” found on the home page of her website, a hobby photographer, and speaker. Her cookbook, KEEP ‘EM FULL AND KEEP ‘EM ROLLIN” about chuck wagons, won a first place gold Will Rogers Medallion. Her newest book is END OF TRAIL EATS about the food and history of Cowtowns. She also writes romances for adults, easy readers and chapter books for kids, and is currently working on a wild wet adventure for tweens. If you enjoy pictures from the Texas Panhandle, check out her Instagram account @natsgrams or Facebook page Natalie Cline Bright.