Lorraine’s body froze. “Mortuary? Have others died?”
Shaking his head, Vernon stood. “Town has a death occasionally and Callahan’s is where the body is taken. He sells coffins and prepares bodies for funerals. Today we’ve Molly Arrenton, now Elmo.”
Clark forked a thumb back the way they’d come. “Tom Boyd’s missing and I suspect he’s ended up like Elmo here. May find others before the damage is cleared.”
“I hope not.” She glanced at Grant. “Perhaps we should tell Mrs. Hubbard about her husband.”
Grant touched her shoulder. “Better we find Grady and let him tell her. She’ll be reassured from having her minister with her.”
“Of course. Grady will know what to say to offer comfort.”
As the men loaded Elmo’s remains onto the wagon, Lorraine turned away. “I can’t look at the body again. In spite of his faults, Jenny will miss him. They may have children who will mourn him, too.”
“I don’t know much about their life. Angeline and Grady will, though.”
A gust of wind hit with such force she staggered then regained her footing. She scanned the darkening sky. “Do you think there’ll be a second tornado?”
“I doubt that’s what this is, but wind sure is whipping the trees around. Stay in the center of the street in case there’re more branches blowing to the ground. Let’s get you to Lydia’s before you get hurt.”
She grabbed his sleeve. “Grant, please don’t shut me out. I want to help people if I can.”
“You have so far. I imagine your hands have splinters from Vadim’s place. Mine do and yours are much softer.”
She didn’t want him to know her hands stung as if she’d cradled a porcupine on a bed of cactus. “Isn’t that Grady who just turned the corner?”
Grant waved his arms.
The minister quickened his pace toward them. “Have you two encountered much destruction?”
Grant glanced at her before he answered, “Found Elmo Hubbard’s body. Vernon and Clark have taken his remains to Callahan’s mortuary. We thought his wife should hear the news from you.”
Grady’s shoulders sagged. “Not something I look forward to but I’d better be the one to tell her. Only the Good Lord knows why, but she loved that man and will be devastated.”
The wind plastered Lorraine’s clothes against her and shoved her into Grant’s side. “Do they have children who can come to comfort her?”
Grady shook his head. “Lost both sons in the war. I didn’t know them then, of course, but that would be tough for anyone. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I lost Matthew.” He started to comment again but stared at the sky. “Looks bad. I’d better get to the Hubbard’s home. You two be careful.”
Lorraine stared as their minister walked away. “Jenny Hubbard is the one who accused Rachel of theft and spread gossip about her. I admit I disliked Jenny for that, and Elmo for his part, but now I feel sorry for her.”
Grant hugged her shoulders. “You’re a kind person. I’m taking you to Lydia’s. This wind is going to break more branches and kick up debris. Being in the open is too dangerous.”
A shingle slapped against her arm and she winced. “Ow, appears you’re right. I hope you’ll go home too.”
“I’ll go where I’m needed.”
She linked her arm with his. “You’re needed safe and whole. You have a newspaper article to write and a paper to publish.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I do. If you’ll let me accompany you to Lydia’s, I’ll go from there to the office.”
They reversed their path and strode into the wind. Most Tarnation residents apparently took pride in keeping their property neat, but today’s storm had left detritus everywhere. Everywhere she looked she saw signs of damage.
Lorraine put up her hand in front of her face as protection against the rubbish and grit being borne by the wind. After the rain, she would have thought there would be no loose sand, but the wind stung like sandpaper against her skin. She was glad she wore long sleeves.
The wind’s force grew tremendously and clouds gathered. Lorraine leaned into the gale and pushed ahead with Grant at her side. If not a tornado, she feared a bad storm was on the way. They strode down the main street. When they were near the middle of town, the mercantile’s dangling porch roof tore from the building and flew at them.
Lorraine screamed but couldn’t move out of the way. Grant shielded her with his body as the structure knocked them to the ground. They hit the muddy street and the roof covered them.
Chapter Twelve
Lorraine must have momentarily lost consciousness and came to from a black void. A place on her head hurt but she couldn’t touch it because her arms were pinned by Grant and pieces of wood.
“Grant, are you hurt?”
“I’ll get us out from under this.” He shoved but without success. “My efforts are useless. The wind and the wood are defeating me.”
Michael Buchanan called, “We’ll get you out of there. Okay, Adam, I’ve got this side. On three—one, two, heave.”
The two men lifted the barrier.
Adam said, “Get out from there fast. We can’t hold this for long with the wind fighting us.”
Lorraine scrambled with Grant. As soon as they were clear, Michael and Adam dropped the partial roof with a wham.
Adam assessed them. “You two all right? Lorraine, that nasty bump on your head is bleeding.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.” She gently touched the injury. “I’ll have Prudence look at this lump.”
Adam clamped Grant on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Must have bruised or sprained something but I’m sure this is nothing serious. Did anyone locate Tom Boyd?”
Michael’s face was lined with worry. “Afraid he’s a casualty. Jim is torn up about it and is over at Callahan’s arranging for his brother’s funeral.”
Grant addressed the store owner, “Having part of your store take flight had to be disturbing. Seeing it flying at us was as frightening as anything I’ve encountered.”
“When it headed straight for you two, the sight took years off my life.” Michael peered into Grant’s face. “You sure your arm and shoulder are all right?”
Grant rubbed his left shoulder. “Have to be so I can write this storm as the lead article and get the type set for the next edition.”
Adam winked at Lorraine. “Too bad you don’t have L. S. Trueharte to write the story for you.”
Lorraine gasped. She should have expected her secrets would spread in such a small town. Had Lydia or Michael betrayed her confidence?
Grant flexed his left hand. “Man, I wish Trueharte was available. Sure would make my job easier with this banged up shoulder and arm.”
Michael’s nod at Lorraine was barely perceptible. “Why don’t you let Miss Stuart here help you write the news? You might be surprised.”
Adam stood shoulder to shoulder with Michael. “Yeah, let Miss Stuart write this up while you set type.”
***
Grant was backed into a corner. He didn’t want to insult Lorraine or embarrass her in front of his friends. They were her friends, too. What harm could come from letting her write part of the storm’s events? He could always correct her copy when he set the type.
“Lorraine, if you’re willing and your head wound isn’t serious, I’d appreciate your help.”
“I’d be happy to. My head is almost as hard as yours so I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s go to the office and get started.”
The way her face broke into an eager smile sent waves of guilt his way. He didn’t want her to think writing copy was permanent—unless they had room for a story on gardening or a recipe. They were only steps away from the Gazette.
He wondered what was to be done about Michael’s porch roof when the two Dixon boys arrived, jogging from the saloon.
Ronnie, the oldest, spoke first. “Need a hand, Mr. Buchanan? Dad told Virgil and me to help wherever we can.”
Michael nodded. “I’d appreciate your assistance. This is a hazard here in the street. With the four of us, I think we can get it to the side of the store.”
Adam picked up one corner. “You can use a lot of this when you rebuild. It’s a wonder to me that your store’s roof didn’t leak after this pulled away.”
“If you’ll remember, the store didn’t have a covered walk when I bought the place. I built the roof addition myself. Guess I’ll have real carpenters make the repairs.”
Grant’s friends heaved the cumbersome load out of the street.
Lorraine grasped his arm. “More rain is on the way. Let’s have sense enough to go inside.”
As unreasonable as the situation was, her statement made him laugh. Maybe it was a release from the day’s trauma. Certainly he sensed tension ease from his body.
Inside the office, Lorraine grabbed a pencil and paper. “Let’s make a list of the various stories to cover. The main one is the tornado and its damage. Second is poor Vadim’s house destruction just days before his fiancée arrives. Third are the obituaries for Mrs. Arrenton, Tom Boyd, and Elmo Hubbard. I’ll have to get that information elsewhere. Anything more?”
Her words echoed as if in a cave. The room tilted and he couldn’t focus. He grabbed the counter. “Get to work on the main article. Sorry, but I’d better sit down.”
Lorraine was at his side immediately. “What was I thinking? Of course you need to sit down—or lie down. I wish the doctor or Prudence would come by.”
As if on cue, Riley Gaston opened the door. “I heard you two had been injured.” He carried his medical bag with him.
Lorraine pushed her hair back. “This lump on the noggin is my only injury because Grant deflected the blow with his body. All I am is muddy but I think he’s hurt badly.”
The doctor motioned toward the back. “Sit down, Grant, and let me check those wounds.”
Grant wasn’t sure he could stand long enough to reach his desk chair. He welcomed the support when Lorraine grabbed his uninjured arm. With her shoulder tucked into his armpit, she helped him walk to his desk. He dropped onto the chair and exhaled a whoosh of air.
She was a blur of motion. “I’ll just clear the top of this desk in case you need to lie down for the examination.” She moved every article to a shelf.
Normally, he didn’t like anyone touching anything on his desk. That he didn’t care now worried him. Or, maybe it didn’t matter because she was the one doing the touching.
Riley opened his medical bag. “Get your shirt off and let me see that shoulder.”
Lorraine blushed. “I’ll go to the other desk. Dr. Gaston, please call me if you need assistance.”
Riley nodded but didn’t answer her. Grant fought the buttons on his shirt until Riley brushed his hands aside and took over. When his shirt and undershirt were off, Riley probed.
“That hurt?” Riley pressed another place.
Grant inhaled sharply. “Like a son of a gun.”
“You’re already bruising. Don’t think you’ll be doing much newspaper work for the next week.”
“Man, I have to. This is my enterprise.”
Riley shook his head. “You do not have to. Miss Stuart can help you. I imagine one of the Dixon boys can work the press. The most you’re going to do is supervise. Face it, Grant, no person is irreplaceable. What can’t be replaced is your health or your life.”
“You’ve made your point. Besides, my head and body are telling me that you’re right.”
The doctor made up envelopes of medicine and set out a bottle. “I doubt you’ll want to take this laudanum, but you may have to tonight in order to sleep. The powder should be mixed in water as described.”
“Thanks, Riley.”
“I’ll check on you again tomorrow.” He surveyed the office. “You need a bed here so you can rest when needed.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought of getting one for the times I work late into the night.”
Riley left the back office. “Now, Miss Stuart. Let’s look at that bump on your head.”
Grant listened as he dressed. His stomach had knotted and acid churned. Easy for others to make suggestions about running his business, but they didn’t have to take responsibility for the outcome.
***
Lorraine followed the doctor’s forefinger back and forth with her eyes, let him peer into her pupils, and probe her head. “Grant protected me from being hit. The lump is my own fault for peeking around his shoulder.”
He grinned at her. “You may have a concussion. You should take things easy for the next few days.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Don’t fall asleep before eleven.”
“I heard you talking to Grant. Are you aware Zane Evans has a bed in his office? I’m sure he’d loan it to Grant unless Zane’s injured and needs it.”
“Naw, he’s okay. I saw him walking around town. I’ll stop by before I go home.”
“Doctor, I’m sorry to make more work for you. I can tell you’re exhausted and probably distressed from having to tend to Mrs. Arrenton.”
He snapped shut his medical case. “You’re right. She was my first patient here and I hate she’s dead. I’m exhausted because I was up all night delivering a baby out at Lydia’s ranch for Sean O’Malley’s wife Colleen.”
“I heard Mrs. Arrenton had no family, which is sad.”
“She had told me she was ready to meet her Maker. I believe she left a will with Grady McIntyre.” He took out his pocket watch again and frowned.
She checked her lapel watch. “Hard to believe it’s only two o’clock, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “Might be what the clock says, but my body says it’s bound to be at least midnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As soon as Riley had left, Lorraine went to Grant’s doorway. “Shall I keep working on the story or do I need to do something for you?”
Arm in a sling, Grant appeared dog-tired. “Go ahead. I know you have a head injury too, but my mind is still fuzzy. I’ll sit here a while longer.”
She returned to her desk and lost herself in her writing. The door opening startled her.
Fighting the gale blowing outside, Vic Marshall and Buck McCarty carried Zane’s bed through the door by turning it on its side. They marched through to Grant’s office.
Vic’s voice carried above the sound of furniture being moved. “Doc said you needed this. Boss said keep it as long as you want. He’s thinking of getting rid of it anyway.”
“Nice he included the sheets, blanket, and a pillow. Thanks for delivering it, men.”
When they’d gone, Lorraine couldn’t resist peeking in to see where the bed had been placed. “You didn’t waste time testing the mattress.”
He’d sprawled across the blanket. “I’ve never been as grateful for any piece of furniture in my life. How’s the story coming?”
“Finished with the main one and working on Vadim’s human interest angle.”
Surprise spread across his face. “Care if I read what you’ve written?”
She grabbed the lead story from her desk and gave it to him. “While you read that I’ll get busy on the rest.” Back at her desk she picked up her pencil. “I hope Angeline or Grady come by and I can get the information for the obituaries without leaving you alone.”
He didn’t answer so she supposed he was engrossed in reading her copy. Either that or he’d fallen asleep. She finished all she could on Vadim’s story until she learned where his bride would stay when she arrived.
Rising quietly, she peeked into Grant’s office. He was sound asleep with her pages of copy clasped to his chest. Sleep softened his features and she wanted to tuck a blanket over him and kiss him goodnight. Problem was, he was lying on the blanket.
She’d work on the obituaries with as much information as she had about each person, beginning with Molly Arrenton. She needed to learn what business had brought her and late husband to Tarnation, what year they’d arrived, and how long she’d been widowed. N
ot all Westerners wanted to divulge where they were from, but that would help the obituary. She would also like to know who the heirs were.
Bowed by the wind, Grady McIntyre came into the room and pulled several sheets of paper from his pocket and unfolded them.
Lorraine put a finger to her lips and pointed to the back room and then indicated someone sleeping. She walked to the counter to speak to the minister.
Catching on, Grady nodded. “Angeline sent this for obituaries of Elmo and Mrs. Arrenton.” For someone whose voice projected to all corners of the church sanctuary, now his voice was amazingly soft.
She took the sheaf of papers and scanned them. “Thank her and thank you for bringing them. We needed this information but I hated to leave. I don’t think Grant should be alone for a few hours until he knows how serious his injuries are and how they’ll affect him.”
He gestured to her forehead. “That’s quite a knot. Must have hurt a lot.”
Gently, she ran her fingers over the spot and winced. The bulge was even more painful than when she received the blow. “My fault. Grant tried to protect me, which is why he was injured. Actually, we would have been smashed by the mercantile’s porch overhang no matter what we did. One minute we were walking along and the next we were targets.”
“Too bad. Sorry I don’t have Tom Boyd’s details. Either Jim or Callahan can furnish what you need.”
“I heard Lydia sprained her ankle. What other injuries have you found?” She held her pencil over a fresh sheet of paper ready to take notes.
“Hamish McAdams was hurt attempting to salvage his forge’s roof. He won’t swing a hammer for a few days. McGinnis’ carriage house collapsed but it was empty except for a worn-out buggy. Deputy Stanton’s house lost a huge tree that barely missed the house, but he and Rhonda are fine. Bessie and Sydney Walton lost some windows and their outhouse tipped over.”
“Do you know when rebuilding will begin on Vadim Kozlov’s home?”
The minister leaned forward conspiratorially. “Angeline and I are the executors of Molly Arrenton’s estate. She wanted the proceeds to go to someone who genuinely needed them. We’re signing the house and furnishings over to Vadim Koslov. We’re dividing her savings between the Diazes, Gallaghers, and McAdams.”
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