by Kara Summers
“Is it?” I asked, looking around.
“Yes. We should get home quickly.”
I nodded and urged my horse along, casting him a soft smirk. He got the hint and soon we were racing home, our horses neck and neck. It was as if we were racing the storm itself. The sky above our cabin was as clear as it had been earlier that morning, but the dark clouds looming over head were creeping up over our house.
We walked inside together and I took off my sun hat, hanging it up near the door before Rick snatched me up and pulled me close to his strong chest. I melted in his arms and moaned as his lips pressed against mine. I would never get tired of feeling his body pressed close to mine. His warmth radiated through me and made every inch of me tingle. My blood turned to fire in my veins whenever he touched me.
We parted and he moved to kiss my neck, pressing me up against the wall to taste my skin. He was always hungry for me. We’d agreed not to take each other before we were married but there was something wonderful about feeling desired. We wouldn’t act on it, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t explore each other just a little.
My fingers tangled in his hair as his lips grazed over my scar. I shuddered a little and pulled him away, yanking him down for another hungry kiss. We clung to each other, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.
Just as my eyes fluttered closed again, there was a loud bang. I jumped and yelped, eyes wide as Rick pushed away from me, his gaze at the window. He stood up straight and went to the door, opening it only to have it ripped from his hands by the dangerously strong winds.
I followed him to the door, looking out over our farm land. My eyes widened as they wandered skyward, taking in the strange funnel-shaped cloud that seemed to be getting bigger and bigger with each passing moment. I’d never seen a tornado in Georgia, though I’d heard of them. Now that I was staring the cyclone down, I had the sudden urge to flee as far and as fast as I could. I wanted to get away and I wanted to take Rick with me. It filled me with a strange sort of primal fear. I gripped his hand and started tugging him back inside. It only made sense that the walls of our home would protect us.
He grabbed me by the shoulders, his eyes calm, though there was a hint of fear behind them. “Listen to me, go down to the cellar and wait there for me.”
“The cellar? Where are you going to go?” I gasped, my voice already rising in panic.
“I’m going to set the cattle free. The more scattered they are, the better chance we have of saving some.”
“It’s not worth it Rick!” I said, my eyes wild with fear. “You could die!”
“This is our livelihood, Corine! It has to be done.”
“Then let me help you!”
“No!” he gripped my shoulders and gave me a little shake. “Please! The biggest thing you can do for me is stay safe.”
I whimpered softly, tears coming to my eyes. Finally, I embraced him and then released him, watching him go head first into the most terrifying storm I’d ever seen.
Chapter Nine
I put my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out to him, knowing it would only distract him and possibly put him in danger. The cattle were already panicking and I didn't want to add my own fear to the list of things he had to worry about.
As he approached the barn, I ran out the door to the side of our house where the shutter doors slammed against the frame. I forced the lock open and started down the dark stairs, squinting in the pitch black darkness.
I managed to find a lamp and lit it carefully, pulling it off the hook and turning back towards the two heavy doors. I wanted Rick to have plenty of light when he came down the stairs.
The smell of brine burned my nose and I glanced around at all the jars of pickled vegetables and meats, thankful that we wouldn't starve if we were trapped down here.
There was no way of keeping time in the darkness. I stared at the doors, which were shaking even more violently now. Panic rose in my chest as I tried to figure out how long it had been since I first came down here. I wasn't exactly sure, but I knew it had been too long. Rick should have been here with me by now.
I ran towards the cellar doors and threw my thin body against them, forcing them open despite the force of the winds. They flew open and I stumbled into the yard, falling on my hands and knees. My thin legs were no match for the strong gusts of wind.
The rain was coming down so hard it stung my skin, leaving me breathless. The wind whipped my hair against my face and neck, leaving tiny, angry red lines. I managed to force myself to my feet and look around, squinting against the rain. That's when I saw him.
Rick was trapped under a large fence post the wind had managed to blow over. He was pinned by the leg and couldn’t free himself.. He was still conscious, struggling under the heavy post and cursing towards the skies as the cyclone loomed closer and closer.
My eyes widened and I ran as fast as I could, dodging branches and other projectiles the wind heaved at me. I didn’t care what happened to me. All the scrapes and cuts would be worth it if I could make it to him. I somehow managed to cross the soft, mucky yard and make it to the pen. I dug my heels into the mud and pushed myself forward on my knees, starting to yank desperately at the post that was holding the love of my life down.
He stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you doing? Get out of here!” he screamed, trying to push me away.
“NO! I’m not leaving you out here! We’re in this together!” I snapped, struggling to be heard over the wind.
He was still trying to push my away, but I wasn’t having any of it. The wind was starting to howl now and the terrified cows were stomping past us, barely avoiding trampling us. Despite all the danger around us, I wasn’t concerned with anything other than Rick.
After a few moments of desperately trying to move the post on my own, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. He was still screaming at me to leave, but I wasn’t going to listen. We were either going to get out of this together or we were going to die together. Those were the only two options.
I managed to find a lighter, thinner piece of wood and I jammed it under the post, putting all of my weight into the leverage. I’d seen my father do this when our till got stuck in the mud. I could only pray that the trick would work now. Slowly but surely, the post started to roll and Rick’s leg was free. I glanced at it and I could tell it was broken; it didn’t take a doctor’s eye to see that.
The tornado was starting to tear shingles off a neighbor’s roof and I gasped, draping Rick’s arm over my shoulder and helping him to his feet.
“Come on!” I shouted.
“You stupid girl!” he yelled as we limped across the yard, somehow making it into the cellar before the tornado had a chance to sweep us away.
We collapsed on the dirt floor, panting desperately and drenched in rain. I shivered as the adrenaline wore off, teeth chattering against the cold that was wracking my body. Rick pulled me into his arms, kissing my hair and face.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” he whispered again, though there was a smile in his voice. “Why did you do that?” he whispered. “You could have been killed.”
It took me a while to get the words out around my chattering teeth. “You could have been killed too, when you rescued me from the Indians, but that didn’t stop you. And you didn’t even know who I was,” I whispered. “You had no reason to save me, but you did anyway, and after you saved me, you brought me into your home and gave me a shot at a normal life,” I said.
I looked up at him, my eyes wide as a smile came across my face. I touched his cheek and reached up, pressing our lips together.
“Besides, when you love someone, running out into a tornado doesn’t sound that crazy,” I said with a sheepish smile.
His eyes widened a moment and he finally pulled me into his arms again, holding me tight. “Corine, I love you too,” he whispered in my ear.
My heart leapt with joy and I leaned back to kiss his face, smiling down at him as the storm raged on outside.
No matter what happened, I knew it would be okay because he loved me.
We held each other through the storm, ignoring the violent rattling as the door tried to shake off its hinges. I kept myself busy by wrapping his leg and trying to keep his mind off the pain with loving words and kisses.
Soon enough the storm passed and we made our way up the stairs, moving slowly but surely until we could push the doors open. The sun poured in and I actually had to turn away for a moment. I was surprised that it would be so brought after such a terrible storm.
The yard was torn up and cows were scattered around our plot of land, though they all seemed to be intact, munching on grass as if nothing had happened. Rick offered me a small smile and put his hands on his hips.
“I guess we better get busy getting our farm back together huh?”
“Are you in a hurry?” I teased softly.
“Of course I am. We’re going to need money for the wedding.”
Chapter Ten
Love was one thing, but a wedding was an entirely different beast. I hadn’t expected things to move so fast, but I wasn’t upset in the least about it. My life was finally coming together in a way I never imagined it could. I was in love and I was free.
The tornado that tore through our community left a wake of destruction, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t bounce back from. The people of Boulder, Colorado were resilient and soon enough they’d picked their lives up and got back into the swing of things. It sounded crazy to say, but the tornado was one of the best days of my life. It was the day I really started living.
Rick’s leg was hurt pretty badly, but the doctor assured us that it would heal up just fine in time. I’d tried convincing Rick to wait until his leg was fully healed before we got married, but he would hear none of it.
“Springtime is the prettiest time of year here,” he said. “And I want to marry the prettiest girl in the world during the prettiest season.”
There was no way I was going to change his mind, so a few weeks after the tornado, we were married. It was a simple ceremony, though everyone in the small town showed up. Even Claire came, looking as angry and bitter as always. Part of me was glad she was there I wanted her to see that I’d won whatever game she thought we were playing. I had the grand prize.
My life was perfect. I was in love and I was living in the western wilderness, making my own path, and so far it was beautiful. We stayed in our house, cultivating the land and raising our livestock. We were an unstoppable team that would soon get bigger.
Soon after we were married I became pregnant and our world would change forever. Rick was the most nervous papa I’d ever seen in my life. He fretted over my every step and urged me not to work. If he had it his way, I probably would have been laid up in bed my entire pregnancy while he spoon fed me.
I couldn’t blame his fears, though. These were dangerous times for babies and mamas alike, though I had few worries. I was strong and I knew our baby would be strong. We’d survived so much and I wasn’t about to let this take me out.
Grace was born just as spring rolled around again. She had hazel eyes and a head of thick, fiery waves. The day she was born, I told Rick that we’d have to keep an eye on her. She was going to be a tenacious girl, just like her mama. I wasn’t wrong either.
I smiled and leaned against one of the posts that held our porch up. The same porch that me and Rick shared our first kiss under. There had been many more kisses and I was sure there would be many more to come. Rick and Grace were running through the tall grass, Grace’s bare feet kicking up dust as she squealed and hid behind a tree.
Grace was four now and she was challenging our little town every day. She was an outspoken girl but we never punished her for it. I wanted her to be loud and demanding. I wanted her to be a strong woman. I’d grown into one, but I wanted her to be strong from the start.
We never told her to be quiet and we never told her she couldn’t play with the boys. Many of the people in town questioned our parenting, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My daughter wasn’t going to be a frail woman who fainted at the sight of blood, or who was too proper to care for the pigs. She was going to be the type of woman who cared for herself.
Grace squealed as her papa scooped her into his arms and kissed her face over and over again. I watched them with a small smile on my face and I sighed happily. I’d always questioned my future when I was younger, but I knew this was my destiny, and I couldn’t have been happier about it.
This was my happily ever after.
The End
Return to the TOC for Bonus Content
The White Feather Challenge
Chapter One
The stallion was a magnificent beast, worth every guinea that Lord Richard Pennington had paid for him. A powerful chestnut with a black mane and tail, El Diablo allowed no one but his owner to mount him and that concession had come with painstaking effort, which he willingly bestowed upon the steed. Perhaps it was because he had so much in common with the high-spirited, purebred thoroughbred which the proprietors of Tattersall’s knew to keep for him because of his discerning eye for horseflesh. Lady Lenore, his fiancée, had once, in laughing protest, told a gathering of strolling ladies along Rotten Row that horses meant more to His Lordship than even she did. Lord Richard, with a caressing glance of his dark eyes, and a gallant kiss of her hand, had assured her that she was preeminent in his affections and Lady Lenore had been mollified.
El Diablo recognized Richard as his master because Lord Richard had bested him. He had done so with firmness and with kindness, appreciating the animal’s spirit while curbing his wildness. But El Diablo was not content to be subdued and Lord Richard knew it. He recognized the trait. Wildness called to wildness in the bond between the horse and his master: Lord Richard would not surrender sovereignty of his mount, and El Diablo would never completely surrender to the superiority of any rider. Each one, man and horse, had a pedigree, brains, drive, and a level of arrogance which was followed up with the ability to deliver what was expected of them.
El Diablo was the center of attention when Richard Pennington rode him afternoons on Rotten Row. There was no horse that could compare to him. Nor was there a rider who could compare to Lord Richard in the saddle. Until that day in May when Richard had gone out riding with Lady Lenore and she had proposed a gallop. Ever eager to let El Diablo show his prowess, Lord Richard agreed. They took to Pennington land that Richard had ridden on hundreds of times. He knew every hillock, every slope in the verdant green property that had been home to the Pennington family since the first Earl had been given his title by William III.
No one could be sure what had happened to make El Diablo, while riding at full gallop, suddenly halt and throw his rider high into the air, only to fall to ground in a crumpled heap. Lady Lenore had been horror-stricken.
Richard could still hear her voice, months later, ordering and then beseeching him to get up. He recalled her lovely figure, her face stricken with fear and frustration when he told her that he could not move and that she would need to return to the manor and notify his father that medical attention would be required.
The engagement was, of course, called off. No one would have expected a woman of Lady Lenore’s beauty to wed a man who could no longer be a husband worthy of her. The debutantes regretted the loss of their dancing partner, the married ladies sighed that the handsome young lord would no longer be able to flirt with them, and the dowagers whispered that, now that Lord Richard was unable to fulfill his manly obligations, the third son, Gerald, would one day become the next Earl. Not obviously, of course; Richard Pennington was still the heir and unless he sired a child, Gerald was the nominal heir in any case, but when the time came for Gerald to wed, he would be viewed as the future Earl and not the third son. Such a circumstance vastly improved his matrimonial prospects, although Gerald, enjoying his youth and privilege at university, had no thoughts of his obligations to the title as of yet.
His father had wanted to shoo
t El Diablo, but Richard had refused permission. The horse was his property. He would live. No one would ride him now, fearful of what could happen to them, if El Diablo had been able to throw a rider as experienced as Richard. The horse was let out of his stall daily and allowed to run loose within the fenced-in grounds of the pasture, his own master again. Richard could see the horse from his bedroom; once, when the animal had looked up toward the house, Richard had saluted him. El Diablo was the master.
He dreamed of the beast every night. That was how his slumber passed. During the day, Lord Richard spent much of his time in his bedchamber, even taking a tray there rather than sharing the family dining. His bedroom had been moved downstairs for ease of movement. Lady Constance had hesitantly suggested that a chair with wheels could be obtained so that Richard could move freely about the downstairs, but her son had angrily rebutted her suggestion. His valet attended to his needs, bathing him and dressing him, and enduring the flashes of temper that were as much a part of the ruined young man as his useless legs.
His father and mother both tried to talk to him about his condition and ways that could at least mitigate his circumstances, but Richard had refused to discuss the matter. To make his point, he had taken to keeping his pistol close by his side at all times; a silent warning that, should his fate become too much to bear, he had the means to bring it to an end. His mother had run weeping from his room at that point, and his father had stood in silence for a long time before taking his leave.
The pistol was from his days as an officer. Richard, the second of four sons, had followed family tradition and obtained a commission in the cavalry, but when his elder brother and the heir had died of a fever, Richard resigned from the Army and returned home. His father and mother, still grief-stricken, had welcomed him, their hearts were not yet healed from Edward’s death. His younger brothers were still at Cambridge. Richard had accepted the responsibilities of his position and within six months, he was engaged to the very lovely and accomplished Lady Lenore Crittendon, who had made her debut the year before and was acknowledged as the most desirable of prospective wives. The only reason that she had not been married the year she came out was because none of her suitors was deemed good enough for a woman of Lady Lenore’s beauty. That is, until Richard had asked for a waltz at a ball given by the Duchess of Devonshire at which England’s titled elite had been in attendance. All eyes had been on the couple and no one had been surprised, one month later, when their engagement was announced.