“How goes the school teaching for your sister?” Mr. Jorgensen was chatty today. Must be the excitement about tonight, which seemed to have spread through the town like locusts. It must have been a while since most folks had a real social occasion.
“Del is enjoying it. They closed the school for the last two weeks, though, since most of her students were busy with harvest.” Lark paid the storekeeper and made her escape. She needed to get back to the farm in time for the evening milking before they dressed for the celebration.
Humid air hit her face as she stepped out the door, unseasonably warm for early October. A gust of wind scattered leaves and dry grasses down the dirt street. Was it getting warmer? Lark glanced up at the sky while she untied Starbright from the hitching post. Some dark clouds were building. Was a fall thunderstorm on its way? For her sisters’ sake, she hoped it wouldn’t dampen the gathering tonight.
Lark swung up on Starbright and rode toward home.
Around her spread the prairie was severe and brown. A triangle of geese honked overhead, heading south. Everywhere, everyone was getting ready for winter. They’d begun their own small harvest, storing the cabbages and root vegetables in the cellar Jesse had helped dig in a rise behind the house. They’d learned from Mr. Caldwell that the Skinners had planned to do just that but not gotten around to it. So much love had gone into this place and then been destroyed.
Dr. Adam, as he’d asked them to call him, hadn’t been able to help at the homestead as much lately, as his practice had finally picked up these past couple of months.
Larkspur reached home, stabled Starbright in the three-sided shelter they’d put up for the animals for now, and entered the soddy waving the letters.
“Guess what I picked up along with your ribbons.” She tossed the brown-paper package onto Del’s lap. Her sisters looked up from where they sat gathered by the one window and open door for light, stitching on dresses piled in their laps. Sofie squealed and pounced on the package.
“Sorry, little one, it’s not a treat for you this time.”
“Is it from Anders? Read it to us while we sew.” Lilac tossed back her dark curls.
Leaning in the doorframe, Lark opened the envelope. Far off, thunder rumbled. She glanced out at the lowering sky. “Looks like we might get a storm.”
Lilac shook her head. “I refuse to believe it. Nothing is going to spoil tonight.”
“It may blow on past long before. Don’t borrow trouble.” Del was ever practical. “Go on, Lark, read.”
Lark chuckled and began.
My dear family,
We are well and hope you all are too. It seems so long since we have seen your faces, though it has only been months. We do have some news of our own. We are expecting a little one to be born in this house come March. Josephine is tired but well and sends her love to all of you.
Lark paused for the exclamations of delight that flitted around the room. Gladness swelled her own heart. A new little Nielsen. If only they could visit to welcome him or her. Instead of dreaming, she continued.
Another bit of news, not so good. As you know, Climie Wiesel has been helping us in the store, but she recently got a letter from her husband. He did not disclose his location, but the letter was postmarked in Topeka, Kansas. I had hoped he had not made his way so far west, but I thought I should let you know. He threatened to come back for Climie, though of course we do not plan to allow that to happen. He also said that first he still intended to find that ‘Miss Lark-uppity Nielsen’ and see she got her comeuppance for turning his wife and church against him. I’m afraid in his twisted mind he blames you for his life falling apart, little sense as that may make.
Lark paused, wishing she’d stopped sooner. Silence fell heavy over the room, squeezing joy out the door.
“Deacon Wiesel is a hypocrite and a coward.” She glanced from one sister’s face to another. “We don’t need to fear him.”
“Then why did we leave home?” Lilac’s voice sounded unusually small.
What could Lark say to that? She returned to the letter. Surely it couldn’t get any worse.
Jonah continues to work for Mr. Holt, though not as hard as he could, and I am not convinced he has left his erring ways behind. At least I have not caught him in the saloon of late—not when I’ve been watching, anyway. Your prayers for our wayward little brother are still appreciated—and needed.
Do let us know how you are and how you are set for the winter. Give my greetings to Captain Caldwell. We miss you.
Love from your brother,
Anders Nielsen
Lark folded the letter. Her sisters sat still, hands idle on their sewing.
“What do we do?” Del asked, ever practical.
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.” Forsythia’s voice came gently. “Not more than we’re already doing. Pray, and don’t worry. Just keep building the life the Lord has led us to here in our new home and trust Him with the rest.”
Something eased in Lark’s chest. “I suppose you’re right.” But, Lord, please let me not have led my family into any danger here. I thought we’d gotten far enough away.
As if on cue, a clap of thunder crashed overhead, making them all jump, and Sofie let out a wail. Lark set the letters aside and picked her up.
“Shh, little one. It’s just a thunderstorm, see?” She turned the girl toward the window as the clouds opened in a sudden downpour.
“As fast as this came on, it may indeed blow past quickly.” Del reached around Lark to shut the door. Forsythia and Lilac bundled the dresses away from the rain blowing in.
“Can I go outside and catch rain on my tongue?” Robbie danced an impatient jig.
Lightning forked through the gray sky, followed by another crash. Mikael wailed from where he’d been napping in his cradle, and Del hurried to rock him back to sleep.
“Afraid not, Robbie.” Forsythia smoothed her hand over his hair. “It’s not safe with so much lightning.” She glanced at Lark. “It sure is late for a thunderstorm.”
Soon the heavy patter of the rain, though muted on the roof of the soddy, lessened, and the rolling booms of thunder grew further in between.
“Sounds like it’s moving on.” Del straightened from beside the baby’s cradle, Mikael slumbering again.
“Do you think we might still be able to go to the celebration?” Forsythia’s voice was hopeful.
“Everything will be soaked.” Lark shook her head. “Might be wiser to just stay—” She caught sight of Forsythia’s face and stopped. Had her sister been looking forward to this that much? She could have kicked herself. Of course. The doctor would be there. “Well, let’s do the chores and then see.”
She and Lilac pulled on their boots to go feed the animals and milk Buttercup. Lilac opened the door and sniffed. “The air feels strange. Not just the usual after-rain smell.”
“Maybe because it’s fall.” Lark pulled on her hat and grabbed the milk pail, then followed her little sister outside. The air did have a strange smell and a sort of tension to it. Lark shifted her jaw to ease the pressure in her ears.
“Lark.” Lilac grabbed her arm, an urgency in her voice. “The sky.”
Lark looked up and caught her breath.
In the southwest, snaking from a canopy of dark clouds, a huge funnel stretched near to the earth. Wind gusted into her face.
A tornado. And it looked to be heading this way, with Salton in its path.
“Get the children.” Ducking back inside, Lark hurried to the box where they kept their title to the Skinner’s property and other important papers, grabbed the most recent letters to tuck among them, then stuffed the box under her arm. “There’s a tornado coming. We need to get in the root cellar.”
“Will we all fit?” Forsythia caught up Mikael from his cradle.
“We’ll have to. Come on.”
Lark herded her family outside, Del carrying Sofie and Lilac holding Robbie’s hand. Wind whipped their skirts and hair, sending Robbie�
��s hat flying. He wailed, reaching after it, but Lilac scooped him up and pressed on.
“Here.” Lark flung open the slanted wooden door of the cellar against the hillside. “Get in and shut the door. I’m going to check on the animals.”
Forsythia climbed in first, holding the baby, then looked back up. “Lark, hurry.”
“I will.” She stared at the twisting funnel, drawing closer by the second.
With her sisters crouching safe in the cellar, Lark circled into the three-sided sod barn built against the house to grab a bucket of grain, then leaned into the wind and headed toward their newly fenced pasture. Buttercup was still out there, along with the oxen.
She called above the approaching storm, rattling the bucket against the gate. Come on. Their eyes rolling in fear, the animals skittered about but slowly made their way to her.
Grasping Buttercup’s rope, Lark led her toward the barn, the oxen thankfully following. Starbright stamped and whinnied as she led them in. With the livestock under shelter, she shut the chickens in their coop. If only this barn had a full four sides. But how sturdy was a sod building—any building—against a tornado?
A thud outside, then heavy splatting all around. Lark stared out at the prairie. Hail—huge white hailstones falling everywhere, as big as peaches, flattening the grass.
It was now or never. Shielding her head with her arms, she ran for the root cellar. Lilac held the door open for her, and Lark dove inside.
She slammed the cellar cover shut, plunging them into darkness.
Forsythia huddled in the root cellar, crammed between Lilac and Del amid the sacks of potatoes and turnips, and tried to pray. Mikael fussed in her arms, rubbing his face against her shoulder. Poor baby, he needed a change and a feeding—his nap had been disrupted twice. But there was nothing she could do about that now.
And here she’d been nervous about the possibility of seeing the doctor at the celebration tonight, where there was to be dancing. How quickly life could change.
Where was Adam right now? Lark had said the twister looked to be heading straight for town. Where would he and Jesse go? They had no root cellar, she was certain of that. Panic rose in her throat, and she closed her eyes against it. Please, Lord, watch over them. There’s nothing we can do until the storm passes. I will trust and not be afraid. She repeated the words, running them through her head to keep the crushing horror at bay.
Overhead, the storm roared like the freight train that had passed right by them when they visited Columbus. She’d never heard wind like this. The pressure in the air made her jaw ache. Lark clutched the door handle to keep the door from being lifted open by the wind.
“I’m scared,” Robbie whimpered on the other side of Lilac. “My ears hurt. I want to get out.”
Mikael screamed and kept on screaming.
“Me too.” Sofie started to cry.
Forsythia clutched the baby’s head against her shoulder with her other hand over his outside ear, then reached to touch the little boy’s knee in the darkness. “We can’t get out yet, Robbie boy. We need to stay in here where it’s safe.”
“But it doesn’t feel safe, Mama Sythia.”
Despite the circumstances, her heart warmed as it always did at hearing the name for her he had come up with one day. “I know, dear one. I don’t like the awful sound either.” Lord, show me what to say. “Did you know that in the dark and shadows can actually be a very safe place to be?” She spoke directly into his ear so he could hear her.
Robbie sniffled. “They can?”
“There’s a psalm that talks about it.” Forsythia shifted, rubbing Mikael’s back as he settled against her shoulder. “‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High . . .’” Her throat tightened too much for her to speak above the roar of the storm.
“‘. . . shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty,’” Lark supplied. “‘I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.’”
The clamping in Forsythia’s chest eased. There in the darkness, her sisters picked up the familiar psalm.
“‘He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.’”
Forsythia joined in again. “‘For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.’” Thank you, Ma, for making us learn these words by heart.
They finished the psalm in unison.
“So you see, Robbie? God’s shadow is a very safe place to be.”
“Is this God’s shadow?” His voice was small.
Del chuckled. “I suppose every place can be in God’s shadow, if we stay close to Him.”
They stayed in the cellar for what seemed like an hour, though it was probably half that. At last Lark shifted in the darkness.
“It sounds like it has passed. I’ll check.” She pushed open the door, and they all blinked in the sudden light. Lark climbed out, stretched, and surveyed the landscape.
“It’s gone. You all can come out.”
Forsythia handed Mikael up to Lark and stumbled out, her legs stiff and numb.
Behind her, Del and Lilac emerged with Sofie and Robbie. Mikael blinked on Lark’s shoulder, round-eyed and seeming to have forgotten his stomach and diaper.
“Looks like it completely missed us, other than the hail.” Lark blew out a long breath. “Thank you, Lord.”
Still, chunks of sod from the barn and new addition had fallen in from the hail. And part of the fence around the pasture lay scattered like sticks in a children’s game. Glistening hailstones littered the grass. Robbie and Sofie ran about picking them up, fascinated, then dropping the stones when their hands grew too cold.
“I’ll do the milking now, while we can.” Lark shivered. The wind was turning cold. “Lilac and Del, would you feed the animals? Sythia, get the children inside.”
Forsythia shepherded Sofie and Robbie into the soddy. The warm darkness inside wrapped around them like a mother’s embrace. She laid Mikael in his cradle so she could light a lamp and set it on the table, its glow lighting the checkered tablecloth and showing the neat bedstead covered with a cheery quilt, the filled cupboards and shelves lining the walls. How quickly this had become home. How quickly they could have lost it. Thank you, Father.
Mikael kicked and wailed in his cradle, not at all pleased at being deposited there without anything in his tummy.
“Shh, little one.” Forsythia scooped him up. Poor baby, he was soaked. “Let’s get you changed. Lark will have warm milk for you soon.”
While she changed him into a fresh diaper and gown, urgency pricked the back of her mind. What had gone on in town? Had Salton taken a direct hit? Shouldn’t they go check? People might need help. Adam might need help.
Lilac came to the door with a foaming pail of milk. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Forsythia strained and bottled the milk, filled one of the newfangled baby bottles they had ordered from the store for Mikael, and sent the rest of the milk out with Lilac to cool in the water tank in the pump house. She sat down to feed the baby, his hungry cries quickly subsiding into eager swallows.
Her sisters came back inside, chilled and windblown. Del started supper.
Mikael having finished his bottle, Forsythia rose and burped him, then crossed the room to Lark, who was pulling on her coat. With darkness falling, the temperature had dropped too. “Where are you going?”
“I think I’d better head into town. See what damage there might be and if anyone needs help. There sure won’t be any celebration now.”
“I’m going with you.” Her words were firm.
Lark looked at her without surprise. “All right.”
Forsythia handed the baby to Del and gathered he
r herbs and supplies, then tied a scarf over her head and bundled into her coat. Though her heart pounded as to what they might find, a certain knowledge pulsed through her.
Adam needed her.
28
Adam had never seen anything like this.
Standing outside his office doorway, he surveyed the street, the devastation rendering him light-headed. Several buildings on the other side had been flattened, including the saloon and a salt business. The tornado had ripped part of the roof off Henry Caldwell’s office as if it were paper. Beams and broken glass littered the remaining fragments of sidewalk amid the hailstones. The schoolhouse had been lifted off as if it had never been, leaving naked ground.
He stepped farther out to look up the street. Several houses on the outskirts of town looked to have taken damage too. Yet his side of the street stood mostly untouched, aside from some missing shingles and other roof damage from the hail. The tornado must have gone straight down the other side. He turned to examine the mercantile next door and drew a quick breath. The big hickory tree that had shaded the store—only a gaping hole remained in the earth. Roots and all, the giant tree was gone.
Mr. Jorgensen burst out of the store, breathing fast. “Doctor Brownsville, help me, please. It’s Lucretia. She’s hurt.”
“Let me get my bag.” Adam ducked back into his office to grab it, calling up to Jesse where he was going, then entered the store through the adjoining door. There was no sign of the Jorgensens, so he hurried through to their house out back.
He found Mr. Jorgensen in the sitting room, cradling his wife’s head as she lay on a lounge, her eyes closed.
“One of them hailstones hit her on the head.” The older man’s voice was unsteady. “I told her to stay inside, but she was bound and determined to get those fool chickens under cover. Next thing I knew, she’d dropped like a stone. I dragged her into the house, but she hasn’t woken up since.”
The Seeds of Change Page 26