Safe in His Arms

by Colleen Coble

  “Save us all, Lord. Bring Daniel, Nate, and Jed through this safely. Put your hands of protection around them. You’re stronger than any storm.”

  “Oh yes, please help them, Lord,” Lucy echoed. Her sobs could barely be heard above the screaming of the wind.

  The storm seemed endless, a maelstrom that time didn’t touch. Crouching beneath the table with her heart beating in her ears and the shriek of the wind raging through the house, Margaret prayed with an intensity she’d never felt before. And in that fury, she gradually became aware that God was with them. It was as though he held them in a safe little bubble, a world the tornado couldn’t touch.

  She glanced over at Lucy’s wide eyes.

  “You feel it too?” Lucy whispered.

  Margaret nodded. Awe kept her tongue-tied.

  Then as suddenly as the storm had started, it was over. The wind faltered, then died. The swirling sand came to rest again on the earth. The bubble around them burst, and the world felt familiar again. The rain started then. With the roof gone, there was no escape from the cold, stinging chill as the last of the wind blew the rain under the table onto them.

  Eileen gave a hitching sob. “Is it gone?”

  Margaret pulled her onto her lap with William, then rocked both children a bit. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s all over.” Margaret crawled from beneath the table to find it was the only thing left in the kitchen. Her feet rested on a bare wooden floor. The dry sink was gone, as were the chairs, the ice chest, the canned goods, and all the utensils. The storm had picked up everything. Everything but the table and the people. A miracle straight from God’s hand.

  Lucy stood next to her and shook out bits of debris from the baby blanket. Miraculously, the baby wasn’t crying. She had her thumb corked in her mouth and stared with blue-eyed wonder at her mother. Her tiny face grimaced as the cold rain hit it.

  Margaret set William on the floor, but the little boy clung to her skirts with tight fists. “I want Jed,” he wailed. “And where’s Papa?”

  Margaret patted him on the head. “I’ll go find them.” She turned to Lucy. “You keep him with you.” Margaret didn’t want the little boy to come until she knew what had happened to the men. Nate had been in the kitchen just minutes ago. She limped to the parlor. The rain pelted down and left the floor slick. It ran in rivulets down her face and soaked her clothing.

  The parlor was empty except for a heap of debris against the one remaining wall. Then part of the debris moved, and she heard a groan. A hand reached out from the rubble, and Nate’s face appeared. He was covered in mud, but he was alive.

  “Lucy, it’s Nate!” She ran toward him, but Lucy reached her husband first. She thrust the baby into Margaret’s arms, then knelt beside her husband. Tossing the debris to one side, she finished uncovering him. A huge bruise covered half his forehead, and there was a lump on his head.

  Margaret took comfort from the small bundle in her arms and prayed she would find Daniel safe as well.

  Lucy gave a cry and fell onto his chest. “Oh, Nate, you’re alive!”

  As she sobbed, Nate’s arms circled her, and he patted her back. “Don’t take on so, Luce. We’ll rebuild everything.”

  “I’m just so happy you’re all right!”

  “I don’t know about all right, but I’m alive.” He grinned and tried to sit up. Grimacing, he put a hand to his chest. “Feels like I might have a busted rib or two. Where’re Jed and Daniel?”

  Margaret handed the baby back to her mother. “I was just going to look for them.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Nate started to get up, then fell back with a groan. “Give me a minute.”

  “You stay here. Charlie will come with me in case any of the gang is left, though I suspect they ran off.” Her mouth dry with dread, Margaret limped to the edge of what used to be the house and stepped down into the yard. “You check out the side yard,” she told Charlie. He nodded and she saw the fear and misery in his face. He moved to the side yard and she headed toward the barn.

  The rain tapered off to a light mist, and she was thankful for that. Light-headed from all she’d been through, she staggered, then clutched the nearby well pump for support. Spots danced in her vision, but she blinked fiercely. She had to find Daniel.

  Her vision cleared and she started toward the barn. Puddles had formed, and she stepped around them as she hobbled along. The tornado had torn away chunks of the yard. Where there had once been roses and lilac bushes, there were now gaping, muddy holes. The winds had scoured the bark from the giant oak tree that stood in the yard. Most of its branches were ripped away as well. With dread, Margaret turned her attention toward what was left of the barn.

  It had no roof, and two of the sides were gone. The door hung haphazardly to one side, attached only by one hinge. Her heart in her mouth, Margaret approached the barn. “Daniel? Jed?”

  Only the creak of the door answered her. Hope was beginning to fade. There was no guarantee Daniel had even made it to the barn. He would have been exposed to the full fury of the tornado. She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. No, she wouldn’t believe that. Still calling his name, she entered the barn.

  Like the house, most of the insides had been lifted away. Only a few stray wisps of straw lay scattered over the floor. Several pieces of straw had been embedded in the wood of the barn door by the force of the wind.

  The floor creaked and she whirled. “Daniel?” The words died in her mouth.

  “You’re just who we’ve been looking for.” Frank grabbed her arm.

  Before Margaret could react, she heard a screech. She jerked her head toward the sound and flinched back at the sight of Golda. Her immaculate blond hair now in wet strings around her face, she rushed toward Margaret with her hands curved into claws. “This is all your fault!”

  Frank stepped into her path, and with a casual backhanded motion, he felled his sister with one blow. “There’s time for killing her later. If we hurry, we can still get that money before it is sent on.” He grabbed Margaret again as she turned to flee.

  His calloused fingers bit into the tender flesh of her forearm, and she winced. Margaret jerked her arm out of his grasp, then backed away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Yes, you are.” Golda slowly stood. Her mouth twisted in a sneer. “Unless you want a world of hurt to come down on your friends. And with a new baby, that wouldn’t be nice at all.” She pointed toward the house. “There’s a gun trained on that pretty blond lady right now. You come along without a fight, and no one will be hurt.”

  The spunk went out of Margaret. With the walls of the house gone, the Stantons had no protection, and Nate was too hurt to defend them. But she wasn’t going anywhere until she knew what had happened to Daniel. “Where’s Daniel? Do you have him too?”

  “He’s dead.” Golda smiled as she said the words.

  Margaret closed her eyes against the cruel satisfaction she saw in the other woman’s eyes. “You don’t know that,” she whispered.

  Golda’s smile deepened as she held out a bloody shirt. “Recognize this?”

  Margaret recognized it all right. It was the shirt Daniel had been wearing. Blood soaked it with crimson. No one could bleed that much and live. Her knees went weak, and she would have fallen except for Golda’s cruel grip on her arm.

  “None of that.” Golda propelled Margaret toward the back of the barn. Several of the gang waited with a buggy outside. Margaret moved through a fog of pain. She wanted to cry and scream a denial to the wind, but all she could do was numbly obey. Daniel couldn’t be dead. She clung to hope, but it was fading like the morning mist.

  Riding to town through the mud-soaked track, she was barely aware of the throb in her ankle. The pain in her heart far overshadowed it. They stopped just outside Larson. Golda rooted around inside her valise. Drawing out a comb, she handed it to Margaret.

  “Here, make yourself presentable. There’s not much we can do about your attire. You’re far too large
for any of my clothing.” Golda’s gaze raked Margaret’s figure, and she gave a disdainful sniff.

  Even Golda’s contempt failed to hurt any longer. Margaret had left that baggage far behind while the tornado shrieked its fury. Nothing could penetrate the misery that choked all other emotions from her heart. What did it matter if she lost her money or even lost the ranch because of today? It didn’t matter that the sky would be blue again or the birds would sing. The world was a darker place without Daniel. He made her laugh, and he made her believe in herself.

  Why, Lord? The question kept pounding itself over and over in her brain. Why would God take Daniel? He had so much to give to those who met him. A sparkling sense of humor, caring and compassion, a real faith that showed itself in everything he said and did. All these traits made Daniel a special person, one whom God could use mightily. It made no sense to take him now.

  She slowly loosened her braid and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Working the comb down the tangles lock by lock, she groomed it until it was smooth, then neatly braided it again. They’d stopped beside a stream, so she splashed water on her face and arms to remove the worst of the dirt.

  “That’s good enough. The bank will be closing in fifteen minutes.” Frank pulled her roughly to her feet and pushed her toward the buggy. “You and Golda are going to go into the bank. You get the tellers and the manager locked up, then open the back door for the rest of us. Don’t try anything. Golda won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

  MARGARET STEPPED OUT of the buggy and looked around downtown Larson. Rain had left the debris-littered streets a muddy quagmire. The large window in the front of the bank was streaked with mud and water. The storm had lifted a few shingles, but there was no major damage. She saw no one out whom she could ask for help.

  Golda got out of the buggy behind her. “Remember what Frank said. Don’t give me an excuse to shoot you.”

  “I didn’t think you needed an excuse.”

  “I don’t. So don’t try my patience.” Golda shoved her in the small of the back. “Smile and act like nothing is wrong. If we get enough money, maybe I’ll let you live.”

  Margaret knew better than to believe her. Death was in every line of Golda’s face. Margaret approached the bank door with a sense of dread beginning to penetrate her grief. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled and tears felt close. How could she smile when her heart was breaking? Right now she felt like she would never smile again. “Safe in his arms.” She reminded herself of what Daniel had said. Live or die, she belonged to God.

  She pushed open the door and limped inside.

  Orville Parker pushed his spectacles up on his nose. His thinning hair lay in a carefully contrived placement. His mouth dropped open when he saw her. “Miss Margaret, the whole county is looking for you!”

  Margaret had always liked Orville. He had a caring way about him, and she wished she could tell him to run. She nodded to him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Parker. I’ve come to withdraw some funds.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about, Miss Margaret? Where you been? Everyone has been worried half to death. Have you let everyone know you’re all right? Have you been to the sheriff’s office?”

  “This is getting us nowhere.” Golda drew the gun from her valise. “I want all of you to back up slowly. Mr. Parker, you open the safe.”

  “The safe?” Orville blinked slowly and shook his head. “Not again!”

  “You heard me, mister.” Golda motioned with the gun, and the tellers backed away. “Margaret, open the back door.”

  “You’re in this with her? My, my,” Orville said with a worried frown.

  “It was her idea,” Golda sneered.

  Margaret wanted to tell him the truth, but Golda would shoot her if Margaret opened her mouth. She had to find a way to stop her.

  “Quit dawdling and go open the door!” Golda shouted at Margaret. “And while she’s gone, you get that safe open.”

  “My, my.” Orville hurried to the safe and knelt in front of it. He licked his fingers and applied them to the tumblers.

  Margaret limped toward the back room. She would be out of Golda’s sight when she stepped into the back room, but the other woman would come looking for her if she didn’t hear the back door open immediately. Margaret’s gaze darted around the room as she stepped inside. What could she use for a weapon? She had to make sure no one else got hurt.

  The back room held empty cash sacks, coin rolls, and other small items. Nothing that was any defense against the gun in Golda’s hand.

  “What’s taking so long?” Golda shouted. “Don’t make me come back there!”

  What if she waited until Golda came to check on her? She could hide behind the door and jump her when she stepped into the room. It was a lame plan, but it was the only one Margaret had. Then she spied a large feed sack. Maybe she could pull that over Golda’s head when she came through the door.

  Margaret snatched it up, then slid behind the door. She watched through the crack in the doorway.

  Golda shouted at her again as she backed slowly toward the back room. “I’m warning you, Margaret. Get that door open and get back in here now!” She kept the gun trained on the bank employees. She got to the back room and braced her back against the door that Margaret hid behind. Her gaze darted between the men in the bank and the dingy back room.

  “You can’t hide from me,” Golda snarled. She took another step into the room and finally she was clear of the door.

  With a silent prayer for help, Margaret lunged out from behind the door and brought the feed sack down over Golda’s head.

  The other woman screeched and clawed at the rough burlap that covered her face. The hand holding the gun waved wildly in the air, and she tried to crack Margaret over the head with it before Margaret wrestled the gun away. Although Margaret was bigger and stronger, Golda fought like a caged cougar, and it was all Margaret could do to subdue her.

  Orville ran to help her. He grabbed a rope from the back room wall and quickly trussed up Golda, then snatched the sack off of her head. “Great work, Miss Margaret,” he panted. “I knew you wouldn’t have any part of stealing from the townspeople.”

  It was all over. The strength ran out of her legs, and she sagged against the door. All she wanted to do was find a quiet spot to grieve and remember Daniel.

  Golda spat in her face. “You’re dead,” she snarled. “When my brother catches up to you, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

  “He can’t hurt me more than I already hurt.”

  The other woman smiled. “Too bad Daniel didn’t suffer more. He was already pretty far gone by the time we found him. His last words were of you. Does that make you feel better?”

  Margaret clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. The pain was more than she could bear. He died not knowing she loved him. She wished she could relive the last twenty-four hours. In fact, she wished she could relive the last few weeks again. But that wasn’t possible. She would have to live with the regrets the rest of her life.

  She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She was Paddy O’Brien’s daughter, and she’d been raised to take whatever life dished out. The fact that it had turned out badly was not unusual. She’d grown to expect it all her life.

  “I have a plan,” she told Orville. Now it was time to show those men they’d picked the wrong woman to mess with. She would finish the job Daniel had come here to do.

  THIRTY

  Golda drummed her fingers angrily against the top of a desk in the bank manager’s office. “Frank is too smart to fall for your little tricks.”

  Margaret saw through her bravado. Golda’s face was a sickly color beneath the rouge she wore, and her blue eyes were haunted. Margaret found it in her heart to pity the woman. Maybe Golda had never known any other way of life, but in prison she would realize the things she’d done had consequences.

  Margaret looked at Golda. She seemed to have everything it would take to be a success in
the world. Beauty, brains, guts. But she’d used it all for the wrong purposes. As Margaret stared at the woman, she realized that it wasn’t looks or any other physical attribute that mattered. God had given her his love, and she’d despised it by longing for more. Right then and there she resolved to thank God every day for what he had given her instead of focusing on what she thought were shortcomings.

  She took a deep breath. How free she felt to know that God saw her as special. She would strive to always remember and thank him for the way he’d made her. First the baggage of caring too much for her worldly possessions had dropped away, and now the sense of blaming God for how he had created her was gone too. She would go on from here, grieving over Daniel but rejoicing in the fact that God was with her. And she would see Daniel again. He couldn’t come to her, but she could go to him someday. She would never stop loving him, not for a moment.

  She tied Golda’s hands behind her back, then left her with one of the tellers. Margaret took Golda’s gun, then went to the back room and tiptoed toward the door. She pressed her ear against it and tried to determine whether Frank and the rest of the gang had run or if they just thought things were taking longer than expected.

  At first there was only silence, then she heard low voices and some shuffling movements. Good. They still lingered by the door. But not for long. She had to move quickly.

  She motioned to Orville. “Can you open the vault and transfer the money somewhere else?” She seized a fistful of money bags from the desk. “I’ll stuff these, and you can put them in the safe in place of the real money.” Looking around, she spied a pile of newspapers by the door. “We can use newspaper. Those folded stacks are heavy.”

  Orville grinned. “That just might work. We’ve got a temporary safe in my office where I can lock the money.” He hurried from the room.