Threads of Change

by Jodi Barrows

  A few moments passed before Thomas sat up and stirred the fire. He placed more wood on the burning coals. He intended to keep the fire high tonight. He glanced over at Chet who slept soundly.

  One slight crack of wood sent Thomas’s hand lunging for his gun again, and he rested it on the grip as he surveyed their surroundings.

  Bear sat silently next to Luke at the campfire while John and Blue talked about the turn of events from the day and considered their options for the morning, and Liz sat with Emma, chatting softly. With his head resting on his crossed front paws, Bear’s eyes followed each of the men as they talked.

  Suddenly, the dog’s nostrils flared as he picked up an unusual scent. His nose twitched, trying to get more of the smell. Immediately, the dog rose and hastily bounded into the darkness.

  “What is it, boy?” Luke asked, looking through the undercarriage of the wagons and wheels. He tried to adjust his eyes to the blackness of the night after staring at the campfire for so long. Bear, up on all fours, had alerted to something. He let out a low growl. Liz had been around the dog enough to know that he meant business. His throat puffed and his black lips curled, exposing black gums and long pointed teeth. The deep growl continued and grew more intense. He now had the attention of Blue and John, guns in hand.

  Liz’s thoughts flew to Abby and Megan, already retired for the night.

  “Luke, get your mother and her cousin into the wagons,” Blue said sharply.

  “Yes,” Luke answered, and he flew to his feet. As his eyes searched the darkness, he grabbed Liz by the elbow and softly commanded, “Let’s go. Into the wagon.”

  Liz went into full Mother Hen, nudging Emma along like a baby chick toward the nearest wagon.

  “Liz,” Emma squealed.

  “Shhh. Let’s do as they’ve asked and get inside.”

  “What is it?” she heard Luke ask the men.

  “I don’t know,” Blue said, “but the back of my neck is crawling.”

  “I don’t like it at all,” John said quietly, his finger tapping the trigger of his revolver.

  Bear’s gaze never left the small gap in the trees. He prowled toward it and let out a fierce growl that Liz didn’t know her son’s dog could make.

  Suddenly, a white form emerged: Megan, in her nightgown, panting and looking around frantically, her face white as a ghost.

  “Megan! What are you doing out here?” Blue swore, irritated and relieved as he lowered his gun. “Are you alone?”

  John let out a breath and bent over to his knees. Bear ran to the opening Megan had flown through, his throat still rumbling.

  “Come here, boy,” Luke pressed, but Bear didn’t move.

  “What was that? Did you see it?” Megan panted, trying to catch her breath.

  “We didn’t see anything. We only heard it,” Blue said. “Or heard you. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, what did you see?” John asked impatiently.

  “Megan, you know not to go out alone,” Blue told her, and Liz let out a heavy sigh.

  “What’s going on?” Emma whispered. “What is it?”

  Shushing her, Liz urged, “Let’s wait for them to call us out.”

  “It was big with glowing eyes,” Megan exclaimed, and Liz’s eyes widened. “It moved so quickly. Did you hear it? I haven’t a clue what it was, but it could have gotten me! It’s still out there,” she cried. “Where’s Liz?”

  “There,” Luke said, pointing them out, and Liz drew back the tarp just in time for Megan to fly through it.

  Am I alive or dead?” Chet asked, his eyes still shut but his hand pressing against his head.

  “Morning, cowboy, you still with me?” Thomas asked.

  “If I’m dead, surely my head wouldn’t hurt so badly. I must be alive then. What happened?” Chet asked.

  “I was hoping you would give me the details,” Thomas said, concerned at Chet’s confusion.

  “Where’s my pony? Is my girl fine?” he asked.

  Thomas had found some coffee in Chet’s saddlebags and built a small fire to heat some water. He poured a cup of coffee and walked over to his friend.

  “She is fine. I checked her over last night and this morning, looking for a few answers. I tried to get her to tell me what happened,” he said with a grin, “but she wouldn’t talk.”

  Chet took the coffee Thomas offered and rested on one elbow. After taking a sip, he cringed.

  “Plenty hot, but not too good. I’d forgotten how bad your coffee is.”

  Thomas watched Chet. He didn’t look badly wounded. “Do you think you can ride today?”

  “I think so. How deep is the cut?”

  The open gash on his head still oozed, and the blood had matted at his hairline.

  “We need to get you to Miss Emma’s sewing bag. She can put in a real neat stitch for you,” Thomas teased him. “After breakfast, I figure I’ll ride back to the camp and alert the others to where you are. We can bring the wagons through this way and settle you back on one until you’re keen to ride.”

  Chet managed a small nod and carefully sipped his coffee.

  “So, what made a cowboy like you get thrown from his best filly?”

  “Well,” Chet cleared his throat and sat up to speak, “we were riding along the creek when she got spooked for no reason that I could tell. We were in this clearing and were trapped with only one way out. I heard a growl that appeared to be close.” Chet grew more excited as he spoke. “Immediately!” He clapped his hands together. “I looked up and could see a huge black panther about to lunge at us. Just then, Tessie bolted!” Chet stopped and thought for a moment. “And that was the last thing I remember. I thought we were supper!”

  “A panther?” Thomas questioned.

  “Yes, sir, I know it was.”

  “You didn’t have any idea that this cat was after you? I’ve seen a few before, but they usually aren’t so aggressive.”

  “Yah,” Chet answered. “Tessie didn’t even have much warning. Usually, she can smell danger and warn me when something’s near.”

  They both sipped their coffee. “Where did you find her?” Chet asked.

  “Not too far from you right now. I could tell she’d been run hard, but she was calm when I rode close up on her.”

  Chet lay back to rest his head on the saddle and closed his eyes. “Ride on back to camp. I will be fine here.”

  Thomas loosed his mare from the lanky oak tree that he’d fought all night for sleeping space. He checked his saddle and prepared to ride back to camp.

  “Rest a bit more. I’ll be back with the wagons well by noon.”

  At the breakfast campfire, Megan recounted her story for Abby, who had slept through the whole ordeal.

  “What it was exactly,” Megan said, “I’m not sure. But it was big, dark, and quick as lightning. That was the part that was so strange and frightening to me. It would have easily torn me to pieces!” She shook when she’d gone over it again.

  “Megan, I am upset with your judgment. You should never go out alone like that, and you did not tell any of us!” Liz scolded her sister.

  “You know I always have to go at least one more time in the night, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone. I thought all of you were already asleep.”

  “It’s only the second day, and we’ve already lost Thomas and Chet, and you go out at night all by yourself? How could you do something like that? I just don’t understand. What if you didn’t come back? And then, what would we do this morning with three people missing? We already don’t know what to do now!”

  Megan didn’t say anything.

  “Well?” Liz demanded an explanation.

  “I’m sorry, Liz. You’re right.” Megan lowered her head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Blue approached the ladies from his wagon, pulling up his droopy pants along the way. He managed a groggy greeting for the women. “G’mornin’.”

  “Good morning,” they replied flatly.

  He rinsed a tin cup and pre
pared to make coffee.

  “Where is Luke?” Liz directed to Blue.

  “Still sleeping.”

  Liz stood seriously and put her hands on her hips. “What should we do this morning? Do we stay here and continue to wait, or do we go search for them?”

  Blue looked up at her and grimaced.

  “I don’t think we should search for them,” Abby said.

  “I don’t either,” Emma agreed.

  Liz noticed the corner of Blue’s mouth as it quirked. “I don’t think that would be wise either. We stay and wait. That’s all we can do. If they come back and we’re not here—”

  Just then, over the hill that blocked their campsite from the river, they all seemed to notice at the same time as someone approached on horseback.

  “Who is it? Is it Chet?” Emma asked.

  “No,” Liz exclaimed. “It’s Thomas!”

  Thomas pulled back on the reins and the horse came to an abrupt stop as the group of them swiftly approached.

  “Everything’s fine,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Chet is all right. He fell from his horse and injured his head, but he’s going to be just fine.”

  “Oh! Thank God!” Liz exclaimed. “Thank God!”

  “Yes, his horse got spooked and threw him. He hit his head and was knocked out entirely. I found him just as he came to. It was too dark for us to ride back to camp.”

  “What spooked his horse?” Megan asked.

  “He wasn’t sure.”

  “Where is Chet now?”

  “He’s waiting for us by the creek.”

  “Gracious, Thomas,” Liz said pensively, “we were so worried. We didn’t know what we would do this morning.”

  “Everything is fine now,” Thomas reassured her over the thumping of her heart. “Let’s pack up. Chet’s a-waiting.”

  As Thomas dismounted and joined in the process of packing up, Liz noticed him look up and she followed his gaze. The southern sky had quickly turned greenish and dark.

  It took some time to hitch up six teams of horses and wagons. Finally, they rolled out of camp, Thomas in the lead wagon once again. He had instructed them that they would travel in a single wagon row because of the narrow path he’d encountered along the small river, and they followed along the creek until it forked south. To the southwest, darkness and fast-moving rain clouds would block the sun out completely soon.

  Thomas slowed the lead wagon to an abrupt halt and jumped down. He loosened his horse and walked back to the others.

  “Thomas,” Blue called out over the whipping wind, “those clouds are moving fast.”

  He took off his hat and looked up to the dark sky.

  “I’ve been watching them as we rode,” Blue said. “I thought they would move north, away from us.”

  “Everyone stay in the wagons,” Thomas called out. He looked directly at Liz when he added, “Chet is down through the brush. I’ll go get him.”

  Liz nodded and called out to him, loudly above the whipping wind. “Be careful, Thomas!” Her concern for him stoked an ember or two in the center of his chest.

  Thomas rode down a steep hill and into the brush. The trees grew thicker the closer he got to the creek. Before he reached the bottom of the hill, he already felt raindrops on his neck. His horse shivered from an unexpected south wind.

  “Whew! That’s cold, Bootsie!” His horse grunted. “Keep going, we’re almost there.”

  Bootsie plowed her way through the thick bushes. Small branches scraped across Thomas’s face as he tried to shield himself with his arm. A narrow area of smooth stones and rocks bordered the skinny river and made it less thick with growth. Just as Thomas reached the area, he saw Chet’s horse and bag.

  “Chet,” he called out from atop his own horse.

  He spotted Chet eating a dried piece of meat, seated on a fallen tree. “Chet, we’ve got to get going! A storm is coming in.”

  The long rag Chet had worn across his head now protruded from his back pocket.

  “How do you feel?” asked Thomas.

  “I can ride.”

  Chet hurried to place his cup and food into Tessie’s saddlebag and hastily hopped into the saddle.

  The flaps on Liz’s bonnet pressed against her face. A fierce gust of wind caught her attention and compelled her to look up. The huge dark storm had already pressed upon them.

  We should take cover, she thought.

  As a young child, Liz had been taught how to read the weather and how to distinguish a severe storm from a mere rainstorm, and she wondered how this one had crept up on her. She had educated Luke with all she’d learned about the weather and they’d always pulled together to prepare for such circumstances. She felt a little frustrated over allowing the storm to catch her off guard.

  Dead limbs hung carelessly over Blue’s horses at the back of the wagon train. A strong flurry of wind blew across the trees and suddenly, with a big crack, one of them collapsed to the ground in one swift movement. As they hit the ground, Blue’s horses spooked from the commotion and immediately took off at a full run with Blue yanking back on the reins. As Emma and Abby screamed, Blue shouted at the horses as he tried to gain control, but couldn’t seem to manage it.

  As the horses and wagon sprinted to safety, the back wheel clipped the side of Luke’s wagon, sparking discord among the animals. Still hitched to their wagons, the horses ran off in a panic. The rain pelted stronger and lightning flashed. Luke and Blue, still on their wagons, struggled to gain control.

  Lightning illuminated the dark sky, revealing a snaking twister that reached toward the ground with smoky fingers. Liz gasped as she watched the tornado fly over the trees, her own heart spinning with fear as it approached the ground.

  Cold rain splashed her before it whirred around her and pelted faster with each frantic breath she took. It became difficult to see as the rain and wind whipped her hair and bonnet. Panic began to swell inside her.

  “Twister!” Liz called to the frantic group as Blue and Luke steered their wagons back toward them. “Take cover! It’s coming our way! We need to find a low spot! Get to shelter!”

  Blue pointed toward a ravine just a short ways from them. The teams of horses seemed as eager as the drivers to find safety, and they moved without prompting.

  It surprised Liz to find how easy it was to get the wagons to the ravine, and they made it there quickly. The horses became jittery over the hailstones that bounced on their targets.

  The men had nothing to which to tie the teams, and Liz felt frightened that the horses might spook and run again. Abby, Emma, and Megan had found their way to safety, and Luke stood away from the shelter holding his team while John, Blue, Luke, and Liz each did their best to keep two teams calm during the worst of it.

  Hail pounded across Liz’s shoulders as she tried to protect herself next to the animals and, at the same time, hold onto the reins to keep the horses calm. Her bonnet flew up, and she found herself soaked to the skin and shivering almost immediately. She nestled in closer to one of her horses and tucked her head under the soft velvet line of its neck. She wondered who actually comforted whom. The wind whipped her dress around her legs in a tight embrace and, when she glanced out to see how Luke fared, her bonnet flew back from her head and a hailstone pelted her on the mouth. Her lips felt numb from the cold and she tasted blood.

  Liz hung her head down under the protection of her horse while sobs escaped from her, almost before she even realized she was crying. She continued to weep as the rain mixed with her tears. She could not keep the sensation away. With the storm came a feeling of hopelessness, and the rain that hit her face beat memories of the Riverton Mill and the day she became the widow of Caleb Bromont straight out of her. What had happened to the good luck that her Irish chain anniversary quilt was supposed to bring?

  Thoughts of Caleb summoned fear and dread for their son, and Liz shoved the wet hair from her face as she looked for Luke. The storm still raged, but his two teams did well. The hail had passed qu
ickly; hopefully, the threat of the twister, too. “Liz,” Abby called. “Hurry, come inside. The thunder is almost gone now. The horses will be fine.”

  Abby had the strings untied from the wagon cover and held them tightly as the wind whipped about to keep it from invading her almost-dry habitat.

  Liz gave a word of encouragement to the animals and pulled her black boots from the mud and streams of water that flooded past her ankles. Her saturated dress had lost all its absorbing power. The water flowed past her hemline. She felt bone tired as she waded her way toward Abby, her dress weighing more than she did. She nearly missed the wooden foothold on the wagon bed and, as she climbed up to comfort, her heel caught the edge of her skirt and ripped it at the waist. Her hand then slipped off the top edge of the wagon and she fell, hitting her cheek bone on the wooden sideboard.

  Abby heard the whack of Liz’s face against the wagon. “Oh my, Liz! Are you hurt?” she cried.

  Liz climbed into the wagon, falling into a state of exhaustion with mud, blood, and tears burning over her cut and swollen face. Abby, seeing her cousin’s distress, quickly went to work.

  “Megan and Emma are in the wagon over there.” She motioned to the back corner of the wagon as she cared for Liz’s cut cheek, and she pulled out some dry things for her cousin. She turned around to grab the cords of the wagon cover and peeked out quickly before pulling them tight again and dropping the big flap from the top. She pulled another string around a toggle nailed to the wagon’s side.

  “Luke just climbed up in his wagon, and the men are headed to theirs. Hopefully, the worst is over. Oh, Liz, you are drenched and bleeding. I hope you don’t catch your death of a cold. Hurry and dry off.”

  Liz pulled the remnant of her dress from her body. As she swept her hair up in the empty flour sack, Abby saw her battered shoulder where the hailstones had bruised her skin. Liz jumped as the cotton sack touched her tender shoulders.