In the Face of Danger

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  "Well, these people—Oblinsky is their name, Maj and Nicolai Oblinsky—look as though they're ready to tackle anything, but they'll need a little help."

  "What kind of help? What can we do for them?" Emma asked.

  "Their sod house needs a new roof," Ben said. "I promised, if you felt it was all right for me to leave you tomorrow, to stay two days with them and help get the job done."

  "Of course I want you to go," Emma said. She patted her large abdomen. "I wish I were less awkward and could go with you. But I'll send some household things."

  Ben began rubbing his chin again. A worried wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows, and Megan wondered why.

  "We'll be fine here," she said reassuringly. "I'll take good care of Emma."

  "I'm sure you will," Ben said. "I'll ride horseback so that you'll have the other horse if you need to come for me."

  Emma patted his arm. "There's no reason why we'd have to send for you. If for any reason we need help in a hurry—which we won't—^we can reach Farley much faster. What's worrying you?"

  "I don't know," Ben said. "It's just an odd prickle, as

  your mother used to say. Maybe I don't like the idea of leaving you, Emma. Or maybe it's the weather."

  As Emma and Megan looked at him with surprise, he explained, **WeVe well into November and long overdue for snow."

  Emma got up and began to clear the plates from the table. "WeVe been so long overdue for rain or snow, I can't imagine you worrying about a thing like that. The sky has been clear— too clear, if anything. A good soaking rain would be welcome."

  *'Do you remember the blizzards in early 1856?" Ben asked. *They came without warning." He shrugged and looked a little sheepish. "Maybe IVe been a part of this land for so long I'm beginning to feel as the land feels."

  Emma stopped to pat his shoulder and rest her cheek against the top of his head. "Oh, Ben," she said, "Megan and I will be fine. Don't borrow bad luck."

  Bad luck will come to you and yours,

  Ben looked up at his wife and snuled, but Megan—^the whisper of the gypsy's voice suddenly in her ears— shivered with fear.

  Megan huddled close tx) Enuna and waved as Ben rode off on Jimbo. Although she was wearing her heavy coat and gloves, and her cap was pulled down over her ears, the morning wind stung her face with mean little nips, and she put her hands up to cover her cheeks.

  "Into the house! Quickly! We're freezing out here!" Enrnia called. She grabbed Megan's hand, and they ran together into the house, shutting the door tightly and pulling the latchstring inside. "Poor Ben," Emma said. 'The wind's growing colder." She pulled off her coat and stood in front of the fireplace, rubbing her hands together. "It would have been easier on everyone if the Oblinskys had come a few months ago,, when it was warm."

  Megan heard a soft thump and turned to see Patches wobbling toward her. She rushed to scoop him up and nuzzled the back of his head. "Patches managed to climb out of the box!" she said.

  Emma smiled. 'The puppies are growing fast."

  The other pups yipped and jumped against the side of

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  their box, trying to join Patches, and Megan said, "I wish I hadn't promised one of them to Mrs. Haskili."

  "I think a dog is just what the woman needs,'* Emma said. "Moby might be a good choice for her. Or Dick. Yes. Dick's such a friendly pup. Just think of all the love he'll give her. She'll soon find herself returning it."

  "I hope so." Megan put Patches back into the box and cautioned him to stay there.

  "We've got a great deal to do this morning," Enima said. "We'd better get busy."

  Enrmia separated the morning's cream from the milk and added it to cream she'd kept chilled over the past two days. She poured the liquid into the barrel chum. "If you'll bring this to butter, Megan, I can start apple snitzing."

  "What's snitzing?" Megan asked. "It sounds like a sneeze."

  Emma laughed. "It's a short word for all the work tJiat has to be done to apples before they can be boiled down into apple butter." Ben had brought a sack of apples up from the root cellar before he left, and now Emma dumped them out on the worktable. "They're getting mealy," she said, "no longer good enough to eat in hand." She immediately set to peeling, coring, and cutting the apples into sections. The slices went into a pot with water and spices, and Megan helped Emma carry the pot to the fireplace and hang it on one of the metal arms.

  As the apple mixture began to boil and bubble, Emma watched it carefully, stirring it with a long wooden paddle.

  Megan moved the dasher in the chum up and down, listening to the cream froth and splash. Soon she felt the lumps of butter begin to form and grow larger, hitting firmly against the dasher. She lifted the lid of the dasher

  and peered inside the chum, eryoying the tangy fragrance of the warm buttermilk.

  "I think the butter's ready," she said.

  "I can leave this for half a minute to take a look," Enuna said. She gave her paddle a final stir through the thickening apple mixture and turned toward Megan.

  At that moment Patches tumbled out of the box and sprawled in front of Emma.

  "Look out!" Megan shouted.

  Enuna looked down, saw the pup, and tried to avoid him, but she lost her balance and fell heavily to the floor.

  Megan jumped up and ran to Emma, her heart bumping loudly. "Are you hurt?" she cried.

  Enmia sat up and rubbed her left ankle. Megan scooped up Patches with one hand and tucked him into the box. "Stay there!" she scolded. "Look what youVe done!"

  "It's not his fault," Emma said. "He's a growing pup and wants to go exploring. I should have remembered that he could get out of the box and watched where I was going." She winced as she rubbed her ankle again. "I think IVe sprained it. And oh—the apples!"

  With a wad of toweling to protect her hands, Megan grabbed the heavy iron cooking arm and swung it out and away from the heat. "I'll get to the apples later," she said. Taking a firm grip under Emma's arms, Megan hoisted her up and into a comfortable chair.

  "I'll be right back," she said and puUed on her coat.

  "Where are you going?" Emma asked.

  "I think I saw ice under the rim of the well," Megan told her. "I'll make a pack for your ankle to keep the swelling down." She snatched up a pan and a blunt-ended knife and ran outside.

  The wind was stronger, and she struggled against it as she chipped at the ice. More had luck, Megan thought

  angrily. Emma is hurt because of the gypsy's curse. She m.ade me the bad-luck penny. Look at all the trouble I cause to everyone around me! Something terrible is bound to happen to Ben and Emma if I stay here with them. But if I were to leave, I would only take harm wherever I went.

  Megan was startled to feel the sting of a hot tear on her windbumed cheek. Quickly wiping it away, she scolded herself. Shame on you, Megan Kelly. There's no time for silliness now. Emma needs you. And —she couldn*t help the little shiver that shook her spine— you can't stop whatever trouble the curse will cause, no matter how awful it might be.

  To distract herself, Megan chipped furiously at the ice until she had half-filled the pan. She ran back to the house, and in a short time had wrapped the ice in a cloth and bound the cloth around Emma's ankle. "That's just what it needs," Emma said. "Thank you, Megan."

  After a few minutes Emma tried to stand but let out a little cry and sat down again quickly. Her face was white, and tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.

  "Don't try to walk," Megan said.

  "But I need to tend the apple butter."

  "I can do that. I'm going to make you some herb tea with sugar, and then I'll cook and stir the apples until they're done. You can sit there and tell me what to do."

  Emma didn't argue, so Megan knew how much pain she must be feeling. She added another log to the fire and prepared the tea. Then she swung the arm holding the apple mixture back over the fire and began to stir it slowly with the wooden paddle, just as she'd seen Emma do.

  When the a
pples were finally cooked to a deep brown thickness, Megan brought Emma a sample. With the tip

  of one finger, Enuna warily skimmed the glob Megan held out on the paddle. She tasted it and smiled. "That's it," she said. *Take it off the fire, and stir it now and then as long as the pan is hot, just to keep it from sticking."

  Megan scooped a finger along the top of the apple butter, too, waved it quickly, and popped it into her mouth. "It's good!" she said with such surprise that Enmia laughed.

  "Of course it's good. Couldn't you tell by the way it smells?"

  Megan shrugged and stirred the paddle once around the pot. "It's brown and strange-looking. I didn't know what to expect."

  "You'll like it on your bread," Enmia said. "We'll have it all winter." She stirred uncomfortably, trying to lift herself to her feet. "There is so much to do."

  In an instant Megan knelt beside her and examined the ankle. It looked much less red and puffy than it had a short time earlier. "I'll bind it up for you," she said. "That will help. But you can't walk on it yet. Just let me do whatever is needed."

  "There's too much," Emma told her. "There's water and firewood to bring in, and the dinner to make."

  Megan removed the dripping, ice-filled pad and dried Emma's ankle. Then she took a clean strip of cloth and wound it high around the ankle and under the arch of Emma's foot, splitting the loose end in order to tie it fimUy into place. She placed a pillow on the footstool and propped Emma's foot on top.

  Emma sighed gratefully. ^That's much better," she said. "It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did."

  Megan stood and smoothed down her skirt. "I'll start the dinner as soon as I take care of the water and wood," she said. "I may not be the best cook in the

  world, but IVe watched you, and IVe learned your ways of doing things."

  "Have you ever cooked an entire meal?"

  "When I lived in New York," Megan said, "I cooked every day for my family. Ma and Frances had to work, and it was up to me to buy the food at the greengrocer's and cook the dinner and care for the two little ones." She heard the break in her voice, and she wondered how long it would be before she could think of her brothers and sisters—and especially of Ma—without such a dreadful aching hunger to see them again.

  Emma took Megan's right hand and for just a moment held Megan's palm against her cheek. "How lucky we are to have you," she murmured.

  Megan shuddered. If only Emma knew! "Please don't speak of luck," she whispered, and although Emma looked startled, Megan hurried into her coat and out the door to get the wood without a word of explanation.

  She made sure there was plenty of wood piled in the rack that was handy to the back door, as well as a full supply in the house. Then she brought in fresh water from the well and began to cook. Emma rallied enough to complain about her lack of activity, and by late in the afternoon was hobbling about the house, with Megan trying unsuccessfully to coax her into sitting still.

  The day went quickly, with many chores to do both inside and outside, and when the daylight faded, Megan was glad to relax by the fire as Enuna read poems from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Megan didn't understand all that Mr. Whitman wrote, but she loved the sounds of his words as they marched and exploded and sometimes slipped together softly, giving shape to his ideas. She was already drowsing by the time Emma closed the book and said, "Time for bed."

  "How is your ankle?" Megan murmured as she got to her feet.

  "Much better," Emma said, but she limped toward her bedroom.

  "1 wish Ben were here," Megan said. In the distance she heard the howl of a wolf, with another joining in. The eerie wailing sound made her shiver.

  Emma gave Megan a good-night hug. "I miss him, too," she said.

  But that was not exactly what Megan had meant.

  Concerned about Emma, Megan lay wide awake in bed, staring out her window at the clear, dark sky, so cold that the light from the stars seemed to glitter and snap. Maybe Ma could look from her window to see the same stars, she thought. Maybe Ma was thinking of Megan at the very same time that Megan was thinking of her.

  The stars became blurry as their edges shimmered and dissolved. Megan turned on her side, pulling the quilt up over her ears and squeezing her eyes tightly shut against the tears. Pale, faraway speckles in a hazy sky, city stars were not the same as the large, bright ones that shone over the prairie. Ma wouldn't be looking at the stars and thinking of Megan. Ma seemed just as far away as those stars, in a strange room in a strange house that Megan couldn't even picture.

  "Good-night, Ma," Megan whispered as she tugged the quilt more tightly around her. "Oh, please, please don't forget me. Til never forget you."

  Early the next morning, soon after Goliath's insistent crow, Megan hurried to the bam to feed the animals and milk the cow. The wind pushed her to a trot, and gray clouds, as thick and heavy as the stuffing in an old

  pillow, piled high, smothering the sky. A few flakes of snow prickled her cheeks.

  Enuna, in the doorway, called to Megan, her voice tight with worry. "Hurry, Megan. I'm afraid Ben was right. It looks as though we Ye going to have a snowstorm."

  Megan tugged at the small door in the bam and managed to open it, nearly sprawling over the high sill as the wind yanked the door from her hands and slammed it shut behind her. Rosie rolled her huge eyes and shifted nervously in her stall, while Jay stamped and snorted loud breaths that hung in the cold air like miniature clouds. Megan had let the chickens into the bam the night before, and they huddled together, roosting in the hayloft, sleepy, cold, and complaining to each other in mumbled clucks and squawks.

  As Megan worked—feeding the animals, cleaning their stalls, and milking Rosie—she thought about the snowstorms in New York City. Some had been miserable, with wind whipping the snow in heavy gusts down streets and around comers, even shaking the wooden building in which the Kellys lived as though trying to tear it apart. But Megan remembered Ben telling her that snowstorms in the city were nothing compared to prairie blizzards, in which the wind and snow raced and roared across the plains for days, piling up drifts higher than a man is tall, with nothing to stop their speed or break their path.

  "What about you?" she asked Rosie and Jay, who turned to stare at her. "How will I take care of you?"

  Jay snorted and tossed his head, and Megan thought. How will I get to them? If the snow is as blinding as Ben described^ how will I even find the bam? The animals will be safe enough in here, but someone will have to feed them, and Rosie will bawl if she becomes swollen with milk,

  Slowly Megan looked around the bam, turning until her gl2Lnce fell on a long coil of rope hanging on a peg. It appeared to be about the right length, with some to spare.

  The coil was heavy, but Megan managed to pull it from the peg and drag it after her as she shut the smaller barn door and let down the bar that locked it into place. She tied one end of the rope to the bar, testing it to make sure it was secure, then pulled the rest after her, playing it out as she walked. When she reached the house, she pulled the rope taut and tied the other end to the post near the back door. It made a convenient and strong guideline between the house and the bam, and she examined it with satisfaction.

  The snow had begun to fall in earnest now, swirling and whipping in the driving wind. Megan was glad that she'd laid by plenty of firewood, and she hoped there was nothing she'd forgotten.

  The back door opened, and Emma called, "Come inside, Megan. The storm's building. It'll be a bhzzard for sure."

  Megan stumbled into the house, throwing her weight against the door to close it.

  "Oh, how I wish Ben were here!" Emma murmured.

  For a moment Megan was frightened. "He won't set out in this just to get home to you, will he?"

  Emma shook her head. "No. Ben would never do that. He's well aware of what these blizzards can be like. He'll stay with the Oblinskys until it's safe to travel."

  Fear cut deep lines across Emma's forehead. Megan took her hand and said, "The hous
e will hold up, won't it?"

  "No worry about that," Enmia said. "It's good and sturdy."

  'The animals will be all right, too. 1 made sure of a way to get to the bam/' Megan told Emma about the rope she had rigged, but Emma looked even more concerned.

  '1 don't want you going outside in this terrible weather."

  Megan glanced at Enmia's ankle, still a httle swollen. "It's a sure thing that you're not the one to go."

  'Let's hope the storm won't last long," Emma said. "We may have nothing to worry about."

  But the day had become as dark as night, and Emma and Megan hurried to hght the oil lamps. The wind blustered at the door, thudding against it as though someone were beating to get inside. It screamed around the corners of the house and hammered at the roof. Enuna sat quietly near the fireplace, stitching pieces into the baby's quilt, but Megan could see her fingers tremble.

  Megan picked up a needle and thread and a shirt of Ben's with a tear in the sleeve. She worked carefully, trying to make tiny stitches around the edge of the patch, as Ma had taught her, but she jumped in terror, often pricking her finger, each time the wind slanmied against the side of the house.

  The storm was worse than anything she could have imagined. She pictured it as a huge, white animal trying to claw its way into the house in order to devour them.

  u

  On the first day Megan was able to make two trips to the bam, wading with difficulty through the snow and clinging tightly to the rope as the wind's icy claws raked her face and tried to snatch her away.

  The storm had terrified the animals. Megan attempted to soothe them, but Jay was skittish, and Rosie raised her head and bawled loudly, sending some of the chickens flapping hysterically from their perch. Rosie was so frightened she'd have little milk to give. In a way, Megan thought, that would be a blessing. She could make sure that the animals had plenty of food, and she wouldn't have to worry about easing Rosie's discomfort. The animals would stay safe and snug where the storm couldn't get to them.