Cowgirl

by Nance Sparks

  “That was incredible,” she whispered into Aren’s ear.

  Aren just held her, too taken with emotion to speak just yet. Incredible was not the right word to describe how she felt at that moment. She caressed Carol’s back, held her close, and cherished this one moment in time, not wanting it to ever end.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The small drought was over, bringing the rains back more often. This created a huge harvest to be picked in the gardens almost every day, much of which was to be canned for winter food storage. Aren was now only attending the farmer’s market every other week in order to have enough food for winter. She’d done this each summer for the past three years, having learned the lesson to keep enough aside after that first winter alone. She started a few weeks earlier this year, wanting to have enough for both of them to enjoy all winter long, just in case Carol stayed.

  While picking the vast assortment of vegetables, Aren couldn’t help but think of all they’d accomplished in the last week or so. The upstairs was completely cleared out. New carpeting had been installed professionally upstairs and the house sparkled with cleanliness. The milled oak flooring had been custom cut to each angle, nook and cranny. Once it was laid, it was so well done it looked like a professional job. Aren and Carol stained the wood to a warm chestnut color and then coated it with two layers of sealant. The new flooring and paint had completely transformed the home. Every time Aren walked into the house, it felt warm and inviting. Their last task was the patience to allow another day for the sealant to dry completely before Aren moved in. She looked over at Carol and wondered how much more time she’d have with her. They still hadn’t talked about where Carol would go once her house was done, even though they’d spend their nights tangled in the sheets, taking one another to the edge and over.

  Aren picked the vegetables quickly, looking up often as the large thunder clouds rolled in. She noticed that these clouds were especially tall and would likely produce a storm like they’d experienced the night Carol’s leg was broken, though she kept this thought to herself.

  “Looks like a bad storm is coming. The wind sure is picking up,” Aren hollered over to Carol, who was also watching the clouds roll in.

  “Should we stop picking? I don’t want to be out here in the lightning and thunder,” Carol called back. “I know that sounds goofy, but I just got my leg back to normal!”

  Aren looked over to the adorable woman standing barefooted in the dirt. She’d been without her walking boot for almost a week and was enjoying her reclaimed mobility. She hardly ever wore shoes.

  “We can stop picking if you’re nervous. The pigs will thank you,” Aren called out, knowing how much Carol was still nervous around big storms.

  “Let’s keep at it, if lightning starts, I’m calling it!” Carol carried a flat of vegetables to the awaiting wagon. They only had a few rows left, and Aren worked hard to get through them.

  Before long, they pulled the wagon all the way into the barn and closed off the long sliding door to keep the wind out. After latching the door closed, Aren released Wyatt from his harness and led him to a box stall that opened out into the pasture.

  When she returned to the back of the barn, Carol was already unloading the crates from the wagon into the back area of the barn where the wash basins were located. The space was dark with the door closed. The wind rattled the large door as if to say it too wanted it open.

  Aren walked around the large wagon and flipped on the overhead lights.

  “And the Lord said ‘let there be light’ and there was!” Carol quoted while filling the sink with water. Aren shook her head chuckling while stacking the rest of the crates on the far side of the sinks. Bailey jumped into the empty wagon as acting supervisor.

  “So, you want to start washing and I’ll start canning like we did last time?” Aren asked, setting up the propane burners and pulling down the water bath canners.

  “Will we be safe out here, if the storm hits?” Carol asked.

  “If it gets dangerous, we’ll head to the basement in the house. Okay?”

  Sounds good to me,” Carol replied, already setting the tomatoes out for blanching.

  They worked steadily getting the produce canned. As jars cooled and sealed, Aren would slide them onto the large shelving unit opposite the sinks. The shelves were already almost completely full, and she still had a few more weeks of good harvesting before the cool nights began to diminish the crops. Once the canning was done, they began to blanch other vegetables that would be put into baggies and frozen in the large chest freezer. Aren loved to keep corn, green beans, peas, summer squash, and zucchini in the freezer for winter soups.

  Rain began to pound the side of the barn just as they were starting the summer squash. Flashes of lightning snuck through the crevasses between the door and the wall. Thunder rumbled loudly, at times causing the barn to shudder. Aren watched Carol flinch with each clap of thunder.

  “We can finish up the squash and zucchini tomorrow. How about we stop here, and get the chores done instead? We’ll take care of the animals and get inside.”

  “I like the sound of that. Can we push the wagon in farther and close these doors as well?” Carol asked, flinching again at the sound of thunder.

  “I’m afraid not, I’ll need to push the wagon more into this room so I can bring the cows in for milking.” Aren extinguished the flames on the propane burners. She dumped the hot water down the drain before storing the two pots on a top shelf. Carol quickly loaded the empty crates into the back of the wagon before loading up the few that remained full.

  Working together, they managed to slowly push the wagon into the back room as far as it would go once all was cleaned up and out of the way. Above them came a loud knocking noise when an exceptionally strong gust of wind pounded into the back of the barn.

  “I think the wind just knocked the loft door open. Let me run up and check,” Aren said, already heading for the loft stairs.

  Sure enough, the door had blown open and it continued to flap against the wall in the howling wind. Aren reached for the two-by-four that she’d cut for this very reason during other storms. Using her back and the strength of her legs, she was finally able to fight the wind and get the hinged door closed snuggly against the stops. She slid the long two-by-four into the steel brackets that were bolted to studs on either side of the door.

  When she returned to the lower level, she found Carol already milking Ginger. Aren retrieved Cinnamon and set about the task of getting her milked as well.

  “Are the thunderstorms always this wicked around here?” Carol asked. “I assumed the storm that hit my aunt and uncle’s place was a one-off. I don’t remember it being like this when I’d come to visit.”

  “We have a few good storms each year, but they seem to be getting more intense with climate change. And this one is intense. Usually, it’s just distant thunder and good soaking rains. But occasionally, we’ll get a good thunder boomer like today.”

  “How often do you get tornadoes? Do we have a root cellar or some place to go here in the barn if a tornado comes? Or do we have to run to the house?” Carol asked, sounding nervous for the first time that evening.

  “I’ve lived in Michigan most of my life, and while we’ve had a couple of tornadoes in the state, I’ve never seen one myself. We’ve got a basement in the house if we need one, I just hadn’t given it any thought.” Aren tried to sound reassuring. “Carol, this is just a good thunderstorm, nothing more. It will most likely be done by the time we go to bed tonight.”

  Aren looked over at Carol, knowing that she’d recently lost the last of her family in a storm like this. She wasn’t sure what to do to reassure her beyond spending the evening in the basement. She hoped this storm wouldn’t come to that, for Carol’s sake. And if Carol thought the storms came around too often, would it make her run? Would she up and leave? Aren pushed the thought away. She’d worry about that later.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Lightning an
d cracks of thunder continued to accompany the rain well into the early evening. After the chores were finished, Carol and Aren made their way up to the loft. None of the animals seemed eager to venture out into the rain. They all sought refuge in the coziness of their box stalls. Bailey was curled up on her dog bed, as usual unaffected by the world around her. The wind was finally easing up its relentless pounding on the barred loft door. Aren had defrosted steaks for dinner, but knowing the fire pit was likely now a small pond, she stowed them into the refrigerator for the next day. Instead, they had a hearty salad for dinner with a can of tuna sprinkled on top.

  By the time they’d finished eating, the rain had stopped, though the lightning and thunder continued. Aren released the two-by-four and opened the loft door. The sky was an eerie color of various hues of green. She stood there looking at the still sky and swirling clouds above. Her stomach sank.

  “Carol, I think we should head over to the house,” Aren said, looking out across the landscape. “Now.”

  Carol walked over to see what Aren was looking at. She no sooner stepped next to Aren when large hail began to drop out of the sky as if dumped from a giant bucket. The noise from the roof above them was almost deafening.

  “It’s raining baseballs of ice!” Carol yelled. “We don’t want to be running to the house in this. It will slice us open for sure.”

  The wind kicked up again, blowing the large balls of ice into the loft door. It took every bit of their strength to push the door closed against the force of the ice and wind. Aren slid the board back in place. She grabbed Carol’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

  “We’ve got to find cover!” Aren screamed over the sound of the hail beating against the barn roof.

  Aren pushed Carol in front of her and followed her closely down the stairs. The cows were bellowing. Doc, Wyatt, and the other horses were all nervously shifting within the box stalls. Still, the hail relentlessly pounded down on the back of the barn and the roof above. Carol turned and looked to Aren for direction. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the hail stopped. Aren peered out the opening of one of the box stalls and watched the green clouds begin to churn. She ran to the back door of the barn and unlocked it.

  “What on earth are you doing? Let’s get to the house!” Carol cried out from the front of the wagon.

  Aren ignored her. Pulling with all her might, she forced the door to break free from the melting ice balls piled up against it. Aren stood there in the four-foot of opening she was able to achieve and stared as the dark clouds above the woods beyond the pasture began to quickly swirl, at times allowing blue sky to peek through.

  She turned and ran to the front of the barn, pulling Carol along by her hand as she passed. Once they were at the front of the barn, Aren pushed open the small step-through door. She stepped out into the eerily still air and looked out to the western side of her property.

  “Look, do you see it forming?” Aren asked, pointing to the swirling ocean in the sky. “Can you see the clouds swirling out there?”

  “We should be heading for the basement, not standing here like idiots!” Carol tugged on Aren’s hand.

  The winds picked up again, shifting and swirling so that there was no identifiable direction from which they blew. Aren and Carol watched the swirling clouds up above. Aren thought it looked like fluffy icing coming down from the sky as fold upon fold of clouds swirled together. The rain pounded down in large, heavy drops. The impact of the rain felt like small hail with the winds blowing so hard.

  Carol pulled Aren toward the house. The rain pelted their skin as they ran across the ice-slick yard, slipping on large patches of hail. They carefully made their way up the back porch steps, kicking clumps of ice out of the way. They stopped and stood beneath the overhang. Aren couldn’t take her eyes off the storm. The clouds appeared miles tall and were still swirling around in powerful circles.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Aren hollered above the roar of the storm, pointing at the beginnings of a tornado emerging from the clouds high above. The funnel continued to grow, darting for the ground. Before it even touched down, trees at the far edge of the pasture swirled and creaked with the pressure from the wind.

  The funnel seemed to touch the ground right at the edge of the woods. Carol tried desperately to pull Aren into the house, but Aren couldn’t move. She watched as huge maple and oak trees were sucked up as if they were weeds snapped in half like twigs before being pulled up into the black twister. As it moved forward, it mowed a path into the woods breaking anything apart that happened to be in the way. One especially large tree must have been rejected by the twister because suddenly it was airborne and flying in their direction.

  Aren pulled Carol from the porch and dragged her off to the side of the garage as the large tree landed with a wood-splintering boom about a hundred yards from the back porch. Limbs broke free and rained splinters and clumps of leaves down all around them.

  “What is it with the trees in this state? Are they all out to get me?” Carol asked, wiping the water from her face.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  From their stance next to the garage, they took in the huge maple tree sprawling across the backyard. The storm continued to roar, but the twister slowly moved away from them to the northeast. Though as it moved farther away, it seemed to become even larger and more powerful.

  “No need now, it’s heading away from us.” Carol stood next to Aren.

  “Looks like it’s headed for town!” Aren watched the funnel rip through the woods where they had ridden the horses just the day before.

  “Do you think we should head that way and see if we can help at all?” Carol asked through the howling winds.

  “The roads will likely be impassable with debris. If we can calm the horses, we should ride in when it’s clear so we can navigate around the roadblocks like that tree there. Let’s go see if we can quiet them down enough to get a saddle on their backs. If that thing hits town, it’ll be a mess,” Aren said. They ran for the barn. In the distance, they could hear the tornado sirens wail out the warning. Hopefully, the folks took it seriously and ran for cover, she thought, now at a dead run.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Once the horses were ready, Aren ran past Carol to a closet in the back of the tack room.

  “What are you doing?” Carol asked, standing in the doorway.

  “People are likely going to be cut, broken, whatever. I don’t know if enough emergency personnel will be able to assist. I’m only a vet, but I’ve got much of the exact same triage meds and supplies. If we’re going into town, I want to go in prepared to help, instead of fumbling around like I did when your leg was broken.” Aren quickly stuffed boxes of syringes and many different color tipped needles into a large sack, along with rolls of tape and thick, padded gauze. A bunch more stuff was added before Aren ran from the room, darting sideways by Carol and for the loft stairs. I’ll be right back!”

  Aren ran up the stairs into the loft. She pulled the door open closest to the stairs and watched the tornado barrel its way toward town. It had become even bigger than before and still it roared loudly. She turned and ran to the refrigerator and then pulled open the small crisper drawer. She tossed the vegetables out of the drawer and reached for the glass bottles of medications in the back. She pulled out every bottle of lidocaine she could find, then ran into the bathroom and found a large bottle of Ibuprofen for pain, a couple of bottles of alcohol and Betadine, along with chemical ice packs, small towels, her stethoscope, suture kits and anything else she could fit into the pack. On her way back to the stairs, she reached for the halogen head lamp she’d used in the winter and stuffed it into the pack just in case. At the staircase, she reached for the last item on her mental list, her trusty chore knife. Running down the stairs, she stuffed her knife into the back of her jeans.

  She ran into the tack room and pulled two lead ropes off a peg and also grabbed a few coils of strong rope. Sh
e ran out to Wyatt’s saddle and tied the rope onto either side using the dangling leather straps. She stuffed the lead ropes and halters into one of the saddle bags on each horse. Carol ran for the flashlights that they kept charged in the tack room and stuffed those into a saddle bag.

  “I think that should do it. You should probably put jeans on, I don’t want you lanced open by a tree limb before we even get to town.”

  Aren turned around and looked at Carol. Her hair was drenched and sticking to her face along with a few partial tree leaves. She was soaked to the bone and her teeth were chattering as if she was chilled, but Aren didn’t think that was it. The last time Carol looked like that, she was lying in the grass with a broken leg. Carol wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from Aren, heading toward the stairs.

  “Hey, wait, look at me. Are you okay? Is this too much? We don’t have to go, or I can go and you can stay here and be safe.” Aren set the pack down and walked over to cup Carol’s face in her hands.

  She looked up in Aren’s eyes, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around Aren’s waist.

  “I’ll be okay. If one of us is going then we’re both going, together. This helps though, being in your arms, even if for a second. Now, let me run up and get changed.”

  Aren watched Carol run for the stairs while she hoisted the full and heavy pack onto her back, buckling the waist strap tightly. She’d do everything in her power to keep them safe.

  Carol returned a few minutes later wearing jeans and boots. She smiled at Aren while mounting up. They guided the horses through the barn door, and once through the back gate, they allowed the horses to open up as they raced for town, watching ahead for debris. They could hear the storm far in the distance. They could also hear the sirens still wailing out the warning to take cover. Aren prayed that people would have heeded the advice, but she knew that reality would likely be different. Soon the trail through the woods ended and they carefully made their way out onto the forest service road. Wyatt knew this path well, and once on the road, dug in for speed. Somehow, he too sensed the urgency of the moment and ran faster than Aren had ever seen him move.