Part 33 (2/2)
”Never seen it like this,” ”Could be trouble.”
C.W. grabbed Nora's elbow and pulled her aside to the dark corridor leading to the restrooms. His jaw was set, his mouth was drawn tight, and a look of no-nonsense shone.
”Listen, Nora,” he said in low tones. ”I want you to be prepared. A storm like this could dump a foot or two of wet, heavy snow in no time. The leaves will catch the weight and bring down branches and tops. The sheep are far off in the north pasture, and surrounded by all those trees, they may be hard to get out. Especially in the dark.” He took a deep breath. ”There may be losses. Can you handle that?”
It hurt that he had to ask. ”Of course,” she replied tersely and moved to go. He held her back and leaned closer to her in the darkness.
”Nora, no more games. Life is a tough enough game without adding to it. We're either together in this fight or not, but let's decide where we stand before we leave this place.”
His closeness was suffocating. The fur of his sheepskin coat brushed her face, and she recognized the sweet smell of his skin and soap. They had shared so much in the past few months: working with the sheep, struggling to balance the books, even daring to envision a future together. He had been there for her when she needed a friend. She wouldn't allow whimsy to destroy all the trust they had struggled so hard to build.
”I'm with you,” she whispered.
In a sudden swoop, he crushed her body against the wall and drew her mouth to his. The kiss was as brief as it was pa.s.sionate. They clung tightly for one moment. For one moment they offered what the other lacked, supported each other's weakness, accepted each other's fears, and sh.o.r.ed up their confidences. In the darkness, against the pale green tiles of the church bas.e.m.e.nt, with the snowstorm gaining strength outdoors, time stood still as she sealed this precious pact with C.W.
Esther called for them in a shrill, anxious voice. C.W. pulled back and guided Nora to the hall where Frank and Junior were stomping their feet and clapping their hands to an inner music of anxiety.
”Reverend Wilc.o.x got a call,” Esther cried, the freckles on her face standing out against her pale skin. ”Pa up and went out for the sheep. Alone.”
”Let's go!” shouted Frank, his face grim.
Nora ran with the pack, slamming open the church door and slipping on the slick pavement toward Frank's Impala. The storm had picked up and the wind howled so loudly, she had to cup her ear to hear C.W. shout, ”Meet you at the farm. Take it real slow!”
She squeezed in beside Esther upon the torn, smoke-smelling seats. As she closed the door, she saw C.W. pull out of the lot in his four-wheel-drive Jeep, taking the boys ahead. Esther gunned the engine and tried to follow, but the Impala started to skid on the wet, greasy snow, forcing her to slow to a crawl.
”G.o.dd.a.m.n bald tires. Who'd have thought we'd need G.o.dd.a.m.n snow tires tonight!”
Someone pounded the roof of the car and peered through the driver's window. ”Stop!”
Through the snow, Nora saw John Henry's anxious face.
Esther stopped and John Henry swung open the rear door and jumped in.
”I heard. Let's go.”
Emotion charged the air between John Henry and Esther, but neither of them spoke. Esther clenched the wheel, gunned the engine, but crept forward slowly, guiding the wheels over the slick streets.
Nora's gaze focused on the Jeep's two red brake lights as they disappeared into the storm. Here and there the wheels spun and Nora's knuckles whitened, but they continued on at their snail's pace, not speaking, each praying that they'd make it home-fast. That the storm would end-soon. And most of all, that Seth would get his b.u.t.t out of the fields and back in the warmth of his home.
Seth reached the northern pasture before the storm turned mean. No sooner had he left the road and trudged past the windbreak of pines than the sky opened up and dumped its load of heavy, wet snow. He could barely see his hand in front of him, but he raised it anyway in a clenched fist at the sky. ”That was a cheap trick, you old b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
He looked around and saw how the snow was already clinging to the branches and covering the black dirt with a coat of white. The temperature was dropping by the moment, and the wind was picking up the snow and whipping it into his face. He bent his head and closed his mouth. While raising his collar, he lifted his feet to check how wet they were getting. He couldn't see much over his girth, but already his toes were tingling.
”Dang it all. I could'a took two minutes to put on my boots. Well, pay the piper, you old fool,” he scolded himself. He shook the snow off his feet with mulish kicks. In retreat, he headed back toward the road, muttering obscenities about his own stupidity. Each step through the thickening snow was harder than the next and his breathing became more labored. Steady as she goes, he told himself, and he paused here and there to catch his breath. At one stop, he heard the frantic bleating of a sheep. The sound was low and gravelly, and he recognized it immediately as Brutus's.
”You found your way out, you old cow!” he shouted with a measure of surprise and pride. Then he thought of his ewes in the northern pasture, and his smile fell. If this snow kept up, all the trees and branches'd be bent over with snow. They'd be corralled up there, unable to roam back to the barn, unable to graze. They could all die.
Seth looked back toward the road. A few feet more and he'd be out of the field. His heart was chugging like a locomotive pulling a full freight, and sweat was dripping down his back. He knew the thing to do was wait for C.W. and his sons to get here. He just had to get to the road, then it'd be downhill all the way home.
”Baaaaaaaa,” came the call from Brutus. Farther away he heard the feminine, higher-pitched bleats of ewes.
Seth shook his head and made up his mind. This was his battle and he meant to fight it. There wasn't time to wait for C.W. and the boys to get back. His girls had to be freed before the trees started falling. They were up there because of his decision and he'd be the one to get them out. Same as he'd always done.
”I'm comin', Brutus,” he called. ”It's up to you to settle the ladies.” He turned his back to the road and headed up into the northern pasture.
He wasn't stupid, he took it slow. Trudge, trudge, trudge, and it was time to take a breather. The storm fought him each step of the way, throwing snow in his face, blowing away his scarf and blanketing the moon and the stars. Trudge, trudge, and he heard Brutus calling nearby. Encouraged, he pressed on, walking uphill against the wind toward an area of thick brush. It was so steep here he had to grab tree branches to steady himself against the incline. A branch snapped and sc.r.a.ped his face.
”Where are ya?” he called out, winded. ”Come here, you old woman or are you gonna make me fetch you in that jungle?” His heart was pounding painfully. He brought his hand up to rub the soreness beneath the folds of fabric and fat. Around him, the wind gusted, catching him full in the face and causing him to swallow in the cold. He couldn't catch his breath! A stir of panic brought up the hairs on his neck. Despite the cold, he broke out in a sweat.
”Brutus!” he shouted, ”if you ain't one stubborn old...”
In one agonizing, bursting sensation, death strangled his heart and radiated down the left arm. Seth blindly reached out in the darkness, took one final step forward, then collapsed upon the earth. Gasping, his face against the ice, he clawed through the several inches of snow with his bare hand, down to the black soil beneath. Clenching a fistful, he brought it up to his heart and held it there, close, while he suffered his last spasm.
Then Seth lay still, at peace. The earth at his heart and in his nails.
In somber silence Nora and C.W. searched for Seth in the blizzard. Tied at the waist with rope, they headed toward the northern pasture, where the sound of frantic bleating could be heard over the roar of the storm. In the distance they saw the lanterns of the Johnstons bobbing in the dark mountains like a string of holiday lights.
Nora stopped and pulled the rope. ”C.W., listen. That bleating is coming from over there.”
C.W. closed his eyes and moved his hat from his ear. ”That's Brutus. Let's go.” Holding her hand tight, he guided her at a steady pace up the steep incline.
Even with C.W.'s help, it was a difficult climb. With each awkward step her ominous feeling of dread increased. Nora's instincts alerted her to what lay ahead in the quiet darkness, beyond the brush, pierced only by the occasional guttural cry from the teaser.
As they approached the pasture, Nora balked. The atmosphere of death was overwhelming. ”C.W.,” she said, pulling back.
He turned to meet her gaze. Snow and ice hung from the rim of his hat and littered his reddened face. From beneath his brows, C.W.'s eyes shone bright blue with pain.
”I know. I'll go.”
Nora shook her head and raised the rope that bound them. Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward, even as waves of fear swept over her.
”Oh, Seth,” was all she could say when she found him, sleeping in the fields, covered with a white blanket of snow. Brutus stood beside him, shaking his head, nudging Seth's shoulder, searching for grain from the old shepherd who would not awaken.
Nora knelt beside him and gently brushed the snow from his face. He looked peaceful, she thought. Then she saw the earth in his nails, and with a trembling lip, she knew she'd carry that image in her heart for the rest of her life.
”Sleep well,” she whispered before placing a kiss upon his cold cheek.
Turning slowly, she rose and moved toward C.W. The stark pain on his face arrested her advance. He stood, ramrod straight, with his hat clutched in his fists. Snow gathered on his head and ears without notice.
”We must get help,” she said, reaching out for his hand.
He did not seem to hear her but stood still, save for an occasional twitch at the corners of his mouth and the quivering of his pupils.
”C.W.?” she called.
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