at her ruined possessions, pressed them to
her breasts and wept as if she were holding a sick child to her
bosom. She no longer heard or saw the storm raging around her for a
storm of her own was brewing inside her body. Her head hurt from
the ringing in her ears and her heart was full of painful
explosions. Her own safety was not a factor and she ran disoriented
towards the south field where her small saplings grew.
Darkness engulfed her except for an
occasional lightning bolt that illuminated her way.
Rusty fell in the mud, scraped her knees, and
moaned in pain. Blood and wet dirt ran down her legs, but she
didn’t stop. She ran, she fell, and then she crawled until she
reached her field. When the sky lit up again, she got a glimpse of
the destruction. Her small fruit trees looked like broken sticks
against the black sky.
“Oh, God… why?” she cried bitterly.
Rusty crawled some more, feeling the crushed
saplings under her legs and sore hands. In deep mud, she sat
sobbing and covered her face with dirty hands only to taste the
rich soil. She wailed, shaking an angry fist at the wicked sky,
cursing nature for the storm and fate for the misery in her life.
On the soaked ground, she lapsed into unconsciousness somewhere
between the fury and the calm.
Chapter Twelve
Guy marveled at the breathtaking sunrise
after such a fierce storm. Mother Nature had a way of apologizing
and like a beautiful woman, she was easily forgiven. It was
daybreak when the herd was finally rounded up, and he and his men
were exhausted. But he knew that the fence had to be mended before
they could rest and although, bone weary, with every muscle aching,
they guided the cattle back into the damaged corral. Guy felt his
stomach twist into a knot seeing the ruined bags of fruit.
His eyes were weary and his hands tired, but
he worked along with the hired help mending the fence. When it was
finished, he told every man to change their damp clothes, knowing
that they were looking forward to a hot cup of coffee and a few
hours of sleep. Guy decided a dip in the cold pond would do justice
to his aching muscles. At first he paid no attention to the lump of
dirt, but a gut feeling made him take a closer look. His heart
stopped at what he found. Oh, mother of God!
Guy carried the mud-soaked girl back to the
house and laid her on her bed. He felt panic run through him like
he had never felt before; it was as if ice twisted around his
heart. He bellowed at the top of his lungs for Mattie knowing that
Rusty had to be stripped and made warm. He started to undress her;
her life was more important than convention at a time like
this.
He removed her muddied shirt noticing how the
wet camisole left nothing to his imagination. His hands hovered
over her breasts for a moment and he chided himself for such
thoughts. Even when she looked like a dirty ruffian who wallowed in
mud, he wanted to hold her and feel the softness of her beautiful
breasts. Squeezing his eyes shut, hating his insensitivity, he
jumped back to his senses when the cook walked into the room. When
she saw Rusty out cold and partly undressed, she stopped short and
looked at Guy completely puzzled.
“Why yo’ yellin’ t’ wake de daid? Land sakes,
what happened to dis darlin’? Whut’s goin’ on, and why yo’, youn’
man, undressin’ her?” His servant pushed him carelessly aside.
When she had a better look at the poor girl,
Mattie felt Rusty’s brow and gasped. “Why, de po’ chil’ is burnin’
up.”
She looked at him with a million questions in
her eyes, but he answered only one. “She was out in the storm all
night. We have to get her out of these wet things.” He reached to
finish what he had started but she pushed his hand away as if he
were an annoying insect hovering around and ordered, “Yo’ get and
Ah’ll tend t’ her. Go fetch de Doc. Mattie knows whut t’ do. Now
gets.”
Guy was reluctant to leave but rode into town
not heeding his own discomfort; all he
her breasts and wept as if she were holding a sick child to her
bosom. She no longer heard or saw the storm raging around her for a
storm of her own was brewing inside her body. Her head hurt from
the ringing in her ears and her heart was full of painful
explosions. Her own safety was not a factor and she ran disoriented
towards the south field where her small saplings grew.
Darkness engulfed her except for an
occasional lightning bolt that illuminated her way.
Rusty fell in the mud, scraped her knees, and
moaned in pain. Blood and wet dirt ran down her legs, but she
didn’t stop. She ran, she fell, and then she crawled until she
reached her field. When the sky lit up again, she got a glimpse of
the destruction. Her small fruit trees looked like broken sticks
against the black sky.
“Oh, God… why?” she cried bitterly.
Rusty crawled some more, feeling the crushed
saplings under her legs and sore hands. In deep mud, she sat
sobbing and covered her face with dirty hands only to taste the
rich soil. She wailed, shaking an angry fist at the wicked sky,
cursing nature for the storm and fate for the misery in her life.
On the soaked ground, she lapsed into unconsciousness somewhere
between the fury and the calm.
Chapter Twelve
Guy marveled at the breathtaking sunrise
after such a fierce storm. Mother Nature had a way of apologizing
and like a beautiful woman, she was easily forgiven. It was
daybreak when the herd was finally rounded up, and he and his men
were exhausted. But he knew that the fence had to be mended before
they could rest and although, bone weary, with every muscle aching,
they guided the cattle back into the damaged corral. Guy felt his
stomach twist into a knot seeing the ruined bags of fruit.
His eyes were weary and his hands tired, but
he worked along with the hired help mending the fence. When it was
finished, he told every man to change their damp clothes, knowing
that they were looking forward to a hot cup of coffee and a few
hours of sleep. Guy decided a dip in the cold pond would do justice
to his aching muscles. At first he paid no attention to the lump of
dirt, but a gut feeling made him take a closer look. His heart
stopped at what he found. Oh, mother of God!
Guy carried the mud-soaked girl back to the
house and laid her on her bed. He felt panic run through him like
he had never felt before; it was as if ice twisted around his
heart. He bellowed at the top of his lungs for Mattie knowing that
Rusty had to be stripped and made warm. He started to undress her;
her life was more important than convention at a time like
this.
He removed her muddied shirt noticing how the
wet camisole left nothing to his imagination. His hands hovered
over her breasts for a moment and he chided himself for such
thoughts. Even when she looked like a dirty ruffian who wallowed in
mud, he wanted to hold her and feel the softness of her beautiful
breasts. Squeezing his eyes shut, hating his insensitivity, he
jumped back to his senses when the cook walked into the room. When
she saw Rusty out cold and partly undressed, she stopped short and
looked at Guy completely puzzled.
“Why yo’ yellin’ t’ wake de daid? Land sakes,
what happened to dis darlin’? Whut’s goin’ on, and why yo’, youn’
man, undressin’ her?” His servant pushed him carelessly aside.
When she had a better look at the poor girl,
Mattie felt Rusty’s brow and gasped. “Why, de po’ chil’ is burnin’
up.”
She looked at him with a million questions in
her eyes, but he answered only one. “She was out in the storm all
night. We have to get her out of these wet things.” He reached to
finish what he had started but she pushed his hand away as if he
were an annoying insect hovering around and ordered, “Yo’ get and
Ah’ll tend t’ her. Go fetch de Doc. Mattie knows whut t’ do. Now
gets.”
Guy was reluctant to leave but rode into town
not heeding his own discomfort; all he
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