Sudden Storms by Marcia Lynn McClure

touching down in the north pasture. The sound was deafening! It hurt her ears! But there was no time to pause and cover them.
    Suddenly, she was shoved from behind and went tumbling down into the cellar. Then there was only the roaring of angry tempestuous wind above ground and complete darkness below.
    Rivers breathed a sigh when at last she saw the flicker of a lantern as Paxton lit it. He came forward and knelt before her. He said something, but the roaring was so loud she couldn’t hear him.
    The horrible sound grew louder and louder, accompanied by the pounding vibrations of objects crashing about outside. Rivers put her hands to her ears and tried to block it all out. It was terrible! Never in her life had she experienced such a deep, foreboding anxiety as she did now. Her ears felt as if they might swell and burst from the racket. She could taste dirt in her mouth, and her legs throbbed with the ache of the barb wounds. The darkness of the enclosed cellar seemed like a tomb, and she felt fear being replaced by panic and heightening within her.
    Rivers watched as Paxton sat down next to her on the cold, hard earth. His chest, neck, and face were bleeding. As she looked close, she realized a piece of barbed wire must have struck him, for the wounds appeared to be about three to four inches apart. Reaching up she touched his face. He winced and pushed her hand away.
    Setting the lantern on the ground in front of him, Paxton rested his arms on his knees, enfolding the powerful limbs and letting his head rest on them.
    Deafening, wrenching, cracking, popping, snapping noises commenced. Rivers shivered and waited as Paxton looked up and strained his ears.
    He looked to Rivers and, though she heard no sound, she read his lips as he said, “The barn.”
    The roaring seemed to lessen a little, and Rivers looked up as if she might be able to see something through the wooden doors above them. There was little light sifting through the cracks between the wooden planks.
    She looked back at Paxton and found him blankly staring at her. She thought how handsome he was, his face smudged with blood and dirt, his hair windblown. Then, as his eyes moved the length of her and back, she was awash with humiliation, as she realized she sat clad solely in her camisole, corset, and pantalets. She crossed her arms over her bosom, hugging herself and hoping his attention would soon be diverted. But by what?
    Suddenly, the wind seemed to lose some of its strength. Although it still roared, sounding thunderous and violent, Rivers thought the tornado must be moving on—on to spread further fear and destruction.
    They sat in silence for a few minutes more. Then Paxton spoke. “It’s a bit breezy out this afternoon, ain’t it?”
    Rivers began to laugh and cry at the same time, fatigue and emotional distress weakening and confusing her emotions.
    Instantaneously, the wind picked up again. Paxton stood, opening the cellar door just a crack. Slamming it shut, he shouted, “It’s another one!” just before the wind resumed its ear-splitting roar.
    Rivers doubled over and tried to block out the sound. She covered her ears, sobbing bitterly. She felt Paxton’s hands on her shoulders and looked up at him as he hunkered down before her.
    “It will pass,” he mouthed to her. Rivers shook her head. The noise, the fear was driving her mad. She felt the need to scream—scream until her lungs burst!
    Paxton took her face in his powerful hands, forcing her to look at him.
    “We’ll be fine,” his lips said, and suddenly she felt lost in the blue of his eyes. She trusted him. If Paxton Gray said they would be all right, then she knew they would be. In those moments, gazing into the handsome strength of his face, Rivers knew he would keep her safe—Paxton would prevent harm from finding them there in the cellar.
     
    Tenderly, Paxton held Rivers’s lovely, frightened face in his hands. Tears streaked her dust-covered cheeks. He held his breath a