Summer's Fury (4 page)

She stopped, not sure if he could hear her, but knowing that she might never have the chance to repeat these words again. She forged ahead.

“It didn’t last long. In a matter of months I discovered that he had a mistress and that he only married me to please his father and retain his inheritance. The even more awful truth is that shortly after I discovered his deceit, he abandoned me. I waited to hear from him for nearly a year, but it was obvious that he was never coming back. I was so ashamed. I was forced to… had to… petition for a divorce. The truth is, Beauregard, I’m a divorced woman. I know it’s shameful and scandalous, and I’m so sorry that I hid the truth from you.”

There, she had gotten the words out, but would it count? Did it count if he didn’t hear her?

“I just hope that someday you might forgive me.”

She had been dishonest, deceitful. No man in his right mind wanted to marry a divorcee. Too scandalous. It just wasn’t done! In Philadelphia she had been, for all intents and purposes, shunned. She had lived with the snickers, the comments whispered back and forth, the assessing looks of the men in her neighborhood. A heavy burden of guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. After she had divorced, she had lost hope that she would ever find a decent man to marry, which was one reason why she had even responded to the mail order bride ad. Still, she had deceived Beauregard and he had married her, and now he was stuck with her whether he wanted her or not.

“I’m so sorry, Beauregard,” she said, her lips so close to his ear that they touched his ear lobe. “I just—”

Her voice was drowned out by the sound of fury of the tornado, now so close that it shook the ground, rumbling like a runaway locomotive running at full steam. She tightened her grip on Beauregard, thinking that if they were picked up and lifted by the horrible wind into that funnel that at least she wouldn’t die alone. Suddenly, she felt his arms wrapped around her back, holding her close, pulling her tightly against his body.

“When I say go, you climb under the wagon!”

He had shouted the words into her ear. She didn’t have time to think. Had he heard her confession? She lifted her head, staring down at him with wide, frightened eyes. His jaw was clenched firmly. He wasn’t looking at her. He let go of her, twisted his upper torso, and reached for the rim of the wagon pressed into the ground, his legs still trapped under it. With a shout of exertion, he managed to lift the wagon about a foot off the ground.

“Go! Get under the wagon!”

Without a second thought, Summer scrambled off of Beauregard and wiggled her way under the shelter of the upside down wagon bed. She had barely managed to clear the edge when he shoved his way in next to her, gasping in which he could only imagine was pain as he pulled his injured leg in after him. The next instant, he rolled quickly onto his side up against her as the wagon crashed back down to the ground.

For a blessed instant it was quiet under the wagon, or at least slightly quieter. Her heart continued to pound, and she wondered how long it could keep up under the stress. His next words caused her to cringe.

“You lied to me.”

Summer felt weak and wobbly, and it wasn’t just due to the exertion of fighting the storm. Beauregard had heard every word she had said. While she felt some relief at finally having confessed, she was afraid of his reaction. She had already been abandoned once. Would Beauregard abandon her as well?

She supposed she couldn’t blame him if he did. After all, she had lied about something that was very important. She had started off their marriage by being deceitful. Not a good way to start. It was dark under the wagon, but they both lay side by side facing one another, the shelter of the upturned wagon bed offering them a brief respite against the onslaught of the tornado.

“Beauregard, I—” Her words were cut short by the sound of a loud
thump
. She instinctively ducked, protecting her head with her arms. “What was that?”

“Debris from the tornado.”

He practically gritted out the words, and Summer suddenly remembered his injured leg. She shifted her position as the wagon shook and rattled over them. Would it hold or would the tornado rip the wagon apart and take them with it? She could hardly think, her mind racing with fear.

He said something, but she didn’t hear what it was above the roaring wind. It sounded like the tornado was right over them. Wasn’t there some such thing as the eye of the storm, or the eye of a tornado? Shouldn’t they have experienced a brief respite from the onslaught? Not if they were on the outside edges of it, she reasoned. The last time she had looked at the funnel it had seemed so massive, at least a mile across. They were doomed. Perhaps this was her fate, her punishment for being such a gullible young woman, for accepting a marriage proposal from a man she didn’t know, and to top it off, to begin this marriage on a huge lie.

Though she tried desperately to hang onto her emotions and to be strong, she suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of grief, sorrow, and regret. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she wept, sure that Beauregard could neither see nor hear. Then, she felt a hand on her thigh. A second later, a slight squeeze.

“We’re going to get out of this!” he shouted above the roar of the wind. “Grab hold of the metal ring on that side of the wagon!”

He was trying to comfort her. He was trying to give her hope. She nodded and then realized he couldn’t see her. Nevertheless she obeyed and scooted slightly away from him, her hands outstretched and groping for the opposite side of the wagon. There, about halfway down, she felt a large metal ring, the tie down for cargo. It was then she realized her trunk was gone. She sighed. Still lying on her stomach, she grasped the ring, wrapping her fingers tightly around the rough metal. She supposed Beauregard was also holding onto the ring on his side of the wagon.

“Grab my hand!”

She did as she was ordered. Extending her right arm, she reached toward the sound of his voice, groping the dirt and the prairie grass until she touched which she could only assume was his shirt. She clutched at it, realizing that she was touching his waist. Seconds later his hand covered hers and clasped tightly.

“We’ll make it through this! Just hang on!”

She did. She clasped Beauregard’s hand so tightly that she was sure she would break one of his fingers. She pressed herself down into the ground, her left hand still tightly wrapped around the ring on the wagon bed. She tried to make herself small and invisible and prayed like she’d never prayed before.
Lord, if You let me live, I promise I will do my best to make Beauregard Kearny a good wife, if he’ll still have me. I will follow Your ways, and will make up for my deception. Please Lord, save him. He’s a good man. Save us.

The wind continued to roar. She heard the sound of splintering wood, and then another stomping sound. Her clasp on Beauregard’s hand tightened even more, but he didn’t let her go. She heard him shout something at her, but she couldn’t make out the words. He was her only connection to life, her sense of security and safety. If they both got swept up in the tornado, at least they would go together.

She didn’t know how long she lay there in the dirt of the Wyoming prairie, the sound of the angry wind above her. Her heart continued to pound and she was amazed it had not burst from fear. Then, above the sound of the wind she heard the sound of pelting rocks again.

No, not rocks. Hail. They rained down and bounced off the wagon bed as if dumped from a bucket way up in the sky. The sound was horrendous, but suddenly she felt such a great sense of exhaustion that she was forced to let loose her fears. If this was to be the end, she couldn’t stop it. Acceptance flooded through her body. She was no longer afraid.

As suddenly as it had started, the sound of the pelting hail stopped. The wind lessened. The roaring sound of a locomotive slowly moved off into the distance, followed by a pounding rain. Then that too stopped. Was it over? Her ears still rang from the howling of the wind and the pounding of the hail, but she slowly lifted her head. Dust sifted down. She stared in wide-eyed amazement after she glanced over her shoulder and saw the entire back corner of the wagon had disintegrated. She quickly glanced at Beauregard, also staring back at her, as if waiting.

“Is it… is it over?” Her voice sounded hoarse.

He said nothing for several moments, listening. Finally, he nodded. “Seems so.”

At that moment, a shaft of sunlight made its way through the cracks and holes in the wagon bed as the dust continued to settle downward over them. She shifted her position slightly, relinquished her grip on the metal ring, her fingers stiff and painful. She looked at her hand, so tightly clasping Beauregard’s. Then she looked up into his eyes and offered a hopeful smile. “We made it….” She offered a weak laugh. “We made it!”

He said nothing, merely stared back at her, his jaw clenched and his face pale. Then she remembered. His leg had been trapped under the wagon when it toppled. Her eyes wide with understanding and growing fear, she looked down and uttered a groan. His lower left leg. In the wan sunlight, and for just the briefest of instants before the sun disappeared behind a cloud, she saw the jagged end of a bone protruding from the middle of his shin.

“Oh Lord,” she gasped.

Summer stared at Beauregard’s broken leg for several moments and then glanced back at his face. He was watching her, assessing.

“You okay?” he asked.

He was lying there with a broken leg and he was asking about
her
welfare? “I… I think so, yes,” Summer replied. “Beauregard, I’m sorry I lied—”

“We can talk about that later, Summer,” he said. “Right now, we’ve got a more important problem to deal with.”

She nodded. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere with no wagon, no horses, and he had a broken leg. If he had any food stored in the wagon, it would be long gone by now. They were in deep trouble.

“You’re going to have to walk back to Cheyenne and get some help.”

While she had known this was coming, she was nevertheless taken off guard when the words left his mouth. Her eyes widened. Of course, that was the only thing she could do. It was either that or they both sat out here to die of thirst, exposure, and hunger. Not to mention the fact that his leg could become seriously infected, leading to a slow and painful death.

“Summer—”

“I know, Beauregard, I know,” she said. “It’s the only option.”

“The horses might not have gone far. If you’re lucky, you may be able to find one of them back along the trail. We’re about fifteen miles, maybe a little bit more, outside of Cheyenne. It’s too far to try to make it to Laramie.”

Fifteen miles. Could she walk fifteen miles? If her calculations were right, it was just after noon. She wouldn’t reach Cheyenne before dark. The thought of being out on the open prairie in the dark terrified her.

“Summer, get as far as you can before it gets dark, and then find a place to hole up for the night. I’ll give you my flint so you can start a fire, and I have a canteen of water underneath the wagon seat, if it’s still there. There might be some jerky in a bag under the seat as well if it hasn’t blown away.”

His voice was somber. He knew very well what he was asking her to do. She knew as well, but they didn’t have any choice did they? She had to try.

“I can do it, Beauregard,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “I’ll follow the wagon tracks. I have a pretty good sense of direction, and I’m in reasonably good condition. But before I go, we have to do something about your leg.”

He shook his head. “Nothing to do about it unless you can set it,” he said. “Best to just—”

“I can set your leg, Beauregard,” she said. “Back home, I often helped the town doctor. It’s not going to be pleasant though. I’ll set it and put a splint on it, but that will have to do. There’s a good chance that it might get infected—”

“Let’s just take this one step at a time,” he said. “Come on, let’s get out from underneath the wagon bed.”

She maneuvered herself over to his side of the wagon. Together, they pushed up against the bottom of the wagon until one side lifted. With half of the wagon damaged or missing altogether, it wasn’t quite as heavy, but it was still almost more than the two of them could handle together. She scrambled out from beneath it first. She glanced quickly around, surprised that other than finding the grass flattened by the tornado, the hail, and the pounding rain, the prairie didn’t look much different than it had before the tornado struck.

Heaving most of his body out from underneath the wagon with the strength of his upper body, Summer tried to help by lifting up the weight of the wagon on her own while he quickly rolled out from underneath. He lay gasping in pain and exhaustion for several moments, and then rolled onto his back, wincing in pain.

She wasted no time. She found several pieces of broken planks that had been torn loose from the wagon and gathered them up before returning to Beauregard’s side. He had maneuvered himself into a sitting position, his back leaning against one of the remaining wagon wheels. She reached for her petticoat and ripped off several long strips. The makeshift splint and bandaging certainly wasn’t going to be clean, but it would suit the purpose for now.

She moved down toward his feet and gently plucked the torn pant leg away from the piece of bone protruding through the skin. Surprisingly, it didn’t look too dirty. She wouldn’t bother removing the boot. Best to just set the bone, splint his leg, and leave the rest for a doctor. She signed, closed her eyes, and mouthed a silent prayer for strength before gazing at Beauregard.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

“Grab hold of the wagon wheel,” she ordered. “You’re going to have to resist the tug on your leg.” He nodded and did as she bade. She grabbed hold of his ankle with both hands, knowing that it would take a lot of force, more than one might expect, but she was strong. “Okay, here we go. One… two… three!”

In a quick tugging motion, she pulled as hard as she could, ignoring Beauregard’s sharp cry of pain as the tip of the bone disappeared beneath the surface of the skin. She released her grip on his leg and quickly felt along his shin bone, pleased that it seemed to have settled back into place.