Cowgirl Page 3

  “Carol, help is on the way. Stay with me, okay?” Aren looked into the wide eyes that stared up at her.

  “Okay.” She shivered so hard her teeth rattled. “What about Aunt Suzie and Uncle Frank?”

  “Where was their bedroom? We’ll go look for them,” Aren said.

  “Upstairs, the other end of the house.” Carol looked over Aren’s shoulder at the remains of the house.

  Aren turned around and a flash of lightning lit up the landscape once again. From where she stood, it didn’t appear that anything was left of the second story. It looked as though the level below had absorbed its mass. Branches full of leaves jetted out in every direction. The foliage was so dense that it was hard to imagine anything surviving beneath the weight. The flames had gone out, but the blackened tree continued to send steam into the storm.

  Red and blue flashing lights caught her attention and the sirens sounded out a few seconds later. She could breathe again, now that she wasn’t on her own. Aren ran out to greet the fire trucks and ambulances as they pulled up.

  “Lightning struck the tree. I believe two more are trapped inside. They were on the second level at the far end of the house. Another guy stopped to help and he’s back there looking for them,” Aren informed the lead man of the crew. He bellowed out instructions and the group of firefighters went to work. Aren then ran over to the medics, leading them to Carol. “I believe she has a broken leg. I didn’t see any other injuries.”

  “Did you extract her from the dwelling?” one of the medics asked.

  “Yes, I did. The house was creaking, and I didn’t dare risk it collapsing in on her.” Aren pushed her hair out of her eyes and glared at him through the rain.

  “Did you use anything as a back board or neck brace?” he asked.

  “No, I just got her out. Look, the ceiling was ready to go! I got her out of there. Nothing seemed injured except her leg.” Aren wasn’t going to be blamed for hurting someone she’d tried to save. Not again.

  “Next time let us do our job instead of trying to be a hero.” He turned away to focus on Carol. “We’ll need to transport her,” he said to his colleague while shifting Carol onto a backboard.

  Aren gathered up her rope and let the medics do what they needed to do. Hell, maybe she had been wrong to pull Carol out of the window. Shortly after she crossed the dirt road heading back toward her barn, she saw the ambulance take off and found herself praying she hadn’t hurt Carol by moving her. If she hadn’t been awake and watching the storm, she might not have gotten there in time to help her. It might come back to bite her on the ass, but she wouldn’t regret saving someone.

  She made it back inside, cold and fatigue mixing with an adrenaline crash, and she let a hot shower calm her. Once she was dry and warm again, she sat in the open loft door and watched the blue and red lights strobe through the rain as emergency vehicles came and went from the farm. By dawn, it was silent and empty, a husk of memories left broken under a clearing sky.

  Chapter Six

  A couple of days after the storm, the sunshine returned along with sizzling July heat and humidity. Aren, clad in knee high rubber boots, jeans, and a tank top, trudged through the ankle-deep mud in the garden picking produce for the farmer’s market later that day. Though it was only eight in the morning, she found herself soaked with sweat. Several times she’d twist with an armload of produce to set on the cart only to lose her balance due to the suction of the mud. Her arms would flail about, produce flying every which way, before she could regain her footing and set about the task of collecting everything she’d tossed. A few hours later and a few more close calls of a face-plant in the mud, she’d picked all that was ripe and climbed up into the driver’s seat of the wagon. It was a lot of work, but hopefully she’d be able to sell most of it, and she definitely didn’t want to let it rot in the field.

  “Walk on, big fella,” Aren said, releasing the brake on the wagon. Wyatt pulled the load easily through the muck. Once the wagon was up on the well-packed trail, they headed to the back of the barn where a hose and a worktable were all set up beneath a shady overhang.

  “Whoa, whoa there, fella,” Aren called to Wyatt, who stopped with the slightest touch on the reins. Aren locked the brake on the wagon before climbing down and pulling off Wyatt’s headstall. She gathered up a couple of flakes of hay and a five-gallon bucket for water so Wyatt could eat while she prepped the wagon for a day at the market.

  Whistling softly, Aren cleaned vegetables and arranged them by type into stackable wooden crates. Today’s harvest was good, she thought to herself as she filled the back of the wagon to the limit.

  “If everything sells today, Bailey girl, we should do pretty well this winter!”

  Bailey simply cocked her head in reply and let out a single bark.

  When she finished cleaning the vegetables, she threw the scraps to the pigs. Aren believed they looked forward to each market day because of their excited squeals at the sight of the bucket. She patted their heads and let them relish in the fresh treats. With that task completed, she ran upstairs and changed into clean clothes and her western boots before donning her Stetson hat and sunglasses once again. Aren grabbed the change box on her way back down the stairs and whistled for Bailey.

  “Let’s go, girl! We’ve only got three hours before the market opens and a long ride ahead of us.” She slid the big barn doors closed, locking a padlock at each entrance. No one ever came out here, but old habits were hard to break.

  Wyatt had long ago finished his hay and was scraping his hoof to go when Aren slid his bit into his mouth. She fastened the chinstrap and adjusted the blinders before climbing up into the wagon.

  “Walk on, big fella.” The wagon lurched forward and their journey was underway. Bailey ran across the pasture, jumping the four-foot fence to catch up to the wagon. One final leap had her sitting co-pilot, panting from the exertion. Aren reached over and ruffled her best friend’s fur.

  The route Aren took while riding was different from the one she had to take when Wyatt was pulling the wagon. The forest was too thick to cut that wide of a path for such a long distance. She’d miss the serenity that the forest ride always brought with it, although the route with the wagon took her close to the house damaged in the storm. Maybe she’d see movement and could find out how the family was doing. The night was still so fresh in Aren’s mind. She could close her eyes and see the pain on Carol’s face, hear the pain in her screams. Aren directed Wyatt out to the main gate at the road, and then guided him to the right heading toward town. The ride for the first several miles was pleasant enough along the well-maintained dirt roads. Aren caught herself whistling and looking forward to a day at the market. The people who shopped at the farmer’s markets just seemed so much nicer than those shopping around town. The customers had long ago gotten used to the “cowgirl,” as many called her, with the horse drawn wagon full of fresh veggies. The kids looked forward to seeing Wyatt and were never abusive toward him. The cash she brought in from sales enabled her to maintain her property taxes and buy items for the farm. It worked out well, and she even managed to stash away a bit for savings.

  The farmer’s market was in the parking lot of the feed store, two miles outside of town. Though the last few miles of her journey were on the shoulder of a paved road, the drivers seemed a bit more thoughtful than those in the heart of town. She still had the occasional idiot who honked as they passed, but it was rare. An hour and a half after they left the house, Aren directed Wyatt into the parking lot and found a spot to set up her booth.

  She pulled three eight-foot folding tables from the back of the wagon and set them up with red checkered tablecloths to display her vegetables. Soon, all the tables were stocked full with wooden crates overflowing with fresh greens, tomatoes and other types of summer crops. She was proud of her haul and the work she’d put into making it happen, and at moments like this she was glad she’d stayed on the farm, even with all the baggage it brought with it.

&nb
sp; All of the farmers who participated in the market, including the chicken lady who brought baby chickens and turkeys to sell, were friendly and sociable with her at the market. Aren had noticed, however, that she wasn’t included in their social circuit outside of the market. She’d overheard invites being tossed around for weekend barbeques and holiday parties, and none were extended to her. She tried to brush it off and just enjoy the market for the little bit of social outlet that it offered her. She couldn’t hope for more, and at least she had this.

  “Hey, cowgirl, those veggies look terrific as usual.” Tony, the compost and earthworm guy, smiled from across the aisle.

  “Hey, Tony, it’s all due to your magnificent worms!” Aren smiled when Tony puffed out his chest with pride.

  “Twenty minutes until the market opens. Finish up your displays,” the market manager announced to the group.

  Aren took the time to browse the other tables. She stopped at Samantha Collins’s table and smelled a few bars of her goat milk soap. Martie Andrews had fresh cheese and milk from her dairy cows, though Aren rarely purchased anything from her, since she had her own dairy cows. Ol’ Joe Biddle had a beautiful display of heirloom organic corn and herbs. The chicken lady, Marie Hawthorne, had several pens full of day-old fowl. Aren spent a lot of time at her table. She loved to hear the baby turkey poults peep.

  “Hey, Marie, I see you’re adding waterfowl to your list.” Aren picked up a solid black duckling. The fluffy baby nuzzled down into Aren’s warm hands and closed its eyes.

  “Yeah, I couldn’t resist. I’ve had so many requests for ducks and geese that I had to add them. Now, if I can just get the pens finished so I can move the breeders out of the bronze turkey hutch.” She laughed.

  “I hear you there. Never a lack of projects. The chickens I purchased from you are starting to lay eggs. It’s like a rainbow of colors, from dark brown eggs to bright green.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve had to buy another incubator to keep up with sales. What is it they say, expansion is a good problem to have?”

  “Definitely a good problem to have. Well, I may not be able to resist these little guys much longer so I should probably mosey on down the line before market opens.” Aren laughed, handing Marie the sleeping duckling.

  As she walked down the row, Aren could hear the little duckling calling out for the warmth of her hands. She almost turned around and bought a few when the market manager announced open market.

  She spent the next few hours making change and filling bags with fresh produce. She had pleasant chats with customers and even some laughs, and her heart lightened with the interaction. During lulls she’d refill the crates on the table and stack the empties into the back of the wagon. Since the market lasted for four hours, she always unhitched Wyatt and put him in a small corral that the feed store kept up as a display. They knew Wyatt would be there each week and always had a water trough set up, filled to the rim with refreshing, clear water. Kids, eager to pet the big horse, always begged their mom to buy carrots so they could swing by and say hello to him. Aren still kept her eye on him throughout the day, but he was good with the kids and probably liked the attention as much as she did.

  All too soon, the market closed at seven o’clock sharp. Aren was thrilled to see she’d virtually sold out. There were a few small bunches of lettuce left and a couple of cucumbers, but the rest of the crates were surprisingly sparse. She broke down her booth, offering the leftover items to Marie for her poultry before heading over to the market director and paying her market fee of ten percent. She then slid the tables into place and stacked the remaining few crates into their space as well. Bailey yawned broadly and stretched with deliberate slowness when she was urged out of the back of the wagon for the final few items.

  Aren collected Wyatt, waving good-bye to those who were finished breaking down as they passed by in their trucks. Once again, she heard them talking about meeting up at some restaurant or other, and she pushed aside the pang of loneliness. It had been a good day, and as she headed for home, she let that be the feeling she focused on.

  Chapter Seven

  The sun was still well above the horizon when Wyatt pulled up to the gate. Aren looked over to the house with the section of tree still tangled in the remains of the second story, but there was still no movement over there. She hoped everyone had been rescued and were recovering together. Aren shook her head to let the thoughts go as she climbed down from the wagon to get the gate. It wasn’t any of her business. She’d done what she could. Running a farm on her own meant she didn’t have time to sit around thinking. There were a lot of chores to do before the sun went down. She unhooked Wyatt from the wagon and got moving. As she rounded the front corner of the barn, she found Bailey lying on her back enjoying a tummy rub from Carol Matthews, who was propped up against the barn beside Bailey.

  “Hey. I was just thinking about you. How’s the leg?” Aren asked, shifting the load in her arms so that she could retrieve the key from her pocket.

  “Broken, just like you’d said, but it should heal up in six to eight weeks. Luckily, it was a clean break. I’ll get a walking cast at some point which will be nice. I’d offer to help you with that, but once I get the crutches under me, well, let’s just say my balance isn’t that good yet.” Carol’s smile was soft and sad.

  Aren finally managed to pull the key from her front pocket and unlocked the barn door. She set the harness and change box in the tack room and quickly returned to her guest.

  Carol looked at the ground. “I don’t mean to interrupt your evening. I just wanted to thank you for pulling me out. I guess the ceiling in my room collapsed shortly after you walked away. They said that they likely wouldn’t have gotten me out in time. I don’t think they expected me to overhear their conversation.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I took off because I was just in the way. That medic chewed me a good one for moving you. I must admit though, he was right. I could have really hurt you by not bracing your neck or back. Truth be told, I didn’t even think of it. I could hear all the creaking and popping, and I just thought you needed to be out of that room.” Aren looked at the thick plaster on Carol’s leg and remembered the sound of her scream. It wasn’t a night she was going to forget any time soon. “How are your aunt and uncle?”

  After an awkward pause, Carol took a deep breath. “Aunt Suzie and Uncle Frank didn’t make it. The main part of the tree collapsed the roof on them. They said that it was instantaneous, that they didn’t feel anything. They said that they were still in bed together, that they died while snuggled up sleeping.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry.” Aren couldn’t think of a single thing to say that didn’t sound trite. She was familiar with loss and her heart ached for Carol.

  “Aunt Suzie always said, ‘When the Lord comes a callin’, there’s no choice but to go home to Him.’ I guess they’re home with Him now. They’re up in Heaven with my parents.” Carol took a long, shaky breath and wiped at her tears.

  Aren sat on the ground across from Carol. She wasn’t sure what to do to comfort her. “Do you have any other family?”

  “No, Aunt Suzie and Uncle Frank, they never had any children, and I was an only child. My parents were killed in a car accident a couple of years ago.” Carol poked at the ground with a small stick.

  One of the cows bellowed out a long, agonizing moo. Carol sat up, clearly startled.

  “It’s just the dairy cows. I’m behind on chores and they want to be milked.” Aren smiled, still feeling awkward about not knowing what to say.

  “Well, I should let you get to that. I just wanted to say thank you. Could I use your phone to call for a car? I lost my cell phone in the storm and haven’t had a chance to replace it yet,” Carol said, attempting to stand. Aren stood first and extended her hand.

  “I don’t have a phone,” Aren said quietly, then continued as she helped pull Carol to her feet, “What are your plans now?”

  “What do
you mean you don’t have a phone? Everyone has at least one phone,” Carol said.

  “Not me, so I guess not everyone.”

  “So, I’m stranded out here? Now what do I do?” Carol covered her face with her hands.

  “Not stranded, well yeah, maybe stranded. It’s too late for me to be on the roads tonight, but I can take you anywhere you need to go tomorrow. Do you have a place to stay in town?”

  “Nothing lined up yet. I’m hoping they have a hotel in town that will take an IOU until I can get to my purse. Everything I have is buried in that room. A volunteer from the hospital dropped me off less than an hour ago. I was hoping I could reach in and get to stuff, but I can’t reach anything, and believe me, I tried, cast and all. Luckily, I was able to add these clothes from the gift shop onto my hospital bill. I don’t even know if my car survived the storm, or if it was smashed up too, I never made it over to that side of the house.” Carol broke into tears again.

  “Look, I don’t know what made you take off the other night when you stopped by, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. I can open the house tomorrow and you can stay there if you like.” Aren swallowed against the sense of panic that came with the offer. It was the right thing to do, but she hadn’t had anyone around in a long time.

  “Where do you live if not in the house?” Carol’s face twisted in a look of confusion.

  Aren pointed at the barn. “I live above the animals, up there, in the loft. It’ll be interesting getting you up there for the night, but, like I said, tomorrow I can work on getting the power and water turned back on if staying over there would make you more comfortable. Hey, and look, no tall trees close by.”