The Comforts of Home (40 page)

“We’re fine. Calvin and Dave tied Leland up. They’re sitting on him now, so send a policeman when one is free.

Autumn is stil crying, but I think she’s fine. How are you?

We’ve been hearing the sirens. Was anyone hurt in the storm?”

Before Tyler could ask any more questions, she shouted, “I hear the ambulance. I’m going to the hospital with the fireman and taking Autumn along to have her checked.”

She hung up before he could say anything. It took every ounce of his strength to force himself to stay grounded in the chair. He cal ed the sheriff and asked them to pick up an intruder as quickly as possible. The young dispatcher, who was barely trained, relayed him through to Alex, who was at the trailer park.

“Sheriff McAl en,” she snapped.

Tyler explained as quickly as he could about Leland being tied up at the funeral home.

Alex said she was just leaving the park. Miraculously, no one had been kil ed. Trailers were scattered and trees down, but everyone was alive. It would be hours before they got even one lane of Lone Oak Road passable, but at least al were safe. The firemen and local construction teams were moving in now.

Tyler set the phone down and closed his eyes for a second, blocking out the noise around him. He turned to McNabb. “Can you handle the phones for a minute?” McNabb nodded.

Tyler crossed the room to where Border was lifting supplies onto one of the trucks heading out. “Border, I need to talk to you a minute.”

“Sure. How can I help you, Mr. Wright?”

Tyler put his arm around the big kid and walked him to the kitchen. “You’re going to need to be strong right now for your grandmother’s sake.”

“Al right.” Border looked confused.

Tyler had to tel it straight. “Your brother is on his way to the hospital. He’s been hurt.”

Border shoved away. “No,” he said, as if he could deny Tyler’s words and make them untrue. “No.”

Mrs. Biggs heard her grandson and seemed to feel his pain even though she hadn’t heard Tyler’s words. “What is it?” she asked, moving closer.

Tyler looked at her. “Brandon was shot. He’s on his way to the hospital. That’s al I know.”

To Tyler’s surprise, Ronny took charge. She wrapped her arm around Mrs. Biggs’s waist and pul ed her toward the side entrance. “Come on now. We don’t know how bad it is. Border wil drive us both to the hospital and we’l see for ourselves.” She motioned for Border to fol ow.

Border just stood like a huge tree growing in the room.

He didn’t fol ow, and from the look on his face Tyler couldn’t tel if he was planning to cry or hit something.

Before Tyler could get to him, Ronny grabbed his hand.

“We have to go. Can you drive us?”

He nodded and fol owed her out the side door.

Tyler smiled. Silent Ronel e Logan had stepped in to help. He didn’t know how, but the girl seemed to have woken up from a deep sleep and decided to join the human race.

Tyler sat back down at the phones. In an hour his job would be over and he could leave. He knew he’d go by home and check on everyone, and then he’d head to the hospital.

HE COULD turn his phone on. Tornadoes in the lower half of the Texas panhandle. Three spotted in open land and two close to Harmony. It might al be over before he could get there, but he would get there.

He cal ed Derwood’s Flight Service and Crop Dusting while his plane pul ed into the gate. He got off and picked up his next assignment, then walked out the side door of the airport and across to a row of hangars where private planes landed.

Derwood was there by the time he finished a cup of coffee. Denver had tried Claire and the house twice during his wait and final y cal ed the fire department. A man named Tyler Wright, whom Denver barely remembered, told him the road to the Matheson ranch was blocked.

Old Derwood finished gassing up and grabbed a bottle of pop. He must sleep and eat in his plane. The cockpit smel ed like old barbecue sauce, but then so did Derwood.

Denver buckled in. Derwood laughed as he fought the wind to take off. “You were lucky. I was halfway to Amaril o dropping off vet supplies when you cal ed.” Denver made his living on planes, but he’d never experienced anything like Derwood. If he didn’t know better he would have sworn they flew low enough to do crop dusting on their way to Harmony.

Once they were in the air, Denver explained that tornadoes had taken out a few trees along Lone Oak Road and they needed to land on the hard packed lane that ran a quarter mile from the farm-to-market road to the Matheson house.

To Denver’s surprise, the old pilot didn’t seem to think it would be a problem, but he said it would cost an extra twenty for the wear on the tires at landing.

Denver closed his eyes as they lowered into the clouds looking for the Matheson place. He didn’t open them until they touched ground. Derwood took him almost up to the front door of the ranch house. Or what would have been the front door if a tree hadn’t been blocking the way.

Denver jumped from the plane and ran to the wreckage.

“Claire!” he yel ed as he pul ed splinters of wood and glass away from the entrance.

“I’m here,” she yel ed back. “We’re trapped.” Denver laughed, loving the sound of her voice. “No kidding,” he said.

Derwood walked up, his hands in his baggy pockets.

“What a mess,” he said simply. Rain lightly dribbled over him, making him look like a melting scarecrow left out long after Hal oween.

Denver jerked his coat off, not caring about the cold.

“Want to lend me a hand?”

Derwood was gone when he turned back to where the man had been standing. Apparently manual labor wasn’t included in the charter price.

Pul ing branches off as fast as he could, Denver worked his way to the trunk of the tree lodged between the porch and the door leading to the basement. Or what was left of the door. The wood had been shredded by branches as though it were the thickness of cotton.

“I’l get you out, Claire!” Denver yel ed, but he didn’t see how. He needed an ax or a chain saw.

“Denver?” a young man’s voice shouted. “We’l push from this end if you can pul .”

Denver didn’t care who was below. He was happy to have the help. “Al right. Push!”

Nothing moved. The tree was wedged too tightly.

The sound of a motor heading his way drew Denver’s attention. Derwood pul ed up to the porch in a tractor.

“Where’d you find that?”

Derwood smiled. “This is a ranch, city boy. They do have equipment on ranches. I looked in the barn.” Maybe Derwood hadn’t destroyed al his brain cel s smoking weed. Denver grabbed a chain and within minutes they’d pul ed the tree away, taking most of the porch along with it.

One by one the people in the basement climbed out.

When a man passed Saralynn out, Denver hugged her tightly and said, “I’m so glad you’re al right. You mean the world to me, kid.”

She smiled at him and whispered, “I knew you’d come.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her al the way through the living room with its broken windows to the kitchen, where everything looked just as it always had.

When Denver went back, Claire was climbing over the door frame. He offered her his hand and guided her out.

For once he didn’t hold her, didn’t kiss her. He just smiled, and she seemed to understand. Just knowing she was al right was enough for now.

They carried Uncle Jeremiah out while he protested.

When everyone was settled in the big ranch kitchen, Denver lent his cel to Noah, who cal ed in to tel everyone in town that they were out and safe.

He reached Tyler, stil manning the phones. “Tel my sister that there’s no need to send anyone to the ranch.

We’re fine.”

Noah listened, then said, “She’s right here. I’l tel her.” He hung up while everyone waited silently.

Noah turned to Reagan. “Rea, Mr. Wright wanted me to tel you that during the storm Brandon went over to answer a 911 cal and was shot. He’s in critical condition. He’s asking for you.”

Reagan held her breath, fighting not to cry. “I have to go to him.” She turned toward Derwood, who was in a corner finishing off the last of the pie she’d brought hours ago.

“I can’t fly in,” Derwood said, stil chewing. “I just cal ed to check on the Harmony landing strip. One of the fel ows said the runway has tin al over it. Seems the roof on my hangar blew off during the storm.” He shrugged. “Appears I’m stuck here for a while, folks. Hope you’ve got plenty of food. I skipped lunch to go get him.” He pointed with his fork toward Denver.

Every Matheson woman groaned, including Saralynn.

“I have to get to the hospital.” Reagan stood. “We could take one of the cars as far down the road as we could get and walk the rest of the way.”

Noah shook his head. “It would take an hour, maybe more in this rain and mud.”

Derwood smiled. “Why don’t you take a few of those horses in the barn? You should be able to cross the open fields.”

“My horses,” Noah said. “Of course, they’re here.” He glanced at Foster. “Can you help me saddle them? Rea, get your coat.”

Reagan started to object, but Noah and Foster were already out the back door. She had to get to the hospital, but riding a horse seemed like a crazy idea. Noah might have grown up around horses, but she’d ridden only a few times and never when it was raining with lightning stil flashing around them.

She walked out back, thinking this idea would never work. They had to come up with another plan.

Noah hurried from the barn, leading two horses saddled and ready.

“I can’t ride,” she said simply.

“Of course you can. I’l be right with you.”

“No.” She’d barely been able to stay in the saddle when the horse walked. She’d never make it.

“Al right, Rea, we’l ride double.” He helped her up and then swung up with his good arm and settled in behind her.

They were heading out across the open field toward the Truman orchard before she could say anything. The horse moved easily into a gal op, and Noah’s arm cast felt like the bar of a rol er coaster ride holding her in place. She wasn’t cold or afraid. This time on a horse, she felt safe and protected.

He slowed when they reached the downed fence marking the entrance to the orchard. Years ago Uncle Jeremiah had made it easy for Aunt Pat to rol her little golf cart over the border between their land so she could col ect al the apples she wanted.

Noah whispered in Rea’s ear. “Do you think they used to secretly meet here under these trees? Who knows, maybe they’ve been lovers for years.”

“I’d like to think that,” she said. “I’m guessing that would give them both some happiness.”

“Or sadness. Meeting now and then, but never being truly together.”

“We’l never know,” she whispered.

As soon as they reached the path, Noah encouraged the horse to pick up speed. They took Lone Oak Road as far as they could and then worked their way through the downed trees until they reached the edge of town. The little trailer park that had been there nestled among the old cottonwoods by the stream looked like a giant had taken his hand and stirred them al up. Some were on their sides, a few off their foundations. One was smashed completely, and a few looked like they hadn’t even been touched by the wind. People were out everywhere. Standing, watching the sky. Helping others. A few were moving slowly about, picking up the pieces of their lives that had tumbled out of their homes.

When Noah crossed the bridge, he saw his first traffic.

His horse panicked.

Noah held the reins and control ed the animal with soft words and a firm grip. Within a few minutes they were crossing along the creek bed to the back of the hospital.

Noah’s voice whispered against her ear, “You know, I’d forgotten how much I like riding. It feels good to be sitting in a saddle that isn’t bucking. I remember once when I wanted to spend every day in the saddle.”

He reached the entrance and lowered her to the ground.

“Go on in. I’l find you.”

As Reagan ran into the hospital, she heard one of the security guards yel ing that Noah couldn’t park that horse at the entrance. Reagan smiled, thinking that if Brandon was awake she’d tel him al about what she’d gone through to get to him tonight.

People lined the hal way. Firemen, tired and dirty from working; construction workers who’d heard Brandon was hurt.