Mud Creek (23 page)

She motioned for Robert to assist her. The girls were bundled from head to toe, in coats and boots and mittens. She sat them on a chair by the stove and started shedding them of their heavy garments. Robert draped a blanket over their shoulders and legs, as she dabbed at their tears with a kerchief.

“Calm yourselves,” she urged, “and tell me what’s wrong. Is it your mother?”

Still, they were too distraught to explain, and Helen knelt by the girl on her right.

“Are you Edith?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What it is?”

“Mother…died.”

“Died?”

Helen cast a frantic glance at Albert, but he stared stoically, his face an expressionless mask.

“When?”

“Five days ago.”

“Was she sick? Was she hurt?”

“She’d been real sick, and she just…passed in the night.”

“I’m so sorry to hear it,” Helen gently soothed.

Evelyn continued the story. “The next morning, Fred left.”

Fred was their stepfather.

“To go where?” Helen asked.

“Back to Chicago.”

“Chicago? He left?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“He said we weren’t his children, and he wasn’t about to starve with us.”

Helen couldn’t wrap her mind around the despicable act. They were six years old!

“After awhile, we got scared,” Edith said.

“Oh, honey,” Helen breathed.

“Ma always said—if anything bad happened—we should come to you, that your place was closest.”

Evelyn nervously assessed Albert and Violet who were glaring at her like a pair of grumpy gargoyles.

“Is it all right that we’re here?”

“Yes, yes,” Helen assured them.

“You won’t send us home, will you? It was awfully quiet there without Ma to keep us company.”

“Where is your mother? Did Fred bury her?”

“No, the ground was too hard, so she’s still in her bed. We covered her with her favorite blanket.”

Helen struggled mightily to shield her horror. The girls had been orphaned, their mother five days dead and not buried. Their dastardly stepfather was on his way to Chicago—Helen hoped he perished in the approaching storm! They’d been sitting with their mother’s corpse, while trying to devise a plan.

“We can stay with you, can’t we?” Edith asked.

“Yes, absolutely,” Helen firmly stated.

“The weather’s blowing up fierce,” Evelyn said. “I’d hate to have to ride home in it.”

“We never learned how to be on our own.” Edith’s tears started flowing again. “Ma never taught us.”

“You’re only six,” Helen advised. “You can’t be expected to fend for yourself.”

“I knew you’d help us,” Evelyn gushed. “I told Edith you’d be kind.”

Appearing embarrassed, Edith stared at the floor. “I was afraid you’d turn us away.”

“Never!” Helen insisted. “We never would. You’ll live with us, and we’ll figure it all out.”

“Thank you,” they said together, and they solemnly nodded.

“Helen,” Albert said from behind her, “could I speak to you in the kitchen?”

At the moment, she had no desire to chat with Albert, but he was glowering in a manner that indicated he would nag until she complied.

“I’ll be back,” she said to the girls. “If you need anything, tell Robert.”

She followed Albert, their big blue eyes cutting into her. To hold the heat in the front room, she’d hung a blanket over the doorway to the kitchen, and as she slipped under it, she was relieved to temporarily escape their intense gazes.

“What is it?” Helen inquired once they were alone. Or at least, she’d thought they were alone.

Violet ducked under the blanket, too, so she could listen to their conversation.

“They can’t stay,” Albert said.

Helen scowled. “What do you mean?”

“We barely have enough food for the five of us. We’re not taking on two extra mouths. I forbid it.”

“You
forbid
it? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, they’re staying. They don’t have anywhere to go.”

“They can continue on down the road to Blaylock’s ranch. Or the Dudley’s place is next after that. Someone else can help them.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Helen pointed out the window where the snow was swirling. “They’ve already ridden for miles in this storm. I’m not sending them out again. They’re children, Albert. Honestly, I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.”

“They’re not staying!” he hissed more vehemently. “We can’t feed them. I
won’t
feed them.”

“We’re all half-starved as it is, Helen,” her sister butted in. “We can’t have them hanging around.”

“Shame on you, Violet,” Helen scolded.

“They’re not even related to us,” Violet countered. “We don’t owe them anything.”

“Be quiet,” Helen warned, “or they’ll hear you.”

“So? Let them.” Violet turned toward the front room and loudly said, “We don’t have enough food for two more people.”

Helen was so furious she was trembling. “How dare you be so callous!”

Violet shrugged. “I’m merely being practical. You’re not.”

“I’ll put
you
out in the snow before I make them leave.” Helen focused her anger on Albert. “And I’ll put you out with her.”

“You can’t win this debate, Helen.” Albert’s own anger was sparking, matching her own.

“He’s right,” Violet concurred, siding with him for the first time ever. “They have to go.”

“Are you mad?” Helen seethed. “Both of you are! Both of you are stark raving mad!”

Albert pushed by her and walked straight to the twins. It was obvious they’d heard the discussion. How could they not? The kitchen was a few feet away, a blanket the only door.

“I’m sorry girls”—Albert forced a fake smile—“but you can’t stay.”

They swallowed in unison, their fear chilling to witness.

“Where should we go?” Edith asked.

“You can head to Mr. Blaylock’s place,” Albert informed them.

“Albert, you don’t mean that,” Robert chided, as shocked as Helen. Nervously, he glanced over at her. “He’s not serious.”

“He is.”

“Albert,” Robert berated, “that’s just wrong. That is so wrong.”

Albert ignored him and told the twins, “Let’s get your coats and boots back on. You need to head out before the weather worsens.”

He started stuffing their arms into their coats, and Violet rushed over to assist.

Helen watched, aghast, sickened beyond measure.

There was a rage building inside her. It was potent and intoxicating, like nothing she’d ever experienced. Power surged through her, as if some ancient warrior goddess had slipped into her body.

She marched over and shoved Albert out of the way.

“If you send them out in this storm,” she vowed, “I’m going with them.”

“You are not.” Albert snorted as if her words were a joke.

“If you would treat them so hideously”—she was quivering with wrath—“then you have no more authority over me. I denounce you,” she spat. “I defy you.”

He raised a fist as if he might strike her, and she seized the iron poker by the stove. She swung it at him, and he jumped away.

“You’re a monster,” she charged.

“He’s looking out for us, Helen,” Violet sniped. “He’s simply trying to keep us alive.”

“What harm can two little girls do to either of you?” Helen bellowed. “You’re both crazy, and I’ve had enough!” She peered over at Robert who was wide-eyed with astonishment, and she said, “Bundle up and saddle a horse for me.”

“Where are you taking them?” Robert asked.

“I’m not
taking
them anywhere.
We
are going to Mr. Blaylock’s—the three of us together.”

Anxiously, Carl inquired, “When are you coming back?”

“I’m never coming back.”

“You’d leave us here?” Carl gaped at Violet and Albert. “With them?”

“Yes,” was the only reply Helen could give. “I’m sorry.”

She’d once agreed with James that she couldn’t abandon Carl and Robert, but she couldn’t continue on as she had been. She should never have traveled to the ranch, should never have wed Albert.

Desperation had goaded her into making terrible decisions, but she wasn’t afraid anymore.

She’d learned that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She was a survivor, but she’d reached the end of her rope, the end of her line, the end of what help she could offer the boys.

Robert was the first to move. He went to the hooks by the door and pulled down his winter gear.

“I’ll get your horse ready, Helen,” he said, “then I’m coming with you.”

“You’re going, too?” Carl wailed.

“If I have to choose between Helen and Violet,” Robert advised, “I’m choosing Helen.”

“I’m not staying if you’re not.” Carl pulled on his own coat.

“None of you are leaving,” Albert commanded.

“Don’t waste your breath arguing with them,” Violet said. “In this wind, they won’t get twenty feet down the road. They’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’m never coming back,” Helen said again. “I’d rather freeze out in the snow than spend one more second of my life with the two of you.”

She mustered the four children, grabbed the last of their mittens and hats, and herded them out.

“What should we do?”

“I’ll climb down and lead them. That should help.”

Robert slid to the ground, keeping a tight hold on his reins as he grabbed for Helen’s reins, too. He fell into the snow up to his knees.

The road to Mr. Blaylock’s ranch was taking them straight into the wind, and their two horses were rebelling. No matter how vehemently Robert coaxed, they refused to go forward, and he couldn’t blame them.

He had now spent several grueling winters in the Dakotas, and while he’d experienced plenty of bad weather, he couldn’t remember any other blizzard that was quite so fierce.

The loose snow pelted them like hailstones, like bullets from a gun, which was why the horses were balking. They didn’t like the sensation anymore than their human riders.

The two animals were plow horses, the biggest and brawniest in Albert’s small herd, so they had the strength and stamina to wade through the drifts. Helen and the twins were mounted on one, Robert and Carl on the other.

With Robert having climbed down, Carl was alone. Robert reached up to Evelyn, and though he was only a few feet away, he had to shout to be heard over the roar of the wind.

“Let’s put you over with Carl,” he told Evelyn. “It will spread the weight more evenly.”

Evelyn glanced up at Helen. “Should I?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Helen agreed, so Evelyn leaned down and dropped into Robert’s arms. She was tiny, but bulky from her coats and sweaters. He fumbled her over to Carl, and his brother hefted her up.

“Keep an eye on the fence,” Robert warned Carl. “You have to watch for the gate.”

“I can’t see anything, Robert.”

“You have to see it, Carl! We can’t miss it.”

While they’d still been at home, with the house and other buildings blocking some of the gusts, the journey had been manageable. But once they’d left the yard, visibility had plummeted.

They couldn’t see Mr. Blaylock’s fence, couldn’t see the road. He wasn’t certain they were still
on
the road. On a balmy summer day, it was an easy trip to Mr. Blaylock’s ranch, but their current situation was the very worst it could possibly be.

It was difficult to judge how far they’d come, difficult to deduce where they were. Was the gate up ahead? Had they passed it already?

If they’d passed it, without realizing they had, how long would it be before their peril was beyond bearing?

“Should we turn back?” he shouted up at Helen.

She was at a higher vantage point. She shifted and looked over her shoulder. “It’s a complete whiteout. I don’t believe it would help.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure, at all. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

There was no right answer. Despite what they picked, it would be an awful choice. He struggled to sound confident and brave when, in reality, he was terrified.

He was twelve! How was he supposed to decide what was best? She was the adult. She should just say—rather than ask his opinion. He didn’t want to offer any suggestions, because he couldn’t stand to imagine the consequences if he was wrong.

“Let’s continue on,” she assertively stated, behaving as he was desperate to have her behave. “We have to be approaching Mr. Blaylock’s gate.”

“Hopefully,” he muttered.

“When we could last see the road, we figured we were less than a mile away. We’ve traveled some distance since then, haven’t we?”

“Yes, I expect we have,” he concurred, anxious for her to be correct.

“So we’re much closer to his place than we are to our own.”

“Probably,” he haltingly said.

“And once we’re there,” Carl mentioned, “we’ll be off this ridge.”

“What do you mean?” Helen inquired.

“His house is down in the river bottom along Mud Creek,” Robert said, “so we’ll have some protection from the wind.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Helen replied.

Robert was in front of the ragtag group, fighting with the horses, but they were adamantly opposed to keeping on. He cajoled and commanded, but they fussed and snorted and tried to pull away.

Their progress faltered, the horses taking a few steps forward, then a few steps back. Helen and Carl were leaned over in their saddles, yelling and whooping encouragement as Robert faced the animals, his expression pleading, his voice firm.

But they were obstinate and determined. They weren’t aware that the destination was Mr. Blaylock’s or that, shortly, they could be somewhat sheltered. They only knew where
home
was, and they were eager to hurry back to it.

A blast of wind whistled by, hitting them so hard that it knocked Robert off his feet. The horses whinnied in protest, and Helen’s reared slightly, the sudden move pitching Edith into the snow. Helen hung on, but just barely.

She was dangling to the side as the horse twirled in angry circles. Robert grabbed her and dragged her off before she could fall and be trampled.

The moment the horse felt that she was gone, he let out a shriek and cantered away. In an instant, the storm swallowed him up, and he vanished.