Summer's Fury (3 page)

Beauregard urged the wagon south. Summer hung onto the bench for dear life. Her hat flew off her head but she didn’t try to grab for it.
Oh Lord
, she prayed,
keep us safe
! Her heart thundered in her chest in tune to the sound of the horse’s hooves pounding against the prairie. She cringed and leaned instinctively toward Beauregard every time lightning flashed, and couldn’t help it when a startled cry escaped her lips with every responding crack of thunder. It was so loud, so close!

Beauregard focused on guiding the wagon toward a dip in the land between two low-lying hillocks that she hadn’t seen. Heading downward at breakneck speed, Summer bit back yet another cry of alarm, her grasp on the wagon seat so tight that her fingers turned white. Rain pelted them, drenching her clothes in a matter of seconds.

The ridges managed to block some of the wind, now gusting with ever increasing force. Finding a spot up against the side of one of the ridges, Beauregard hauled back on the reins, bringing the team to an abrupt halt.

“Stay there!” he shouted above the rising wind.

While Summer watched in wide-eyed dismay Beauregard jumped down from the wagon, quickly unhitched the horses, and then slapped their rear ends, sending them trotting away from the wagon. “What are you doing?” she shouted into the rising wind. He didn’t reply. As soon as the horses took off, he turned back to her.

“Get down! Get under the wagon!”

Stunned, she sat on the seat for several seconds, her brain trying to catch up with his commands and actions. Why had he released the horses? He wanted her to get under the wagon?

“Summer, get off the wagon! Get
under
it!”

Another loud clap of thunder reverberated over the plains, leaving behind it rumbling echoes and pops. The rain turned to hail and she stared in dismay and cried out as small, pea sized balls of it began to pelt her. Without waiting to be told again, she quickly scrambled down from the wagon bench and crawled under the wagon. She paid no mind to her dress, nor the fact that it was now ruined by dirt, rain, and mud. Her hair hung down, strands loosened from the French braid, her bun untangled, her breath now coming in fearful gasps.

She watched Beauregard’s legs as he quickly moved from one side of the wagon to the other. Suddenly, the tarp in the back draped down along the north facing side of the wagon, offering a bit of relief from the hail. Moments later, he scrambled under the wagon himself, his chest heaving with exertion.

“What’s happening?” she managed, her voice trembling and her body shivering with the sudden chill in the air.

“Looks like a tornado is forming,” he muttered.

She stared at him, not understanding. “We’re going to be safe here aren’t we?”

“As safe as we can be in a tornado,” he responded.

She stared at him in dismay as he hunched over on the ground next to her, crossing his legs and staring out the open side of the wagon. The hail was no longer pea-sized, but was now more the size of marbles. She couldn’t believe this. She hadn’t come all this way to be swept up by a tornado!

“We should’ve gone back to Cheyenne while we could!”

He glanced at her. “And stay where? In the stable? In the wagon bed?”

“Well, it’s got to be better than being out here in the middle of nowhere in the path of a tornado!”

He shook his head. “Summer, you’ve never seen a tornado. In a tornado, the only truly safe place is underground. I have an underground shelter on my ranch, but out here on the plains, and even Cheyenne, there’s no guarantee of protection.”

“But—”

To her surprise, he draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to his strong frame. He was hunched over quite a bit underneath the wagon due to his size, but she took comfort in his hulking frame. Her anger abated somewhat when she realized that he was trying to comfort her. She allowed herself to sink against his side and muttered a prayer, speaking softly to herself.

“What?” he asked, leaning his head closer to hers.

“Nothing,” she said, raising her voice above the wind. “I’m praying!”

He nodded. “Good. Add me to them too, will you?”

For a moment she almost laughed, but another blinding flash of lightning, immediately followed by a rumbling crack of thunder that shook the ground beneath them caused her to grab onto Beauregard’s arm for dear life. The wind picked up, and even with the shelter under the wagon and the tarp thrown over one side, rain, sand, gravel, and hail made its way beneath the wagon, pelting both of them. As the wind picked up, the wagon shifted, rocking slightly back and forth. She closed her eyes and burrowed her head into Beauregard’s shoulder, wondering what would happen if the wind turned the wagon over, or even worse, picked it up and tossed it aside like a stick.

Was she going to die here, out in the middle of the prairie, newly married to a practical stranger? She didn’t know. She prayed she wouldn’t, but then again, maybe all this turmoil was part of her punishment. Should she tell him? Should she confess or keep her secret to herself for just a little while longer? She prayed for herself, for Beauregard, and for the poor horses, who had most likely resorted to their instincts to find shelter where they could. What if the horses didn’t come back after the tornado passed? What if they were injured or killed? What would happen to her? They were stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles from either Cheyenne or Laramie.

Oh dear Lord
, she prayed.
If You can see our way out of this, I will be ever so grateful, and will confess my sins and try to make things right with my new husband
.

A massive flash of lightning and another resounding crack of thunder was the only response.

Summer had never been so frightened in her life. Their meager shelter and tarpaulin did little to lessen the brunt of the oncoming tornado, and Beauregard’s confirmation that it was indeed a tornado terrified her to no end. She was convinced they were going to die out here. They would be tossed hither and yon by the fury of the summer storm, and no one would ever find them, nor know what happened to them. It wasn’t as if she was leaving anyone behind. She really had no idea about Beauregard’s family history, but it just felt so lonely, so isolated, so… permanent.

She had grabbed onto Beauregard’s arms so tightly that she was sure she bruised him, but he didn’t seem to mind. Hunched uncomfortably over, he had shifted his position slightly so that he moved into a side-lying position, his back to the tarpaulin and Summer, trying to shield her as best he could from the stinging grit of dirt, bits of debris, and hail that still scattered around them and swept underneath the wagon. He pulled his neckerchief up around his nose and mouth and tugged his cowboy hat down tight over his head. She was certainly grateful for whatever protection he could offer, but he was only a man, and they could do no more that bear the brunt of nature’s wrath.

Above them the wagon began to rock violently from side to side. She bit back a startled scream when the wagon wheels on one side actually lifted a couple of inches off the ground. In an instant, the tarpaulin was ripped away by the wind. That wind! It grew louder, and then louder still. Summer’s heart pounded, her hands shook, and just the ferocity of it wanted to make her scream and never stop.

Beauregard shifted his position to look at her. He said something but she shook her head, unable to understand. She huddled as close to him as she dared, not caring any longer whether it was considered proper or not, her hands wrapped around his upper left arm, so broad and muscled that her fingers couldn’t span its breadth.

“Lie down!” he shouted again.

He shifted his position, now facing her and shrugging off her iron grip as if it were nothing more than a nuisance, trying to force her to lay down. What was he doing? What did he want her to do? She didn’t understand. All of a sudden she felt his hands on her shoulders, pressing her down onto her side. For a brief second she panicked. He couldn’t possibly—

“Lie down on your stomach! Cover your head with your arms!”

She still didn’t understand what she was supposed to do so he literally manhandled her now, his strength no match for her panic. Straightening her legs, pressing her down onto her side, he then flopped her over onto her stomach, literally forcing her face down on the ground beneath the wagon. Instinctively she folded her arms above her head, sheltering her face from stinging bits of gravel and hail that continued to sweep beneath the wagon with unbelievable force.

She squealed when she felt him climb on top of her, balancing his weight on his forearms as he tried to protect her from the increasing fury of the wind. At that instant, Summer’s heart melted, and she felt a surge of affection for this big, tall, strong stranger she had married, doing his best to protect her from harm. He now took the brunt of the storm while she felt safe, warm, and protected beneath him. She wanted to thank him for taking such good care of her, but now was not the time. Besides—

A splintering crack, groan, and snap of metal above her caused her to stifle yet another scream.
That
sound had not been thunder. Suddenly, she heard Beauregard shout out a warning, and in the next instant his protection was gone. She looked up to discover the wagon had literally toppled sideways. Beauregard struggled to maintain a hold on the tarpaulin but the force of the wind tossed him to the ground as if he were no heavier than a leaf. One of his legs got tangled in the tarpaulin, and as the wagon toppled and rolled, Beauregard was pulled along with it.

“Beauregard!” Summer screamed. She tried to scramble after him on her hands and knees, reaching out for him, but the force of the wind was incredible. Grit and gravel pelted her face and she lifted an arm to try to cover her eyes and see at the same time. Her other hand reached out for Beauregard. She managed to grasp hold of one of his booted feet, but in the next instant, the wagon toppled over and rolled again, dragging Beauregard with it. Summer could only watch in horror.

“Oh God, oh God, save him!” Summer cried.

The sound of thunder was now drowned out beneath the roaring sound of the tornado, which wailed like a freight train charging closer and closer. Summer looked up into the sky and felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her eyes widened with horror as she saw the dark and swirling funnel not more than a half mile away. It was massive. The funnel skipped and jumped along the surface of the prairie as if seeking prey. A shout pulled her gaze from the terrifying sight and she turned her back to the funnel and looked for Beauregard and the wagon.

A groan ripped from her throat as she saw that the wagon had toppled about twenty or thirty yards away and now lay upside down, its wheels spinning crazily. The tarp flapped loosely over the top of the wagon wheels though part of it was still captured beneath the rim of the wagon bed. She desperately sought sight of Beauregard, and then saw his hat blowing in the wind some distance away.

“Beauregard!” she screamed even though she knew that he would not hear her. She tried to get to her feet, but the wind was so strong it kept knocking her to her knees. Finally, giving up her attempt to stand, she made her way on her hands and knees toward the toppled wagon, slightly down slope from where they had taken shelter. As she got closer she felt a surge of relief when she saw Beauregard lying alongside the wagon. Then her heart once again leapt into her throat when she realized that he wasn’t moving. His leg had been wrapped within the tarpaulin, and was now trapped underneath the wagon.

Summer finally made it to Beauregard’s side. He was bleeding from the side of his head. She didn’t know what to do. The wind whipped at her clothing and pulled her hair from her braid. She placed both her hands on Beauregard’s chest, felt it chest rising and falling, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Oh thank God,” she moaned. She glanced over her shoulder and realized that the tornado was coming closer, seeming to grow larger and larger, picking up chunks of prairie dirt, rocks, and other debris as it came. Would it miss the gully? She had no idea.

Instinctively, she sought to protect Beauregard as he had protected her. Never mind decorum, this was an emergency! She lay down on top of him, her head pressed close to his. It tugged at her clothes, pressing her skirts tight against her legs. She grabbed onto the side of the wagon, hoping that it and their combined weight would prove enough to keep them from being swept up by the storm.

She knew she should have told him the truth. Martha had told her to start her marriage with complete honesty, and she had failed to do even that. She had hidden the truth and now it might be too late. Would she be a bride, a widow, and dead on the same day? She knew she had to get it off her chest. God would hear her, she had no doubt of that, but would Beauregard, and if he did, what would he say? What would he do?

She dipped her head down close to his, her free arm wrapped around both her head and his, her lips pressed close to his ear. “I have something to tell you, Beauregard, something that I should have told you yesterday when we got to the hotel. I should have told you in my first letter, but I was afraid. Now I’m more afraid than I have ever been in my life, but I need to tell you the truth, just in case…”

The wind howled above them, doing its best to pull her grasp from the wagon. She couldn’t believe how powerful the force of the wind was, and could only pray that it would quickly pass. She refused to look up into the dark and foreboding sky, knowing that the dark purple-black color and image of the tornado funnel would remain with her for the rest of her life. She didn’t have to look at it again. She didn’t have to see what would end her life. Her heart continued to pound in her chest as she held onto the wagon for dear life, fighting the power of the wind. She was growing so tired!

“Beauregard, I lied!” she spoke loudly, striving to be heard over the howling tempest. “I lied to you in one of my letters when I told you I had never been married before. The truth of the matter is, I was. I had just turned eighteen. I was young and foolish, gullible, and wanted so much to be in love, to be married, and have a family.”