After the Storm: Clean Historical Western Cowboy Romance Novel (Dawson Chronicles Book 2) (17 page)

              While their principle, Claire Samuels, gave a speech congratulating the students on a job well done and giving them encouragement to go on to do great things, Skip’s mind drifted away to the events of the past few months.  He knew that Renee wanted to find her assailants and testify against them, but he wanted blood.

              When they’d been little, she’d kept people from picking on him and had been his best friend until he and Sawyer had become friends.  She was still his best friend, just in a different way.  There were things that he wouldn’t talk to anyone other than her about, not even Sawyer.  He was happy that she was getting married because he wanted her to be happy, but he was sad for himself. 

              He knew he could still go see her whenever he wanted to and he would be over at the Dwyers’ a lot since he was close friends with Joey, but it still wouldn’t be the same.  His attention was brought back to the present when Joey got up to go get his diploma.

              Joey smiled and waved at the audience as he walked over to Claire.

              She laughed at his cocky attitude and thought about how much she was going to miss him around school the next year.  She loved all of their students, but as in many cases, there were those students who touched a special place in an educator’s heart and Joey was one of them. 

              “Congratulations, Joey,” she said, handing him his diploma.

              “Thanks, Mrs. Samuels,” he said, shaking her hand.  “I’m gonna miss seeing you when I get sent to see you.”

              She laughed.  “It’s a funny thing, but I’ll miss that, too.”

              He let her hand go and waved to the audience again, drawing laughter and loud applause before going back to his seat by Skip.  The kids around him laughed, including his wife.  She was called next and Joey clapped and whistled while she walked over to Claire, which made her laugh.  When she came back, Joey grabbed her and kissed her, not caring who saw.

              “I’m so proud of you, honey,” he said.

              “I’m proud of you, too,” she whispered back.

              When Skip’s name was called, he was relieved when he made it across the stage without embarrassing himself.  Claire was proud of Skip because he’d sometimes struggled in school—not scholastically, but socially.  He’d been made fun of, but he’d persevered through it and had gotten good grades in spite of the days he’d missed when he’d been too angry to attend school.

All of the teachers had tried to make sure that the other students didn’t ridicule Skip, but the teachers couldn’t always be around.  She was glad that Skip had gained the friendship of Joey and a few other boys who always stood up for him.  Skip could take care of himself physically, but his temper could turn dangerous and he sometimes couldn’t control it.  Once, he’d beaten up one boy badly before he’d been pulled off of him.

As a result, he’d begun running away from the situation whenever someone started something with him.  He didn’t want to go to jail for assault so he avoided getting into that kind of trouble by walking away.  Sometimes he disappeared for hours until he cooled down.

Claire shook his hand.  “Justin, I’m so proud of you and I’m going to miss you.”

He smiled.  “I’ll stop in to see you,” he said.

“I look forward to it,” she said.

He walked back to his seat, smiling when he heard his family and others cheer for him.  He waved bashfully and sat down again.  Lyla had so much family present that the auditorium was filled with noise when she went to collect her diploma.  Claire proudly gave her niece the document and Lyla returned to her seat.

              Dawson’s school district wasn’t large, but their teachers were top notch and the students’ grades were generally high.  Although there were only thirteen students graduating, there were many more students in the lower grades than ever before, requiring the hiring of more teachers.  The school had added on two more classrooms because the other ones were too crowded.

              The ceremony ended and most of the crowd moved to the community center where the celebration commenced.  Switch had been right about people still getting alcohol—moonshiners were making money hand over fist selling their homemade brew.  When the party ended at the public venue, many home parties went on, some of them serving homebrewed spirits. 

It was also hard for the law to be enforced in private homes because the police needed a search warrant to raid a home.  However, there had to be evidence of the illegal sale of alcohol before a warrant would be issued.  The Dwyers were no exception in rebelling against the new law. 

              One day, Joe remarked about almost being out of liquor to Black Fox, telling him that he was saving what they had for Joey and Snow Song’s graduation and Tim’s wedding.

The chief said, “I will send someone to talk to you about this.”  That was all he’d been willing to say about the matter.

Watching his family and friends celebrating, Joe thought back to what had happened when Winona’s husband, Brown Otter, had shown up at the house a few days later, wanting to speak privately with Joe.  Since he was deaf and Joe had never caught on to Indian sign very well, Brown Otter wrote in a notepad to communicate with the mayor.  Joe smiled as he thought back to that day…

             
“Black Fox says that you may not have enough liquor for your parties,” Brown Otter wrote.

              “Yeah, that’s right,” Joe said, nodding.

              “I can help you with that.  Do you have time to come with me right now?”

              Joe liked the mischievous glint in Brown Otter’s eyes.  “Yeah.  I can come now.”  His curiosity was too strong for him to wait.

              “I brought you a pony to ride,” Brown Otter told him.

              “All right.  Let’s go.”

              Brown Otter had taken him far out into the woods, past the big falls above camp.  They stopped at what looked like a tangle of bushes and vines.  However, Brown Otter pulled some of the vines back to reveal the mouth of an old mine shaft.  As Joe slid off his pony, he noticed that some of the wooden supports had been replaced.  He gave Brown Otter a curious look, but the brave just smiled and motioned for him to follow.

              Lighting lanterns along the way, Brown Otter stopped at a doorway several yards from the mine entrance.  Opening the door, he lit another lantern and led Joe inside.  Over in the far corner of the huge room stood a large homemade still.  It was obvious that the room had recently been carved into the mountain, but the walls had been plastered over and whitewashed.

              Joe looked at Brown Otter in disbelief.  “Is that your still?” he asked, pointing first at the equipment and then at the Indian.

              Brown Otter nodded and laughed at the shocked expression on Joe’s face.

              Joe let out a shout of laughter and clapped his hands together in glee.  “I don’t believe it.”

Brown Otter flashed him a grin and motioned for Joe to follow him again.  Farther on down the shaft, they came to another door, which was padlocked shut.  He opened the door and went into another recently created room, holding his lantern aloft.  Joe stared in open-mouthed wonder at the bottles of what looked like whiskey lining shelves along one wall.  On the other side of the room sat several barrels of what must contain beer.

              He’d been too busy looking around to notice Brown Otter pouring a sample of the moonshine.  Joe absently took the glass that Brown Otter pressed into his hand.  He raised it and downed the shot the way he would any other.  It had a slightly different flavor than other whiskeys, but it was smoother than a lot of homemade whiskey Joe had tasted over the years.

              “Damn, that’s some fine moonshine, Brown Otter,” Joe said, giving him the Indian sign for good.  He pointed over at the barrels and signed, “What?”

              Brown Otter took another cup over to one with a spout on the side and Joe watched as amber liquid flowed from it.  His mouth practically watered at the sight of the beer.  He took the cup and tried a sip.  It was on par with many good beers.

              “How long have you been doing this?” he wrote on Brown Otter’s notepad. 

              “Six years.”

              Joe’s eyebrows jumped up.  “Six years?”

              Once again, Brown Otter had Joe follow him to yet another room that contained more barrels of beer and whiskey.  He noticed that dates had been painted on the oak barrels.

              Brown Otter wrote, “We kept it a secret because the alcohol had to age first.  I was going to start selling some to Jake once it was aged enough, but with the new law, I can’t now.  I had to wait for the whiskey to reach maturity.  It should go a little longer, but it’s not that long off that it can’t be drank now.  The beer is from this past fall when we harvested the hops and barley we planted.  I was going to sell some privately, too, but I can’t do that legally.  I do not want it to go to waste.”

              “Me, neither,” Joe wrote.  “Let me think.”  He paced back and forth a few minutes.  He’d been doing some checking into the prohibition laws, which stated that wine production was allowed for communion and other alcohol in small home-made quantities.

              The amount of alcohol Brown Otter had on his hands was more than a home-made quantity, but how could they make it seem as though it wasn’t?

              He took the notepad again.  “I need someone to translate.  Let’s go see Black Fox.”

              Brown Otter nodded and they headed back to camp.

              Joe had been glad that Switch had been with the Chief at the time because his craftiness had come in handy.  The plan he’d come up with was simple.  If people came to camp and consumed some spirits, it was just among friends, with no money exchanging hands—at that moment.  However, if people were to hand a few select people some money to give to whatever person they named from the tribe as a personal loan repayment, no one would be the wiser.

              Therefore, as far as anyone knew, Brown Otter only made small batches of homemade brews, which he shared with his friends when they stopped by.  Joe laughed to himself at the cleverness of his unconventional friend.  That way, they wouldn’t have to worry about setting up a secret establishment and risking discovery. 

              The location of Brown Otter’s operation was still on the tribe’s land, so there was no issue about the land usage.  This also meant that it could be kept a secret since only a few people would take the necessary ingredients there and retrieve the alcohol.  Yes, it pleased Joe greatly to be able to skirt around the law that he strongly opposed.

              He drained the glass of beer he’d been drinking and then went to sing with the gang who’d come to provide music for them.

              The day of Renee and Tim’s wedding, the sky rumbled, lightning flashed, and rain descended from the heavens in torrential sheets.  Renee looked out the window at the horrible weather with dismay, hoping that it would clear off by the time she had to leave for the church.  She wasn’t worried about superstition; she was worried about her hair. 

Then she remembered all of the cowboy hats in their costume room.  If she wore one of those, it would keep the rain off her hair so that it wouldn’t be wet when she arrived at the church.  Even with an umbrella, it could get wet if the wind blew strongly.  She would pile all of her hair on top of her head and put the hat over it, thus protecting it. 

She chose a white, boy-sized hat that fit her smaller head.  All of the others were too big.  She pulled the stampede string tight and thought that if it could keep the hat on during a stampede or other fast movement, it would keep it anchored to her head in the storm.

Hope saw her trying it on.  “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Keeping my hair dry until I get to the church.”

“It looks cute on you,” Hope said, smiling.

Renee smiled.  “Does it?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Pa if I can have it and wear it around the ranch to amuse everyone.  Other women wear them, but I never thought about wearing one,” Renee said.

“I’m sure he’ll let you have it,” Hope said. 

“I’ll convince him,” Renee said, winking.  “We should leave for the church soon.  I was hoping it would slow down out there, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hope responded.  “I don’t want my dress to get dirty, either.  Or my hair to be ruined.  I’ll put a scarf around it.”

“You look beautiful, Ma,” Renee said.  “No wonder Pa fell in love with you.  He tells me that he’s quite the charmer when he wants to be.  Is that true?”

Hope eyes twinkled.  “You have no idea how charming he can be.”

Renee giggled.  “Does he give you a certain look?  The kind that makes you all warm inside?”

Hope laughed.  “Why do you think I married him after only knowing him a week?”

“I guess that answers that question,” Renee said, laughing.  “Well, I guess we should brave the storm so we’re not late.”

The women went to collect the men and get underway.

*****

              An hour later, Renee was almost in tears.  The storm had only gotten worse, getting them wet despite only having a short ways to walk to and from the car and using umbrellas.  The strong wind had ripped one of them out of Skip’s hand and he’d gotten soaked.  The torrential rain and high wind had created two leaks in the church requiring a regular changing of buckets. 

             
Maybe we should postpone the wedding,
she thought. 
No.  Come hell or high water, I’m marrying my cowboy today!

*****

              Tim had left for the church with Kyle and Randy in one of their Model T cars.  They hadn’t known that the creek about a mile from their house had overflowed its banks, flowing across the road, which was very muddy by this time.  Upon seeing the washed-out road, Tim turned around and went back to the house.

              “What are you going to do?” Randy asked.

              “What we’ve done for hundreds of years: ride a horse.  We can cut across camp and take the trail that leads up to the main road heading into town,” Tim said.  “We need to warn the rest of the house about the road.  They won’t be able to take a buggy, either.  There’s no telling how deep that water is right now.”

              Once they’d reached the house, Joe put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.  “Son, I hate to say it, but maybe we’d better postpone the weddin’.  I don’t want to risk everyone’s safety.  It ain’t gettin’ any better out here.”  A jagged streak of lighting struck the ground out in one of the pastures and they cringed at the accompanying thunder.

              “Damn it!” Tim said.

              “I’ll call the switchboard and have whoever is on it let Mac and Renee know.  She’ll understand,” Joe said right before another crash of thunder sounded overhead.

              More than anything, Tim wanted to marry Renee that day.  He didn’t want to wait any longer, but the right thing to do was postpone until the next day.

              “All right, Daddy,” he shouted over the next rumble of thunder so Joe could hear him.

              However, the electric and telephone were out because of the storm.  Tim put his hat and slicker on.  “I’ll go let them know,” he said.  “I’ll be fine.”

              His family watched him go, praying for his safety as he rode out of sight into the deluge.

*****

              When Tim reached the church, there was a brief break in the weather.  He tied his horse close to the hitching post and ran into the church, where he met Matt.

              “You shouldn’t have come,” Matt said, concerned over Tim’s welfare.  “I think we’re going to have to postpone.  The church now has four leaks and Moose said it came over the telegraph, which is still working by some miracle, that there are more bad storms coming shortly.”

              As if to confirm Matt’s statement, lightning lit up the windows and a horrific crack of thunder followed.  Hope came upstairs and saw Tim.

              “Oh, my gosh!  You shouldn’t have come, Tim.  It’s too dangerous.”  She fell silent as she looked out the windows.

              They followed her to the side door, which she opened a little bit.  The light outside had changed to a greenish color and the clouds overhead roiled.

              “Everyone to the basement!” she shouted.  “Downstairs now!”

              The men saw the same thing and agreed with her.  Tim pulled out his pocket knife and said, “I’ll be right there!”

              “Where are you going?” Matt shouted as Tim left the building.

              Tim knew that if a twister formed while the horses were tied to the hitching posts they would be trapped by their tethers.  As a horse rancher, Tim’s first concern was more for his animals than himself.  He ran along slashing reins and halter ropes, freeing the animals so they could run to safety.

              “Ha!  Get goin’!” he shouted at them to get them to move, knowing that they would be found later on or that the horses would go home once it was safe.

              Most of the horses were upset as it was and took off willingly—all except for Skip’s mule, Dash, who had apparently broken out of the livery stable where he was kept with the other Keller horse.  He hated being away from his family and he was so strong that keeping him contained was hard when he was very determined to go somewhere.  Most likely the nosy mule had seen the other equines gathered at the church and had decided to come see what was going on.

              Although he wasn’t an aggressive animal, Dash’s ears swept back and he stamped a front foot when Tim tried to force him to move away.  Tim didn’t have to time to argue with the mule, so he ran around to the front door, which was closest to him now.  When he went through it, he discovered that he wasn’t alone.  Dash pushed in right behind him, knocking Tim out of his way as he barreled inside.

              “You can’t be in here!” Tim said.  “Get out!”

              The seventeen-hands-tall mule’s answer was to shake off like a huge dog, soaking Tim further.  Matt and Devon had come upstairs to see if Tim had come back in and they received the same treatment from Dash. 

              Devon’s bridesmaid dress was now sprayed with water and mud, as was her face and hair.  “Dash!  What are you doing in here?”

              Tim and Matt tried to push him back outside, but it was impossible to move the sixteen-hundred-pound animal.  When the wind howled and the rain came sideways, they gave up and ran down to the basement. 

              Upon hearing that Tim had arrived at the church and had agreed that they should postpone the wedding, Renee had scooted into the washroom there and changed back into her skirt and blouse.  She ran over to him, embracing him.

              “I’m so glad you’re all right.  You shouldn’t have come.  It’s too dangerous,” she said.

              “I had to so you knew that I didn’t get cold feet,” he said, smiling.

              “I wouldn’t have thought any such thing.  I’m just glad you’re safe.”

              The building above them creaked and groaned and they quieted, listening in fear.  When the groaning grew louder, Renee grabbed Tim’s shirt collar.

              “We’re getting married right now, Timmy.  If I’m going to die, I’m going to die as your wife!”

              “Honey, it’s gonna be all right.  The storm will pass and we’ll get married tomorrow,” he said.  “I want my family to be here.  I don’t have my best man or my tuxedo or—”

              A horrendous crash overhead interrupted him, shaking the building, and Dash let out a frightened bray.  Tim and Renee looked at each other, their eyes wide and frightened.  They moved over to Matt.

              “Marry us right now, Mac,” Tim said.  “We’re not dying without being married.”

              Matt said, “You don’t have rings.”

              Renee said, “We don’t have to have them right now, do we?”

              “Well, it’s unorthodox, but what the heck?  Everyone gather around,” Matt said.

              Switch came to Renee and dragged her away.

              “What are you doing, Pa?” Renee asked.

              “I’m walking you down the aisle,” Switch said.  “I’m not letting this damn storm deprive me of that.”

              Watching Switch walk Renee over to where Matt and Tim stood made the rest of those gathered laugh, adding a little levity to the dangerous situation.  Another crash met their ears.  The couple tightened their grips on each other’s hands.

              Matt said, “We’re skipping over a lot, but Tim do you take Renee as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

              “I do,” Tim said.

              “Renee, do you take Tim to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

              “I do,” Renee said.

              Matt had to shout to be heard over the din.  “I now pronounce you man and wife!  Kiss your bride!”

              While the storm raged around them, a different tempest swept Tim and Renee along as they soundly kissed each other.  The weather outside may have been dark and dangerous, but in their hearts and souls there was only love and light.  The ceiling creaked and moaned above them.  It began sagging and Matt shoved everyone into the kitchen, where the ceiling was stable.  They’d all just crammed into the room when the boards gave away completely.

              One of the mighty oak trees close to the church had been a victim to the storm and had fallen on the structure, smashing through the building.  The weakened floor hadn’t been able to hold its massive weight and the tree fell down into the basement.  The group inside cowered in a corner, the men instinctively shielding the women with their bodies.

              Water poured into the basement, flooding the floor.

              Black Fox yelled, “We cannot stay here!  It is too dangerous!”

              The rest concurred and they began making their way around tree branches to the stairs that miraculously were still intact.  Matt led the way up them.  The sight that met his eyes caused tears to well in them.  The tree filled the sanctuary and many of the pews had been crushed.  His attention was diverted from it by Dash, who butted him with his head.  Matt was able to move him away so that the others could get up the stairs.

              The wind blew pages of hymnals around along with leaves and small branches.  They had to shield their faces from the swirling debris.  Matt tried to open the door to the outside, but it wouldn’t budge.  Several of the men tried to open it, all of them exerting their strength at once, but it still wouldn’t open.

              “The building must have shifted and now the door is stuck,” Matt said.

              “We have to get out of here!” his wife, Penny, shouted.

              Skip hollered, “Get out of the way!  Move back!”

              In Skip’s hands, Dash was always completely compliant.  Skip had worked with him since he’d been a foal, forming a powerful bond.  At Skip’s urging, Dash quickly moved around until his rear faced the door. 

              “Kick!” Skip shouted.  “Kick, Dash!”

              The mighty mule lashed out, his powerful haunches and legs sending his hooves crashing into the door, blowing it wide open.

              “Get out!” Skip told him.

              Dash turned and trotted outside, braying as though bragging about what he’d just accomplished.