Distraction (18 page)

I looked in the direction he was pointing and
squinted at the mass of black swirls hanging low in an otherwise
blue sky.

“I didn’t see those—” I grabbed Jackson’s arm to shut
him up.

“That’s not rain. That’s dust. Let’s get back to the
ranch. We can push some of the herd under trees.” I kicked River
into a full run.

The last pile of laundry had been clipped on the
line. When Libby was out of view, I pressed my face against Cade’s
shirt as it danced in the breeze. It had been washed but there was
still a faint fragrance of the man left behind on the soft cotton
fabric. For the rest of the afternoon, after Cade had dropped me
back at the house, I’d drifted into daydreams about the kiss. Libby
seemed to sense that my mind was not on our chores, but she hadn’t
mentioned it. Something deep down told me the woman knew far more
than she was letting on. In that respect, she reminded me a great
deal of Nonni. Only now, my confidence in my grandmother’s
never-ending knowledge had waned some. I could not understand why
she hadn’t found me yet. None of it made sense. Even though I was a
great distance from Salem, I was still in the new world. And,
certainly, Nonni would have discovered trains by now too. Then a
dark thought overshadowed all else, even the spectacular,
breath-stealing kiss. I’d left my tiny, albeit powerful grandmother
standing in a dank cell next to the most ruthless warlock in the
world of sorcery. What if Angus had hurt her or worse? With great
powers came a higher order of immortality, and Nonni had both, but
Angus Wolfe’s were greater. A shudder ran through me, and I pushed
the impossible thought from my mind.

“I’m going to carry in this empty basket,” Libby
called to me. “Grab the second basket and we can get supper
started.”

“Of course.” The second basket sat at the end of the
laundry line. I hurried through the waves of wet linens to grab it
up. As I stood, I noticed something in the distance. A gigantic
mass of dark clouds hovered on the horizon, and this time I was
certain they had to be rain filled. From the looks of it, there
would be a downpour large enough to bring some relief to the
drought. I started snatching the freshly washed laundry from the
line. “Libby! A storm’s coming!”

Libby appeared instantly at the back door. “What are
you talking about?”

I continued to pull the clothes off the line but took
a second to point toward the clouds. “Look what’s coming,” I said
enthusiastically, certain that I’d delivered some marvelous news. I
wondered briefly if Cade had already seen it.

Libby shaded her eyes with her hand and stared at the
storm mass for a moment. “Good Lord.” She pounded down the steps to
help me.

I’d expected her to be thrilled, but her tone was one
of alarm. I guess it really had been a time since they’d seen rain
at the ranch. I smiled as I plucked the last of the petticoats off
the line. Libby had taken a more direct approach. Rather than
pluck, she’d resorted directly to yanking. One of the sleeves on
Charlotte’s blouse was ripped clean free of the garment when she
pulled it too hard. Then, for the first time, I noticed the pallor
of Libby’s face. She was not rosy with the excitement and happiness
I’d expected from incoming rain. Terrified was a much closer
description. Her gaze kept shooting over the line of laundry to the
distant clouds as if they were some ominous threat about to drop
down on us.

I took hold of one of her trembling hands. “I don’t
understand, Libby. What has you so distraught?”

“Honey, those aren’t rain clouds. In fact, that is
not a true cloud at all. It’s dust. In a few minutes, the sky will
blacken and a choking layer of dust will cover everything in its
path.” She dropped the skirt she was holding on the ground. “My
tomatoes! They’ll be ruined.” She ran to the basket and grabbed out
two wet sheets. “Help me cover them, will you Poppy? I think
there’s still time to save them.”

I ran to her and grabbed one of the sheets from her
hand, and we made a mad dash for the vegetable garden.

“I’ll shoo the chickens inside the barn, Libby, and
then I’ll meet you in the garden.”

“Good idea. And slide the barn door shut.” We both
looked up at the sky. The storm of dust was moving alarmingly
fast.

An unearthly, glowing shadow fell over the yard as I
chased the chickens into the barn. Even the stubborn rooster seemed
to sense that danger beyond his control loomed, and he raced in
after his hens. The horses snorted and stomped in their stalls, and
the pigs had already plodded into their three-sided shack. Nonni
always claimed that animals were the first to sense danger, and I
was seeing it first hand with the farm animals. At first, the
thought of a large cloud of dust seemed almost funny, nothing to
truly worry about. But it had been the first time I’d seen Libby
afraid, so I knew it was nothing to laugh at. As I looked up and
saw the breadth and depth of the black mass floating through the
otherwise crystal blue sky, the scope of it hit me. Suddenly, it
looked as if dusk had come hours too early.

The wind had picked up, and it seemed to have no real
direction. It both pushed and pulled me as I ran toward the garden.
Libby struggled in vain against the force of the unruly wind, and
the corners of the sheets were ripped from her hands as I entered
through the small gate. Her makeshift scarecrow fell at my feet. I
toppled over it but managed to catch myself. That’s when I first
noticed the taste of dirt in my mouth. Grit coated my tongue and
teeth, and I had to avoid swallowing to keep from gagging. I half
covered my eyes with my arm as I stumbled to the tomatoes. Libby
handed me a corner of the sheet she had just retrieved. It was
already gray with dust.

“Tie the corner around the stakes holding the
plants.” Libby yelled over the din of the squealing wind. “Tie it
good and tight. We’ll tent the plants, and with any luck, they
won’t be completely ruined.”

The solid piece of linen was nearly impossible to
tame as bursts of wind pummeled us from every direction, but I
managed to get two corners securely tied. As we worked, the air
thickened with grit and bitter tasting dust, and it seeped into our
throat and chests with every breath. Libby finished her last corner
and raced over to help me but then she stooped over suddenly.
Bracing her hands on her thighs, she broke into a fit of
coughing.

I grabbed her arm. “I’ll finish the last corner.” It
was nearly impossible to talk, and my eyes were closed against the
onslaught of dirt. The second sheet flapped in the wind like a sail
that had come loose from its rigging.

Libby drew the décolletage of her dress up over her
mouth and mumbled threw the fabric. “Leave it. Let’s get back to
the house.”

We stooped low to avoid being blasted by the grit but
nothing helped. A murky, suffocating darkness surrounded me, and it
was nearly impossible to know which direction I was heading. I
squinted ahead, keeping Libby in my line of vision. She plowed
through the debris, and I followed until my foot once again found
the fallen scarecrow. My shoe was caught in the burlap face, and I
fell to my knees. I reached back blindly and struggled to free my
boot. I could no longer catch a decent breath, and I, too,
succumbed to a terrible fit of coughing. By the time I’d caught my
breath and freed my shoe, Libby had disappeared from sight.

I crawled across the garden, stabbing my knee on
something sharp. Warm blood trickled down my leg as I dropped to my
belly and slithered across the rough ground. Grit and sand coated
my skin as I searched frantically for the garden gate. And then I
was sucked into a blackness that even the darkest night could not
provide. It momentarily reminded me of the squalid jail cell I’d
sat in on my last night in Salem. I was being smothered in a layer
of black dust as if buried alive. Panic pulled me into a tiny ball,
and I couldn’t move. I sat huddled against the earth’s vicious
assault and wondered how long it would last and if I would
survive.

I allowed myself a moment of self-pity before
self-preservation squashed it. I stretched back out on the ground.
It seemed the air nearest to the ground was the clearest. One thing
was certain, there was a great distance between me and the house.
The barn was closer and it became my goal. I had no sense of
direction, but through the absence of any daylight, I saw a flash
of white. The sheets billowed like massive sails over the tomatoes.
I headed toward them, ripping up tiny rows of newly planted
seedlings as I pulled myself along. Dirt pushed up my fingernails
as I sunk my fingers into the garden soil for something to grab
onto. My scratched knee burned with pain as I dragged it across the
ground. I reached the only remaining sheet just in time for it to
collapse beneath the weight of the dust.

There was too much dirt in my eyes to cry . . . or
scream. And then through the gritty, dark nightmare, two hands
grabbed hold of me.

I was swept up into two strong arms. His face was
covered almost completely by cloth, but I knew instantly who held
me. Cade folded me tightly into his chest and stooped over before
making a run across the yard. We reached the house in alarmingly
fast time and within moments I was inside Libby’s kitchen. Someone
had turned on a lamp, and I squinted into the light as if I’d been
in darkness for hours. Jackson and Samuel stood in the room, their
wide eyes standing out in their dust covered faces. Still holding
me, Cade dropped to his knees before rolling back to his bottom. I
sat across his lap.

Libby dropped to the ground next to him. She was
sobbing uncontrollably. Her face was covered with a layer of dust,
but tears left streaks of mud on her cheeks. “It was my fault. Me
and my stupid tomato plants,” she said between cries. “I nearly got
you killed.”

I reached for her hand. My eyes and throat burned. “I
tripped. It was my own clumsiness that nearly killed me. Please,
Libby, do not be so distraught.” Now tears fell from my eyes.

Cade lowered the cloth from his face.

I peered up at him through blurry eyes. “How on earth
did you find me out there?”

His thick thumb reached up, and he wiped some dirt
from my forehead. “I don’t really know. I ran in the direction of
the garden—” He picked up my hand and placed it over his chest. His
heart beat wildly beneath my palm. “—and
something
just led
me right to you.”

Libby had calmed down. She wiped clumsily at her face
with her hands, managing to smear dirt everywhere. She looked at
the filth on her palms and burst out laughing. Laughter filled the
room as we looked around at each other.

Sunlight returned slowly as if someone were drawing
back heavy drapery from the window. There was barely an inch of
clean skin or clothing visible in the room, and a fine layer of
dust coated everything.

“What a mess,” Libby said.

Cade’s arms still cradled me. “Welcome to Montana,
Poppy. You are officially one of us now.”

Icy water rushed over my head like a flood from a
frozen river. I flipped my long, wet hair back and wiped my face
with my hand. “Shit, Samuel, did you bleed a glacier for that
water? I think you took just a little too much pleasure dumping it
over my head.”

Samuel held the empty bucket and grinned at me. “I
was just helping you out. Libby said we had to get clean before
she’d let us back in the house.” His short dark hair stood up in
wet spikes on his head, and Jackson was rubbing his with a
towel.

I reached for the towel Libby had hung over the porch
railing and dried my chest. Muddy water pooled around my feet. “All
I know is that this better be the last damn time I bathe out here
on this porch.” I reached for the clean shirt Libby had provided as
well.

Samuel finished buttoning up his shirt. “Well, I
guess I’ll start the clean up in the barn.” He hopped over the
porch railing.

“We need to see how many cattle are down first,” I
called to him.

“I ain’t riding out without my horse, so I might as
well start in the barn.”

I glanced around at the yard. It looked nothing like
the yard I’d seen in the morning when Poppy and I had ridden out.
Tumbleweeds dotted the landscape, and two of Libby’s rose bushes
had been uprooted. A thick layer of rusty orange dirt covered
everything.

The screen door swung open, but it hung from only one
hinge now. I’d been the cause. “Remember to leave those dusty
clothes out here,” Libby said. “Poppy’s in the tub, and I’m going
to help her wash her hair.” My thoughts immediately wandered in the
direction of Poppy bathing.

“I’ve got to mop the kitchen before we can start
supper. Is cold chicken all right?” Libby asked.

I knew Libby had continued talking, and she looked at
me now, apparently waiting for a response, but I’d missed the
question.

Jackson flicked my stomach with the end of his wet
towel. “Christ, Cade, pay attention.” He looked at Libby. “That was
your fault for bringing up Poppy and bath in the same sentence. Or,
for bringing up Poppy at all, for that matter.” He tapped the side
of his head. “He loses focus very quickly when you mention
her.”

“Jacks, has anyone ever told you, you look like a
plucked chicken when your hair is wet?” I said.

“Real nice, go after the guy with the thinning hair,”
Jackson said angrily.

“You boys go ahead and exchange insults. I’ve got to
get in to Poppy before the water gets too cold.”

“If you need any help with that, let me know,” I
called to her.

“Over my dead body,” she called back to me.

Jackson grinned at me. “She has no idea, does
she?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” Libby called again.