since Sarah was born had left her little time to feel lonely, but she often missed Aunt Mabel.
The big, mothering woman took over the house and the new baby with a largess of familiarity that left Mary in a compliant, amused frame of mind. 'Why, this child is damn near as pretty as my Bessie was when she was born!' Mabel raised the baby aloft while Mary wondered why Sarah didn't cry, suspended as she was. 'Land! Girl, you got this tyke so wrapped up you're lucky she ain't mummified!' Mabel Garner loosened the blankets and freed the baby's feet, removing booties, chuckling and talking to Sarah. 'This here's one hell of a hot day for April. 'Lizabeth, fetch that blanket!' she ordered one of her children. She used it to make a pad on the floor in the living room to lay the baby there.
'Won't she be too cold?' Mary fussed. 'Cold! Must be eighty-five degrees! She ain't no different'n you, child! Give 'er some air! Besides, a-trussed up like she was, how's she gonna find room to grow?'
It was impossible to feel criticized. The big woman had an air of authority and homespun good sense that couldn't be denied. As if to prove the point, Sarah slept peacefully. Mabel drove her own brood out into the yard, giving orders for laying out the picnic dinner. And they weren't the only ones she raised a tongue to. Jonathan, Aaron, and Uncle Garner heeded her gusty orders, too. Nobody gave Mabel Garner short shrift. Mary alone took her leisure for this one day, thoroughly enjoying the unaccustomed vacation.
The heat intensified as the day wore on, surprising every- one into lethargy with its unexpected force. It pushed a lusty wind ahead of it, graying the sky. After their meal and a rest on the lawn, Uncle Garner said a walk would feel good and told Jonathan he'd like to walk out to the south pasture and see Vinnie. Jonathan was more than happy to oblige, and the three men left the yard together.
When they returned to the house it was late afternoon, and the Garners made ready for their long ride home. When the hugging and hand-shaking was done, the buckboard pulled away under a lurking sun. The heat had sapped everyone. Sarah slept unusually long, and even Jonathan lay down on the sofa in the front room to rest a bit.
Aaron's suit jacket had blown off the fence post, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mary sat in the kitchen, watching the colors changing outside. She saw the dish towels standing straight out from the line, and suddenly one let loose, flew like a kite, and was plastered against the woodpile downyard. Sitting inside, out of the wind, she'd been unaware of its growing force. Aaron appeared then, fighting his way against it, and she rose and opened the screen door, but it was ripped out of her hand and flung against the porch wall. 'Get Jonathan!' he called against the wind, 'We have to get the stock inside!'
The baby awoke and began crying as the sudden cold draft gusted through the house. Jonathan awoke at Sarah's sudden squalling, flew off the sofa, and scooped her up off the floor, depositing her in Mary's hands on his way out the door. She put Sarah in her cradle and ran to the porch door again as the men headed for the yard. Aaron had turned his head to protect his face from the wind that now was blowing bits of flotsam before it. With his head screwed around, he saw Mary making as if to follow and knew she must be heading to the chicken coop.
He motioned her back inside, but his words were garbled by the wind. She heard him say 'chicken coop,' so he must have shut it up already. Sarah was squalling inside, and she went back in to pick her up, holding the baby against her, as much to settle her own thumping heart as to still the child.
'We've got to herd the cows inside,' Aaron shouted. 'Vinnie!' Jonathan hollered, jabbing a finger repeatedly, pointing at the south pasture.
Aaron grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. 'It's too far!' he screamed, but Jonathan wrenched his arm away. Aaron grabbed Jonathan around the neck and yelled into his ear, 'You can't make it-too far!' But again Jonathan pulled away. The jaundiced sky had turned the color of an old bruise, an unearthly yellow tinged with green. Aaron felt Jonathan wrench away from him, saw him break into a run toward the field lane. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, 'Come back, Jonathan,' but the wind had swiftly shifted to the southwest and blew his words back down his throat. He knew the cattle would stand facing the storm as always, letting it knock them senseless. He had to get them into the barn. 'Damn Jonathan!' he cursed. But he couldn't follow his brother. He had to get the stock inside.
Jonathan felt the first rain riveting into his face as he ran down the lane. The trees were arching toward earth as if rigged for snaring animals. He cut sharply across a stubbled cornfield, away from the line of trees on his right, and the rain began to slash at him. When he reached the south pas- ture, he had to struggle with the gate. It was no more than barbed wire strung between two posts and secured by a loop of wire off an adjacent post, but the wire loop slipped from his wet fingers and he had to grasp the post to keep from blowing over. He opened it at last, but the wind was a wall of violence now that knocked him from his feet. He could make out the black, hulking shape of Vinnie and began crawling toward it, his clinging, wet clothing dragging him back. 'Vinnie!' he screamed into the banshee wind. 'Vinnie!'
But the relentless force swallowed his sound. A slashing bolt of lightning cleared his view, and he saw the animal above him. He struggled upright on his knees, waiting for the slightest ease in the gale so he could reach for the anim- al's halter. His only thought was of forcing the animal down to the ground, forcing Vinnie to lie where he'd be somewhat protected from the fury around them. If only he'd put the ring in Vinnie's nose, he could give it a yank and make the animal lie down instantly. But there was no ring, only the halter, and he straightened his arm, straining his body up- ward, seeking it, groping blindly while the rain blinded him and the wind pushed him flat.
The bull danced in dumb terror as the twister threw itself in crazy commotion, carrying leaves, wood, branches in its gaping maw. The scream of the wind became an earsplitting rumbling as the tornado hit them with full force. The animal swayed in a terrorized dance, its hooves striking left, then right, its powerful chest rippling, its eyes bulging in fear. Vinnie had no horns to meet the force that tried to grasp him from below, while the sucking wind pulled at him from above. So the bull struck at it with his hooves instead, stamping at its softness, knowing only terror. The wind howled and the animal stamped-left and right, left and right-until both the wind and the bull quieted at once.
In the barn Aaron shivered inside his wet, clinging clothes. There was a small, cobwebbed window facing the house, but only the main door facing in the direction Jonathan had gone. If he opened it, it would be torn from its hinges. He rubbed the dust from a pane and peered toward the house, but he couldn't even define its outline in the pounding tor- rents. He could hear objects striking the barn as they were driven by the wind, and his mind flashed from Mary to Jonathan to the Garners in their open buckboard.
The cattle were restive, the storm making them shift and low noisily. He'd brought the pails down earlier. It might soothe them if he started milking. It would soothe him, too. There was little he could do for the others, and the milking had to be done sometime. Jonathan would be in no shape to help when he came back. What a fool thing to do! Chase after that bull in a storm like this. There was no denying Jonathan had a way with that animal, though. Aaron thought, I wouldn't be surprised to see him ride Vinnie in bareback. The idea made him smile as he tried to shake off the worry that was nagging him, worsening the longer Jonathan was gone.
He left the pails in the barn, for it was still raining when he finished. The howling wind had waned to a less fearsome strength, and the rain had eased off.
When he opened the kitchen door, he could see the trapdoor open on the pantry floor. He called Mary's name, and she came running from the other room with Sarah in her arms, her face pale. 'Are you all right?' he yelled. But he could see that she was. His main concern now was for Jonathan. 'Yes,' she assured him. 'I had the cellar door open in case we needed to go down…' Then she stopped abruptly. Her voice became intensely quiet. 'Where's Jonathan?' 'I hoped he'd come back,' Aaron said. 'Back from where? Wasn't he in the barn with you?' She clutched the baby closer. 'Don't worry, I'll find him.' Aaron's voice was trailing him as he ran back out into the rain.
She held the door open and pulled the blanket over Sarah's head as she shouted after Aaron, 'Where did he go?' But Aaron was already halfway across the yard. She could see that he was heading in the direction of Vinnie's pasture.
Aaron had hoped that somehow Jonathan had gotten back to the house. Now as he ran he knew it had been a foolish hope. He could see ahead of him strange shapes on the edge of the woods. A fear clutched his gut as he identified the broken boles of trees.
Jesus, it must have been a tornado, he thought, realizing only now just how bad the storm had been. The house had gotten only the side winds, but the path of the funnel was easy to mark.
He began to call Jonathan's name, and the longer he called, the slower he ran. He jogged around great gnarled roots that had been ripped up by the storm. He reached the end of the lane and swerved east, toward the
