Abbie nods and stares at the bodies on the ground. When the families begin loading their dead a few minutes later, she is struck by a strange thought. How much of Burton will be left? A strangled laugh almost escapes her, and Tucker grabs her by her upper arm, and half drags her into the trees to talk.
Abbie stumbles along beside him, slightly stunned by his rough treatment of her. “What are you doing?” she hisses and attempts to pull away from his grip of steel.
“Hush,” he snaps. “I’m trying to save you from your own hard-headedness.” Tucker keeps his pistol close and releases her arm. “Things are going to escalate, Abbie.”
Abbie rubs her arm and glares at him. “I need to get back,” she tries to walk around him, but he steps in front of her.
“Abbs, I’m trying to help you,” he uses her childhood nickname and her eyes jump to his. Seeing her fragile state, he softens his tone.
“If you won’t go home, you need to realize that people are going to be angry. They will demand answers, and you are the closest target.” Tucker drags off his cowboy hat and runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair in a familiar gesture.
“I understand,” Abbie sniffs and lifts her chin, “but I can’t leave him, Tucker. I stand by my vows, no matter the consequences.”
“Then, you will need to do what I say and stay by my side for your own safety.” Tucker slaps his hat back on and gone is her childhood friend. Sheriff Manning walks her back to the Pastor and points at her.
“Pastor, I’m going to need your help. I have work to do, and I can’t babysit Mrs. Gilbert all night.”
Abbie hisses at him, “Where is your compassion?”
“I can’t afford it.” He leans down close to her face. “You stay with the Pastor, or I’ll have no choice but to place you under house arrest.”
Abbie turns away and refuses to look at him.
“Anything you need Sheriff,” Pastor Jacobs says.
“Excellent. Don’t let her out of your sight. She doesn’t leave with anyone but me.”
Abbie huffs but is smart enough to keep her mouth shut and sit down. It’s late, and the fire from the Mill is still burning bright. The woods are glowing, and the heat is intense. “I wonder if this is what Hell looks like?” she murmurs.
Father stares at her with compassion and drops his head to pray.
Chapter 4
Six hours later, and they are all struggling to stay awake. The fires have slowed enough that Tucker calls out again for the bucket brigade.
Abbie jumps when the sound of thunder rumbles in the distance. Nebraska thunderstorms can be deadly, especially in the summer.
With the growing threat of summer storms, Abbie wonders what this will do to the recovery efforts.
“Mrs. Gilbert, do you have any canvas at the General Store big enough to build a tent with?” Pastor Jacobs asks.
“I think so. If I could borrow a wagon, I could go check.”
“I’ll drive you,” Sheriff Manning offers. “Those who are staying will need supplies.”
Abbie climbs into his wagon beside him, and he snaps the reins to his two horses. It is only a few minutes ride back to town, and the silence is awkward and uncomfortable.
“Thank you, Sheriff, for all you’ve done.”
“Your welcome, Abbs,” he nudges her. “It’s going to be alright,” he offers.
“That’s kind of you to say.” He stops in front of the General Store, and she’s shocked to see a light glowing inside.
“It’s three in the morning, Tucker! No one should be inside,” Abbie whispers.
“Wait here!” Tucker draws his pistol leaping down, and her mouth goes dry.
He slips inside silently, working his way through the clean store. Whoever it is, isn’t even attempting to be quiet. They must be expecting everyone to be at the Mill.
Tucker leaps around the corner into the office doorway, with his pistol pointed and shouts, “Sheriff! Put your hands up!”
Sterling shouts out a scream in a high pitch that has Tucker’s lips itching to laugh.
“Hands up, I said!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Sterling shouts in a shrill voice, “I work here!” He lifts his hands high and glares at Tucker.
“No. I work here!” Abbie says startling both men. Sterling shouts a second time and sits down with a hand to his chest. “What are you doing in my office, Sterling!” Abbie demands.
“Abbilene, you told me to handle the business. This is the business, for God’s sake,” he hisses.
“We don’t open until eight!” Abbie rubs her neck. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll get the canvas. Tucker, take whatever supplies you think we’ll need.” They walk away, ignoring the shock on Sterling’s face.
“Wait! What supplies? Abbilene, what are you doing?” Recovered from his shock, he is quick to follow her through the aisle to the farming section. She digs through a table of heavy canvas, pulling out multiple rolls and shoves them at Sterling.
“Hold this,” she murmurs and grabs some rope before yelling for Tucker. “Do we need anything to secure them to?”
“No, Abbs. We’ll use the trees.” A second crack of thunder rolls out.
Sterling whispers to her, “What are you doing Abbilene?”
“We need supplies. Something to keep everyone safe and dry, while we wait,” Abbie stops moving and her voice breaks. She straightens her spine and looks up at Sterling with haunted eyes. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I understand. I can help, and we will bill the Mayor since the Sheriff is confiscating goods for an emergency, they will cover the costs. Excellent thinking.” He smiles at her and turns away, ignoring the
