Lark paused for the exclamations of delight that flitted around the room. Gladness swelled her own heart. A new little Nielsen. If only they could visit to welcome him or her. Instead of dreaming, she continued.
Another bit of news, not so good. As you know, Climie Wiesel has been helping us in the store, but she recently got a letter from her husband. He did not disclose his location, but the letter was postmarked in Topeka, Kansas. I had hoped he had not made his way so far west, but I thought I should let you know. He threatened to come back for Climie, though of course we do not plan to allow that to happen. He also said that first he still intended to find that ‘Miss Lark-uppity Nielsen’ and see she got her comeuppance for turning his wife and church against him. I’m afraid in his twisted mind he blames you for his life falling apart, little sense as that may make.
Lark paused, wishing she’d stopped sooner. Silence fell heavy over the room, squeezing joy out the door.
“Deacon Wiesel is a hypocrite and a coward.” She glanced from one sister’s face to another. “We don’t need to fear him.”
“Then why did we leave home?” Lilac’s voice sounded unusually small.
What could Lark say to that? She returned to the letter. Surely it couldn’t get any worse.
Jonah continues to work for Mr. Holt, though not as hard as he could, and I am not convinced he has left his erring ways behind. At least I have not caught him in the saloon of late—not when I’ve been watching, anyway. Your prayers for our wayward little brother are still appreciated—and needed.
Do let us know how you are and how you are set for the winter. Give my greetings to Captain Caldwell. We miss you.
Love from your brother,
Anders Nielsen
Lark folded the letter. Her sisters sat still, hands idle on their sewing.
“What do we do?” Del asked, ever practical.
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.” Forsythia’s voice came gently. “Not more than we’re already doing. Pray, and don’t worry. Just keep building the life the Lord has led us to here in our new home and trust Him with the rest.”
Something eased in Lark’s chest. “I suppose you’re right.” But, Lord, please let me not have led my family into any danger here. I thought we’d gotten far enough away.
As if on cue, a clap of thunder crashed overhead, making them all jump, and Sofie let out a wail. Lark set the letters aside and picked her up.
“Shh, little one. It’s just a thunderstorm, see?” She turned the girl toward the window as the clouds opened in a sudden downpour.
“As fast as this came on, it may indeed blow past quickly.” Del reached around Lark to shut the door. Forsythia and Lilac bundled the dresses away from the rain blowing in.
“Can I go outside and catch rain on my tongue?” Robbie danced an impatient jig.
Lightning forked through the gray sky, followed by another crash. Mikael wailed from where he’d been napping in his cradle, and Del hurried to rock him back to sleep.
“Afraid not, Robbie.” Forsythia smoothed her hand over his hair. “It’s not safe with so much lightning.” She glanced at Lark. “It sure is late for a thunderstorm.”
Soon the heavy patter of the rain, though muted on the roof of the soddy, lessened, and the rolling booms of thunder grew further in between.
“Sounds like it’s moving on.” Del straightened from beside the baby’s cradle, Mikael slumbering again.
“Do you think we might still be able to go to the celebration?” Forsythia’s voice was hopeful.
“Everything will be soaked.” Lark shook her head. “Might be wiser to just stay—” She caught sight of Forsythia’s face and stopped. Had her sister been looking forward to this that much? She could have kicked herself. Of course. The doctor would be there. “Well, let’s do the chores and then see.”
She and Lilac pulled on their boots to go feed the animals and milk Buttercup. Lilac opened the door and sniffed. “The air feels strange. Not just the usual after-rain smell.”
“Maybe because it’s fall.” Lark pulled on her hat and grabbed the milk pail, then followed her little sister outside. The air did have a strange smell and a sort of tension to it. Lark shifted her jaw to ease the pressure in her ears.
“Lark.” Lilac grabbed her arm, an urgency in her voice. “The sky.”
Lark looked up and caught her breath.
In the southwest, snaking from a canopy of dark clouds, a huge funnel stretched near to the earth. Wind gusted into her face.
A tornado. And it looked to be heading this way, with Salton in its path.
“Get the children.” Ducking back inside, Lark hurried to the box where they kept their title to the Skinner’s property and other important papers, grabbed the most recent letters to tuck among them, then stuffed the box under her arm. “There’s a tornado coming. We need to get in the root cellar.”
“Will we all fit?” Forsythia caught up Mikael from his cradle.
“We’ll have to. Come on.”
Lark herded her family outside, Del carrying Sofie and Lilac holding Robbie’s hand. Wind whipped their skirts and hair, sending Robbie’s hat flying. He wailed, reaching after it, but Lilac scooped him up and pressed on.
“Here.” Lark flung open the slanted wooden door of the cellar against the hillside. “Get in and shut the door. I’m going to check on the animals.”
Forsythia climbed in first, holding the baby, then looked back up. “Lark, hurry.”
“I will.” She stared at the twisting funnel, drawing closer by the second.
With her sisters crouching safe in the cellar, Lark circled into the three-sided sod barn built against the house to grab a bucket of grain, then leaned into the wind and headed toward their newly fenced pasture. Buttercup was still out there, along with the oxen.
She called above the approaching storm, rattling the bucket against the gate. Come on. Their eyes rolling in fear,
