Lorraine

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Yes, I guess that happens in large families. Are you happy living at Zane’s home?”

  Juanita’s wide smile lit her dark eyes. “Oh, yes, very much. My sister and brother-in-law, Rosalita and Diego Diaz, they were kind and tried to make me welcome. Always, I felt . . . how you say, an intruder? Now in my own large room next to the kitchen in Señor Evans’ home, I have my own place. Their casita, they have to themselves.”

  “This must be the master bedroom.” Lorraine opened the door wider. Clothes were strewn across furniture and the bed was unmade. His shaving things were scattered on the marble-topped dresser.

  She couldn’t prevent the gasp that erupted. “My word, what a messy man and what a gorgeous room. That’s the most beautiful sleigh bed I’ve ever seen.”

  “Señor Pettigrew, he ordered that from the Callahan Furniture Store. I had not seen this except in a catalog. The story, I heard from Señor Evans.”

  Lorraine lowered her voice, conscious of Grant just overhead. “Everything matches, even the sofa and chair.”

  Juanita lowered her voice also. “Señor Zane, he say your man’s mama insisted and paid for it. She was going to order it from Pennsylvania where his family lives. But your man, he says he should buy where he lives. That means Señor Evans, he hauled it from the train in Fort Worth.”

  Lorraine shook her head. “Um, Juanita, he’s not my man. I only work for him.”

  Juanita shook her finger at Lorraine. “Señorita Lorraine, I see the way he looks at you with his heart in his eyes. This way, it is the same when you look at him. Yes, he is your man. I am glad. He is a nice and needs someone in his life to help him.”

  Ignoring Juanita’s comment, she ran her fingers along the intricate carving on the furniture. “I don’t understand this furniture. Grant said his parents were very frugal, but this must have cost the earth.”

  “Frugal, this is a new word for me.”

  “Frugal means watching expenses and saving pennies and dollars.”

  Juanita nodded. “Ah, but it does not mean you don’t have cash, right? It means your money, you use wisely. Perhaps from his grandparents or a family member there was money.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Shall we go to downstairs to wait for him?”

  As they entered the hall, Grant emerged from a door at the end. While it was open, Lorraine saw a staircase. His steps were hurried and his expression alarmed her.

  “What’s wrong, Grant? Was there damage?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not here, but I got a look over the town from the windows up there. Two streets over was hit bad. There’s a mess on one block.” He nodded toward the east. “I’d better go check them.”

  “Rosalita!” Juanita gasped and clasped her hands at her chest. “Pardon, I must go to my sister.” She ran from the house.

  Grant locked the house and Lorraine rushed with him to the damaged area.

  He took her arm and guided her. “Looked as if Hamish McAdams lost the roof over his forge.”

  “He’s the blacksmith, isn’t he? Will the rain ruin his forge?”

  “Can’t say. Surely no more than temporary damage.”

  “What else?”

  “Roof caved in on McGinnis’ carriage house. I’m surprised the walls are standing.”

  “Who lives where we’re headed?”

  “People with limited means, the Diaz laundry, Gallaghers, Kozlov, and a few others. Appeared to me that Kozlov’s house received most of the damage.”

  When Lorraine and Grant arrived, only a rubbish heap of broken wood remained where there had been a small home. A couple of doors away at an adobe house, Juanita embraced another woman that Lorraine thought must be her sister, Rosalita Diaz. A man tugged broken limbs away from that building, but the main structure appeared all right.

  At the Kozlov place, Colin Gallagher and his wife Doreen tossed aside debris.

  Colin called, “Vadim? Vadim, can you answer?”

  Lorraine picked up whatever she reached and threw it away. Grant heaved larger pieces of the home than she could. Others joined in the search for the young carpenter.

  Lorraine cried, “Here, I see his foot.” She dug through the shattered wood as fast as she could, heedless of the result to her hands.

  Vic Marshall gently nudged her out of his way and heaved aside the beam and part of the ceiling that penned Vadim.

  The injured man lay on his side, partially sheltered by his mattress. Except for the falling structure’s mud and dust, Vadim was pale as a ghost. He didn’t move and Lorraine couldn’t tell whether or not he was breathing. She held her own breath and welcomed Grant’s hand at her waist.

  Everyone quieted. Colin and Vic bent over Vadim. Colin touched his wrist and nodded. Vic turned Vadim as gently as a mother with a newborn. Vadim moaned and Lorraine exhaled.

  Vadim appeared unconscious and scratches covered his face and hands. Blood trickled across his brow from a head wound. How damaged would his body be after being buried under debris?

  Vic looked at Colin. “Where shall I take him? He needs Dr. Gaston.”

  Doreen laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “He can go to our house. We’re next door, but we only had minor damage. I’ll hurry and turn down the bed in the spare room.” She carefully negotiated her way through the debris.

  Vadim moaned and opened his eyes. “I thought I was going to die.”

  Slowly, he rolled to lean on one elbow. Then, he sat up, brushed off his face, and gazed around him. His expression spoke of the depths of despair.

  “I might as well have. Everything I’ve worked for is gone.”

  Vic helped the man stand. “Careful how you move until the doc has a chance to check you. Mrs. Gallagher says you can stay in their spare room.”

  But, Vadim dropped to sit on the rock steps of what had been his home, head in his hands, and sobs wracked his body.

  Colin sat beside him. “We’ll rebuild, my friend. In the meantime you can stay with Doreen and me. We’ll be pleased to share your company.”

  Grant joined others seeking to comfort him. “Vadim, we’ll all pitch in to help you reconstruct your home. You know people in this town won’t desert you.”

  Vadim raised his head and stretched out his hands. “My Natka arrives in two days. I was so happy but now I have nothing for her, nothing. Where will she stay until our wedding? Where will we live?”

  Lorraine knelt in front of him. “The women will help, too. We’ll arrange somewhere for her to stay while the men help you rebuild. As crushed as you are that your lovely work has been destroyed, don’t let the storm defeat you.”

  He gazed at her with red-rimmed eyes. “How can I not? Four years we have waited to be together. Each time I think we will see each other soon, something happens. She is finally coming, but to what?”

  Lorraine took his hand in hers. “She’s coming to you, Mr. Kozlov. You are all that matters to her. Please, let us help you work out a plan. In the meantime, you have cuts that need tending.” She took his hand. “Let’s go to Dr. Gaston’s office.”

  He stood and let her lead him like a child. His sobbing had turned to sniffs and moans. He limped so she walked slowly. On his other side, Grant took his arm to help support the defeated man.

  Riley Gaston wasn’t in his office, but Sophia, his mother, invited them into her kitchen and patted the back of a chair. “You sit right here, Mr. Kozlov. A cup of coffee and a piece of pie won’t hurt you a bit.”

  He dropped onto the chair. “Thank you, Mrs. Gaston, I am beaten, conquered by life. Why, oh why, would God do this to me when I try to be a good man?”

  Sophie set a steaming mug in front of him. “God didn’t do it, the weather did. God will help you withstand the pain. Soon your fiancée will arrive and you will think only of her and your joy of seeing her again.”

  Vadim rested his elbows on the table. “Where will she sleep? How can we be married when I have no place to take her?”

  Grant touched his shoulder an
d snatched back his hand when the other man winced in pain. “We’re going to go check on others. I promise you, the people of this town will see your bride has a place to stay and a home to live in after your wedding.”

  Lorraine hated to abandon the poor man, but she and Grant needed to check for more victims. After thanking Sophie, they returned to the part of town the storm had flattened. Apparently, Mr. Kozlov’s losses were the most severe.

  “Grant, I’m so grateful you didn’t have more damage. And, poor Vadim could have died.”

  “I hope no one else did.”

  Adam rode by on his horse but reined in beside them. “This was a bad one. Lots of damage.”

  Lorraine shaded her face with her hand. “Have you checked on Lydia?”

  Adam nodded. “The Ramirezes alerted her the funnel was coming. They and everyone in the house went to Lydia’s basement. She tripped on her skirts near the bottom of the steps and twisted her ankle or she’d be out combing the streets to offer her help.”

  “Poor Lydia. Is she hurt badly?”

  He grimaced and glanced in the direction of her house. “A sprain, but I could tell she was in a lot of pain. I carried her to her bedroom so she could rest. Otherwise, couldn’t see any damage at her house.”

  Lorraine asked, “Have you learned of other injuries?”

  His expression softened. “Molly Arrenton. Apparently she had a heart attack on the way to her cellar. Riley’s there now. My deputy and I are going house to house to check on folks while we’re searching for Elmo Hubbard. His wife said he left as the storm hit, headed for the saloon.”

  Grant gestured behind them. “We left Vadim Kozlov with Sophie Gaston. I don’t think he’s seriously injured, but you can’t tell. He was buried under debris.”

  The sheriff patted his horse’s neck. “I heard and thanks for pitching in.”

  “Good luck, Adam. If you’re going east and west, we’ll walk north and south.”

  “Thanks.” He clicked his teeth and his horse walked west.

  Chapter Eleven

  Walking south, they met a frantic Jim Boyd. “Have you seen my brother Tom? I can’t find him.”

  Grant shook his head. “Tell us where you’ve looked.”

  He cried, “Everywhere!”

  Grant laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Calm down. Tell us enough that we can help.”

  “I’ll try.” Jim took a deep breath. “When we saw the funnel coming, the tornado was so wide we were afraid it would wipe out the entire town.”

  Grant whistled through his teeth. “Whew, thank goodness, it didn’t. Our part of town didn’t get hit by the actual funnel.”

  “Tom helped me carry my paintings into the dugout behind our place. When I thought he was going to pull the door closed, he yelled he was going to the saloon and then shut the door behind him.”

  Lorraine gasped. “Oh, no!”

  “By the time I got the door open to go after him, the wind was so strong I could hardly stand. I called Tom’s name, but no one could have heard through that noise. I-I should have gone after him, but I went back into the dugout.”

  Grant shook his head and clasped the painter’s shoulder. “Putting yourself in harm’s way wouldn’t have protected him. You’ve taken good care of him. If anything has happened to Tom, it’s not your fault.”

  Lorraine touched Jim’s other shoulder. “I hope you find he’s all right. He probably took cover somewhere. We’ll watch for him.”

  When they’d walked a few seconds, Lorraine glanced over her shoulder to be sure they were out of Jim’s hearing. “You think his brother is dead, don’t you?”

  “I do, and as cold as it sounds, Jim will be better off. His brother’s drinking has drained their finances and made working difficult but Tom refuses to reform. Sits around drinking and feeling sorry for himself. People hesitate to hire the two of them to paint a house because of Tom’s drinking. Everyone likes Jim and you’ve seen how talented an artist he is. Some tried to hire him without his brother, but Jim insists he and his brother are partners.”

  “I’m sure he could sell his work in galleries. I wonder if Zane could take some to a Fort Worth art gallery.”

  Grant hugged her shoulders. “You can’t rest until everyone has been taken care of, can you?”

  She tried to glare at him but couldn’t keep the humor from her voice. “Are you saying I meddle too much?”

  His hand touched her back at her waist. “I’m saying you’re a caring and compassionate lady and it’s no wonder I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  She faced him, her hand on his arm. “You really meant your declaration? I was afraid you were only trying to calm me from the storm.”

  He held her loosely in an embrace and looked at her face. “I couldn’t confront death without telling you how I feel. Were you serious when you told me you loved me?”

  She wound her arms around his neck. “I’ve never been more serious. Grant Pettigrew, you are one stubborn man but I love all the good things about you. You’re kind and honest and handsome as sin.”

  “Handsome, huh? Don’t think anyone but my mother has ever said that.” He slanted his lips across hers for a bone-melting kiss. For a moment she almost forgot the day’s terror and devastation.

  When he broke the embrace, he gazed into her eyes. “I could never have enough of your kisses, but we’d better find out if our help is needed elsewhere.”

  With her hand in his, they walked south. “When you kiss me, I forget everything for a few moments—even the storm.”

  He grinned at her. “That’s a good sign. I react the same way.”

  “There’re more broken tree branches.” She toed a piece of wood. “That’s a house shingle, isn’t it?”

  At the next intersection, Fire Chief Vernon Lanigan drove the water wagon past. His assistant, Clark Norris, rode with him.

  After watching the men, Lorraine said, “They appear to be looking for something—or someone.”

  Grant watched the men drive down the street. “Reckon they’re searching for injured. Hate that Mrs. Arrenton passed away. She was grumpy, but Riley said her bad mood was due to her being in pain.”

  “I heard her tell someone she was almost ninety. Do you know anything about her family?”

  “No, but I’ll bet Angeline McIntyre does. You know how she visits all the sick and elderly.”

  Lorraine spoke her thoughts, “Angeline’s a perfect minister’s wife.”

  Grant stopped and stepped in front of her, his hands out at his sides blocking her progress. “Stay back, Lorraine. There’s a body near that tree. You wait until I see who it is and if he’s alive.”

  “I’ll come with you. I’m not some silly woman who gets the vapors and passes out at the least thing.”

  He held up his hand. “Stay back, Lorraine. I mean it.”

  Telling her he loved her didn’t give him the right to order her here or there. She stepped closer. What was left of Elmo Hubbard lay at the side of the street. A tree limb stretched across him. His features were distorted and blood pooled beneath his head. The position of his body indicated his neck had snapped.

  Her throat locked and she choked on a gasp. “Oooh, Jenny will be crushed. Elmo has been a terrible husband, but she loves him.”

  Wishing she’d done as Grant asked and stopped further away, Lorraine girded her strength and shooed Grant. “I’ll stay here while you get assistance.”

  Grant held her shoulders. “Are you sure you can remain alone?”

  Was she? Someone should, so she nodded. “Yes, but please hurry.” After all, it wasn’t as if the deceased would harm her.

  Still, Lorraine closed her eyes, wishing she could un-see Elmo’s battered body. She should have asked Grant to stay here while she searched for help. Her stomach roiled and dry heaves shook her so she bent over the road’s edge.

  This scene was horrific, as if in a war zone. She knew what that was like because she’d been twelve when the war started. Her parents were unawar
e that even though she couldn’t leave her home, she saw terrible things from her bedroom window.

  Once, a thieving soldier—probably a deserter—beat the man who lived next door to them. When the soldier had gone, she told her parents. The poor man was injured so badly he was bedfast the rest of his life. Seeing Elmo Hubbard had resurrected that terrible memory.

  ***

  Grant hurried to find someone to deal with Hubbard’s body. He wished he could get the man’s image out of his mind. What a strong woman Lorraine was to offer to stay with the body. No wonder he’d fallen in love with her.

  If only she’d get over this crazy idea of being a reporter for him. He shuddered when he recalled a couple of the women he worked with in Chicago. They were real witches, always trying to outdo one another and more concerned with spite than good writing.

  While Lorraine certainly didn’t seem like that kind of woman, the fact remained that women liked gushing, flowery prose. He wouldn’t have that type of writing appear in the Gazette. He was determined to have the highest quality newspaper possible.

  Thank heavens, the fire wagon pulled into view. He waved his arms to attract their attention and they drove up to him.

  Fire Chief Vernon Lanigan pulled on the reins. “Problem?”

  “Miss Stuart and I found Elmo Hubbard’s body. He’s a mess. Can you load him onto this wagon?”

  “Climb aboard. We’ve already taken old Mrs. Arrenton to Callahan’s.”

  Grant stood on the step and held tight to the tank’s rung. He hoped Lorraine was all right. Would she have nightmares over what she’d seen today?

  ***

  The sound of hoofbeats and a wagon captured her attention. Grant stood on the fire wagon’s step, holding onto a rung on the water tank. When they pulled alongside her, Grant hopped down and strode toward her. Clark followed while Vernon set the brake before he climbed to the ground.

  Vernon leaned over the body. “No need waiting until Riley can come. Elmo Hubbard’s definitely dead. We’ll take him to the furniture store. The Callahans are setting up in the back room they use as a mortuary.”