by Alison Hart
Finally, Anna put on her cap, gloves, and jacket. She wound a scarf around her neck and turned Top toward the door. John Jacob opened it for her. The wind was blowing so hard, he had to strain to keep the door from tearing from his grasp. Ducking her chin, Anna led Top onto the stoop. The door closed behind them with a thunk.
The cold instantly pierced her jacket. Snow pattered against her forehead and cheeks. Anna peered across the schoolyard. She wiped snow from her lashes, and looked again. The prairie had disappeared!
The snow was so thick and the wind so fierce that Anna couldn’t see a foot in front of her. She had heard about storms like this. Some folks called them whiteouts. Papa called them blizzards. No matter what their names, they could be deadly.
Top butted her nervously. Anna drew in a shaky breath, and the frosty air burned her throat. She turned left. She needed to find Champ and move both horses in front of the lean-to, which would afford some shelter.
Keeping her shoulder to the sod wall, she felt her way to the corner. Slowly, one hand on the wall and the other on Top’s mane, she inched along the side. She stopped in front of the window, now a frosty, golden square. She rubbed a spot in the frost with her fist. Sally Lil’s nose was pressed to the glass. When she saw Anna, she waved.
Anna wiggled stiff fingers and then trudged to the back of the school. A snowdrift angled up the rear wall where Top had been staked.
“Champ! Champ!” Anna shouted, but the wind whisked her cries into the blowing snow. There was no sign of him. Then she saw fresh tracks leading away from the school in the direction of the Baxters’ farm. The snow wasn’t too deep for a big horse like Champ. She hoped he would make it safely down the lane to the barn.
“Come on, Top,” she mumbled behind her scarf. “Wind’s too strong back here.” Turning, she retraced their tracks, which were quickly vanishing. As she passed the window, a blast of wind blew her off her feet and into a drift. Snow filled her eyes and mouth.
She spit, coughed. Grasping the lead line, she pulled herself up and stood against Top, quivering. The snow surged around them in a whirlwind of white. Through the gloves, her fingers grew sharp with pain. Anna looked right, then left. She couldn’t see the school!
She was trembling from head to toe. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the panic. Think, Anna, think. Holding tightly to Top, she thrust out one arm. When her hand hit sod, relief filled her. Hurrying now, she made her way to the corner. Her boots were sodden, her toes numb. She stumbled against the edge of the stoop. The door flung wide.
“Anna!” Arms dragged her inside. She held tightly to the pony’s rope. “Top too!” she mumbled between frozen lips.
“Yes, of course.” Miss Simmons shrugged out of her long cloak and wrapped it around Anna. Ida began unlacing Anna’s boots. Sally Lil held Anna’s hands between hers. Karl shut the door, and he and John Jacob used the broom to sweep the snow off Top.
“Sally Lil was watching from the window,” Miss Simmons said. “She saw you fall and disappear. Oh, I had no idea the storm had gotten so violent or I never would have sent you and Top outside. I was starting out to find you. Thank heavens you’re all right.”
“Ain’t a storm no more,” John Jacob said solemnly. “It’s a blizzard.”
“A blizzard?” Miss Simmons repeated as she buttoned the cloak around Anna. “That sounds ominous.”
John Jacob nodded. “I don’t know what ominous means, but if it’s real bad, I expect it might describe a blizzard.”
Anna’s teeth clacked together.
“Ominous means unfavorable, threatening,” Miss Simmons said brightly as if her cheeriness would ease the unpleasant words.
Ida pulled off Anna’s boots. “Her stockings are soaked through, Miss Simmons.”
“Come, Anna, let’s get you over to the stove.” Miss Simmons steered her down the aisle.
Anna glanced over her shoulder at Top, who was receiving much attention from the boys. Carolina scooted over on the bench, making room on the end closest to the stove. Anna rubbed her half-frozen feet and wiggled her toes.
“We’d best prepare for dismissal,” Miss Simmons said.
Hattie raised her arm. “Miss Simmons, Ruth and I ain’t allowed to go outside in a whiteout.”
“A whiteout?” Miss Simmons repeated.
“That’s when it’s snowing so hard you can’t see,” Karl explained. “Like it’s doing now.”
William jumped to his feet. “My Uncle Billy got lost in a whiteout,” he announced. “Froze to death right outside the barn door.”
George nodded. “Last year during a whiteout some of our cattle wandered onto the river. They fell through the ice and drowned.”
“In that same storm Pa found three sheep frozen solid,” John Jacob added.
Anna shivered and clutched the cloak tightly around her. Were her sheep safe? Had Little Seth and Mama thought to get them in from the field? And was her family safe? Had Papa made it back from town? Now that the weather had changed from snow flurries to a blizzard, a passel of worries raced through her mind. She shivered again, even though the stove was slowly warming her.
“During the last storm, my brother had to find shelter in a haystack,” Ruth said. “He was so frostbit that he lost the tips of his toes and fingers.”
“That ain’t nothin’,” Karl said. “Our neighbor Mister Alvie’s feet was so frostbit they had to be cut off!”
Miss Simmons’s face turned chalk-white. “These stories are true?”
“Yes’m, Miss Simmons, the stories are true,” Ida said in her calm way. “It would be folly to dismiss us in the middle of a blizzard.”
“But I wanna go home!” Carolina wailed.
“Well, then, perhaps your parents will come get you all,” Miss Simmons said hopefully. “John Jacob and Ida, your farm is just down the way.”
John Jacob shook his head. “If Pa was coming, he would’ve been here by now. I’m afraid the blizzard’s too fierce even for him.”
“My pa will come,” Eloise said, her lower lip trembling. “He’ll hitch the team to the sled. Nothing will stop him.”
“There!” Miss Simmons clapped her hands. “Eloise’s father can take us in turns to the Baxters’ house until the blizzard blows over.”
“Can we play with your store-bought dolls, Eloise?” Ruth asked. “The ones with real hair?”
“Will Imogene and her beau be there?” Hattie asked.
“Will your Mama make us hot cocoa?” Carolina chimed in. “I’m thirsty.”
“I’m hungry,” Sally Lil said.
Anna shot a look at John Jacob. He was picking at a dirty fingernail. They caught each other’s eye. He frowned and shook his head. She knew what he was thinking. No one, not even Mister Baxter, could make it through a whiteout.
“E-E-loise, I b-believe Champ headed home,” Anna said between chattering teeth.
Eloise brightened. “There then. My parents will see him and immediately send help.”
The younger kids again began talking excitedly about staying at the Baxters’.
“Miss Simmons,” Ida spoke above their chatter. “Mister Baxter may not be able to make it through the storm. There’s a good chance we’ll be here for the night.”
“For the night?” Miss Simmons repeated, her voice rising. “But we have no food. No beds. No quilts. How will we manage?”
“We have wood and water,” Ida said. “That will get us through.”
“No, no, we can’t stay here all night.” Miss Simmons began striding back and forth in front of the blackboard. She rubbed her upper arms nervously. “It will stop snowing, Ida. You’ll see.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” Carolina whined.
Anna glanced around. All eyes were on Miss Simmons, waiting for her to reply with wise and comforting words. But the teacher kept pacing and rubbing, pacing and rubbing.
She’s too frightened to speak, Anna thought. Surely there’s some way we can help. She jumped from the bench. “I know! Let’s pretend we�
�re pioneers. Like Lewis and Clark. Or Daniel Boone. They didn’t fret over snow.”
“A bully idea,” said John Jacob. “I can pretend I’m Grandpapa Friesen. He went out West to pan gold and got caught in an avalanche.”
“We can pitch a tent,” George suggested.
William snorted. “We ain’t got no canvas or poles, silly.”
“I am not silly,” George retorted and the two started tussling.
“I’ve a book on Lewis and Clark.” Eloise said. “I brought it from home. I can read a passage.”
“Oh, do, Eloise, do,” Hattie and Ruth begged.
Miss Simmons stopped pacing. She managed a wan smile. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Eloise. And while you’re reading, Anna and Ida will help me go through the lunch pails. We’ll see if there is any food left.”
Anna rose and draped Miss Simmons’s cloak on the back of her desk chair. Then she checked on Top. He was eating stray bits of dried grass poking from the sod. Frost was forming on the inside walls, causing the newspapers to curl up. Anna looked at the wood and cow chips piled by the stove. There appeared to be plenty. But she knew well that a stove in winter had the appetite of a hungry bear.
She patted Top. Already his furry coat was drying. Then she joined Ida and Miss Simmons in the corner. “We need to keep the fire stoked,” Anna told her teacher. “Though if it gets any colder, the wood might not last all night.”
“Oh, we won’t be here all night,” Miss Simmons said confidently as she and Ida gathered tins and pails. “Didn’t you hear Eloise? Her father will rescue us. Soon we’ll be in the Baxters’ parlor sipping hot cocoa.”
Abruptly, Ida rose to her full height. She thrust out her chin, and there was a steely glint in her eyes. Anna recognized that look. It usually meant that one of the little Friesens was going to get a switching.
“Miss Simmons,” Ida declared. “I didn’t want to say it in front of the little ones, but Mister Baxter will not be rescuing us tonight. No one will get through until it stops snowing. Until the storm dies down, we are stuck here, and we must make do!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Miss Simmons’s face went ashy gray, and Anna wondered if she was going to faint again. But then the teacher turned away and began gathering up the lunch pails.
“Boys! Stop that!” Ida hurried to the front of the room to break up another squabble between William and George.
Anna was lifting the lid off a pail when a muffled sob caught her attention. She peered sideways. Miss Simmons was crying. Tears dripped down her cheeks, plinking like raindrops on the lid of a lunch pail.
Miss Simmons isn’t much older than Ida, Anna realized. And she’s from a fancy city where they don’t have rattlers or whiteouts. No wonder she’s scared out of her wits.
Suddenly Anna felt sorry for the school ma’am from back East. Anna and most of her classmates had lived through blizzards before so it wasn’t quite as frightening to them.
Gently she touched the teacher’s sleeve. “Maybe we won’t be snowbound, Miss Simmons,” she said quietly.
“I surely do hope you’re right, Anna,” Miss Simmons whispered.
Ida bustled back. “The room is getting chilled,” she said. “We mustn’t let the fire die down. We have to keep the little ones warm.”
Miss Simmons nodded. Then she took a shuddering breath. When she finally turned toward Ida, her eyes were clear. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you, Ida.”
“We could bring in the rest of the wood and the cow chips from the lean-to,” Anna suggested, “before the snow gets too deep.”
“No, no.” Miss Simmons shook her head. “I can’t send someone outside in this weather. Not after hearing those horrid tales!”
“Did you find any food to share?” Ida asked.
“A boiled egg, two pieces of taffy, a chaw of jerked meat, and a handful of dried plums,” Anna recited as she picked through the tins.
“I found a baked potato, half a jam sandwich, a biscuit, and three pickles,” Miss Simmons said. “Why that’s almost a feast!” she added with forced gaiety.
Ida frowned. “It’ll have to do. At least we can melt snow for water. I’ll check to make sure the kettle is full.”
Anna put the lids back on the pails. As she worked, she chewed on the tip of her braid. She could hear the wind raging outside. She placed her palm on the wall in front of her. The sod blocks were freezing despite the heat from the stove. She looked up at the ceiling. Unless they kept the stove going, snow would build up on the roof. She’d heard tales of roofs collapsing from the weight.
The need for wood, for heat, was great, Anna knew. She pictured the lean-to. It was only about twenty yards from the front stoop. Could one person get to it and back safely?
A grand idea came to her. She ran over to John Jacob. He was stretched on the bench, his eyes closed, as he and the others listened to Eloise read from her book.
“John Jacob!” she whispered in his ear, startling him.
“W-wha—?” He flailed his arms, lost his balance, and rolled off the bench onto the floor.
“Excuse me, Anna, but I am trying to read,” Eloise huffed.
“Sorry.” Anna stooped beside John Jacob. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I weren’t scared,” he grumbled as he picked himself up. Brushing off his pants, he sat back on the bench.
Anna sat next to him. “Are you ready for an adventure?” she whispered.
He cocked one brow. “What’d you have in mind?”
“We need to get the rest of the wood from the lean-to.”
“Oh, no.” He held up his hands. “I ain’t losing my fingers and toes.”
“Why, I thought you’d be excited,” Anna said, disappointed. “We’ve always had adventures.” Ever since John Jacob had gone sweet on the teacher, he’d changed.
“Going out in this storm ain’t like burrowing in coyote holes and chasing skunks,” he pointed out. “I’m liable to freeze to death.”
“You won’t,” Anna promised. “I’ve a plan.”
His looked even more doubtful.
“At least listen.” She scooted closer. “We’ll tie together Top’s rope and both of the jump ropes. Then we’ll tie one end around your waist. Ida and me will stand on the stoop. We’ll hold one end while you make your way to the lean-to. When you’re ready, give the rope a yank and we’ll pull you back. Karl will take the wood from you and stack it inside. If you get lost, we can reel you in. It’ll be like fishing with a line and pole.”
John Jacob snorted. “Only I don’t cotton to being the bait—or the fish.”
“We’ve gotta try, John Jacob.” She cast her eyes around the room. “The littler ones won’t survive the cold if we run out of wood.”
He shrugged. “At home we all pile in one bed with a heap of quilts.”
“Ain’t no quilts here, John Jacob!” Anna fumed at his stubbornness.
Eloise shot her another impatient look. Anna smiled apologetically. Then she had another grand idea. Leaning her head over, she whispered into John Jacob’s ear, “Miss Simmons will think you’re a hero.” She sat back, waiting for that to sink in.
“All right,” he declared, jumping to his feet. “Tie me up!”
Anna leaped from the bench. “Miss Simmons,” she shouted. “John Jacob’s going out to get wood.” When the teacher protested, Anna explained their need for wood and her plan to get it.
Miss Simmons rubbed her forehead. “Oh, I don’t know about this. What if something happens to you, John Jacob?”
He thrust out his chest. “Don’t you fret, Miss Simmons. I’m used to man’s work.”
“What about the cold?”
“I’ll pile on the coats and gloves. Won’t nothing happen to me.”
“It should work, Miss Simmons,” Ida said. “And Anna’s right. We need the wood.”
Again Miss Simmons hesitated. She patted the strands of hair escaping from her bun. She fiddled with a button.
“Well?” Anna pr
ompted.
“Oh, all right,” she reluctantly agreed. “I allow we have no choice.”
Anna, Karl, Ida, and John Jacob put their boots back on and gathered any extra sweaters and coats. The other children quit listening to Eloise. They stole closer to watch the four bundle up.
Eloise stamped her foot to get their attention. “Listen! I’m reading the part where Lewis and Clark pour barrels of water down a prairie dog hole!” she hollered, but the others ignored her. Hattie offered Anna her fur-lined mittens. William gave John Jacob his long wool scarf and jacket.
The boys knotted the ropes together. Then Ida tied one end around John Jacob’s waist. She tugged on it. “Good and tight.”
“Ida and me promise we won’t let go, John Jacob,” Anna said solemnly. His wool cap was pulled way down over his eyebrows. William’s scarf covered his mouth, but he nodded a reply.
Miss Simmons opened the door and everybody leaned forward to peer outside. The snow was swirling so thick and fast that Anna couldn’t see beyond the stoop.
“It is a whiteout,” Ida gasped.
“As thick as Ma’s potato soup,” John Jacob mumbled from behind the scarf.
“As white as my ma’s clean sheets,” Anna added, awestruck.
Miss Simmons inhaled sharply. “You children can not go out in that!”
“We must.” Anna looked at John Jacob. “When you’ve an armful of wood and want to come back, tug on the rope twice.”
“John Jacob, you must be sensible. If you get too cold, come in,” Miss Simmons said as she hovered over him. First, she tucked his sleeves into his mittens. Then she pulled his cap farther over his ears. “Anna will count to keep track of how long it takes you to get to the lean-to and pick up the wood,” she went on. “That way, she’ll know if you’re lost or in trouble.”
He bobbed his bundled head. Then he stepped outside. Holding onto the rope, Anna followed. Ida was right behind her. Karl waited in the doorway.
Without a backward glance, John Jacob stepped off the stoop into foot-deep snow. In a blink, he disappeared in the thickly falling flakes. Anna began to count.
Knees bent, she braced herself against the biting wind. She could feel John Jacob’s weight on the end of the rope. She could feel Ida right behind her, one hand clutching her coattail. Slowly, Anna let the rope slide through her mitten-covered fingers.
