A Lantern in the Window

by Bobby Hutchinson

  At last Bets drew her attention to the window, and

  Annie was shocked at the ferocity of the storm. A flicker of uneasiness made her shiver as she caught sight of the clock.

  "Lordie, Bets, we’d better hurry supper. Noah must have come back hours ago. He’ll be hungry,” she murmured, grunting as she bent over the wood box to get a log for the cook stove. Her huge belly made bending difficult, and her back had been aching on and off all afternoon.

  "You peel these potatoes, and I’ll start some sausage frying,” she instructed her sister. "We'll open a jar of crabapples; they’ll do for dessert.”

  For the next half hour, she and Bets hurried to get the meal prepared, anticipating Noah’s arrival at any second. But the minutes passed, and when all was ready and she’d walked to the window a dozen times to peer out, Annie tried to hide her growing concern from Bets.

  “Noah must have decided to do the milking early, what with this blizzard,” she said. “I’m just going to walk over to the barn and see if I can help. It’s getting late.”

  But Bets grabbed her sister’s arm. "You will not. I will go. What if you fall on the ice?” She made a face and a slicing motion across her throat. "Noah will kill me if I let you outside in this.” She grabbed an old coat, tied a shawl over her head, and stuck her feet into a pair of Zachary’s boots.

  Annie went with her to the door. When they opened it, both were shocked at the force of the storm. A maelstrom of wind and snow whirled around Bets as she set off in the direction of the barn.

  Annie shut the door and leaned back against it, cupping her hands around her belly, trying to take comfort in the restlessness of the child inside, trying to still the fear that was making her heart hammer and her hands tremble.

  Where was Noah?

  Chapter Ten

  It seemed to Annie that an eternity went by before the kitchen door opened again and Bets was half blown in on a cloud of swirling snow and frigid air. What little daylight there had been was now entirely gone.

  Bets tugged off her mitts, but even before her fingers flew with their message, the alarm on her sister’s face told Annie what was wrong.

  "Noah is not there. He’s still gone with Buck and the hay sled.”

  They stared at one another, their eyes filled with horror.

  Outside, the wind howled like a mad demon, and the snow blew thick and blinding. The windowpanes rattled, and even the stoves hissed as snow was driven down the chimney and hit the burning coals.

  "Something’s happened. Something awful’s happened to him, Bets,” Annie whispered. Inside her, fear and urgency combined with a terrible feeling of helplessness. A woman big with child, a half-grown girl, a raging blizzard; what in heaven could they do?

  "I will ride to Hopkins and get help.” Bets’s fingers flew. "I will take Noah’s horse, Sultan. I know how to saddle him. Noah showed me.”

  "Oh, sweetheart, you can't.” Annie gave her brave sister a hug, then stood back so she could explain. “For one thing, it’s storming far too hard to ride to the Hopkins place. You’d get lost. And for another, Noah’s the only one who can ride Sultan. He’s a demon, Noah says so himself.”

  Bets’s bravado disappeared and she started to cry. "We must help. We must do something.”

  Annie reached out and wiped away the tears from her sister’s face with a comer of her apron. “We will, but it’s not going to help if we go out and get ourselves lost, so we’ll wait until the worst of this storm stops and then we’ll get on old Bright and go find him together. Bright can carry us both. And in the meantime, we’ll light the extra lantern and put it in the window, so if Noah comes, he’ll see the light from a distance and not lose his way in the storm.”

  Even as she signed the optimistic words, Annie knew that blizzards like this could last days and days, and that unless the storm abated soon, it would be too late.

  She turned her head and gazed at the frost-covered window. If anything, the wind had increased.

  “I love Noah,” Bets signed in her forthright manner. “Always, he is good and kind to me. Never he makes me feel less because I am deaf.”

  Anguish and terror filled Annie’s heart, and a low moan came from her throat.

  Noah, my husband, where are you?

  With all the fierceness of her being, she willed him safe, but she knew that no one could survive long outside in these conditions.

  Together, they found the lantern, filled and lit it.

  They prepared an emergency bundle with food and dry clothes and a blanket, and they gathered their warmest clothes, ready to put on at a moment’s notice.

  But as the night deepened, the storm raged on. Bets finally fell asleep on the couch, but weary as she was, Annie couldn’t rest.

  She stoked the fires, one hand pressed to her aching back, and walked a million times to the window where the lantern burned, praying each time that the storm had lessened, that some miracle would bring Noah bursting through the door.

  It didn’t happen. It was a long time later when, half dozing beside Bets, the sudden silence brought Annie fully awake.

  The wind had died. She lumbered to her feet and hurried to the window. The lantern, still shining bravely, had kept the pane clear of frost, and outside Annie could see snow falling heavily, but the worst of the blizzard was over. Her eyes flew to the clock.

  Four a.m. It was Christmas Eve morning, and he’d been gone for more than twelve hours.

  She sent up a desperate prayer, then went over and touched Bets.

  "It's time to go for Noah,” she signed when the girl’s eyes opened.

  He was within a mile of the cattle when the first of the blizzard hit, and Noah considered turning back, but he knew that if he did, many of his cattle in the south pasture would die; they were already short of feed, and unlike horses, they couldn’t paw down to the frozen earth for sustenance.

  He’d been allowing Buck to go along at his own speed, but now Noah hollered and used the reins to hurry the big animal onward.

  Buck nickered in protest, but he responded, going from an ambling walk to a cumbersome trot. The sleigh where Noah rode atop the hay bounced along, but the wind and snow increased until Noah could hardly make out the horse’s shape through the storm.

  He drew his scarf up over his nose and mouth, thankful for his buffalo coat but cursing himself for a fool. Being out alone on the prairie in a blizzard was a hazardous thing, and if he’d had his wits about him, he would never have left the ranch.

  At last he came upon the huddled shapes of the cattle. Using the pitchfork he’d brought along, Noah unloaded the hay as fast as he could. Driving pellets of snow and the howling wind snatched his breath away, blinding him and making his face and hands numb with cold. The cattle grouped themselves around the feed, backs to the wind.

  He should stay here, he knew, waiting out the storm in the dubious protection of the cattle’s warm bodies. It was the sensible thing to do, because the trip back would be treacherous.

  But who knew how long the blizzard would last? Annie would be terrified at his absence, and she was close to her birthing time.

  He needed to tell her how much he wanted their baby. .. .

  He had to get home, even though by now he couldn’t see a single foot in front of him, and all his usual good sense of direction was gone.

  Buck would know where the ranch was. Animals were uncanny in that regard.

  Swiftly undoing the harness, Noah abandoned the sleigh.

  "Let’s go home, old man.” Rifle on his shoulder, Noah leaped up to the horse’s broad back, noting that already there was no sign of the tracks they’d made; the blowing snow had obliterated everything.

  The horse stood for a moment, getting his bearings, then began to move steadily ahead into what seemed a holocaust.

  Time disappeared in the unholy force of the storm. Noah, lying almost flat along Buck’s broad back, had no idea how long they'd been blundering through the knee-deep drifts when suddenly the big horse s
tumbled and Noah heard the horrifying crack of breaking bone and, in the next instant, his horse’s awful scream of agony as Buck’s broken foreleg crumpled beneath him.

  Knowing he was in danger of being pinned beneath the huge animal’s body, Noah tried to throw himself free.

  He landed on a patch of frozen ground blown free of snow, and the impact stunned him, but he could hear Buck’s unendurable screaming even over the roaring of the wind. It sickened him.

  He knew what he had to do as he scrambled to his feet and searched frantically for his rifle. Finding it, he struggled against the might of the storm to reach Buck, nausea choking him.

  “Easy, old friend, my poor old friend.”

  He cursed in a long, helpless stream. Then he tugged off his mittens, raised the rifle, laid it against Buck’s head, and pulled the trigger.

  The screaming stopped, and Noah retched into the snow. It was only when the sickness passed and reason returned that he was able to acknowledge that the animal’s death almost certainly meant his own.

  Already, his fingers were numb, his toes aching with the cold. He crouched beside the still-warm carcass, his mind as chaotic as the storm that raged around him, and what he thought of first was Annie.

  If he died here, he’d never have the chance to tell her that he loved her. He’d never see the baby they’d made together. He wouldn’t be around to make sure that the young men who came courting pretty Bets in a year or two were suitable.

  Damnation, if he died, there'd soon be suitors lining up and fighting over Annie.

  She was full of life, passionate, funny, endearing. In fact, Noah admitted, Annie was everything any man could ever want in a wife. And confound it, she was his.

  The thought of those faceless men daring to come courting his wife sent a rush of jealousy and primitive anger through Noah, and with the anger came determination.

  He wasn’t going to die out here, damn it. There’d been enough tragedy in the Ferguson family. He refused to add to it.

  He needed the chance to set things right, to tell Annie he loved her, to welcome his new son or daughter, to live out the rest of the years of his life unafraid of what fate might bring. He’d been a total fool this past year, but he was going to make up for it.

  Like a light going on in the depths of his soul, Noah knew he was going to survive. He just had to figure out how.

  His mind became very focused, very clear.

  Setting off on foot in this howling storm would certainly get him lost. He'd wander in circles and finally freeze to death.

  He had to stay where he was. His only chance lay in the hope that the storm would blow itself out before Buck’s huge carcass began to grow cold. If the wind finally died, Noah knew that his sense of direction would unerringly tell him which way to go, but in the meantime, his only chance was to huddle close to the dead horse, using him as a shield against the storm.

  With the image of Annie and all the things he had to say to her firmly lodged in his brain, Noah hunkered down beside Buck and waited, pressing himself against the still warm horseflesh.

  At last the wind lessened. It was still black dark and snowing when he stood up. There was no guarantee that the storm was really over, but he was cold and dangerously sleepy.

  Sending a silent thanks and a last good-bye to the old horse, Noah stamped feet that felt like blocks of solid ice and staggered off across the snow covered landscape in the direction he prayed would lead him to the ranch.

  Chapter Eleven

  Annie and Bets gave the old workhorse his head, and Bright stoically waded through the drifts with the two of them perched on him.

  Every few moments, Annie called Noah’s name, but the sound was muffled by the heavy fall of snow. Her hands and feet grew numb with cold, and she was grateful for Bets’s warm body pressing close against her aching back.

  Her throat was hoarse from hollering when at last she thought she heard an answer, faint and far away.

  "Whoa.” She tugged on Bright’s reins, afraid even to hope.

  “Noah?” Her voice sounded lost in the icy darkness.

  "Noooaah,” she screamed, every ounce of her own desperation in the call, and this time she was certain she heard his voice respond.

  She urged Bright on, and soon a tall, snow covered figure came staggering out of the darkness toward them.

  “Noah.” With a mixture of laughter and tears, Annie slid down from Bright's back and into his half frozen arms.

  "Oh, Noah, thank God you’re all right. What happened? Where’s Buck?”

  In a few stark sentences, he told her, holding her close, his strong arms locked like a vise around her, her huge belly cradled against him.

  “I’ve been such a damned fool, Annie,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I love you, and I’ll love this baby of ours when it comes. Now, let’s hurry and get you home where it’s warm. It’s Christmas Eve, and we’re going to celebrate, just the three of us.”

  She turned her face up to him, green eyes full of joyful wonder, hardly able to believe what she’d heard. And in that ecstatic moment, the first horrendous pain ripped through her abdomen.

  “Owwww!”

  Holding her, Noah felt her brace with the contraction, then fall against him, stunned at its intensity and duration.

  A new and awful fear gripped him. He supported her until it was over, doing his best not to let her suspect the utter panic that he felt.

  Was she about to have their baby in the middle of this snowstorm? He kept his voice calm so as not to alarm her.

  “How long have you been having pains, Annie?”

  She leaned on him, panting as the pain receded, her forehead damp with perspiration and snowflakes. “Only this one, but my back’s been sore all day.”

  Noah swallowed hard. God willing, there’d be time to get her home, but the baby was undoubtedly coming, and the storm would make it impossible to bring the doctor. Even sending Bets for Gladys Hopkins was out of the question. It was too far and there was far too much snow.

  He’d birthed animals, plenty of them, but Noah hadn’t even been allowed in the room when Jeremy was born.

  "Let's get you home, sweetheart.” Catching Annie under the arms, he lifted her up on Bright’s back. "We'll be there in a few minutes." He pulled a frozen mitten off and with a few rapid signs, told Bets what was happening.

  “Hold her tight, Bets,” he signed.

  A few moments before, struggling exhausted and alone through the darkness and the snow, Noah had thought with every single step that he couldn’t force himself to take another.

  Now, he took Bright’s reins and ran easily beside the huge horse. They had to stop twice more as sharp pains gripped Annie, and giddy relief spilled through Noah when at last the lantern the women had lighted and left in the window became visible in the distance, shining through the snow, a beacon welcoming Noah and his family home.

  Later, Annie remembered the haze of the lamplight as Noah gripped her hands in his strong ones and urged her to push out their child.

  His sleeves were rolled up, and perspiration rolled down his face. He smiled and spoke loving words of encouragement, giving her not the slightest inkling that he was deathly afraid that he’d be unequal to the task ahead of him.

  As soon as they had Annie warm and settled, Bets had brought him the book Elinora had sent, entitled Advice To A Mother.

  Desperate for any small bit of assistance, Noah flipped through it. The book actually had illustrations that depicted the birth of a child, and he propped it on the bedroom dresser and dragged the dresser close to the bed. Referring to the instructions it contained, he and Bets lit lamps and found scissors and folded flannel into pads and filled the copper washtubs with water and set them to heating.

  With Bets in charge of keeping the fires burning well and fetching anything he thought he needed, Noah stationed himself beside Annie, glancing more and more distractedly at the book as the hours passed, urging Bets to turn the pages back and forth, soundl
y cursing the volume’s numerous omissions as the birth inevitably progressed in spite of him.

  * * *

  At ten past noon on December 24, 1886, with the able assistance of his young sister-in-law, Noah Ferguson successfully delivered his tiny daughter, Mary Elinora.

  Annie and Bets survived the ordeal exceptionally well, but the first sound of his baby’s outraged squalling so relieved her father that dizziness overcame him, and he had to sink down on the bed with her minute, naked body cradled awkwardly in his two huge hands.

  He actually thought for the first time in his life that he was about to faint, and he had to draw deep breaths before he could really examine the child he held.

  She was scrawny, but already he could sense Mary's enormous life force. The damp curls plastered against her minute skull were undeniably red, and when she opened her eyes and looked vaguely up at him, Noah saw an exact reflection of his own coal-dark gaze.

  Annie was watching, and it was evident from the besotted expression on his face that in that first instant, Mary Elinora had captured her father’s mighty heart in her tiny fist.

  Annie and Bets looked at each other with tears in their eyes and giggled.

  From their vantage point in a corner of the room, an old man and a young woman with a laughing little boy between them smiled angelic smiles and nodded at one another with the satisfaction of a job well done. They alone could clearly see the magnificent golden glow that filled the room, the radiance of intense and lasting love, and at last they knew it was time for them, too, to leave, to go toward the light.

  * * * * * *

  If you enjoyed reading A Lantern in the Window, continue reading for an excerpt from Bobby Hutchinson’s novel Drastic Measures.