I found Ollie on the front porch talking to someone about a road closing as I emerged from the house. The night was dark as sin, the sound of water running down the diversion ditches drowning out the crickets that usually filled the night. More than likely, the crickets were too wet to fiddle. I shifted my mothball-scented sleeping bag from under one arm to the other. Weary dark eyes looked at me, the yellow bulb in the porch light not doing the dark bags under his eyes any favors. He looked utterly exhausted.
“I’m sorry our date got washed out,” he said softly, his tone low to keep the conversation unheard by the houseful of nosy Nellies on the other side of the screen door. Granted, most of them would need to turn their hearing aids up to catch our words but several had ears like a bat.
“Please don’t be sorry. Natural disasters take precedence. We’ll reschedule.”
“Next Friday. Unless we have to be at the fair. No, that’s probably postponed for a few weeks as the fairground parking areas are now marshland instead of mowed hayfields. Five years ago, we had the same thing happen. A storm settled over the state, dumping a ton of rain. Fair committee hated to postpone, so they pushed ahead. What a damn mess. Ended up having to tow people’s cars out of those fields with tractors. Course, the guys who did the towing made out pretty good in tips from grateful fairgrounds patrons.”
“No, I can see they’d not want a repeat of that. Next Friday sounds wonderful.” I gave him a look up and down, enjoying the way he wore his now-dried trousers. “If you’d like some help out there,” I waved a hand at the vast open plains to indicate the restof the world, “I’m happy to help however I can. I know that I’m a newbie city boy, but I can fill sandbags just as well as any native Bastian Granger. My expertise, by the way, is filling things.”
As soon as it left my mouth, I heard how dirty that sounded. Ollie quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll keep that in mind. As for helping, we will not turn down assistance of any kind. The next few hours are going to be insane until outside help can get to the outlying areas.”
“Great, let me go tell Dahn that I’m going to go help you,” I said, turned and saw Baker on the other side of the screen. “Hey, they’re looking for help with sandbags or whatever, so I’m going with him to lend a hand.” I jerked a thumb at Ollie standing behind me.
“We’ll all come.” Baker left, barked something at the family, and emerged a moment later with my brothers and Hanley. “So, are we standing here enjoying our good looks or are we heading out?”
“Thank you, all of you,” Ollie said softly.
“No thanks needed. The girls are going to stay with Dahn and the old folks. Your boy is already curled up on the floor with two blankets over his head,” Baker told me.
“Cool.” I wouldn’t have to explain why I was leaving yet again to do something dangerous while he stayed behind. I sensed there was some unresolved worry within the boy about me taking off and not coming back like Chris. Call it a fatherly hunch. I passed the sleeping bag over to Ford. “Chuck that inside and let’s go.”
Ford did as asked. We filed off the porch yet again, climbing into muddy vehicles as the rain pitter-pattered down on our windshields. My SUV was low on gas, so I hitched a ride with Ollie and his deputy. Thankfully, the situation we were heading into was serious enough that none of my siblings made stupidcomments. It looked like it was going to be a late night for the Bastian brothers…
7
Chapter Seven
The long night stretched into a long morning followed by an equally long afternoon.
By the time we arrived back at the ranch house, we’d been up forever. Exhaustion pulled at me. Each step felt as if I were wading through water. Which I’d been doing for hours and hours. My back and shoulders ached from shoveling sand into bags and hoisting them into the back of pickups. That night, and into the morning, as the Tooben and Little Eagle creeks rose over their banks with all hell’s fury, we worked like dogs. Side by side with the Leary brothers and Manfred Owens and his sons. They didn’t speak to us, nor us to them, but we did the work that was required of us to help save our neighbors. We filled hundreds of bags in the dark, working in the high beams of our cars, shoveling sand mixed with salt that was piled at the township building to be used to treat winter roads. Bastian Grange would have to buy more before the snows flew since we were putting a big dent in the massive mounds.
There were some dicey moments as we slowly crossed running water on the road, something that normally would be a bad thing to do. Okay, it was always a bad thing to do, and always advised against, but we weren’t able to turn around. People needed help, so we forged a few creeks rolling over roadways. I was nervous, but Ollie seemed more than capable. I will confess to exhaling loudly when we would ease out of the rushing waters onto drier roads. Ollie said nothing to my nervous exhales in the back but would give me a tender smile in the rearview.
The trailer park was in shambles when we arrived. Several of the lower-level single-wide homes were flooded. The ones that sat up on a raised hillock were safe for the moment, the swirling water running under and tearing off skirting. It looked like most of the residents had scrambled up to the hillock, so we set to tossing sandbags around each home while half of us assisted Ollie and Easton and the other half assisted the stranded residents to our cars. I stayed to help dam up the waters as best we could as my brothers and Easton began taking people out of harm’s way. Local ranchers, those who were able to do so, opened up their homes just as we had done, and by dawn—which was a glorious sunrise of purple, pink, and blue clouds that were ever-so-slowly moving north—we had the trailer park emptied of all people and pets. Many of the mobile homes would be damaged badly but half were holding their own.
Calls came in to Ollie steadily. Now that the rains had stopped, the waters could start to recede, but it would take time. Ollie set up a temporary command center at the edge of the county line where he could coordinate with other local search and rescues. The old farmer whose home we were at seemed happy to bring us coffee and stale donuts from the grocery store. With the storm now out of state, post-disaster recovery had to be set up. Damage assessments, recovery activities, and assisting the vulnerable and getting them to shelter. That last item seemed to be wellin hand, so we rode out to check on the roads, closing any that seemed iffy, and opening those that were now safe enough to navigate.
There was traffic to manage as people tried to get into Bastian Grange proper. Only one road was deemed safe to travel, so Easton was directed to oversee that job as Ollie and the rest of us Bastians checked on the buildings in town. The rec center was fine as were most of the shops and homes in town. Now that we could get to town, the sheriff’s office became the hub. All day there were calls for help, for roads that needed to be closed or opened. The list was endless. Someone from the Calico brought food to the volunteers and first responders. Nothing grand. Just sandwiches, a cup of macaroni salad, and some bags of chips. Cans of soda. We dove in as if it were a gourmet feast.
By the time night rolled around, several of the smaller roads leading into town were passable. The Tooben Creek was still over its banks and causing havoc to thousands of fields of corn as well as the trailer park, but the chaotic stream did show signs of slowing. It might take days for it to fully recede, but it seemed that we’d ridden out the worst of it. Now, after the waters disappeared, the heartbreak of cleaning up would come. Many of the mobile homes were not going to be livable, which would be a burden on the people who were now bunking with neighbors or sleeping on cots at the rec center.
When the clock struck midnight, we were finally on our way back to Bastian Acres. A more sorrowful lot I’d not seen in years, if ever. Bedraggled didn’t even begin to cover our appearance.
The house was still home to several residents of Lilac Hills, but about ten had been relocated to family until the state could get into the assisted-living building to see what damage the water had caused. My buddies had been picked up and taken to their children’s homes, but the thin lady in pink fleece, as well as several others of Granny’s friends, were still with us. More thanlikely due to Granny telling their families not to rush. The more the merrier was her slogan.
Dahn was incredibly distant when we showed up, wiggling from a hug I tried to give him and then stomping outside.
“Such a loving greeting.” I sighed while lowering my tired ass into a kitchen chair.
“He’s been sullen while you were gone. Probably worried but unable to express it,” Granny noted and plunked a plate with a fat ham slice, some yams, and a slice of cornbread in front of me. My brothers and Ollie—Granny had insisted they sit and eat—got the same meal. Talking kind of fell by the wayside as we dove into our grub. Bella was with the old folks in the living room, seated tight to her friend in pink, leading a discussion about hairstyles from the past. It seemed to be a lively conversation. “He’ll come around now he knows you’re safe. That scanner has been wild as a wasp’s nest all day. Ollie, how are things really?”
“Mm, well, things are about as well as can be expected,” he replied after swallowing. He sat hunched over his plate, wide shoulders bowed, obviously depleted and running on empty. “We’ll have a better hand on things tomorrow, I think.”
“So the worst is past?” Granny asked and got a nod from the lawman on my left.
“Good, good. We’ve been praying. I put a call in to Manfred, but his line must be down, to let him know his mother is happy to stay here. She’s quite enamored with our dear Bella.” Granny spooned more yams onto Ford’s plate. He grunted a thanks, cheeks filled like a chipmunk.
My gaze darted from Ford to Granny. “That slim woman in pink is Manfred Owens’ mother?”
