My words stretched out into silence as we lay there, the air humming between us. I was beginning to think I would have the last word, but Dusty came through, leaving me to fall asleep with sweet tingles of anticipation humming through my body. Where thoughts of soft kisses, green eyes, and tangled limbs filled my dreams.
“Fair warning, Lucy Davis. You better plan to make good on your bet soon, because if you don’t, I will. A man only has so much willpower.”
10
It was the creaking that first awoke me. The low whistle of the wind had long since become part of mine and Dusty’s night sharing a room. The Wyoming wind was always there. The long, pitchy groan was not. The crackling fire made me nearly comatose and my heavy blankets made a cozy haven on the couch. The pitchy noise found its way into my dreamlike state, somewhere in the middle of asleep and awake.
Another loud moan shot through the night. This time Dusty and I opened our eyes at the same time, alert and staring at each other on our opposite couches. We waited, bodies tensed and ready to spring to action at the first sign of trouble. When the sound came again, this time mixed with the cries of animals, we both sat up in our makeshift beds.
Dusty’s head tilted as he tried to make out the noise. “It sounds like a tree is about to fall. But there aren’t a lot of trees out here by the house. I can’t tell if it’s some sort of animal or…”
“What sort of animal would be out in this storm?” I stood up and strode to the window, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything. Dusty followed me but stopped in the entryway and began putting on his boots.
Another creak through the night.
“I’ve got to check it out.”
Instantly I was filled with guilt from his words. This was my responsibility. My grandparent’s ranch. Though the thought of being thrust out in the dark cold in the winter with a possibly hungry animal loose nearly caused me to jump back in bed, I knew I couldn’t allow Dusty to go alone, even though he insisted that I did. I went to stand by him and reached for my own winter clothes.
Another loud creak and our eyes found each other once again, ears perched…listening. This time, closer to the door, we could make out the sound of a horse.
“The stable,” we both said in unison. Now, my fingers flew to zip up my coat and yank on my boots, barely making it out the door behind Dusty as we ran down the porch steps and took off toward the old building—The Leaning Tower of Crap, as my grandpa had dubbed it years ago. I had slept in flannel pajamas and the bottom of my pants had not been completely stuck into my boot. So it flapped as I ran after Dusty, the frigid air biting into my skin. There was at least a foot of fresh snow, the heavy and wet kind that was just begging to be rolled into snowballs. If circumstances were different, I might have been tempted to throw one or two.
We rounded the corner of the shed and both of us skidded to a stop, thankful for a bright moon illuminating through the darkness to lighten the night. The old stable had been around for almost a hundred years. It was the only building original to the ranch my great grandfather bought seventy years ago. The stable looked like something out of an Old West painting. I had always loved the look of the old, one story, A-frame stable, with a roof half caved in and splintered wood patched together. It had the look of something nostalgic. Something that had weathered all the years of the last century with a stoic grace not seen in the current landscape.
It had been leaning desperately to one side since I was a child. Every year, Grandpa talked about fixing it up, but he never quite got around to it. And every year, it leaned a couple of inches closer to the ground. The snowfall the past two days had packed onto the roof, which now accelerated the leaning. The dilapidated building swayed back and forth in the wind, the whistling sound accompanying it.
“Tell me all the animals in the stable,” Dusty shouted in my ear as the wind picked up.
“There’s a horse and three calves. Should we try to brace up the one side?” I looked around for something tall enough to hold the building.
“I don’t think there’s time. We’ve got to get the animals out.”
“The part leaning the most is where the horse is stabled.” At Jack’s whine for help, I took off running. Dusty caught up with me before I flung myself into the barn, pulling back on my coat to stop me.
“Hold up, Lou. You can’t go flying in there or it might topple over on you. We’ve got to work together.”
Another whine from the horse had me trying to escape from his grip. “We’ve got to get him out now!”
“I’m not letting you go in alone.”
“Let’s both go.”
“No, somebody needs to be on watch in case something happens.” He flashed his cell phone flashlight around frantically, though the light didn’t travel far through the pitch black. “Look around for something to brace the building while I run inside and get the animals.”
Fear gripped me. I grabbed his arm before he could leave my side. “No. Wait until we brace it before you go in. I think Grandpa has a couple two-by-fours in the shed.”
He grabbed my hand and we raced across the snow until we came to the large brown building wrapped in tin siding with an overhang that housed a tractor. I opened the door and attempted to turn on the light before remembering we had no power. Dusty produced his cell phone once more and we scoured the walls for anything that could help. Finally, in the dusty-filled corner we spied a rack with several pieces of lumber and a handful of two-by-fours. We each grabbed one and awkwardly made our way back to the stable.
Another low creaking moan whined through the air.
We flew into action. Dusty and I worked to get the lumber underneath the side of the stable that was nearing the ground. As soon as the wood was situated under the eave, a gust of wind blew the stable forward, knocking the wood out from its position.
Dusty swore, but we both hurried to reposition the wood back into place.
He turned to me. “Wait here, I’ll go get the animals out.” He didn’t wait to make sure I listened to him, which was a good thing because I immediately followed behind on his heels. Though my anxiety rarely made me feel like a brave person, this was something I hadn’t had to think twice about. There was no way I was allowing Dusty to go into my grandpa’s building that was seconds away from being firewood by himself. Thankfully, other than shooting me an exasperated look, he said nothing as he pulled open the big double doors, the wood splintering as he did so.
The stable was dark inside and creepy as all get-out. With all the cracks in the old wood, the air still felt freezing. I wondered why Grandpa even put animals in here. I guessed it would be a tiny bit warmer than outside, but as I stepped through the doorway, the chill immediately settled deep in my bones. Even though I was trying to be a brave person, walking into a dark, cold, moving and creaking old building with desperate animal sounds coming from the back was almost more than I could bear. Dusty stepped forward into the darkness and I latched onto his arm like an eel as we made our way forward, the light from his phone guiding our steps.
