“Where are the animals?”
“The horse is in the back corner. The calves should be coming up on the right.”
“Your light sucks,” I couldn’t help saying as we plunged ourselves further into the dark. It was almost as if we had no light at all, for how feebly his phone’s glare cut through the darkness.
We reached the pen where the baby calves were being kept. They were visibly agitated and making all sorts of noises. Dusty wasted no time opening the gate¸ while I ran back to the front double doors and pushed it open. A moment later, Dusty came into view holding one calf in his arms while pushing the other two with his feet, prodding them closer to the entrance. I marveled at him once again as I did my paltry job of holding open the door. He never faltered, never got too scared to function, and never wavered in his strength and dedication to see the job finished.
My grandpa’s face joined us at the doorway. I yelped and nearly slammed the door in his face before I realized who was standing there. Grandpa took the reluctant calf from Dusty’s arms and took over prodding the rest out of the stable. The creaking groans of the stable were getting louder now.
“You two kids get out of there now. This thing’s coming down any second!” Grandpa shouted through the wind.
“Jack’s still in his corral,” I said.
“I’ll run back and grab him,” Dusty said, backing up into the darkness. “You get outside with your grandpa. Hold the door open. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I wasn’t sure why a part of me decided to pretend to be brave, but I think it had something to do with watching a strong, capable cowboy walk backwards into a stable on the verge of collapse to save my grandpa’s beloved horse. Pushing myself away from the door, I hurried along toward Dusty, grabbing his arm once again as the darkness swallowed us whole.
“Lou, just go stay with your grandpa. I’ve got this.”
“I know, but I happen to be an excellent light holder.”
We couldn’t see Jack’s corral in the dark, but we heard his cries. Stumbling closer, I flashed the light and saw him huddled in the corner of his corral, eyes wild with fright. The side of the stable had begun to splinter off in pieces, while the wind pushed the sides of the barn down almost on top of Jack’s back.
“Come on, boy,” I yelled for Jack as Dusty opened his gate. I stepped inside, grabbing at his neck in a pathetic, adrenaline-fueled effort to scoot him forward, but it didn’t work. The creaking sides and roof of the building had Jack too frightened to move.
I nodded, my heart in my throat as Dusty crouched down on his hands and knees and shimmied under the sides of the stable that was now only about three feet off the ground at its lowest. Once he got situated, on his hands and knees, with the roof on top of him, he slowly began to rise. The lowest point of the roof began to lift, with bits of the side breaking and poking outward, like shards of glass. When the middle part was as high as my chest, I carefully crawled closer to Jack. He was skittish and breathing heavily, but I reached my hands around his neck, giving a forceful tug. The horse lifted his eyes and stared soulfully into mine for a moment, but still refused to budge.
Dusty kicked his backside a few times to no avail.
“Jack! Go!” I yelled, tugging with every ounce of strength I had in me. He leaned forward and edged closer to me until he stopped, stubbornly refusing to go any further.
“Jack! MOVE!”
“I think I can make the roof go higher," Dusty said, his voice strained. "When I lift it up, do all you can to get him out. If this doesn’t work, we have to leave him. He might still survive.”
I nodded, realizing the danger we were in. I gripped Jack’s ears, heart pounding.
We counted to three. In a burst of strength, Dusty stood up, bearing the weight of the side of the old stable. My gaze was arrested by the sides nearly ready to crumble.
“You got this, Lou.”
I blinked, his words jarring me into action. I stood tall, showing Jack he could stand too, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him up and backward with all my weight.
Jack rocked back and forth on wobbly legs before bolting toward the opening. But not before his back hit the top of the roof, sending a shower of snow on Dusty’s head and shoulders.
I made my way to Dusty, wanting to somehow relieve the weight he was holding, but not knowing how to do so.
“Get out of here, Lou. This thing is going down the second I let go.”
It felt like an out of body experience for me when instead of running scared, I moved to stand next to Dusty. “Sorry, Cowboy, I’m staying here.”
“LUCY. Get out! Now!”
“I’m not going to let you die.”
“Let mewhat?”
“Die.”
