Fear grasps me as I squint up at the branches leaning over the smashed barn roof. They shudder and groan horrifically in the gale. It can’t be safe. And Alec is inside.
When I yank open the door, I can hear the cries of sheep over the wind. I slam the door shut behind me, using all my body weight to counter the wind.
It’s bad. The barn is dark and freezing. The wooden roof is creaking and groaning overhead, and rain hisses through the jagged hole punched by the branch. Alec has herded all of the sheep into the undamaged back of the barn, and he’s trying to erect a wall of hay bales to pen them in, but he’s struggling. His attention is split between keeping the terrified sheep under control and trying to build the wall. As I watch, he heaves a bale of hay up over one shoulder and then drops it, swearing, as alamb skitters away from the herd and runs towards me,baaing in terror.
I scoop it up into my arms and carry it to the other side of the hay bale wall. The sheep are all pressed in close together, milling around and crying.
Hands grab my shoulders, and I’m spun to face Alec. His face is white, his eyes wide.
“Summer,” he yells over the wind. “What are you— I told you to stay inside!” He looks furious.
“How do I help?” I shout back.
His grip on me tightens. “No, you can’t help. You need to get inside.”
“What do you need?” I insist. “Help with the sheep? Or can I bring you stuff?” I squint up at the roof. It creaks ominously overhead. “We need to keep them warm!” I shout. “You barricade them in, and I’ll stop them from escaping!”
He yanks me back to him. “Summer—” he growls.
“Alec,” I yell back, getting in his face. “You need help. You want me to be with you, that’s what you’re going to get. So how. Do. I. Help.”
I can see the wheels turning in his head. There’s another bellow of thunder. A lamb dodges between my legs,baaing and skittering for the barn doors, and I grab for it and yank it back.
Alec comes to a decision. “Put straw on the floor,” he shouts at me. “If they’re shivering, wrap them in blankets. If they’re trying to escape, tie them to something. I’ll barricade them in.”
“Got it.” I slip past him and start gathering straw. The sheep mill around my legs, crying andbaaing, restless with stress. I try to keep calm as I follow Alec’s instructions. I blanket the floor with straw. Grab the lamb that keeps getting loose and gently tie him to the feeder. He squirms in my arms, bleating.
“I know, I know,” I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. “It’s just for a bit, I promise.”
With his hands now free, Alec makes quick work of building a barricade against the storm. I watch as he jogs back and forth through the barn, white shirt drenched and transparent, heaving two haybales over his shoulders at a time as if they weigh nothing. He jumps on top of the wall of hay, adding to it piece by piece.
I turn my attention back to the sheep. Viola is shaking, so I grab a blanket and wrap her up in it, bundling her up tightly.
I don’t know how much time passes as Alec and I work. It feels like hours. But we’re a good team. By the time all the sheep are secured, my back is screaming from bending over, and I’m shivering so hard I’m struggling to control my body. But it doesn’t matter. I wrap the trembling sheep in my lap, a baby ram called Dodger, in a second blanket, rubbing him through the layers to try and warm him up.
Eventually, Alec finishes his barricade and comes to join me. “Everyone okay?” He strides through the sheep, grabbing their faces, checking them all.
“I tied Pip and Estella,” I shout back, lifting the lamb in my lap. “Dodger was very cold, but I think he’s warming up.”
Alec nods, taking Dodger from me and checking him over. “Good. Good. He’s okay.” He leans back on his haunches. “They’re all okay,” he says disbelieving. “They’re actually all okay. Jesus.” He turns to me, eyes wide. Rain drips down his cheekbones. “Thank you,” he says frankly. “They kept escaping. Without you, I never would have gotten them secured. We definitely would have lost some.”
I want to throw my arms around him and hug him, but I’m too wired. I sit back on my haunches. “What now?”
He looks up at the roof. “I need to waterproof,” he shouts over another roll of thunder. “I’ll move them to a safe spot when the storm has passed.”
“How do we do that?”
“I need a tarp?—”
“I’ll get it.” I stand.
Alec grabs my wrist. “Stay here,” he orders. “I’ll help you back to the house.”
“I don’t need to go back to the house. Let me help.”
“But—” Dodger jolts in his arms, and he lets go of me to tighten his grip on the sheep.
“I’ll just be a sec,” I promise, pulling away and climbing over the wall of bales. I head back to the damaged front of the barn. It’s colder here, and darker now Alec’s moved the lanterns. I think I hear Alec shout something behind me, but I can’t make it out over the wind. I stumble to where I know the tarps are and grab a couple.
