The Personal History of Rachel DuPree_ A Novel - Ann Weisgarber [57]
Lightning flashed. “Mama!” Hands pulled at me. “It’s all right,” I said. I looked out the kitchen window and my heart dropped. Jerseybell. She was staked to a wooden post on the side of the house, scared silly. Her neck was stretched as she pulled against her rope, wanting to break free. If there was any chance for milk, being out in this storm would put Jerseybell off for good. I had to get her in; I should have done it at the first sign of the storm. At least there weren’t the horses to worry over. Isaac had taken all four.
The rain was harder. Thunder surrounded us with its crashes; lightning lit up the room and just as quick, left us in the gloom. “Just a storm,” I told the crying girls. “We’re all right, just a little thunder.”
They held fast to my skirt. “Come on,” I said, and I shuffled them to their bedroom. “Get under the bed.”
“Why?” Alise said.
I gave them a little push. “Because I said so.” They scurried under, Liz helping Emma, who kept her burned hand tucked against her chest. On their bellies, they peeked out at me, not blinking. “Don’t move till I get back,” I said.
More lightning flashed. “Mama!” they screamed.
“None of that. Liz, look after your sisters.” I turned my back on them and left them under the bed crying. I had to. Jerseybell was our milk cow.
I put on my boots, my duster, and Isaac’s broad-brimmed hat, the one he waxed with paraffin to keep out the rain. I tightened the stampede strings. Outside, the rain was cold and coming down hard. I couldn’t button the coat over my belly, and it flapped wildly in the wind. Going out in this weather was foolish; I knew that. But nothing was going to stop me from getting Jerseybell to the barn.
The ground that had been so hard packed was already turning to mud. It pulled at my boots as I slogged my way to Jerseybell. Pain shot through my back, making me walk hunched over like an old woman. Jerseybell strained against her rope, twisting her head from side to side, her chin low to the ground. My wet hands slipped as I tried to untie the taut rope from the wooden stake. Poked-out nails ringed the top of the stake to keep Jerseybell from sliding the rope up and off. They stopped me from doing the same. I worked at the knot, sharp pain piercing my torn fingernail. The sky lit up with lightning. I could get struck dead. My girls would be left all alone under the bed until Isaac got home and found them. I worked harder at the knot, my nail bleeding, the rain in my eyes. The knot gave. I grabbed the rope and as I did, Jerseybell dragged me a few yards. I dug in my heels.
I tried to turn her toward the barn. Thunder rolled, shaking the ground. Wild-eyed, Jerseybell worked against me. She dragged me a few more feet.
“Jerseybell,” I screamed above the storm. “This way, this way.” Streaks of lightning darted across the western sky. I flinched. Jerseybell bolted; the rope jerked from my hand. I reached to catch it. I slipped and fell on my swelled-up belly, the air whooshing out of me.
When I came to, I was on my side, the rain bearing down. I waited for my belly to seize up. It didn’t. I pulled in some air, blew it back out. Still nothing. From somewhere far off, Jerseybell bellowed. I got myself up on my elbow. It was just a little fall, I told myself. It didn’t hurt the baby, it didn’t hurt you. Now get up. I stumbled from the weight of the wet duster, nearly falling again. Through the rain I saw Jerseybell dart, stop, and start, jerky, as she headed toward the cottonwood. Get her, I told myself. Don’t let her fall in the wash and break her neck. We needed her milk. I began to move, the mud sucking at my boots.
Halfway to the cottonwood, Jerseybell stopped and bellowed. She turned around in a circle, her front feet churning in the mud. Lightning streaked the dark sky. She bolted again, this time to the barn. I hurried. It hurt to breathe, there was a stitch in my side. My coat flapped in the wind, the baby heavy in my belly.
Jerseybell rammed into the barn wall. She shuddered, and then stood still as if stunned, her sides