the lane. “Y’all can stay at my place if need be. You know you’re always welcome.”
Dana held a hand to her eyes and glanced toward the west. It looked as if Mrs. Bailey’s small white house was in one piece, at least. She’d go check on the Baileys later. And she might have to take her dear friend up on that offer.
“Dana, what are we gonna do?” Stephen asked, bringing Dana’s attention back to their immediate problems. His agitation did nothing to calm Dana’s own jangled nerves.
Bren’s features softened as he turned his attention toward Stephen. “He’s right. Where will you go?”
Pushing away the fringe of hysteria that promised to be more intense than the storm that had just passed through, Dana looked around, knowing that they couldn’t possibly stay here tonight or any other night for a long time to come. “I don’t know. We’ve got friends in town—Emma and Frederick can take us in for a while. Or maybe Mrs. Bailey. She has a spare room.” Thinking of how hyper Stephen could get in small places, she added, “But Emma and Frederick probably would have more space.”
Bren looked back toward the church, then back at Dana. “I’ll take you to Emma and Frederick, then.”
Dana hadn’t missed the hesitation in his eyes. Why did he keep looking at that spooky church? He reminded her of a black stallion old Mr. Selzer used to let her ride—wild and proud, and forbidden since her mother was terrified of the animal. Mr. Selzer had called the horse Black Blizzard, because he was always kicking up dust. Oh, she hadn’t thought of Blizzard in years. Mr. Selzer had been forced to sell the animal to try and save his property. Why, now, of all times, did she want to sit down and cry for an animal she’d almost forgotten?
She didn’t, couldn’t sit down, and she wasn’t about to go into hysterics—yet. “I—We need to get a few things. And I want to look the place over. I have cattle…I’ll need to check on things.”
Bren took her arm, gently guiding her around to face him. “I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”
She wanted to tell this intriguing man to let her alone, to leave her to wallow in a good dollop of self-pity. She wanted to scream to the heavens and ask, “why?” But Dana knew that she wouldn’t get any answers; she’d been that route before and she’d only heard silence, the killing silence of unanswered prayers and a faith that had been tested to the limit.
Oh, well, time enough to argue with God later. Right now, Stephen was looking everywhere but at her, but she knew he was waiting for her to decide what to do about this mess. She was just too shocked to think straight.
As if sensing her shock, Bren placed a hand on each of her slumping shoulders, then leaned his head down close to her face so she was forced to look him straight in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Shooting a desperate look toward her brother, she managed to whisper, “I can’t let him see how upset I am. He has Asperger’s syndrome—it’s a very mild form of autism. He doesn’t like any sudden changes. He’ll get even more upset and scared if I break down. He’s so brave, but it’s only because he emulates me. Don’t let me lose it, okay. Help me, please.”
She’d never begged for help before in her life, and the words let a bitter gall in her throat, but this day had gone from bad to worse and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge. She certainly wasn’t in the habit of begging strangers for help, either. But this man had saved her from that storm and he was here now. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders steadied her, while his blue-black eyes guided her like a dark beacon. She clung to that guiding, dark light, deciding she’d just have to trust him. She didn’t have much choice at the moment.
Still holding her shoulders, Bren squeezed his hands against the shivering flesh underneath her damp T-shirt. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his eyes still locked with hers. “We’ll take care of what we can here, then I’ll take you into town, to your friend’s house. If you get scared, just look at me. I won’t leave you until I’m sure you’re all right.”
Feeling silly for being so weak, Dana lifted his hands away from her arms. “I’m not scared! I’m just so mad!”
Whirling, she blinked away the insane need to fall into his arms and cry like a baby. She wouldn’t burden this stranger with her troubles, but she would take advantage of his generosity. For her brother’s sake.
Marching to where Stephen sat rocking and digging with precise movements through the remnants of what had once been his prize collection of baseball cards, she patted the boy on the head. “Up, up, Stevie. Let’s see what we can salvage before that second line of thunderstorms returns.”
Stephen hurled himself up, clutching a stack of soggy cards, his eyes brimming with tears. “Need to fix these, Dana. Need these straight. They’re all wet. I don’t like them wet. I want them dry.”
“Won’t hurt to let them dry,” Dana said, silently vowing to replace each and every one of them. Motioning to Bren, she called, “Hey, you ever herded scared cattle before?”
Bren gave her a wry smile. “I’ve herded sheep. Cattle can’t be much different, right? Just show me what to do.”
Two hours later, they stood surveying the damage once again. Tired, dirty and muddy, Dana had little hope that they could rebuild. They’d herded cattle in the pouring rain of a renegade thunderstorm, with lightning dancing to the west, just to tease them and remind them who was in charge here. Luckily, most of the cattle were now safe inside their paddocks near the lower field.
The storm had concentrated on the house and surrounding buildings. All the other livestock, some chickens and pigs and the two horses, seemed to be intact, as well, in spite of the nervous squawking and fearful grunting they’d encountered after checking what remained of the barn.
Bren had helped Dana move through the house, half of which was missing, to find enough dry clothes to last them a few days. The combination laundry room/porch on the eastern side of the house was intact, and that’s where Dana had found fresh clean jeans and T-shirts. Now Stephen was wet and complaining of being hungry, and Bren, silent and alert, was watching Dana for further instructions.
Then he did something that made her smile in spite of her problems. He turned to Stephen and said, “Did you find all of your baseball cards?”
“Not all of them,” Stephen said on a whining voice full of growing anger. “Need to find all of them.”
“I think I can help there. I know a man who has a Lou Gehrig in mint condition. Would you like to have it?”
Stephen clapped his hands. “Lou Gehrig—Henry Louis Gehrig—born June 19, 1903. The Iron Horse. First base for New York Yankees. Played 2,130 consecutive games. June 3, 1932, four home runs in one game. Baseball Hall of Fame—1939.” Stephen grinned, his eyes lighting up in a moment of clarity. “Can’t afford that card!”
“Well, just let me worry about that,” Bren said, his own voice soft with joy. Glancing at Dana, he said, “I’m impressed.”
“He has a way with remembering statistics,” she explained. “Especially baseball stats.”
“Then we have something in common,” Bren said, his own grin making him look younger and less sinister.
Surprised at how he’d calmed her brother with his elaborate
