the only ones we have. And they’re on top of your blanket so they mostly don’t touch you.
The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Hurry up, then.
She fed another, longer rope through the loop on his left side, across his chest, supported by the loose rope around his neck so it wouldn’t slip down over his front legs, and back again through the loop on his right. Both ends of that rope would fasten the sled to the horse. She studied her work and was satisfied.
This rope on my chest? It’s going to rub the fur right off my shoulders.
Through your blanket?
Yes, through my blanket. Too much pressure on one spot.
If you insist. Bird dashed back to the kitchen and grabbed two dishtowels. She wrapped them around the sections of rope that came into contact with the gelding’s shoulders. Better?
Maybe.
Okay, I’m going to get Mrs. Pierson on the sled. Don’t move, or these ropes will get all tangled up in your legs.
This is not how I imagined spending Christmas.
Dream of all the bran mash you can eat.
Promise?
Promise. I couldn’t do this without you. She patted her horse’s nose. Really.
Sunny put his head against her chest. He was pleased.
Bird ducked back under the blanket over the door, into the kitchen. She pulled the sled as close to the woman as she could get. “Mrs. Pierson, can you help me?”
The old woman opened one eye and blinked. She coughed again and began to shiver. “Bird? What are you doing here? Where am I?”
“You’re lying on your kitchen floor, and you’ve been hurt. We have to get to Saddle Creek. You’ll freeze if you stay here. Your ankle is swollen, and you might have bonked your head.”
“I did, dear. I did bonk my head. It hurts,” she said weakly.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, dear.”
Bird was touched that, even in pain, Mrs. Pierson was considerate of her feelings. “Can you slide your body over a little, onto the sled?”
“I’m very cold, dear. Can you bring me another blanket?”
“Yes, I’ll wrap you right up.” Bird ran to the hall closet, and she found a long, down-filled red coat, a padded hat with earflaps, big plaid mittens, and some old fleece-lined boots that had belonged to Mr. Pierson. Mrs. Pierson hadn’t had the heart to throw his stuff out, thought Bird. And a good thing, too.
Mrs. Pierson was as helpful as possible as Bird dressed her. She tried not to whimper when the big boot was pulled over her ankle, but cried out in pain when Bird began to move her onto the sled.
“Ooooh. Sorry, dear! Owwww. Oh, sorry. Ahhhhhh!”
“You’re doing great, Mrs. Pierson. Just a couple more inches, and you’re on. Great! Good work!”
“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!”
“You did it!”
Mrs. Pierson was now on the sled. Bird poured the last of the water from her glass into a thermos and put it at her feet, along with the flashlight, and then checked the cushions to make sure that her precious patient would be as comfortable as possible.
Bird saw a problem. Mrs. Pierson could roll off. Not good. She cut a long length of rope and wound it tightly twice around the entire circumference of the sled. She used the curl on the front and the backrest on the rear to secure it, successfully fashioning a railing made of rope. It would have to do.
Ah, Bird?
I didn’t forget you, Sunny. We’re ready to go. Can you back up to the porch?
Righto.
He backed up as close as he could get, straddling the thick branch of the fallen tree.
Bird pulled down the grey army blanket that had been covering the door, and she carefully wrapped it around Mrs. Pierson. She took the ropes that she’d threaded through Sunny’s makeshift harness and tied them through the front curl of the sled, then double-knotted them on the ropes that formed the railing.
Let’s go home, Sunny.
Music to my ears.
Cody
Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how.
I can go no longer.
Bird asked Sunny to inch ahead slowly until the sled had been pulled out of the house and through the shattered porch. The giant branch of the aspen lay across the two steps to the ground. To minimize the jolt, Bird held up the end of the sled and lifted it over. It was very heavy but she managed, just.
She walked beside the sled as they moved across the yard, toward the road. Mrs. Pierson hadn’t moved.
Too slow. Sunny was impatient. We’ll never get home.
I know, but the smoother, the better for Mrs. Pierson.
I can do smooth. Sunny picked up his pace very slightly.
Mrs. Pierson cried out each time they went over a bump, and with all the branches scattered around, there were many. Bird lifted the end of the sled as much as she could, trying to soften the impact. She flinched every time the woman moaned, in sympathy with her pain.
Bird began to second-guess her decision. Are we doing the right thing, Sunny?
How am I to know? I’m a horse.
You said you’re smarter than me.
I was joking.
Should we wait for an ambulance to come?
How long?
I don’t know. It might be several hours.
Then cut these ropes and let me go. I know the way.
Bird hated putting Mrs. Pierson through the rough ride, but an ambulance would be bumpy, too, and Mrs. Pierson couldn’t wait much longer to get help. She was finished second-guessing. Let’s go home the way we came, Sunny.
There’s no other way.
Keep an eye out for Cody.
I’ve been looking for him all night.
Bird
