I was a doctor's wife. Tom, I've managed through disasters before. As the men scattered to their tasks, Margaret attacked her own preparations with focused energy. She set beans to soak, mixed dough for multiple loaves of bread, and started a massive pot of stew that could feed 20 men if needed. Her hands moved automatically while her mind wandered to Jake somewhere out in that gathering darkness.
The storm hit just after 3:00. The first fat raindrops turned within minutes to a deluge that hammered the roof like rifle fire. Wind screamed around the corners of the house, finding every crack and crevice. The kitchen, usually Margaret's warm sanctuary, felt suddenly fragile against nature's assault. "Mary, mother of God, " Pete muttered, peering out at the wall of water.
"Ain't seen a storm like this in 10 years. Last one took the old barn and half the herd. " "Margaret lit every lantern they had, creating a beacon of warmth and light. The stew simmered, bread baked, and coffee stayed hot and ready. She kept her hands busy to avoid thinking about men and horses struggling through mud and rising water, about the particular man who'd walked with her just a week ago and might now be.
Riders coming, Charlie shouted from the porch. Four cowboys stumbled through the door, soaked to the skin and shivering. Margaret immediately handed out towels and hot coffee while they stripped off sodden coats. "Jake? " she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Still out? " One answered through chattering teeth. "He sent us back when the lightning started. " Said he and Hank would keep looking for Bill and Frank. Margaret's heart clenched, but she kept her face calm.
"Sit, eat. You need warmth and food. " The hours crawled by. The storm, if anything, intensified. Water began seeping under the door despite their efforts to block it.
The wind found a loose board somewhere and worried it like a dog with a bone. The banging added to the cacophony. Two more groups of riders arrived, each time raising and dashing Margaret's hopes. Each group told the same story. Jake had sent them to safety while he continued searching.
The man was stubborn as Granite and twice as hard-headed. She thought furiously, ladling out more stew. Night fell, though it was hard to tell the difference in the storm's darkness. Margaret had fed 13 men, some twice, and still maintained her vigil. The kitchen had become a refuge.
Men sleeping in shifts on the floor, others keeping watch at the windows. "He knows this land better than anyone, " Tom said quietly, appearing at her elbow. "He'll find shelter. " "Of course he will, " Margaret replied. But her hands shook as she kneaded more bread.
Her fourth batch. The action was automatic now. Something to do while her mind painted terrible pictures. It was past midnight when Charlie's shout brought everyone alert. Light.