A Twist of Faith

We hunkered down in our dug out as the twister roared over us. It sucked the air from our lungs. I swear, it seemed we were in a crypt than a root cellar. Then in the aftermath a deathly silence took hold, until we all breathed a collective sigh. But soon our thoughts raced to others on the prairie.

Mrs. McCord's shattered the silence. Her words sharp as broken glass. "My husband! My husband. He was checking the fence line." There was this quiver in her voice and her jaw trembled.

Maya massaged my son's backside and held him to her breast. She tried to soothe the Mrs. With blind words. "He a smart man, your husband. You know he got himself out the way."

"I'll have a look see, Mrs. McCord," I said. I had no idea if anything was left right side up. My heart drummed inside to look.

Mrs. McCord piped up. "I can't bear to look. Please tell me girl! Tell me the world's not wrong side up."

As I craned my neck about, I could see the house still standing. "Looks like the house is where it should be. Roof will need patching."

"Tell me you see my husband. I can't replace him like the roof."

The pain of loss was etched on Lydia's face, as if for a moment she understood my widowhood. No one replaces the one you're meant to love your whole life. They had that singular love. Her eyes were about to burst with tears. I looked at Maya who worried with her.

With one big heave, I pushed the door all the way open. I climbed out of the root cellar, dug the grit from my eyes. "I see him! He's coming this way, walking his horse."

I waved her husband over. He looked covered in mud, but none the worse for wear. Mrs. McCord bolted out beside me like a wild mare. "For land's Sake!"

Mr. McCord stumbled a bit, but when she appeared, his face lit up. His eyes widened. The creases of his weathered face found a radiance. "Lydia, my darlin'. Everyone all right?"

Lydia took off for him. "Maya, Jane, and the baby were with me."

His wife rushed Mr. McCord, and nearly knocked him over. I stooped on the steps and gave Maya my hand who held my son. We huddled together as the sky turned purple and pink over a setting sun.

Down in the valley below I could see a path the twister took. It ground was churned up toward the town, as if God tilled a path toward it. I was relieved the ranch house looked whole except for the patches of roof gone.

My next thoughts thundered over the men like Tad who were on my new cabin. But in the distance where eagles fly, I could see in the veiled twilight, the men riding toward us over the hills.

Mr. McCord approached us, as we looked at each to be sure we were whole. My son's eyes danced with the wonder of a child who sees the freshness in all things.

Looks like you went for a tussle, Mr. McCord," I said.

"I was near enough to the ravine and creek bed. I had just enough time to drag the horse and dive for cover. I think I did the most damage when I tumbled into a wet hole."

Lydia clung to her man, like she had down for thirty years. She looked at me with warm regrets that I had no one to hold like that with my one husbands remains in the dirt. I turned away and took on my son and held him to my chest, so I could have piece of my late husband in my arms. He was my slice of relief as not a day went by without thoughts of my late husband.

When the men arrived in the twilight from my cabin, they reported it still standing. I breathed a sigh and danced with my son with relief than joy. But soon word came from a man in town who works for the ranch. He told of how the twister made a path through part of the town. Some building were pried open as they had a lid removed.

Next day I returned to the town with a horse and wagon, expecting to load up what remained my possessions since pieces and parts of the hotel were gone. I managed to climb the stairs that looked chewed away and with the help of Tad, the McCord's hired servant I was able to secure most of my possessions. It was then that on the second floor with holes I got a stark view of the brothel and could see it as one's insides were on display. Painted ladies were maneuvering about and helping the owner put chairs and tables back in place. One particular young girl an Indian half breed, I reckoned was no more that fourteen or fifteen was shoved back and forth between two men as if they had a mind to tug on her as a rope.

As we loaded up the wagon to return to the ranch, I spoke to Tad who was ready to tease the horse with the reins and get us moving up the hill on the path to where I find more comfort on the prairie. "I don't like what I see, Tad. It's like the twister peeled back the true nature of this place."

Tad looked over at where my eyes boiled over the way a girl became a man's property to be branded. "It don't hardly seem right, Miss Taylor. But I have clear word not to meddle with the towns business. They string a man up of my color just fer lookin' sideways."

"That girl looks to be stuck between two worlds who prefers neither. I think I will ask if she needs my help."

"No, Ma'am. Please!"

As I hiked my dress and lept off the buckboard toward the ruckus at the saloon, I told Tad, "Keep your place. I can handle myself."

I felt Tad's eyes bore a hole in the back of my head. As my heart fluttered, I knew I was risking his work and might be leveraging the McCord's influence too much. By the time I got to the platform of the saloon where harlots whisked about the men, I had my doubts. Then I locked eyes with the Indian girl of stark blue eyes, braided black hair, forced to where a feather on her head.