Will pressed his nose against the window and saw only white. No horses or wagon or sign of his girls. He hadn’t expected this spring storm, and Ruby and Catherine were out in it. When Catherine and Ruby had said they wanted to work with the animals and not stay inside and help Sharon with the housework, Mary was skeptical. But their youngest daughters were adamant, so she relented. As he watched snow whip around his buildings, Will began to regret that decision. “I’m going to saddle Lyda and go look,” he said to Mary.
The girls had hitched Fanny and Mabel early that morning and left to pick up four boxes of chicks at the post office. The sky had looked clear, and there had been no reason to suspect bad weather, but this wasn’t the first late winter storm that Will had seen. Wisconsin weather was always unpredictable.
“They probably stayed in town,” Mary said. “I’m sure they’ll be okay.”
“It’s terrible to be out in this storm.”
“I’ll call the post office to see if they arrived.” Mary picked up the phone and cranked one long turn, the operator’s signal. She waited a moment, and then returned the phone to its cradle. “The phone’s dead.”
“The lines must be down.” He grabbed his coat and hat off the rack and reached for his boots. Ready to face the storm’s worst, he rushed through the door but turned back. “Mary, I may need some blankets.”
When he got outside, he called for Teddy. “Come along, old boy, put that nose to work.”
Will rode into a wind that whipped snow at him until his lashes were crusted and his face numb. He pulled his scarf over his nose and held it there with one hand, but he couldn’t keep the wind from whipping it aside. He didn’t dare push Lyda fast because the footing was slick. He tried to stay between the fence lines, and for a while they were there. When they disappeared under the drifts, he reined Lyda in. Teddy, running ahead, seemed to know where to go. So Will, with a flick of the reins, moved his horse forward and followed his dog between the piles of snow. The wind increased by the minute. He hoped his girls had the sense to stay in town. They’d never been out in a blow like this.
Will leaned into the wind, peered into the driving snow, and saw nothing but white. He strained to see something, anything, and finally saw a large object ahead. As he inched closer he could see that it was an old hay loader. He knew that his neighbor had left it there when it broke down at the end of second crop hay. He’d been out a half hour, and he hadn’t even made it past the Jacobs’ farm.
Lyda wheezed as she inhaled the frigid air, so Will dismounted and led for a while, Teddy trotting along beside him. It wouldn’t do to exhaust his horse before he found his girls. His insides churned when he thought about them. He walked faster, but that slowed his progress as his boots slid back a half step for every one forward. He plodded on until he saw a horse coming at him. At first he thought it was his imagination, that he’d been in the cold so long that his mind was playing tricks. He brushed the snow from his eyes, and when he neared, he could see a rider. Mabel and Ruby? Teddy raced ahead with an enthusiastic yip. When Will heard his dog’s name called, he knew it was Ruby. Where was Catherine?
“Ruby, are you okay?” He wrapped a blanket around her and she pulled it tight.
“Catherine’s back at the wagon. We broke a runner.” She pulled the blanket over her chin. “Hurry, Dad, find her. I’ll be okay. But hurry.”
Will could see that Mabel was still strong, and Ruby, the wind at her back, seemed able enough to make it home. But little Catherine? Out there alone. He remounted Lyda and hurried forward. At first, Teddy hesitated, and then he started to follow Ruby.
Will called after him, “She’ll be okay. Come along. I may need you out here.”
He’d ridden only a short time when he saw Fanny coming his way. But she was alone. Had Catherine fallen off? Was she under the snow? Will grabbed Fanny’s lead and turned her, pulling her along, but he slowed and scanned the drifts for signs of life. He whispered, “Lord, don’t let me pass her by.” He hoped that Teddy’s nose was as good as Mr. Barnes had bragged.
When he saw the wagon ahead, he dug his heels into Lyda’s sides and tugged the lead rope. “Giddyap. Hurry, Lyda.” He didn’t see Catherine. Had he missed her? It wouldn’t take long for this snow to obscure a downed person. Will jumped off Lyda, raced to the wagon, and found his youngest daughter curled tight against two boxes of chicks. The only voice he heard was the cheeping that came from within. He could see that Catherine had piled snow and straw around the boxes and tried to heat the baby chicks with her body warmth. Will climbed into the wagon and crawled to her. “Catherine.” Teddy jumped up beside him and began licking Catherine’s face, doing his part to bring life back to his little mistress.
When Will moved her, she opened her eyes. “Catherine, are you okay?”
Catherine moaned and tried to sit, but she slipped back down. Will saw that her face was flushed and her nose, cheeks, and ears were beginning to turn whitish gray—a bad sign.
Will rushed to Lyda, grabbed the blankets off her saddle, and climbed back over the rail to Catherine’s side. Her clothing was dry, so he wrapped her in the blankets, hung the chick-filled boxes over Fanny’s harness collar, took Catherine in his arms, and lifted her from the wagon. He then mounted Lyda, cradled Catherine between his arms, and talked to her as Lyda and Fanny, the wind at their backs, trudged toward home with Teddy leading the way.
“Don’t sleep, Catherine. You’ve gotta help with the horses when we get home. While I groom Fanny and Lyda, you go to the grain shed and get some feed.”
He knew this was nonsense, that she was in no condition to do anything. He had to get her into the house and warmed. Her face looked so pale and she was so lethargic. He had to keep her awake.
* * *
“You’re a lucky girl, Miss O’Shaughnessy,” Dr. Snyder said. “Another half an hour and we could have lost you.”
“My fingers feel all tingly and my toes are numb,” Catherine said.
“You’ve got a touch of frostbite, young lady, but you’ll be okay.”
He turned to Mary and Will. “Keep her bundled and warm until tomorrow.” He lifted her red hands that still showed a white flush at the finger tips. “But her hands will be sore for a few days.”
His anxiety over his daughter relieved, Will’s thoughts turned to Fanny, and he was heartbroken. His lifelong friend hadn’t survived the day’s ordeal. The cold and exertion had been too much for her old heart, and she’d collapsed and died before he could remove her rigging. Fanny wasn’t just a horse. She had been his confidant and a source of comfort during his hardest times. He knew that she’d lived far longer than he had any right to expect, but he sobbed while he stripped the rigging from her lifeless body.
“The chicks?” Catherine said. “Are they okay, Mom?”
“We lost ’bout half, but we’d not have any if it wasn’t for your heroic efforts, young lady.” Mary leaned over and kissed Catherine on the forehead. “Ruby’s agreed. The chicks that survived are yours. The money from their eggs will go into your college fund. How’s that, my dear?”
Catherine looked toward her father. “Oh, Daddy, I’m glad we saved some, but I feel terrible. I never thought it’d be like this. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a farmer.”
“You saved those chicks, Catherine. You did what every good farmer does. You thought first about your animals.”
He couldn’t bear to tell her about Fanny, not yet, not until she’d recovered. Her day had been hard enough already.