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 promise, and how he’d silently followed her every command without question, Dana felt a firm bond with the rugged stranger. Or was he still a stranger? Maybe she should look on him as a friend, or an angel, a dark avenging angel who’d saved her from two storms, the one in the sky and the one raging in her overworked mind. Shrugging, she told herself to be practical. So the man had a few connections. No need to go staring off into fantasy land, thinking he’d come to rescue her from all her troubles.
Telling herself to stay clear, she glanced around one last time. “Well, that’s about all we can do until tomorrow. I’ll have to talk to the insurance adjuster, see where we stand. Of course the livestock will have to be taken care of—that can’t stop.”
Bren nodded. “You run this place all by yourself?”
Dana pushed back tufts of naturally curly hair. “I try.”
His gaze circled the land. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, until Mother Nature decided to rearrange things for me.”
His gaze touched on her face, then stayed to travel slowly down the rest of her. He took her hand. “You should get into some dry things and try to rest.”
“Sure,” she said, thinking she’d never be able to rest easy again, not after running from a twister and meeting up with an interesting stranger, all in one afternoon. Just the shock of all this, she supposed. “You don’t have to take us into town. We have the truck.” She saw the relief pour over his face and asked him, “What about you? Where are you headed?”
She felt his grip on her hand tense, saw his head swing back toward the Universal Unity Church before he looked down at her.
“To Wichita,” he said, his expression evasive. “I have business to tend to there.”
She let go of his hand, then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was a spot of warmth in this chilly, grim setting. “C’mon, Stevie,” she called, her heart breaking as he struggled with the few treasures he’d managed to save.
Together, they walked back up the lane to the pickup where Stephen deposited the photo album and baseball glove he’d found, along with some books and video game cartridges.
Dana, on the other hand, had saved very little from the house. They didn’t have anything of real value, and besides, what should she save from a pile of shattered dreams? The toaster, the working parts of a computer, the soggy white homemade prom dress she’d worn her senior year of high school, the only remaining place setting of her mother’s prized china she’d collected with S & H green stamps?
Did she take part of something to remind her of the home she’d sometimes loved, sometimes hated, or did she just throw away every broken piece and keep the bittersweet memories?
Again she felt Bren’s presence. Again she marveled at the man’s even being here. He’d saved her, no doubt. Each time she’d wanted to let go of the silent scream pitching through her mind, she’d looked to him. And he’d given her that solid, mysterious look, just as he’d promised. His eyes had calmed her, his unflinching resolve had guided her in such a way that she wondered if he ever got flustered or bent out of shape about anything. She wondered a lot of things about him, come to think of it. Like where he was from, where he was headed and why he was here to begin with. But he was about to be gone, out of her life. What would she do then?
Silly, she told herself, you’ll do what you’ve always done. You’ll survive.
“I’ll take you back to your van,” she said, indicating the sleek black vehicle still parked out on the highway.
Smiling, she hopped into the truck and waited as Bren helped Stephen stash his salvage before they both crawled inside the wide cab with her. “So,” she said after cranking the truck, “what do you do for a living?”
Bren must have seen the teasing light in her eyes as she nodded toward his van, but he didn’t smile. Instead he looked straight ahead at the gray ribbon of road. “I’m a businessman, and it’s a long and complicated story.”
And one he obviously didn’t want to talk about. “I’m not being nosy,” she said. “It’s just that you appeared out of nowhere, and well, you don’t say much, do you?”
He pushed a hand through his