Page 31 of Whispers of Helena
Once dinner was over,a handful of men, having donned dry clothes and rain gear, prepared to head back out. The storm showed no sign of easing. Relentless sheets of rain fell, broken only by the sharp crack of lightning illuminating the sky.
In the living room, Helena, Kiran, and Eli sat in a loose circle, the soft shuffle of cards and hum of laughter threading through the house. I stayed in the kitchen, staring out the window. Nights like this always set me on edge. The dark clouds rolling over the horizon, the merciless drumbeat of rain. Knowing some of my men were out there, working under that black sky, made the unease burrow deeper.
“The storm seems to be getting worse.” Eli’s voice breaks through the silence behind me. I hadn’t heard him approach.
I nod without looking away from the rain. “I’m thinking about calling them all back in.”
Eli comes to stand beside me, his reflection faint in the window’s streaked glass. “I can ride out and get everyone.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ll start getting the paddocks ready.”
He claps a hand lightly against the doorframe. “I’ll grab mygear. Shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes to round them up.”
I nod again, turning back to my coffee as he disappears down the hallway. The storm is loud now, the rain hammering against the roof.
When I turn, I find Helena standing in the kitchen doorway. “Quite the storm out there,” she reckons. “Is Eli heading out for the men and the herd?”
“Yeah,” I reply, draining the last sip of coffee and setting the mug in the sink. “I’ll be working on the paddocks in the meantime.”
She tilts her head, studying me for a moment before speaking. “I can change and help you.”
“I don’t want you out in this, Helena.” My words come quickly.
Her lips curve into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I won’t melt from some rain, Mr. Hayes.”
I let out a sigh, not sure if I have the energy to fight her on the subject. “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s bad out there and I don’t need worrying about you to slow me down.”
Her mouth opens, but she thinks better of it. Before turning toward the stairs, she simply states, “I’ll meet you out there.”
She takes the stairs two at a time, not leaving me any time to protest. Shaking off my annoyance, I grab my rain slicker and pull on my boots. Taking my hat off the hook, I open the door to head outside.
The paddock isa swamp of water and churned mud as I haul hay from the barn, the bales heavy and damp. Each step sinks into the ground, the muck clinging to my boots, the rain lashing against me like needles. The perimeter needs checking. It’s been too long since we’ve brought the herd in, and out there, scattered along the highest points of the hills, they’re sitting ducks for lightning strikes.
I’m in the far corner, mending a warped rail, when movement catches my eye. Helena strides out of the barn, a two-string bale of hay balanced easily in her arms. Despite weighing at least fifty pounds, she carries it across the yard with ease. The rain soaks through her clothes, water running from the brim of her Stetson, but she doesn’t falter. I watch her for a moment longer, something foreboding prickling at the back of my mind.
The distant calls of the men reach me, subtle but growing louder. I finish securing the rail and head toward Helena; the rain coming down harder now, sharp enough to sting where it hits bare skin.
“The men are close,” I shout over the storm as I approach. “Go on up to the house.”
She pauses, her eyes steady beneath the dripping brim of her hat. “I’ll keep to the barn in case you need me. The herd’ll be stressed, it might be tough guiding them in.”
Rain streams down her face, catching on her lashes and dripping from her chin, but her voice is calm. I watch her tongue dart out to lick the droplets from her lips. I nod reluctantly. “Go to the barn, then. Stay there unless I call you.”
“Yes, Mr. Hayes.” Her voice carries an edge of annoyance as she turns, heading for the barn.
The calls of the point rider grow louder, and soon I see him, his horse slogging through the muck, one hundred and twenty-three heads of cattle trailing behind him. As they approach, I swing the gate wide, stepping aside as the herd pours through.
A flash of lightning splits the sky, electric and blinding. The air feels charged, my skin prickling in its wake. Thunder crashes only moments later, a deafening boom that ripples through the yard. The left flank of the herd startles, breaking formation in a chaotic scatter. The flankman works fast to regroup them, but one bull veers off, snorting and pawing at the muddy ground.
I’m stuck on the wrong side of the herd to intercept him. Panic tightens in my chest.
“Helena!” I shout, my voice distinct above the storm.
She appears at the barn door, her keen gaze taking in the situation instantly. Without hesitation, she starts toward the bull.
I climb onto the gate, leaning over as the rain and the chaos muffle my voice. “Go get the rope!”
She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look my way. Instead, she walks directly toward the bull. My stomach twists as I shout again, louder this time, the edge of fear creeping in.
