Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,3

the cold. One of the men Marlan’s father? was also injured.

It was clear the cart would never hold all of them. They would have to right the wagon.

One of the other men cried out to her in relief as he staggered to his feet.

“Thank God you’ve come!” he said as she dismounted.

“How many are injured?” she shouted over the wind. “And how badly?”

“Forman is the worst,” the man responded. “He struck his head. One of the children has a broken arm. The rest are only bruises.”

That was a relief. Their thick clothes and hay had likely softened the fall, preventing more injuries.

“Get Forman and the child in the cart and as many of the other children as you can. There are blankets there. Try to get them warm,” she said, as she fought the wind and mud to have a look at the wagon. “Dan, I need you. Morlis, help them. Tad, keep the horses still.”

She slogged through the frozen mud.

At least the axle hadn’t broken. That had been her worst fear, as it would have made everything much harder. Otherwise, they would’ve had to take them back in stages with the fragile cart - each trip risking another accident such as this one while those remaining waited in the freezing cold.

If they could even get the wagon turned over and that was very doubtful.

The storm raged around them as Delae held her torch high examining the situation.

“If we cut the traces of the fallen horse,” Dan said, grimly, “we’ll lose pull.”

With a sigh, Delae nodded. That had been her assessment as well.

They’d never get the wagon out and there would be nothing to secure the draft horses to the wagon then. One horse couldn’t pull it alone but perhaps they could rig something.

Either way it meant the death of the horse on the ground. Without untangling it they’d never get the wagon righted and if they tried it would likely break one of the horse’s legs, if not worse. The way it thrashed she wouldn’t risk the life of whoever she asked to unbuckle it. Her heart grieved for the poor animal. She couldn’t ask Morlis to do it nor have the children watch.

Which left her. She sighed.

If they could even get the wagon righted with what they had.

They had to try.

Coming around the wagon, she eyed the situation, working out what needed to be done first.

Morlis had gotten the two injured and all of the younger children into the cart.

With a nod, she turned to the man she’d spoken to first.

“Your name?”

Tugging his forelock in respect, he said, “Pell, Lady.”

“Pell. Who among the women is best with the children?”

“Yana,” the man said and a young woman turned at the sound of her name, holding her thin cloak closed around her head with one hand.

“Morlis,” Delae said, “Give everyone on the cart a swallow of the wine to warm them and then leave it with those who remain to keep them warm. Leave the draft horses here. Take Yana up with you - get her, the children and the injured back to the homestead. Have Petra put them in the east wing rooms. If we aren’t back by daylight, return then.”

She wouldn’t risk him coming back alone in this weather. If they didn’t get the wagon righted and on its way whoever survived the storm this night would get a ride back to the homestead in the morning. Already the cold was numbing Delae’s fingers and toes. Young Yana shivered badly.

The man nodded.

“Everyone else,” Delae said, “get back among the trees. We’re going to try to right the wagon.”

The little cart with its passengers trundled off, taking with it the dim light cast by its lanterns.

The remaining women and the older children took what little shelter they could beneath the trees. The remaining two men held the torches.

Delae turned back to the overturned wagon.

Dan and Pell waited, Tad behind them looking confused, Pell’s face already pale and set, knowing what needed to be done.

Clearly, she couldn’t ask it of him, either, and she would much prefer to do the deed herself, so it would be done as quickly as well and as painlessly as possible.

“Dan, Pell,” she said, “secure the draft horses to the rails of the wagon so they can pull as we lift but wait until I signal I’m ready. Tad, help them by holding the horses.”

She went to her knees beside the head of the thrashing chestnut horse, wary of its kicking forelegs; its tossing head