was left of the herd’s control.
One moment they were moving slowly, and the next few seconds, Eulis and Letty were caught up in the rush as the herd began to run.
“Jesus, have mercy,” Letty cried, and wrapped the reins so tight around her wrists that her fingers soon went numb.
Eulis gritted his teeth and hung on for dear life while they were bumped and buffeted by the motion of the moving mass. He wasn’t certain if they were actually moving on their own power, or if they were being swept along by the stampede itself. But there was just enough light left for Eulis to see, and with every ounce of strength he had in him, he angled the team against the tide of the stampede, and began slowly moving them upward.
It seemed, to Letty, as if they ran forever. She knew that the sounds of the storm—of the rain and hail—and the thunder of the buffalo stampede would be forever etched in her memory. Just when she thought they could not run any more, she realized the horizon was no longer dark with buffalo, and there was nothing in front of them but the storm and the distant mountains. And to double their relief, the hail had either stopped, or they’d outrun it. Either way, it was over.
She saw Eulis raise up on Rosy and start hauling back on the reins. As he did, she planted her feet against the wagon bed, gritted her teeth against the oncoming pain, and did the same.
They stopped, but Letty never knew it. She’d passed out. When Eulis finally crawled down off the mule and staggered back to the wagon, he found her flat on her back and unconscious. Shot through and through with new fear, he crawled up into the wagon bed and pulled Letty up into his arms.
“Letty! Letty! Talk to me, girl!”
She groaned. “Eulis?”
He rocked back on his heels and then started to shake. She was alive. Thank God she was alive.
“Leticia… talk to me. Where do you hurt?”
“My hands,” she mumbled.
He looked down, then winced when he saw the reins wound around her wrists. Her fingers were swollen and bloodless and when he started unwinding the reins, she cried out in pain.
“My wrist… I think it’s broken,” Letty mumbled, then threw an arm over her face, trying to shelter herself from the rain.
Eulis tossed the reins aside, and then pushed her beneath the overhang of the wagon seat. It was somewhat of a shelter, but not enough. He looked around, grabbed the rain-soaked bedroll and shook it out, then draped it over the seat. The bulk of it hung down into the wagon, forming a makeshift tent. It wasn’t much, but it was the only protection he could offer.
Once he had it secured, he lifted a corner and peered in. She was lying curled up on her side and cradling her wrist against her chest. He felt like he needed to touch her, but couldn’t bring himself to make the move. It seemed too personal, and personal was a bridge they had never managed to cross. Instead, he cleared his throat and muttered.
“You did real good, Sister Leticia. Real good.”
Letty heard him talking, but she couldn’t focus on what he said.
“Are we dead yet?” she asked, unintentionally mimicking what he’d asked earlier.
He looked up at the sky and the passing storm, then back down into the valley where the disappearing herd was barely visible. The mules were standing spraddle-legged with their heads down and their sides heaving. Everything Eulis and Letty owned was soaked through and through, but they were still alive and breathing.
“No, Letty, we ain’t dead yet.”
“Did you hear a whippoorwill? I’ve been listening and listening for the call.”
He sighed. She was out of her head and it was no wonder. He felt a little crazy, himself.
“Yeah, I heard the whippoorwill. Listen close, honey. You’ll hear it, too.”
Then he dropped the cover back in place, picked up the reins, and sat down on the seat. The mules felt the tug on the reins and actually turned their heads and looked back, as if to say, you’ve got to be kidding.
“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s been an awful day, but if you could see your way to goin’ just a little bit further, I can promise you won’t be sorry.”
This time when he flipped the reins on their rumps and clucked his tongue, they moved. Slowly. But they moved, and by the time true dark finally