“Thomas!” Rebekah gave him a shake. “Are you all right?”
Sluggishly, Thomas uncurled from his fetal position. “I think so, you were smashing me though.” He massaged his neck with one hand. “You are heavy, Sissy.”
Rebekah managed a smile. “Here, help me check over the bopplin.” Her smile faded as she examined a silent baby Dawson. “He was crying a moment ago, wasn’t he?”
Her thoughts galloped in her mind, slow at first, then faster and faster. “He was crying, then I fed him. Then you screamed, then he screamed, then the twister…”
Words flew off her tongue so quickly that they all slurred together into one long, spoken thought. “Oh no, Thomas, I squished him. My bopplin, I…”
As if on cue, little Dawson yawned and stretched his arms above his head. His eyes fast closed.
“You put him to sleep,” Thomas giggled.
“Finally!” Rebekah agreed. “It only took a twister.”
The pair of them shared a nervous laugh.
“I cannot wait to tell Joseph…” Rebekah’s voice trailed off into the freshly fallen quiet. “Oh no, Joseph.”
No words were necessary as she handed the sleepy baby to Thomas. Her mind moved faster than her body as she hurried from her kitchen, through her glass-spattered living room, to the front porch. Joseph, where are you?
The balls of ice sparkled strangely as she scanned her yard. What had once been so familiar now seemed otherworldly.
Nothing in the yard.
A noise from the vicinity of the barn caught her attention. She started toward the barn and corral, with the gate closed, with a hopeful step. Pepper stepped out of the barn and into the corral, her big, brown eyes wide with worry.
He got Pepper inside, Thank you, God. He must be here somewhere.
A sickening thought gripped her mind. If the twister could blow out my windows, could it have picked up Joseph and carried him away?
Her stomach turned over on itself and hot bile surged into her throat.
Before she could evacuate her breakfast, she caught sight of it. A crumpled, out-of-place shape in the corner of the corral. Joseph’s black felt hat lay nearby.
Chapter Five
Rebekah closed the space between the crumpled figure and herself quickly. Cold stones fell into her gut when she realized she had found Joseph, lying with his back to her. A halo of thick, scarlet blood circled his head in sickening contrast to the opaque ice on which he fell.
She fell to her knees beside him. Before she could turn him over, a tiny voice in the back of her head gave her pause.
Do not move him! Check his head and his neck before you make him worse!
She could not be certain, but the voice sounded strangely like Katie Knepp’s Her childhood nemesis had married her brother and become her sister-in-law. She also worked in a medical clinic in Old Amarillo, so as much as Rebekah hated to admit it, Katie would know best about these matters.
Rebekah shook her head to clear Katie’s voice from her mind, her black covering strings flouncing wildly about. She touched her husband’s shoulder gently. “Joseph? Can you hear me?”
No answer. Not even a groan.
“Joseph? Oh, please God, no.”
Carefully, Rebekah lay one shaky hand on Joseph’s chest and waited. Hand, do not shake. We need to see if Joseph is breathing, and I cannot tell if you are shaking—
Her hand rose and fell with the shallow rising of Joseph’s chest.
Thank you, God, he is alive.
“What happened to you?” Rebekah asked, mostly to herself. Ever slow, she turned him toward her. She was not prepared for what she saw.
Joseph’s handsome face; the one belonging to her childhood crush, her best friend, her protector, her husband; was unrecognizable. Blood had soaked his face so thoroughly; she could not be certain that he had a face left at all.
“Rebekah, the bopplin is still asleep. I got that clean quilt with no glass on it and put him in the kitchen. He is perfectly—”
Without warning, Thomas appeared behind her.
“Thomas, please do not look.” Rebekah attempted to shield Joseph’s injury from her little brother.
“I already did, Sissy.” Thomas laid a hand on her shoulder. “And I know that this is bad.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
Thomas kept his voice quiet. “Well, have you figured out what is wrong yet so you can tell me what to do?”
She glanced up at her little brudder, suddenly supremely grateful for his sudden appearance. “You are right. First things first. We need to find out where all this blood is coming from.”
“Here.” Thomas sat down and commenced to remove his shoe.
“Thomas?” Rebekah stared at her little brudder. “Whatever are you doing?”
“Trust me.” He peeled off his sock. “It is still wet from jumping in puddles earlier. And from just a little sweat, too.”
He handed the soggy sock to Rebekah, who took it with a tiny smile.
She touched the sock to Joseph’s cheek and began to wipe away the blood. “I know how much this will mean to Joseph when we tell him someday, that we cleaned his face with your wet, dirty sock.”
Thomas ignored the jest. “Look, Sissy.” Thomas peered intently. “Clean there. On his forehead.” Thomas reached over and touched Joseph’s forehead. He jerked his hand back as though he had been bitten by a snake.
“What’s wrong?”
Thomas’s face, normally pink beneath his freckles, suddenly went stark white as the blood drained from his cheeks. “Oh no, Sissy. That is not right. Joseph’s forehead feels…” Thomas hiccupped. “Mushy.”
Rebekah forced a swallow. “Thomas, would you go see to Pepper, please? He is probably spooked from the storm.”
“Jah. I will.”
