Christmas at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ true. Ouch. Stay here while I check out the house. Don’t go far. I might need you.

      You’re very welcome.

      Sorry. Thank you, Sunny. You did great. Really.

      The big gelding snorted and stamped his feet. His mane was completely encrusted with icy strings. It made a jingly noise as he shook his neck. I’ll be in the shed, out of the wind.

      Okay.

      Bird crouched over, prepared to break a fall as she slid one foot, then the other, across the ice to the farmhouse. She stepped over scattered branches and then climbed over the huge branch of the aspen to reach the door.

      It was wide open. The house was very dark inside and just as cold as outdoors.

      “Mrs. Pierson?” she called. She crossed the threshold cautiously and stood at the door frame. She called again, more loudly. “Mrs. Pierson? Are you here?”

      Bird heard a weak cough from the corner, then another. She shuffled toward the noise with her arms outstretched, feeling her way. The floor was almost as slippery as the ice outside.

      “Is that you, Bird?” croaked a thin voice.

      Bird jumped out of her skin. “Mrs. Pierson? You scared me! Are you all right?”

      “Not really, dear. I fell down. Can you find the flashlight for me, dear? It’s in the cupboard beside the coat closet in the hall.”

      “Yes. I’ll get it.” Bird turned around and felt along the wall until she got to the hall. After a minute of uncertainty, she found a doorknob and opened what she hoped was the closet door. “Mrs. Pierson? Can you give me a clue? Which shelf?”

      “I think it’s on the top shelf over on the right. If not, the second from the top.”

      Bird reached up and felt around, unsure of what she was searching for, and at a great disadvantage in the dark. “Is it a big, square flashlight or …” Bird’s fumbling knocked things over and caused several objects to crash to the floor. “Sorry!”

      “I think I heard it. Feel around on the ground.”

      “Okay.” Bird got down on her knees and patted the floor until she felt a long, heavy cylinder with a large, round end. “Found it!”

      She pressed a raised button. Light shone out in a steady beam, giving the room definition.

      “This is great!” Bird exclaimed. She came back into the kitchen and took a good look.

      “Oh, no. This is terrible.”

      The kitchen door was knocked right off its hinges. Not only had the branch broken through the porch, but it had also crashed through the kitchen wall.

      The temperature was frigid inside the room, and sleet was blowing in through the opening and all across the floor. That’s what’s making it so slippery, Bird thought. And there was no way to keep out the elements. She quickly closed the hall door behind her in an effort to keep the cold from spreading throughout the rest of the house, realizing it was already too late.

      The worst sight of all was when the flashlight lit up Laura Pierson. She was lying on the floor, shivering in her nightgown and slippers, looking very small and cold and dishevelled. Her back was hunched against the wall, her bare, blue-veined legs were out straight, and one ankle was quite swollen. Her old face was pale, her puffy white hair was askew, and her glasses had smashed on the floor beside her, leaving her small blue eyes squinting and blinking against the light. A trickle of blood seeped from the bridge of her nose. Her forehead was bruised.

      “What happened?” asked Bird. “How long have you been sitting here? And where do you hurt?”

      “Can you get me that blanket, dear? The one on the chair?”

      Bird took the plaid wool throw off the back of the armchair next to the fireplace and gently wrapped it around the old lady’s shoulders, then grabbed another blanket from the couch and put it over her legs.

      “Be careful of my ankle, dear. I’m feeling rather ­vulnerable.”

      Bird nodded. “You can’t stay here in the cold. I’ll call 911.”

      “Yes. Please do that, dear. I need some water.”

      Bird stood up, pulled her cell from her pocket, and punched in the three numbers. She placed the flashlight end-up on the floor to illuminate the entire room. As she waited for an operator to answer, she brought over a glass of water from the sink.

      Mrs. Pierson drank it down and motioned for Bird to refill it.

      Bird filled the glass again at the sink. The water pressure was lessening. Bird knew that pumps don’t work without power, and once the previously pumped water was gone, there’d be no more until the power came back on.

      She gave the water to Mrs. Pierson and waited while she drained the glass, then refilled it. Good thing Cody had come to get her when he did.

      Again, Bird wondered if the coyote was okay.

      The call went to a recorded message, asking Bird to be patient because of an extraordinary number of emergency calls, and informing her that her call would be answered in sequence. She was asked to press one for police, two for fire, and three for an ambulance. Bird pressed three. Another recorded message asked that she be patient because of an extraordinary number of emergency calls, and informed her that her call would be answered in sequence.

      Bird willed herself to stay calm. How can I be patient at a time like this? she wondered.

      She thought about hanging up and calling Paul and Hannah. But the roads were impassable. They couldn’t come to help, and she’d only make them worry. They’d wake up and not get back to sleep, and for nothing.

      Holding her cellphone to her ear, she checked out the oddly tilted kitchen door. She made an effort to get it closed but had no luck. The weight of the tree on the door frame was enormous.

      How could she stop the continuous flow of cold air and sleet? The pipes would freeze. Bird opened the old wooden trunk next to the armchair and found a thick grey army blanket.

      “Can I nail this up, Mrs. Pierson?”

      The old woman nodded feebly. She was losing energy.

      Bird was still on hold. She put her phone on speaker and set it on the table while she found some nails and a hammer in the hall closet, then tacked up the blanket. She put a pile of books on the blanket edge, which kept it from flapping in the wind. With the wind blocked, suddenly there was quiet. It was a bigger relief than Bird expected.

      Mrs. Pierson was asleep. Bird hoped that she hadn’t fainted.

      Finally, a male operator answered. “This is 911. What is your emergency?”

      Bird scrambled for the phone and said, “My name is Alberta Simms. I’m at the farm of Laura Pierson at 19347 Third Line, Caledon. I’m her neighbour. She’s in her nineties. She’s hurt and needs help.”

      There was a pause. “The third line of Caledon, north of the Grange, is completely blocked at this time. The hydro СКАЧАТЬ