Christmas at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

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      Bird assessed Mrs. Pierson. She looked terrible, even worse than before. “A tree fell on her house. She’s lying on the floor, and she’s either asleep or unconscious. There’s a bump growing on her forehead. Her right ankle is twice as big as her left.”

      The man asked, “Can you make her comfortable?”

      Bird grimaced. “I’m not sure. She’s in a lot of pain.”

      “Raise her injured ankle so it rests above her heart, keep her hydrated, and if there’s Tylenol, give her three tablets. Do not give her Aspirin because it’s a blood thinner. And try to keep her body warm any way you can.”

      “Okay. How soon do you think somebody will come? The house is freezing, and she’s really old.”

      “An ambulance will arrive at the earliest possible time, but it might be several hours. I’ve put in a request. That’s all I can do. Please continue to do what you can for her, and we will get to her as soon as possible.”

      “I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

      “Can I reach you at this number?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good. We’ll call with an update as soon as we can.”

      “Okay. I hope it’s soon.”

      “Good luck, Bertha.”

      Bird pressed “end,” suddenly very unsure of what to do. Would Mrs. Pierson be okay for several hours? She understood their problem with the hydro lines down, but could the old woman survive this cold and the pain in her ankle, and maybe a concussion, for much longer?

      The way Bird saw it, Mrs. Pierson likely slipped on the icy floor when she got out of bed to investigate the crash in her kitchen. Bird calculated how long she’d been lying there. Cody had woken Bird just before midnight. It would’ve taken Cody at least twenty minutes to get from Merry Fields to Saddle Creek Farm, so he left to get help around 11:30 p.m. Bird’s cellphone read 1:36 a.m., so Mrs. Pierson had been sitting on the floor for at least a couple of hours, plus however long she’d been there before Cody noticed. How much longer could they wait?

      Bird knelt at the woman’s side. “Mrs. Pierson?”

      She didn’t respond. Bird gently shook her shoulder.

      Laura Pierson groaned quietly and let out a tiny cough, like the one Bird heard when she first entered the house.

      Bird stood up. She made her decision. Mrs. Pierson could not wait until the hydro lines had been cleared. She needed to come home to Saddle Creek now, and Bird had a plan.

      She picked up the flashlight, walked to the washroom, and looked behind the sink mirror and in all the drawers for the drugs that the man had prescribed. None. Bird ran upstairs and checked the bedroom and cupboards. Finally, she found a bottle of Tylenol. It had expired six years ago, but Bird deemed it would be better than nothing.

      She came downstairs, was able to fill the water glass one more time, and urged Mrs. Pierson to take the pills, which was very difficult for her because while she could briefly open her eyes, she was still not anywhere near alert. Instead of three tablets, Bird gave her four. Whatever strength they had left, Mrs. Pierson would need.

      Bird? Are you in there? What’s taking so long? Her horse stretched his neck and pushed the blanket over the door with his nose, causing it to come away from one of the nails.

      Sunny! I was just coming to get you.

      Can we go home? I want to go back to my stall.

      Yes, we can, but we’re taking Mrs. Pierson with us.

      That’s crazy. She’s too old to learn to ride.

      We’re going to pull her in a sled.

      We’re going to pull her? Or I’m going to pull her?

      You’re going to pull her.

      What’s in it for me?

      You go home to your stall.

      Done.

      First, I need to find a sled.

      What’s that?

      A flat piece of wood that people slide down hills on.

      Hey! There’s one in the shed, where I’ve been waiting forever and ever.

      Great! Are there ropes in there, too?

      There are metal ropes.

      Chains? I’ll go look.

      Bird took another look at Mrs. Pierson. A large bruise was forming on the bump that was growing on her forehead. Bird noted how transparent skin gets as people age, and she worried again about a concussion. She hurried outside with the flashlight.

      She was relieved to find that the wind had died down, which made the night feel warmer, and the icy rain had stopped. Thankfully, the moon was beginning to show through the cloud cover. With much better visibility, things boded well for the trip back to Saddle Creek. At least there was some good news in the pile of bad.

      Bird followed Sunny to the shed beside the house. A fresh pile of manure indicated where her horse had sheltered.

      Just as Sunny had said, an old wooden toboggan was hanging on the far wall. The front was curled up so it could slide through snow, and the end had a back support so kids wouldn’t fall off. There were green cushions nailed on, and it was long enough for several children to go for a ride down a hill. Long enough to pull Mrs. Pierson to Saddle Creek. It looked homemade. Bird felt sure that Mr. Pierson had built it, and he’d be glad for it to be used to get his wife to safety. Mrs. Pierson had been the treasure of his life.

      She lifted it off the wall and set it on the ground.

      The chains that Sunny had mentioned were meant to pull trucks out of ditches and far too heavy for this job. She shone the light over the walls and along the shelves. Just when she was about to concede defeat, she noticed a blue plastic container behind some water barrels. She lifted the lid to find coils of rope covered with grease, probably from some machine. They would do perfectly.

      Bird threw the ropes on the sled and pulled it over the branches and into the kitchen. After briefly thinking about the best way Mrs. Pierson should travel, she decided that feet first might be easier. She took some cushions off the couch and laid them on the sled. She put two throw pillows at the back for Mrs. Pierson’s head and neck, and a third pillow at the front for the swollen ankle to be raised.

      Now she uncoiled the soiled ropes and figured out how to fit them on Sundancer so he could pull the sled. With kitchen shears from a drawer, she cut a length to be used around his rib cage, just behind his front legs. She cut another to hang around his neck, and another to form loops to run the rope through, which would attach to the sled.

      Mrs. Pierson groaned. Bird glanced at her and noticed that her skin had turned almost blue. There was no time to waste. Bird ducked under the hanging blanket and, once outside, fastened the ropes onto Sunny like a harness.

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