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Hurricane - Luke Combs
Wyatt
By the time I got back to the Harper’s farm, thunder was a constant overhead, like the heartbeat of the storm. The sky had turned a dark grey, but the rain held back, teasing the too short grass that was begging for a drink.
The wind blew dirt and dust across our path and my hat right off my head. It spooked my horse, and he started crow-hopping across the field.
“Whoa, boy!” I sat firmly in the saddle and resisted the urge to pull back on the reins. He was scared, and I didn’t want to make it worse. “Easy,” I said in a soothing voice.
I urged him to move in a forward direction instead of the sideways movement he was doing. As we approached the barn, an open door was banging against the outer wall and the tin roof was lifting on the corner. The horse balked in response. I hopped off and tried to lead him inside, but he had his feet planted and he was going nowhere near that barn.
“Oh, c’mon, bud. We’ll get you untacked, and then you can go hang out in the pasture with your friends.” I gave a gentle tug on the reins, but he wasn’t moving.
Another gust of wind hit us hard, and he reared up. Startled, I almost dropped the reins but hung on.
“Hold on!” Grace ran out of the barn to our side. She deftly unbuckled the saddle cinch, and as soon as it was undone, she pulled the saddle off him, ran to the gate of the pasture, and opened it wide.
I pulled the bridle off his head. He dropped the bit from his mouth and took off through the open gate towards the herd. Grace shut and secured the gate.
Thunder boomed in the sky.
“We need to get inside!” Grace yelled over the howling of the wind as we sprinted towards the safety of the house.
The gusts of wind threatened to sweep us off our feet, forcing us to lean into the storm’s ferocity. When we were almost at the front door, the sky exploded with a blinding flash. A deafening crack followed as lightning streaked across the heavens. In that instant, everything became so clear, so bright.
A bolt of lightning had struck the barn behind us. The force of the impact was like an explosion. The building went up in flames and sparked to the hay shed next to it.
As the flames danced in the barn, the family rushed outside, their eyes widening.
“Oh my god.” Grace’s hand covered her mouth, and tears flowed from her eyes.
I put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side, and she cried into my chest. All we could do was wait and pray for the rain to unleash itself and pour down onto the flames below.
While the Harpers and I continued to watch in dismay as the fire consumed the barn, the heavens responded to our silent pleas. Sheets of water suddenly cascaded from the sky, extinguishing the flames with a sizzling hiss.
The storm, now a force of salvation rather than destruction, drenched us to the bone. The raindrops, each a tiny hero, descended upon the smouldering remains of the barn.
We stood there until every last flame was extinguished and tendrils of black smoke rose into the now still air.
Grace’s father clutched his hat to his chest, stepped backwards until he reached the porch steps, and sunk down so he was sitting, defeated. Alice ran over and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. I couldn’t tell if she was crying, but how could she not be? Grace was still sobbing into my chest, and Noah was sitting on the ground, his head between his knees.
I rubbed my hand up and down Grace’s back. There were no words to say.
After a while, Grace’s dad got up. “Let’s go check the animals,” was all he said.
This was a ranch, and the livestock was all that mattered. We went inside only to change into dry clothes, then we all headed out on foot, first to check the horses.
They were on edge and skittish as hell, but all accounted for and unharmed.
“We’ll go grab a couple of quads to go find the herd,” Mr. Harper said. “Looks like they ran farther into the bush.”
We weren’t about to make the horses work in this state, plus all the saddles, bridles, and all other equipment were in the barn. Damn, they’d lost a lot. Hopefully, they at least had their herd intact.
We searched well into the night, checked over every cow, and other than some scratches—probably from getting spooked into tree branches—the herd was more or less alright. Wearily, we headed back to the house, ready for food and bed.
“Thanks for your help, Wyatt.” Mr. Harper patted my back.
“No problem.” I rubbed my eyes. All I wanted was a bed.
