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.
These ropes stink.
They’re the only ones we have. And they’re on top of your blanket so they mostly don’t touch you.
The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Hurry up, then.
She fed another, longer rope through the loop on his left side, across his chest, supported by the loose rope around his neck so it wouldn’t slip down over his front legs, and back again through the loop on his right. Both ends of that rope would fasten the sled to the horse. She studied her work and was satisfied.
This rope on my chest? It’s going to rub the fur right off my shoulders.
Through your blanket?
Yes, through my blanket. Too much pressure on one spot.
If you insist. Bird dashed back to the kitchen and grabbed two dishtowels. She wrapped them around the sections of rope that came into contact with the gelding’s shoulders. Better?
Maybe.
Okay, I’m going to get Mrs. Pierson on the sled. Don’t move, or these ropes will get all tangled up in your legs.
This is not how I imagined spending Christmas.
Dream of all the bran mash you can eat.
Promise?
Promise. I couldn’t do this without you. She patted her horse’s nose. Really.
Sunny put his head against her chest. He was pleased.
Bird ducked back under the blanket over the door, into the kitchen. She pulled the sled as close to the woman as she could get. “Mrs. Pierson, can you help me?”
The old woman opened one eye and blinked. She coughed again and began to shiver. “Bird? What are you doing here? Where am I?”
“You’re lying on your kitchen floor, and you’ve been hurt. We have to get to Saddle Creek. You’ll freeze if you stay here. Your ankle is swollen, and you might have bonked your head.”
“I did, dear. I did bonk my head. It hurts,” she said weakly.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, dear.”
Bird was touched that, even in pain, Mrs. Pierson was considerate of her feelings. “Can you slide your body over a little, onto the sled?”
“I’m very cold, dear. Can you bring me another blanket?”
“Yes, I’ll wrap you right up.” Bird ran to the hall closet, and she found a long, down-filled red coat, a padded hat with earflaps, big plaid mittens, and some old fleece-lined boots that had belonged to Mr. Pierson. Mrs. Pierson hadn’t had the heart to throw his stuff out, thought Bird. And a good thing, too.
Mrs. Pierson was as helpful as possible as Bird dressed her. She tried not to whimper when the big boot was pulled over her ankle, but cried out in pain when Bird began to move her onto the sled.
“Ooooh. Sorry, dear! Owwww. Oh, sorry. Ahhhhhh!”
“You’re doing great, Mrs. Pierson. Just a couple more inches, and you’re on. Great! Good work!”
“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!”
“You did it!”
Mrs. Pierson was now on the sled. Bird poured the last of the water from her glass into a thermos and put it at her feet, along with the flashlight, and then checked the cushions to make sure that her precious patient would be as comfortable as possible.
Bird saw a problem. Mrs. Pierson could roll off. Not good. She cut a long length of rope and wound it tightly twice around the entire circumference of the sled. She used the curl on the front and the backrest on the rear to secure it, successfully fashioning a railing made of rope. It would have to do.
Ah, Bird?
I didn’t forget you, Sunny. We’re ready to go. Can you back up to the porch?
Righto.
He backed up as close as he could get, straddling the thick branch of the fallen tree.
Bird pulled down the grey army blanket that had been covering the door, and she carefully wrapped it around Mrs. Pierson. She took the ropes that she’d threaded through Sunny’s makeshift harness and tied them through the front curl of the sled, then double-knotted them on the ropes that formed the railing.
Let’s go home, Sunny.
Music to my ears.
Cody
Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how.
I can go no longer.
Bird asked Sunny to inch ahead slowly until the sled had been pulled out of the house and through the shattered porch. The giant branch of the aspen lay across the two steps to the ground. To minimize the jolt, Bird held up the end of the sled and lifted it over. It was very heavy but she managed, just.
She walked beside the sled as they moved across the yard, toward the road. Mrs. Pierson hadn’t moved.
Too slow. Sunny was impatient. We’ll never get home.
I know, but the smoother, the better for Mrs. Pierson.
I can do smooth. Sunny picked up his pace very slightly.
Mrs. Pierson cried out each time they went over a bump, and with all the branches scattered around, there