13. Jacob
Jacob
The whip-poor-will’s cry carried across the farmyard, slipping through my window with the morning mist. In the dark before dawn, the lonely bird called out over the prairie in search of a partner. The sound sharpened the longing that met me when I woke. Not for a partner. But for distant horizons.
I shook Erik’s arm and pulled on my old work boots. “Wake up, the animals are waiting.”
A splash of well water brought me fully awake before the last stars faded from the sky.
I gulped down a few mouthfuls, ice-cold.
The metallic tang of the farm’s bedrock settled heavily in my bones.
I carried a bucket into the kitchen, where Ma’s apron was already in place.
She wished me good morning as she punched down dough.
Erik’s heavy steps pounded down the stairs.
I knew the exact spot he would land after swinging around the newel post, and the small head-shake Ma would make at the thud.
Every day fell into the same grooves. The last surprise had been Pa’s apoplexy, four years ago now. Four years of duty over dreams.
We stepped outside into the fog that pooled in the gullies and ditches.
Animals shifted and made low sounds in the nearby barn, and Erik headed in that direction with a nod.
I turned toward the hill. Lilacs scented the air near the steep path.
I’d pick a bouquet of the purple blooms on the way back and surprise Ma with her favorite flowers.
I sent two short whistles out over the fields.
Comet burst from the brush. He’d probably been chasing rabbits down by the creek.
One had to admire his energy this early in the day.
His brown and white fur flashed as he streaked toward me, true to his name.
One ear flipped backward, revealing pink that matched his lolling tongue.
After a quick pat, I said, “We’re off to check the alfalfa, boy. ”
The distant whistle of the early westbound train tugged at the part of me that wanted more than chores and fields. We jogged to the crest of the hill. Off in the east, the colors of early morning exploded as the sun inched above the horizon.
The train came into view on the track running along the southern edge of our alfalfa field.
Years ago, a train brought Mrs. Knutson’s nephew and his stories of the outside world—oceans, mountains, trees so large you could carve a home in the trunk and live as the king of the squirrels.
Now the brakes squealed as the train slowed for the Harmony Lake station just ahead—slow enough I could’ve sprinted along beside it, jumped aboard.
The cars clanged past. A whole world of stories and adventures just beyond my reach… at least for now.
I bent to scratch Comet behind the ears and pulled a few cockleburs from his velvety fur, then straightened and surveyed the alfalfa field stretched below.
I glimpsed fabric fluttering at the end of the train—a flag, perhaps?
Unusual. I peered down, squinting in the growing light.
Nothing. The back of the train was bare.
My attention returned to the alfalfa field, but fluttering fabric again caught my eye. This time, it was lying in a heap beside the empty track. “Come on, boy, let’s investigate.”
We worked our way down through the field.
I focused mainly on the crop, judging the proportion of blooms to buds.
By the time we were two-thirds of the way to the track, I knew the field would be ready to cut within days.
Comet bounced along, his head bobbing above the sea of green stems and scattered purple flowers.
As we neared the mysterious bundle, another gust of wind lifted the purple fabric. My heart slammed into my throat and the world tilted. I sprinted with Comet yipping at my heels.
The wind tossed about reddish-brown waves—waves that could only be long auburn hair.
I dropped to my knees on the rocky earth only feet from the track and pulled back the billowing fabric. A young woman about Jo’s age sprawled on her side. I felt for a pulse on her delicate neck, but my hand shook. My own pulse pounded so urgently I couldn’t find hers.
Comet pushed between us, taking over the assessment, nuzzling her face with his wet nose. She moaned and lifted one hand before it fell back to the ground. Thank the angels and saints and all that is holy… She’s alive.
Comet whined and pranced about. I laid a hand on his back. “Shh,” I said, as much to soothe myself as him. My whooshing pulse filled my ears. Comet’s white front paw was stained red.
A pool of red darkened the gravel under her head, mostly hidden by her hair. I rolled her gently onto her back. The puddle of blood forced me back hard onto my heels.
Her hair clumped—sticky and matted with dark clots and dirt. Blood dripped from above her right ear. I dabbed the area with a clean handkerchief, finding an uneven gash that bled steadily.
She groaned, and her brow furrowed when I pressed at the wound to staunch the flow. If her pale skin was any indication, she needed every drop of blood still on the inside to stay there.
Comet’s calm didn’t last. While I held pressure to her wound, he ran around in a frenzy, making it difficult to think. “Sit!” For once, the dog obeyed immediately. Must’ve been the panic in my voice.
I ran my gaze from her bare feet to her face and found no other major injuries.
Her heavy robe was shredded in places, and she was scraped up, but nothing was obviously broken.
Only her head was bleeding. Her purple robe had fallen open, exposing a strip of flawless skin across her collarbone.
Of all the things to notice at a time like this.
I pulled the tattered garment back over her form, preserving her modesty as much as possible.
“Open your eyes, come on now.” But her long lashes didn’t budge. Her bleeding slowed but hadn’t stopped. The muscles of her face stayed slack, and her mouth hung slightly open. I couldn’t leave her here and run for help. There was only one option.
My handkerchief dripped with her blood. I tossed it aside and tore a strip from the hem of her nightdress. I secured it with the belt from her robe, cinching it tightly around her head.
A deep breath steadied my nerves. I scooped her into my arms, rose to my feet, and readjusted her weight. I imagined I was cradling a newborn calf. But—mercy—the baby cows were nothing like this.
I gazed down at her unconscious face. “I’ve got you,” I said, and it felt like a vow. I took one step, then another, and trudged up the hill. Comet raced ahead and disappeared over the crest.
Near the edge of the field, she moaned and thrashed. I set her down to keep from dropping her. She lay among the alfalfa, writhing.
“All right now, calm yourself,” I said to both of us.
“I’m sure your head is hurting, but you’re safe.
I’m here. We’re on our way to help.” I lifted her cool hand and folded it in mine, tentatively stroking the smooth skin of her narrow wrist with my thumb.
The motion smeared blood onto her skin, but seemed to help.
Her writhing stopped. For the first time, I found her pulse, thready and fast.
“That’s right. I won’t leave you.” Did she hear me?
Unbound hair blew across her face. With a trembling finger, I brushed it back.
Her eyes fluttered open. Pools of emerald green flecked with gold focused on me, shifting my bearings—like a magnet swinging the needle of a compass.
I smiled. “Well, hello. Good to see your eyes. Outstanding, in fact. You had me worried.”
She winced and reached for her head. “Who… what?” Her delicate fingers explored the makeshift bandage.
I held her other hand in mine. For some reason, I couldn’t stop the back-and-forth motion of my thumb skimming over her skin. “Be still now. You have a?—”
Comet burst into view.
“Jacob,” Erik bellowed as he crossed the top of the hill a step behind Comet.
“Over here,” I answered at the top of my lungs.
Erik soon stood panting at my side. He stared at the young lady who again lay unconscious. “Saw blood on Comet. Thought the worst. Ran straight up the hill. Fastest ever. What’s happened? What do we do?”
“You’re going to run back home and tell Ma to get ready. This lady fell off the train, hit her head, and hasn’t really woken up. She lost an awful lot of blood… have Jo go for Doc Nelson.”
Erik hesitated only long enough to ask, with a slight curve of his lip, “You just gonna sit there holding her hand?”
“Off with you now. I’m going to carry her.”