18. Storm
Storm
Silas
The men gather at the table, their plates piled high with food, shoulders still damp from the storm.
Rain and sweat mingle in the heavy air, mirroring the storm’s lingering presence indoors.
An hour ago, the skies turned dark, and the downpour caught us unprepared in the pastures.
We worked fast, securing the herd, but not fast enough to stay dry.
Now, the dining room is filled with the sound of boots scuffing the floor, chairs scraping against wood, and the low murmur of voices chasing away the storm’s chill.
Eli moves through the room, swapping an empty coffee pot for a fresh one.
Steam rises from it, curling lazily into the warm air.
Helena hovers near the stove, her movements fluid as she replenishes the platters, making sure no one goes without.
I sink into my chair, settling in. The wound I earned two weeks ago has mostly healed, but the downtime left me weaker than I’d like.
Age feels like a slow betrayal, each year a reminder of how fragile these bodies are.
From my seat, I watch the others. The scrape of utensils against plates and the deep timbre of laughter fill the space, grounding me in the familiarity of it all. A plate is placed in front of me, drawing my attention. I glance up to see Helena standing there, her face calm .
“I could’ve fixed my own plate, Ms. Toth,” I say, my tone gruff but not unkind.
“You’re welcome, Silas,” she replies, leaving no room for argument. She turns back to the stove without another word.
I grunt in response, a wordless acknowledgment, and pick up my fork. As I take my first bite, I notice Eli watching me from across the table. His eyes gleam with amusement and his lips tug into a crooked, knowing smile.
I raise a brow at him in challenge, but he just shakes his head and turns back to his plate, the corners of his mouth still twitching. Whatever joke he’s keeping to himself, I let it stay there, buried under the rhythm of the storm outside and the quiet comfort of the room.
Once dinner was over, a handful of men, having donned dry clothes and rain gear, prepared to head back out. The storm showed no sign of easing. Relentless sheets of rain fell, broken only by the sharp crack of lightning illuminating the sky.
In the living room, Helena, Kiran, and Eli sat in a loose circle, the soft shuffle of cards and hum of laughter threading through the house.
I stayed in the kitchen, staring out the window.
Nights like this always set me on edge. The dark clouds rolling over the horizon, the merciless drumbeat of rain.
Knowing some of my men were out there, working under that black sky, made the unease burrow deeper.
“The storm seems to be getting worse.” Eli’s voice breaks through the silence behind me. I hadn’t heard him approach.
I nod without looking away from the rain. “I’m thinking about calling them all back in.”
Eli comes to stand beside me, his reflection faint in the window’s streaked glass. “I can ride out and get everyone.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ll start getting the paddocks ready.”
He claps a hand lightly against the doorframe. “I’ll grab my gear. Shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes to round them up.”
I nod again, turning back to my coffee as he disappears down the hallway. The storm is loud now, the rain hammering against the roof.
When I turn, I find Helena standing in the kitchen doorway. “Quite the storm out there,” she reckons. “Is Eli heading out for the men and the herd?”
“Yeah,” I reply, draining the last sip of coffee and setting the mug in the sink. “I’ll be working on the paddocks in the meantime.”
She tilts her head, studying me for a moment before speaking. “I can change and help you.”
“I don’t want you out in this, Helena.” My words come quickly.
Her lips curve into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I won’t melt from some rain, Mr. Hayes.”
I let out a sigh, not sure if I have the energy to fight her on the subject. “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s bad out there and I don’t need worrying about you to slow me down.”
Her mouth opens, but she thinks better of it. Before turning toward the stairs, she simply states, “I’ll meet you out there.”
She takes the stairs two at a time, not leaving me any time to protest. Shaking off my annoyance, I grab my rain slicker and pull on my boots. Taking my hat off the hook, I open the door to head outside.
The paddock is a swamp of water and churned mud as I haul hay from the barn, the bales heavy and damp.
Each step sinks into the ground, the muck clinging to my boots, the rain lashing against me like needles.
The perimeter needs checking. It’s been too long since we’ve brought the herd in, and out there, scattered along the highest points of the hills, they’re sitting ducks for lightning strikes .
I’m in the far corner, mending a warped rail, when movement catches my eye.
Helena strides out of the barn, a two-string bale of hay balanced easily in her arms. Despite weighing at least fifty pounds, she carries it across the yard with ease.
The rain soaks through her clothes, water running from the brim of her Stetson, but she doesn’t falter.
I watch her for a moment longer, something foreboding prickling at the back of my mind.
The distant calls of the men reach me, subtle but growing louder. I finish securing the rail and head toward Helena; the rain coming down harder now, sharp enough to sting where it hits bare skin.
“The men are close,” I shout over the storm as I approach. “Go on up to the house.”
She pauses, her eyes steady beneath the dripping brim of her hat. “I’ll keep to the barn in case you need me. The herd’ll be stressed, it might be tough guiding them in.”
Rain streams down her face, catching on her lashes and dripping from her chin, but her voice is calm. I watch her tongue dart out to lick the droplets from her lips. I nod reluctantly. “Go to the barn, then. Stay there unless I call you.”
“Yes, Mr. Hayes.” Her voice carries an edge of annoyance as she turns, heading for the barn.
The calls of the point rider grow louder, and soon I see him, his horse slogging through the muck, one hundred and twenty-three heads of cattle trailing behind him. As they approach, I swing the gate wide, stepping aside as the herd pours through.
A flash of lightning splits the sky, electric and blinding.
The air feels charged, my skin prickling in its wake.
Thunder crashes only moments later, a deafening boom that ripples through the yard.
The left flank of the herd startles, breaking formation in a chaotic scatter.
The flankman works fast to regroup them, but one bull veers off, snorting and pawing at the muddy ground.
I’m stuck on the wrong side of the herd to intercept him. Panic tightens in my chest.
“Helena!” I shout, my voice distinct above the storm .
She appears at the barn door, her keen gaze taking in the situation instantly. Without hesitation, she starts toward the bull.
I climb onto the gate, leaning over as the rain and the chaos muffle my voice. “Go get the rope!”
She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look my way. Instead, she walks directly toward the bull. My stomach twists as I shout again, louder this time, the edge of fear creeping in.
“Helena! Back off—go to the barn!”
She doesn’t respond, her pace steady, closing the distance between herself and the agitated animal.
“Goddamn it, Helena!” The words are a curse and a plea as the herd surges between us, cutting me off from her.
Time seems to slow. The bull is pawing at the ground, its breath misting in the cold rain, muscles twitching beneath its soaked hide. It tosses its head, dirt and water flying as its haunches bunch like a coiled spring. I can see the charge building.
But Helena doesn’t stop.
Her steps are sure and steady, as if the deluge and frenzy don’t exist. She extends one hand slowly, fingers splayed, her lips moving. The bull freezes, its eyes locking onto her. Its muscles go still, the wild energy draining away.
I watch, breath caught in my chest, as her hand presses gently to the bull’s neck.
Trembling but subdued, the beast exhales in the rain, its breath forming steam as its huge form quivers.
Helena doesn’t flinch. Her movements are still so damn calm.
Whatever words she’s speaking, they seem to sink into the bull, her touch anchoring it.
And I can only stand there, helpless, as something inexplicable unfolds before me.
Helena’s lips keep moving, her hand sliding from the bull’s neck to its massive shoulder.
The beast shifts as if compelled, its hulking frame relaxed now, compliant.
Step by step, it follows her, moving toward the gate with a steady grace that defies its earlier rage.
The last of the herd filters through, the drag rider bringing up the rear. And then there’s Helena, leading the bull like she’s known it all its life .
I drop from the rail, boots hitting the ground with a splash, mud sucking at my steps as I prepare to shut the gate. The riders pass by, their eyes locked on the bull, the same bewilderment mirrored in their expressions. Eli stops beside me, rain dripping from the brim of his hat.
“What the hell was that?” he breathes, his voice taut with disbelief.
“Fuck if I know,” I mutter, my pulse still pounding. “Like a witch.”
Helena pauses, resting a hand on the bull’s broad neck as if saying goodbye. The animal huffs, then turns to join the others in the paddock. She starts walking toward us.
Eli shakes his head, casting me a sidelong glance. “I’m soaked through. I’m heading up.”
“Go on,” I reply absently, eyes fixed on Helena. “I’ll be in soon.”
He nods and trudges toward the house, leaving me alone to face her. She stops in front of me; the rain carving rivers down her face, but she won’t meet my gaze.