"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them?"

― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Teaser

Hoss sat his horse and stared at the monster on the horizon. Not ten minutes ago it had been sunny and warm. A sweet little breeze had been blowing across the cattle drive, pushing the smell of the cows behind them and dancing through the trees, verdant with green. There hadn't been a single cloud in the sky, nor clap of thunder. His father had told him many times the old fable, "Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning." But the sky had been blue, and they were somewhere between the Texas panhandle and Oklahoma. Sailors didn't get up this way.

Hoss turned in his saddle to see his youngest brother hazing a yearling back into the herd. Ben Cartwright would be somewhere half a mile back, riding drag with a couple of new hands. Charlie Black rode up to where Hoss sat his horse and tugged his bandanna down from his face. The sweat that had caked dust on his old whiskers made him look even older than usual. Charlie let out a whistle then sat back and fished in his pocket for a chaw of tobacco.

Hoss turned his head at the whistle, then looked back to the sky. "Yut."

"Twister." Charlie said. He bit off the corner of the plug and tucked it back into his pocket, chewing thoughtfully.

"Yut." Hoss agreed.

"Big one."

"Yut."

"Spect we'll get blowed about a bit." Charlie said, watching the dark grey devil pick up dust and debris. It was off a ways still, maybe a mile or two, but the flat terrain of Oklahoma sometimes fooled a man.

Hoss shrugged, leaning down to put a calming hand against his horse's neck. "Might turn."

"Might."

The shape of the twister continued to define itself, darkening around the edges. Even the giant, saucer shaped cloud that had given birth to the demon was far enough off that the sun was still shining over their heads.

Hoss turned to judge how far away the lead cattle were. "Best stop the herd here."

"Yut." Charlie said, squinting at a dark, oblong object as it rose into the air, circled the funnel then was tossed southward. It had looked like a piece of broccoli but Charlie figured it was a tree.

Hoss shook his head. "Never would'a figgered."

Charlie nodded. Weather was fickle that way. "Least ways it ain't rainin'."

Hoss tilted his head up to the sky, nodding at the clear blue, starting to smile a little. A piece of hail came out of that sky. It was bigger than a dollar piece and it came right at him, cracking across the bridge of his nose.

Pain blinded him and Hoss let out a holler that set his horse to bucking. Hoss turned the horse to disperse the energy somewhere else, holding his nose as he felt warm blood gush down over his lips. For a moment he thought sure that someone had shot him. And he wasn't sure he'd ever heard of a man surviving being shot in the nose. He was struggling to keep the horse in check, spitting blood and trying to breathe when he realized that other pieces of hail were falling around him. They pocked the dirt around him like bullets would, spitting dust into the air then starting to melt.

"Charlie, turn the herd." Hoss bellowed, finally getting his horse to face in the right direction. Another huge piece of hail must have smacked his horse's rump a second later because the animal took off with a leap, nearly dumping Hoss into a line of thorn bushes growing by the road. Hoss held on, tightened the lead and growled a warning to his animal that one more misstep would end in a wrestling match that the horse would not win.

Hoss tore after Charlie on his bucking horse, shouting to the cowhands to turn the herd and head for the meager shelter of the river bank to their north.

The hail and wind followed on his heels like a woman scorned. And things had been going so well.

Adam ran to the trough, filled the bucket, ran to the barn and handed the bucket off, got a new bucket, then went back to the trough. Bucky Weems was doing the same thing at the other end of the barn, filling pail after pail in an all out effort to save some part of the building. Jimmy and Billy Carnes, twins that rivaled Hoss in size and brawn, were standing nearest the fire, tossing the buckets of water. Between the four of them, Adam knew there was little chance at all that they would put the fire out, but still they tried.

The wind wasn't helping. It had been blowing, dry, hot and wicked, since Sunday and it was now whipping the flames up higher and higher, threatening to touch onto the trees surrounding the house, or the roof of the house itself. One wall of the bunkhouse was already aflame.

Adam heard a window burst, heard the creak of wood and saw the wall where the fire had started begin to bow.

"North wall's coming down." He shouted over the wind and the roar of the flames. "Leave it!" He ran a full bucket of water to Jimmy, took the empty bucket, then grabbed Jimmy's sleeve and yanked him back. "Leave it! She's goin'!"

Jimmy gave him a wide eyed stare and jerked his arm free, trying to throw that last bucket at the barn. The building creaked and swayed under the weight of the wind and Adam could hear the wood snapping, nails popping, more glass breaking.

"We gotta save the bunk house, leave it!"

Jimmy stopped a few feet from the barn door then changed course and tossed his bucket on the flaming wall of the bunk house. Adam ran to the barn door, his hands in front of his face, trying to see through to the other side of the barn. He caught sight of Billy Carnes and waved his arms frantically at the man, screaming at the top of his lungs for Billy to focus on the bunk house.

Rafters were falling between them, sending up sparks and flames. One beam fell and a cascade of straw streamed down into the center of the barn, lighting from the bottom to the top of the stream until a pillar of flame had grown, blocking Adam's view of the rear barn door. It took Adam a long moment to remember what else had been stored in that loft.

He watched the crate of coal oil fall as the loft lost all structural integrity. He watched the continuing river of straw pile onto the crate, bright, cheerful flames greedily eating it up. Adam grabbed Jimmy Barnes by the suspenders and dragged him away from the barn and the bunk house. Jimmy shrugged him off but Adam grabbed his sleeve and near tore it off trying again to drag Jimmy clear. This time the big man put a paw on Adam's shoulder and shoved him away. Adam saw the crate light up minutes before it exploded, just past the fuming face of the ever so slightly bigger twin and sighed.

Things had been going so well.