It wasn't Shane's fault that the wagon wheel buckled under the weight, yet he blamed himself. He chastised himself for trying to make the ride in the rain, knowing full well that the storm would soak the already pitted road, causing dangerous slips and hidden dangers in the puddles. Anyone with any sense would have stayed home, he thought, climbing down. Shane was always good at blaming himself, for anything that ever went wrong.
Shane had developed this particular skill from a most accomplished teacher, his father. Blaming Shane for every stroke of ill luck that occurred to the family, he'd make the beatings, emotional and physical, quite regular. Once, lightning had struck the barn and the ensuing fire made quick work of the animals within. Shane's father beat him black and blue, all the while screaming curses that it would never have happened if he hadn't the "demon's child."
Standing in the rain, soaked through to the bone, Shane examined the wheel. The spokes had snapped after a jarring from a pit in the road, the loud snap startling the horses. Shane looked up to the front of the wagon at his two horse team.
"Father will have my hide for this," he said to his horses. Their ears flicked as if to understand. "Can't say I'd blame him. It'll be well past dark before I can change the wheel and get back home." He stopped. If he didn't finish the trip and sell the goods, he'd return empty handed and receive another beating. He shoulders sagged a little more. There was no way to win.
Tears welled in Shane's eyes. He allowed himself to cry. The tears would not be noticeable in the rain, not that there was anyone else stupid enough to be out in this weather. On top of that, he would not have been able to stop the sobbing if he'd tried. Four days of solitary travel, constantly worrying that something would go wrong and earn him another beating had caused his will to become so weak that when something finally did go wrong, he couldn't help himself. Shane slumped in the mud and wept.
Shane would have cried for hours if the storm had not intensified. The comforting pat-pat-pat of the rain had steadily gotten stronger, heavier, until it brought him from his misery, reminding him of the stinging slaps he'd received so many times in the past. He stood and fruitlessly wiped his eyes. Getting down to the business of replacing the wagon wheel, he knew he'd have to hurry to make the most of the daylight left to him. He looked around for rocks and small logs to prop the wagon up while he changed the wheel.
The sun, fickle on cloudless days, can be simply unforgiving during storms and so faded faster than Shane had thought possible. Working in the dark, soaked, and hungry, he panged for some of the vegetables that were to be sold at market, but he dared not touch them. He kept busy, even when the thunder started rolling in. He'd pause to wipe his nose and to calm the horses by wiping them down. Although they were wet again as soon as his brush passed over, it had a calming effect. By the time the wheel was replaced, the lightning had set in, bringing the full brunt of the storm to bear.
"Easy, Poods and Chance," Shane almost shouted to the horses as he climbed into the driver's seat. Taking the leash up in bloody knuckles, he had to pull hard to keep them from bolting. The wagon shook free from its muddy rest with a couple of jarring starts. Shane and his precious cargo of wool and vegetables were on its way again to Willendorf.
Shane had needed to make for town as quick as possible to catch up on time and to get to shelter, but he found himself really pulling hard to keep the horses from moving too quickly in the mud. A slip could injure one of the horses and if the wagon lost another wheel, there was no replacement. He lost all control when the hail started falling.
"Whoa, steady, boys!" he shouted, pulling even harder on the reigns. Shane knew the bits had to be tugging hard at the horses and causing pain, but they ignored him. The pelting from the hail was getting worse. Bits the size of snowflakes were now raining down and showing no sign of stopping or getting smaller.
The panic welling up in Shane subsided when a hailstone the size of his fist crashed into his skull, knocking him from his seat. Near unconscious, he rolled over backwards and landed amidst bolts of wool and bushels of carrots and radishes.
Poods and Chance, free from the hindering tugs of their master whinnied and pulled as hard as they could to get away from the unrelenting storm. The flashes of lightning were frightening, the thunder even more so and the hailstones added physical punishment to their fears.
"Steady, boys," Shane mumbled, hardly aware he was lying in the produce. Oddly, he felt warm and peaceful; the rocking of the wagon and the steady pounding of the storm was having a pacifying affect, lulling him to sleep. He never heard the shriek of the horses, nor felt the sudden jarring of the wagon. He was briefly aware he was sailing through the air.
When Shane woke, his head felt as if he'd been celebrating his coming of age again, save he didn't have a woman in his bed. He groaned and looked around. It was still dark, the rain was still falling and he was under a pile of heavy, wet wool and soggy vegetables. Slowly, he stood. Thirty feet away, he could make out the dark shapes of Poods and Chance near the wreckage that was the wagon.
Stumbling, he made his way to them using the occasional flash of lightning but stopped when he neared. Chance appeared to have been nudging Poods who was collapsed on the ground, his legs twisted and broken. As Shane had gotten closer, he could see terrible rends in Poods' flesh and Chance hadn't been nudging his partner, he was eating him.
"Chance, what are you doing?" Shane asked, disbelief clear on voice. Another lightning burst illuminated the scene just as Chance lifted his head to regard his master. His eyes were dead and what was left of his face was shriveled and taut against a dripping, broken skull. Chance gave a hollow, lifeless grunt and took a step toward Shane.
Shane's scream was blotted out by the thunderclap that echoed across the dark and stained plain.
Shane had developed this particular skill from a most accomplished teacher, his father. Blaming Shane for every stroke of ill luck that occurred to the family, he'd make the beatings, emotional and physical, quite regular. Once, lightning had struck the barn and the ensuing fire made quick work of the animals within. Shane's father beat him black and blue, all the while screaming curses that it would never have happened if he hadn't the "demon's child."
Standing in the rain, soaked through to the bone, Shane examined the wheel. The spokes had snapped after a jarring from a pit in the road, the loud snap startling the horses. Shane looked up to the front of the wagon at his two horse team.
"Father will have my hide for this," he said to his horses. Their ears flicked as if to understand. "Can't say I'd blame him. It'll be well past dark before I can change the wheel and get back home." He stopped. If he didn't finish the trip and sell the goods, he'd return empty handed and receive another beating. He shoulders sagged a little more. There was no way to win.
Tears welled in Shane's eyes. He allowed himself to cry. The tears would not be noticeable in the rain, not that there was anyone else stupid enough to be out in this weather. On top of that, he would not have been able to stop the sobbing if he'd tried. Four days of solitary travel, constantly worrying that something would go wrong and earn him another beating had caused his will to become so weak that when something finally did go wrong, he couldn't help himself. Shane slumped in the mud and wept.
Shane would have cried for hours if the storm had not intensified. The comforting pat-pat-pat of the rain had steadily gotten stronger, heavier, until it brought him from his misery, reminding him of the stinging slaps he'd received so many times in the past. He stood and fruitlessly wiped his eyes. Getting down to the business of replacing the wagon wheel, he knew he'd have to hurry to make the most of the daylight left to him. He looked around for rocks and small logs to prop the wagon up while he changed the wheel.
The sun, fickle on cloudless days, can be simply unforgiving during storms and so faded faster than Shane had thought possible. Working in the dark, soaked, and hungry, he panged for some of the vegetables that were to be sold at market, but he dared not touch them. He kept busy, even when the thunder started rolling in. He'd pause to wipe his nose and to calm the horses by wiping them down. Although they were wet again as soon as his brush passed over, it had a calming effect. By the time the wheel was replaced, the lightning had set in, bringing the full brunt of the storm to bear.
"Easy, Poods and Chance," Shane almost shouted to the horses as he climbed into the driver's seat. Taking the leash up in bloody knuckles, he had to pull hard to keep them from bolting. The wagon shook free from its muddy rest with a couple of jarring starts. Shane and his precious cargo of wool and vegetables were on its way again to Willendorf.
Shane had needed to make for town as quick as possible to catch up on time and to get to shelter, but he found himself really pulling hard to keep the horses from moving too quickly in the mud. A slip could injure one of the horses and if the wagon lost another wheel, there was no replacement. He lost all control when the hail started falling.
"Whoa, steady, boys!" he shouted, pulling even harder on the reigns. Shane knew the bits had to be tugging hard at the horses and causing pain, but they ignored him. The pelting from the hail was getting worse. Bits the size of snowflakes were now raining down and showing no sign of stopping or getting smaller.
The panic welling up in Shane subsided when a hailstone the size of his fist crashed into his skull, knocking him from his seat. Near unconscious, he rolled over backwards and landed amidst bolts of wool and bushels of carrots and radishes.
Poods and Chance, free from the hindering tugs of their master whinnied and pulled as hard as they could to get away from the unrelenting storm. The flashes of lightning were frightening, the thunder even more so and the hailstones added physical punishment to their fears.
"Steady, boys," Shane mumbled, hardly aware he was lying in the produce. Oddly, he felt warm and peaceful; the rocking of the wagon and the steady pounding of the storm was having a pacifying affect, lulling him to sleep. He never heard the shriek of the horses, nor felt the sudden jarring of the wagon. He was briefly aware he was sailing through the air.
When Shane woke, his head felt as if he'd been celebrating his coming of age again, save he didn't have a woman in his bed. He groaned and looked around. It was still dark, the rain was still falling and he was under a pile of heavy, wet wool and soggy vegetables. Slowly, he stood. Thirty feet away, he could make out the dark shapes of Poods and Chance near the wreckage that was the wagon.
Stumbling, he made his way to them using the occasional flash of lightning but stopped when he neared. Chance appeared to have been nudging Poods who was collapsed on the ground, his legs twisted and broken. As Shane had gotten closer, he could see terrible rends in Poods' flesh and Chance hadn't been nudging his partner, he was eating him.
"Chance, what are you doing?" Shane asked, disbelief clear on voice. Another lightning burst illuminated the scene just as Chance lifted his head to regard his master. His eyes were dead and what was left of his face was shriveled and taut against a dripping, broken skull. Chance gave a hollow, lifeless grunt and took a step toward Shane.
Shane's scream was blotted out by the thunderclap that echoed across the dark and stained plain.