Buried
Anne sat huddled between the sleeping babies and toddlers as they bounced over the wash board ruts on the graveled road to the farm. Her mind drifted from scene to scene as it played in the movie, imagining herself as Scarlet O'Hara. It was terrible how they ended it, she thought. Worries and hopes kept her mind occupied for the drive home. The steady down pour of rain patted against the metal of the truck, enducing a calm feeling. Mrs. Hammond hummed a new melody she was learning and Mr. Hammond kept rubbing the glass with his sleeve to keep the fog away.
A flash of lightening streaked against the sky, flashing a bright yellow and pink glow onto the Nebraska landscape. Anne could see the bare fields and barbed wire fences. They had just passed the old cedar windbreak near the lane to the house. Anne wandered if they would take the winter road across the north field, sometimes the dips in the regular lane flooded. She watched as they passed the mail boxes posted near the edge of the road. They were taking the regular lane back. Anne sat back and closed her eyes. Soon she would be able to cuddle under the covers, listen to the rain falling outside, and dream about Clark Gable.
A jerk sent her bouncing in her seat. Donald let loose a wail and the two girls started crying. The pickup veered to the left as Mr. Hammond pressed the clutch and slammed on the brake. The slick mud offered no resistance against the truck's rubber tires allowing it to slide into the deep ditch edging the lane. Mrs. Hammond flew frontwards and smacked her head against the hard dashboard. Finally, they skidded to a stop. Douglas laughed and Mrs. Hammond moaned.
Two round beams of light streamed into the stormy sky letting the shaken passengers see the herd of stunned mule deer standing around them. Anne didn't know who was more shaken, them or the deer. The deer just stood there motionless among the dry grasses and mud. It would be the prime time to bag one for processing. Deer meat didn't taste as good as beef, but it was better than pheasant. Mr. Hammond began cussing in German as he slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. Mumbling something, he exited the truck to see what damage had been done.
Anne turned her attention to the crying children. Mrs. Hammond was still holding her head and didn't need to deal with them at that moment. Douglas was busy eyeing the deer outside of his foggy window. She took his lead and tried to distracttheir tearsby showing the little ones the accident causing mammals standing in the rain. Birdie and Gusty glanced out the window and soon forgot their woes. Donald sucked his thumb and went back to sleep.
Soon the windows were completely fogged over, offering the perfect canvas for drawing with their fingers. The cool condensation tickled their fingertips as they drew hearts and letters on the glass. Mrs. Hammond laughed and soon joined in. Mr. Hammond was busy kicking out his frustrations on the buried tires stuck in the mud.
The driver's side door opened and Mr. Hammond stuck his drenched head in. "Ladies, I need you to gather the kids and walk back to the house. I will carry the groceries and tomorrow I can dig out the truck" he ordered.
Anne and Mrs. Hammond wrapped the children up as best as possible and trudged home through the light rain. All the sand and dirt mixed with the rain made the perfect mud. It was slick and sticky, gooey and gross- excellent for mud pies and sliding in. Anne knew she wouldn't get to play in the mud, but it was tempting. The thick goop stuck to their shoes making their feet grow heavier with each step.
They finally reached the house and scraped their shoes on the metal rail put by the back door. Mrs. Hammond didn't want to muddy up the floor so they took their shoes off under the protection the eaves of the roof provided and left the filthy footwear outside for the night. They walked into the dark, quiet house and put the children to bed. Anne crawled in bed next to Gusty to calm her fears about the thunder booming in the distance. Thoughtsof Clark Gable ran through her mind while she drifted off to sleep.
The clucking and crowing of the chickens woke Anne up. The house was still, but the sunlight was already poking through the window. She rolled out of bed, trying her hardest not to wake up the sleeping child. The floor was cool against her warm feet as she stumbled to her clothes. Today was Sunday, but there would be no church for them. Mr. Hammond hopefully could dig out the truck today. She choose a simple white dress, slipped it on, and snuck out to the outhouse.
The rain from the night before had cooled down the evening air, but the sun was beating down on the Earth promising another day of heat. She exited from the outhouse and looked up at the dazzling orb. It was blazing and no clouds in sight. Anne sighed and anticipated the cool autumn to come. She wiped the sweat off her brow and grabbed a basket to gather the eggs for breakfast. The parched ground was already drying and cracking after the rain allowing a few puddles to form in the deepest dips of the landscape.
An aroma of dust, hay, and chicken waste greeted Anne's nose when she stepped inside the coop. The hens clucked wildly at her as she swiped under their bottoms to check for eggs. A few pecked at her, but mostly they just bawked at her intrusion. Mrs. Hammond hoped to let a few hens brood next spring and hatch some more chicks for butchering later in the summer. Anne's mouth watered at the thought of fried chicken, but she hated cleaning them. She checked each nest and almost had a full basket. Hopefully, there would be some eggs left over to sell in town next week.
She retreated inside the house and started breakfast. There still was no sign of Mr. or Mrs. Hammond. They were probably sleeping in for a change. Anne blew on the embers left from last night's fire in the belly of the stove. Carefully, she added some dry grasses and watched them glow red and slowly crinkle up in flame. Instinctively, she added a few corncobs to the kindling and placed the lid over the hole. She found the cast iron skillet and added a slab of butter. She placed it on the stove and began to check the eggs.
She held each egg over a lit candle. The flame illuminated the insides of the eggs. Anne checked for any red streaks or odd looking yolks. Occasionally she would find a fertilized egg, but they tried to keep the roosters from the hens unless they wanted chicks. She had mastered this skill at a very young age and soon had four or five eggs sizzling in the pan.
The front screen door banged, making Anne look up from the bubbling egg whites. Mrs. Hammond stood in front of her bewildered and gasping for air. Her dress and apron were covered in mud. She was hunched over her knees grasping for words.
"Anne. . .Mr. Ham. . . Mr. Hammond. . .needs a. . .doctor. . .Go . . .get him" she demanded.
Fear gripped Anne and she quickly removed the frying pan from the stove. She slipped on her shoes out back and took off across the fields toward town. Dr. Stewart would come, hopefully he wasn't in church or out on another call. It was atleast 3 miles to town if she crossed the fields, that would take forever. Anne didn't think they had that much time. She stopped in her tracks and turned around. The Blythe's had a phone! She would call the doctor from their place.
The remaining mud made it difficult to run up the last few hills, the grooves from the plows and chopped corn stalks were her only savior. She was out of breath and tired. Mud clung to every part of her body, but she didn't give up. Anne could see the smoke dancing from the chimney. Out of breathe, she reached the front door and collapsed on her knees. Tears began streaming down her muddy face. Weakly she hit the door, hoping it was loud enough for someone to hear. Somebody had to be home.
John Blythe opened the door to find Anne crying on his porch. He opened the door andhelped the sobbing muddy figure in. Soon Dr. Stewart was on his way to the Hammond's place to discover that Mr. Hammond was buried under mud and the rear axle of his truck. The family's happy home and future were buried later that week along with Mr. Hammond's body.