Disclaimer: Some of the characters are mine but the most important ones are not. I make no money from this writing.

He napped after lunch, a luxury he had not allowed himself when sober for a long while. Mid-afternoon, he woke, stretched and got himself back to the kitchen for coffee.

Outside, three or four horses drooped in the heat. The air was dense with humidity and thunder grumbled in the south-eastern sky. There were few sounds – a small bird chirping, then the gentle pad of a horse's hooves on the dust as Jake led him into the barn. Frank settled himself back in what was rapidly becoming his chair and began to ponder the future.

He needed a goal. A new one, to replace the one he'd had taken away from him. In the longer term, rejoining Wild Bill and Phoebe Ann was a certainty. But his idea of a couple of days was stretching to accommodate two weeks, maybe even three, if he could be accepted by the townsfolk. He had skills to offer, the skill in his hands and in his ability to entertain with a good story or with the tricks he had taught Hidalgo. So there had to be something he could do.

As he thought through his options, the thunder came closer, a huge black cloud boiling in and smothering the blue sky, and lightning felt its way to the ground. He stood, took up his crutch and began to make his way down the steps.

Mr.Way was standing in the door of the forge looking anxiously at the approaching storm.

"They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place," he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "But maybe we'd better get down into the storm cellar just the same. What do you think, Frank?"

"I think we're safe to watch it a few more minutes," Frank said. "If there's a twister, we'll know about it, I guess. You have them often?"

"Not so many, most years. Seems this is going to be a stormy week." Mr.Way leaned into the barn. "Jake! Leave them horses and get yourself into shelter. Looks like we might have to wait this one out again."

"All right, Pa. I'll get Jimmy."

Once the boys were down into the cellar, Frank watched the storm develop until huge spots of rain began to darken the ground and rattle on his hat. The wind had picked up but he'd seen nothing to worry him in the shape of the clouds. With luck, it was just a heavy rainstorm, soon over.

"Frank. I think I'll go keep the boys company. Jimmy's more of a worrier than he lets on, sometimes. You comin' now?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

Mr.Way put out the forge fire and the kitchen fire as one of the few precautions that made any sense, then helped Frank down into the cool dark of the cellar. It was well made, deep, with good strong doors and it would be enough if there was another twister.

"All right, boys," Way said, settling himself down on an old stool. "Who's goin' to tell the first story?"

"I will, Pa," Jake said. "Shall I tell the one about the time we went to the river?"

"Sure. Go on, Jake."

So, while the rain rattled on the wooden door to the cellar, Frank listened to family stories, shared family jokes with a smile and, once, a good all-out laugh as Jake described Jimmy's first attempts to ride. Jimmy blushed and confessed he couldn't get the hang of trotting, no matter how hard he tried, and had come away with enough sore parts in his anatomy to make sitting down challenging for several days afterwards.

"Well, Frank – you know somethin' of my family now. How about you tell us something' about yourself?" Mr.Way said.

It wasn't difficult to pick a story from his store. He avoided his childhood, because he didn't know how the family would react to the idea that his mother had been an Indian, but he had some grand race stories.

"Once," he began, "I was up against this fancy dude. Keep himself real slick, he did, duds must have cost him a fortune."

Just as he was warming to his tale, the door crashed open and a furious wind drove them to one corner of the cellar. The air was thick with dirt and water and Frank was hard put to breathe for a moment or two. He sheltered Jimmy, holding him close and taking the wind on his back. It only lasted a few minutes but the noise and the strength of the wind had Jimmy whimpering and shaking.

Then it was over. Frank coughed and wiped his eyes, then began to look round as the light increased.

Mr.Way carefully made his way to the door, his face full of dread. He went up the steps, moving a piece of wood to clear the way. Frank grabbed his crutch and, with Jimmy's help, negotiated the floor of the cellar.

Mr.Way stood at the top of the stairs and Frank waited for the shock of what he saw to register. Instead, the man turned and grinned.

"Come on up, Frank. I declare, you must be some kind of good luck charm."

Frank hopped up the steps and looked around. He had been expecting destruction. Instead, the house was still standing, the barn was intact, the horses were still in the undamaged corral. His jaw dropped.

"Took some shingles off the barn, broke a couple of windows in the house, shifted some stuff around – that's it. Nothing else round here seems to have been hit, either. Looks like we had us the lightest twister known to man – just dusted us off some and left it at that." Way's relief was plain in his voice and his face.

There were people already appearing in the smithy, shouting for Way and his family, and he hurried to reassure them. Frank hoped he wasn't spreading rumours about this good luck charm idea of his. He didn't need any other complications in his life. But there was Smithers, notebook in hand, bustling over to get the story, and Frank could do nothing about it.

"Mr.Hopkins! It's a miracle! We're going to be famous – a town hit by two tornadoes in a week and not a soul lost! We must be the luckiest town in the state," Smithers said, approaching Frank and showing every sign of wanting to shake Frank by the hand. Frank held on to his crutch and the corral fence, so had no spare hand to shake.

"I wish you luck with that angle, Smithers. Sounds like a tall tale to me."

"State newspaper's bound to send one of its best men down now. Should be here tomorrow, if the train's running to schedule. Or the next day. And you can bet he'll want to meet you. Miracle Man Saves the Day Again! Yes, yes. Something like that."

Frank's joy in finding the place intact was rapidly evaporating in face of the man's enthusiasm. He grabbed Jimmy's arm and steered the two of them towards the barn, shouting over his shoulder, "Don't bother asking for an interview, Smithers. I'm sure you can fill in for me."

He walked hastily away, putting too much weight on his leg for comfort, then they were in the dark barn where the horses were just beginning to settle again. Jimmy helped him over to Hidalgo's stall.

"You need to keep away from that man," Jimmy said. "None of the decent folk round here like him. He's always printing lies and gossip, stirring up trouble and giving his opinion where it ain't needed."

"How does he make a livin', then? Who buys this rag he prints?"

Jimmy hung his head. "I guess most folks do, even if they don't much like what he prints. It's the only way there is to know the social events and the church notices and stuff like that. And he does print state news, too, when he gets it."

"Okay, boy, no need to be ashamed of buying it, then. Seems like it might be a good thing if he did move on to the capital, though. You have anyone round here who could step up and do a better job?"

Jimmy looked down at his boots. He mumbled something Frank did not catch. Frank was searching around for something to give Hidalgo as a treat.

"What was that, boy? Speak your mind, now."

"It's what I want to do, when I'm older."

"What kinda education you had, Jimmy?"

"I'm getting' on real well at school. I go every day it's on and I've finished this year top in my class." There was a fair amount of natural pride in the statement but not too much.

"Well, then. Seems like the town needs an alternative to this paper Smithers puts together. Maybe you could get some help to set up something of your own, just something small, while you learn the trade."

"I have a printing press," Jimmy said. "A small one. Pa found it once, on one of his trips out and he hauled it back here to the barn for me. Got one or two parts need replacing but I almost got it workin'. I was savin' up to get it fixed."

Frank gave the carrot he'd found to his horse, which blew softly into his hand before accepting the morsel delicately. "Maybe I'll ride you out tomorrow, Little Brother," Frank said, momentarily distracted from Jimmy's enthusiasm. "You'll be gettin' out of practice if I don't ride you soon."

"Here it is!" Jimmy shouted. Frank turned to him and saw that the boy was lifting the corner of a tarp. "See!"

"That's fine, Jimmy. Maybe, while I'm here, I can help you fix it. I'd like a way to pay you back for your hospitality."

The boy's face lit up and Frank smiled. Here was the goal, the project, the something he needed to do. He could do it while his leg mended, too. A newspaper. He could help Jimmy with that, for sure. They'd need more than a press – they'd need the cases of letters, paper, ink. But if Smithers was getting those things, stood to reason he could too.

By the end of the day, the two had discussed all aspects of the project. Frank had said over and over that it was something for the future but Jimmy was arguing they should start soon, before Frank pushed on. Jimmy went to bed still so excited it took a while to settle him down.

Mr.Way returned looking not quite as pleased as he might have done.

"Don't you go gettin' his hopes up too much, Frank. Someone else tried to set up in opposition to Smithers. Didn't last more than a month or so and lost a lot of money in the process. Don't go encouragin' him to believe he could be more successful than that man."

"I told him, told him straight as I could," Frank replied, feeling a little sorry he'd said anything. "But he was set on starting up tomorrow. Bright and early, I'll tell him again, make sure he understands that it could be a while before we could do anything. But I hated to pour too much cold water on his enthusiasm. Seems like, with Jake settled, the boy needs himself a goal."

"Yeah, yeah – I wouldn't say no different. And he always wanted it to be away from the forge, though I wished otherwise for a long time. It's just, I'd like to keep him out of any troubles there are in the town for a while longer, at least."

Frank nodded, hearing well what Mr.Way was saying to him. But already his mind had wandered. Had the rival newspaper man left his gear behind? Somewhere in town, was there enough equipment for Jimmy to make a start, perhaps with just one side of a free paper, with notices and a couple of advertisements to pay the costs?

Tomorrow, it would be top of his list to find out.