Chapter 27
Once again the quake began with a mighty jolt, rattling Clint's teeth. It increased until he thought the earth would split into pieces. Even over the horrendous noise, Pete could be heard wailing in the background. Mabel sobbed. Clint saw Sam place a hand on her head to calm her.
A loud crack of splintering wood caused everyone to shift their gazes to the barn. It leaned hard toward the corral, groaning with the strain, then abruptly cut back the other way, toppling into a mass on the ground. Lumber ruptured and exploded with the momentum.
A strange sound crept up from below. At once a massive crack in the earth crawled out from under the rubble of the barn, heading for the bunkhouses. It opened wider, devouring pieces of the structures on its way toward the stream, like a ravenous prehistoric creature unearthed.
Soon the quaking stopped.
Clint clicked on his flashlight. "Is everyone all right? Mabel, Sam, Max, everyone? Are you still with me?" He shined the flashlight into each set of stricken eyes.
Mabel spoke first, her voice croaking from the dust and her tears. "I think we've lost Gary. He's not breathin' no more."
Clint shined his flashlight into the ranch hand's bearded face. He leaned down to listen for breath and to take his pulse, but blood bubbled up through the stiff hairs surrounding Gary's lips. As the facts sunk in, Clint crammed a fist to his brow, trying hard to keep it together. They would all need him to. He slipped a blanket up over Gary's face.
"We've gotta go now, Max, since we don't know how long the house will stand, and we need those provisions. We'll be racing the clock to the next quake." His voice was hoarse, a scrape of noise in an emotion-ridden throat.
They jogged as quickly as the glow of their flashlights would allow. Once they reached the doorway, Clint put a hand to Max's arm. "We'll pick our way through the house to find anything useful. But like I said before, listen for anything that doesn't sound right. If you hear anything shift or collapse, get the heck out of here—every man for himself. Got it?"
"Only if you take your own advice," Max countered.
He nodded his agreement. "Let's go."
Clint and Max stepped over the bare threshold and navigated a path around splintered boards, broken beams, and shattered furniture. Each sifted through the remains of the kitchen and pantry to gather all they could hold of medical supplies, food, blankets, flashlights, jugs of water, anything they thought beneficial. When their arms were full, Clint followed as Max quickly but carefully threaded his way back through the rubble to the front door.
They were halfway there when Max stopped and froze. Not realizing he'd stopped, Clint rammed headlong into his back. They both scrambled from the impact to keep their footing. "What the heck are you doing, Max?"
"Hear that?"
Clint stopped to listen intently. "No."
"From Roy's bedroom. Don't you hear that?" Max headed toward the room.
They squeezed past the misplaced staircase and ducked under dislodged beams until they came to Roy's room. Max tried the door. It was stuck. Clint came up next to him and with shoulders to the door they gave a weighted shove. It gave way. Max forced it in, kicking away pieces of the fallen ceiling as he went.
There, under a broken beam across his bed, lay Roy moaning in distress.
"Roy! I thought you were out of town." Clint shuffled around Max and to the bed. He dumped the supplies in the corner and looked over the situation. "His body's pinned. Let's get this beam off him!"
Both men clutched the beam, lifted, and shouldered it off Roy. It crashed to the floor. Clint came back to his side. "Roy. Can you hear me? Roy!"
"Yeah," he said, barely discernible.
"Okay, before we move you, we need to know what shape you're in." Clint looked over his body. "Do you feel pain anywhere?"
"Pretty sure my legs are broke," Roy rasped.
"Max, grab some loose boards for splints. We're running out of time. " Clint ran his hands carefully down Roy's legs. No compound fractures.
Roy hollered out in pain as they strapped boards on the sides of each leg.
"You feel pain anywhere else? Back or neck?" Clint asked.
Perspiration oozed from Roy's pores, dampening his face and hairline. He panted an answer, "Nothin' hit me . . . anywheres else."
"Okay, Max, get these supplies outside, then come back with some of the guys and we'll take him out. Hurry."
Max scooped up the goods and left the room. Clint heard him kicking away garbage as he hustled out the front door opening. Soon he returned with Pete and two other men.
Clint shined his light in Pete's face. "You got it under control now?"
Pete looked ragged, but calm. "Who me? I'm fine, fine, fine—don't know what you're talkin' about."
It would have to do. The five of them jostled into position and carried Roy out of the house.
Once in the road with the others, Mabel gasped. "Roy! I thought you were away! When did you get back?"
"Tonight. Was wore out. Saw my bed empty and collapsed on it."
"I'm so glad the fellas went back in the house for supplies, or they may never have found you! I told Clint no one else was in there," Mabel said in a sob of anguish.
"You couldn't have known," Clint said. "He's here now. We've God to thank for that."
All heads whipped his direction, astonished.
"Yeah, I know. You're all wondering when I 'got religion', aren't you?"
They all nodded in unison, still silent, waiting for his explanation.
When Clint didn't speak, as he was considering the words to use, Mabel jumped in, "Does this mean you're gonna stop prowling around with those pretty, snotty girls who think they don't need God?"
Pete snorted, then erupted into laughter. Though it seemed they tried not to, the rest soon joined him one by one. Laughing, at Clint's expense, for several long minutes allowed the stress of the last couple of hours to drain away some. So he let it go on.
"Okay, I guess I deserved that one," Clint said, though not particularly amused. "It has been a long time since I spent time with anyone who believed in God, except Jessie that is. Now, let's keep in mind we have injured people here. I'm sure they don't appreciate all the laughter."
"I liked it," Roy said quietly, surprising everyone. "You usually . . . get all the fun. About time you're made fun of."
Slap happy from lack of sleep and the horrors of the earthquake, Pete started chuckling again and soon the others burst into laughter. This time Clint joined them.