Nora Roberts - Black Hills

Until she saw a softball of ice wing into the back of one of the running interns, and pitch her forward into the mud.

“Crap.”

Lil was out and sprinting even as a couple of her other kids rushed to pick up the fallen.

“Get her inside. Inside!” It was like being pelted by an angry baseball team.

She grabbed the girl, half dragged, half carried her to the porch of her own cabin. They arrived wet and filthy, with the girl pale as the ice that battered the compound.

“Are you hurt?”

The girl shook her head, and wheezing, braced her hands on her knees. “Knocked the wind out of me.”

“I bet.” Lil flipped through the jumbled data in her brain to find names for the two of the new crop of interns while thunder roared over the hills like stalking lions. “Just relax. Reed, go in and get Lena some water. Wipe your feet,” she added. For all the good it would do.

“It happened so fast.” Lena shivered, and her eyes stared out of a face smeared with mud. “It was just like little ice chips, then ping-pong balls. And then…”

“Welcome to South Dakota. We’ll have Matt take a look at you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Um. No. Just sort of… wowed. Thanks, Reed.” She took the water bottle, drank deep. “Scared me. And still.” She looked past Lil to where the ice balls hammered the ground, and a vicious pitchfork of lightning hurled out of the clouds. “Weirdly cool.”

“Remember that when we’re cleaning up. The hail won’t last long.” Already slowing, Lil judged. “Storm’s tracking west now.”

“Really?” Lena blinked at her. “You can tell?”

“The wind’s carrying it. You can use my shower. I’ll lend you some clothes. When it’s over, the rest of you report to the cabin. There’ll be plenty to do. Come on, Lena.”

She took the girl upstairs, gestured toward the bathroom. “You can toss out your clothes. I’ll throw them in the wash.”

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble. Taking a header in a hailstorm wasn’t the way I wanted you to notice me.”

“Sorry?” Lil turned from where she dug fresh jeans and a sweatshirt out of her dresser.

“I just mean we’ve been working mostly with Tansy and Matt since I got here. There hasn’t been a lot of opportunity to work with you directly with everything that’s going on.”

“There will be.”

“It’s just that you’re the reason I’m here. The reason I’m studying wildlife biology and conservation.”

“Really?”

“God, that sounds geeky.” Lena sat on the john to drag off her boots. “I saw that documentary on your work here. It was that three-part deal. I was home sick from school and really bored. Channel surfing, you know? And I hit the part about you and the refuge. I missed the other two parts, because-you know-back to school. But I got the DVD, the same one we sell at the gift shop. I got really into what you were doing, and what you said and what you were building here. I thought, That’s what I want to be when I grow up. My mother thought it was great, and that I’d change my mind a dozen times before college. But I didn’t.”

Intrigued, Lil set the jeans, the sweatshirt, and a pair of warm socks on the bathroom counter. “That’s a lot from one documentary.”

“You were so passionate,” Lena continued, rising to unzip her mud-died hoodie. “And so articulate and involved. I’d never been interested in science before. But you made it sound, I don’t know, sexy and smart and important. And now it sounds like I’m sucking up.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen. Up till then I thought I’d be a rock star.” She smiled and wiggled out of her wet jeans. “Not being able to sing or play a musical instrument didn’t seem to be a problem. Then I saw you on TV, and I thought, now that’s a rock star. And here I am, stripping in your bathroom.”

“Your instructors gave you a very high rating when you applied for internship here.”

Obviously unconcerned with modesty, Lena stood in her underwear and watched Lil with wide, hopeful eyes. “You read my file?”

“It’s my place. I’ve noticed you work hard, and you listen well. You’re here on time every morning and you stay late when you’re needed. You don’t complain about the dirty work, and your written reports are thorough-if still a little fanciful. I’ve noticed you take time to talk to the animals. You ask questions. There may be a lot going on, and that’s cut into the one-on-one time I like to put into the intern program. But I noticed you before you took the header in the mud.”

“Do you think I have what it takes?”

“I’ll let you know at the end of the program.”

“Scary, but fair.”

“Go on and clean up.” She started to leave, hesitated. “ Lena, what’s everyone saying about what’s going on? How are you guys dealing with it? You talk,” she said. “I was an intern once. I remember.”

“Everyone’s a little freaked. But at the same time, it doesn’t feel really real.”

“It’d be good if you all stuck together. As much as you can. Head over next door when you’re done.”

Lil went down to toss the clothes in the wash, ordered herself to remember to put them in the dryer when they were clean. While thunder, distant now, echoed, she thought about the girl up in her shower, and realized Lena reminded her of Carolyn.

The idea gave her a quick shiver before she went out to start cleaning up from the storm.

AT THE FARM, Coop and Sam let the horses out to pasture. Sam limped a bit, and maybe always would, but he seemed sturdy and steady enough. Enough that Coop didn’t feel the need to watch his grandfather’s every step.

Together they watched the young foals play while the adults grazed.

“At least we hadn’t gotten any of the spring crop in. Could’ve been worse.” Bending, Sam picked up a baseball-sized hunk. “How’s that arm of yours?”

“I’ve still got it.”

“Let’s see.”

Amused, Coop took the ice, set, then winged it high and long. “How’s yours?”

“Might be better suited for the infield these days, but I put it where I throw it.” Sam plucked up another ball, pointed to a pine, then smashed the ice dead center of the trunk. “I still got my eyes.”

“Runner on second’s taking a long lead. Batter fakes a bunt, takes the strike. Runner goes.” Coop scooped up the next ball of ice, bulleted it to his imaginary third baseman. “And he’s out.”

Even as Sam chuckled and reached for more ice, Lucy’s voice carried to them. “Are you two fools going to stand around throwing ice, or get some work done around here?” She leaned on the hoe she’d been using to clean the ice from her kitchen garden.

“Busted,” Coop said.

“She’s mad ’cause the hail tore into her kale. Fine by me. I can’t stand the stuff. Be right there, Lucy!” Sam brushed his hands on his pants as they started back. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about getting more help around here. I’m going to look into it.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s not that I can’t handle the work.”

“No, sir.”

“I just figure you should put more of your time into the business. If we get somebody to pitch in with what needs doing around here, that gives you that time for the rentals and guiding. That’s what makes practical sense.”

“I agree.”

“And I figure you won’t be using the bunkhouse all that much longer. Not if you’ve got any sense or spine. If you’ve got that sense and spine, you’ll be adding on to that cabin of Lil’s. You’ll want more room when you settle down and start a family.”

“You kicking me out?”

“Bird’s got to leave the nest.” Sam grinned over at him. “We’ll give you a little time first. See you don’t waste it.”