[Texas Rangers 05] - Texas Vendetta by Elmer Kelton Read Free Book Online

looked toward the building cloud. “I’d best get into a high lope.”
    The cloud had grown considerably since Rusty had last paid attention to it. “And I’d better get the cow milked. Need to carry some dry wood into the house too.”
    The cow was waiting at the milk-pen gate. Her calf was penned inside so that the two were separated all day. Rusty allowed the calf to nurse long enough that the cow let down her milk, then penned the cow and took the milk he needed for his own use. Done, he let the calf in again to finish what remained.
    The cloud was coming up rapidly. Rusty hurried to the cabin with the bucket of milk, set it on the kitchen table, and went outside to fetch in a couple of days’ supply of dry wood for the fireplace. He had barely finished when the rain started. The drops were large and in the first moments struck the ground with force enough that they raised dust.
    He became aware of a roaring noise, rapidly growing louder. He knew immediately that it was hail.
    “Oh damn,” he said under his breath.
    The air, so warm earlier, quickly chilled. The initial stones were no larger than the first joint of his little finger. Quickly, however, they became much larger, hammering the ground. Though he stood in the shelter of the open dog run, some of the hailstones bounced up and rolled against his feet. He stepped back into the kitchen door. The impact of ice pellets against the roof was loud as thunder. Soon the ground was white as if a heavy snow had fallen.
    He shivered, but some of the cold came from within. An hour ago he had every prospect of a good crop. Now he wondered if a stalk remained standing.
    As quickly as it had come, the hailstorm was gone. A slow, steady rain followed, the kind of rain he had needed in the first place. Water dripped down into the cabin from holes in the roof. He would have to replace a lot of shingles, perhaps all of them.
    He pulled a slicker over his shoulders and stepped out to survey the damage. He did not have to walk all the way to the field. He could see it through the rain. Everything in it was beaten to the ground.
    He had known people who worked off their frustrations with a burst of profanity. He stood in stony silence, shivering from the cold wind that had come with the hail. Rain rolled off the brim of his hat and spilled down his shoulders.
    He saw a couple of dead chickens on their backs, their legs in the air. They had not made it to the shelter of the crude henhouse. Hailstones floated in the spreading puddles of rainwater.
    Feeling as if a horse had kicked him in the belly, he trudged back to the cabin, mud clinging to his boots. He had to move the bucket of milk because water was dripping into it. He brewed a pot of coffee and slumped into a chair, holding a framed photograph from the mantel over the fireplace. His throat tightened as he studied the face that smiled at him from the picture.
    His shoulders were strong. They could bear this new burden; they had to. But they would bear it better if Josie could have been here.
    He imagined what old Preacher Webb would say: The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.
    Rusty bowed his head. He sure as hell took it all, he thought.
     
     
    The light of day brought no comfort. The rain was gone, and the morning sun was bright through breaking clouds. He walked first to the garden, where his tomato and okra vines looked as if a herd of cattle had trampled them. He had not removed the two dead hens. The other chickens pecked around them, oblivious to their sisters’ fate. Some were half-naked, feathers stripped away.
    His field was a muddy ruin. The only salvage he could see was to turn cattle in on it when the ground dried enough. They might find a few days’ forage. But he would have nothing to put in his corncrib, much less to haul to town and sell.
    He was well aware that a farmer’s life was a constant gamble. Each year he bet his land, labor, and personal welfare against the threats of drought, excessive