Stirred by the rumble in the distance, Dwight listened intently to the howling wind. From his bed he watched tentacles of light dance across the green sky. The clanging of the crooked weather vane twisted in the wind and gave Dwight a feeling of dread.

“Jacob! Caroline!” Dwight called while pulling on his boots, “Get to the cellar!”

Wide awake and listening to the approaching storm, Jacob and Caroline jumped from their beds and began to dress. Caroline frantically searched the bedroom she shared with her seven year old brother.

“Where’s your sister?” Dwight asked impatiently as he met Jacob in the hallway.

Jacob shrugged, pulling on his suspenders and rubbing his eyes answered. “I don’t know, she was right behind me.”

“C’mon Caroline, we don’t have time to be gettin’ toys!”

“Yes sir, but we can’t leave Mama.” The five-year-old girl carried a ragged doll and a worn picture of her mother before the fever took her life three years ago.

He picked up Caroline and kissed her on the cheek, “I’m sorry, Honey. You did real good to remember the picture. Now, we’ve got to hurry.”

The sky began dropping pea-sized hail and the limbs of the oak trees trembled with each gust of wind. In a flash of lightning, Dwight saw the tail of a funnel cloud; an angry finger touching the earth. The twister whipped the countryside and tossed debris as it carved a path through the pasture.

Several yards away, the cellar was between the house and the barn. To minimize the exposure to the hail, Dwight had to take the children to the barn and they’d have to wait for him to open the cellar door. Still holding Caroline, he grabbed Jacob’s hand and dashed from the porch into the elements.

“I want to come with you Pa,” Jacob begged as they reached the barn.

Dwight yelled over the roar of the storm, “No, stay with your sister.”

“I’m strong, I can help with the door.”

“You’re right, you *are* strong,” he kneeled to comfort Jacob. “But I need you to be strong for Caroline. Hold her hand and I will be right back for her. And then I’ll come back for you.”

Jacob nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve and took his sister’s hand. Dwight knew he was trying his best not to cry, the boy was trying to be a man. Caroline wasn’t crying, but Dwight could see the fear in her eyes. She stood as strong as the old oak tree against the wind as he darted from the barn.

“Take care of your sister,” Dwight called as he ran toward the cellar.

At the hillside, Dwight struggled to open the door against the force of the wind. With the door finally open, he turned to run back to the children. The hail peppered his back like bird shot as he covered Caroline’s head with his hand and ran back to the cellar.

Having run out of the all courage a seven year old could muster, Jacob followed them into the storm. Several steps behind, Jacob stumbled and a limb barely missed striking the boy.

Dwight turned in time to see Jacob regain his feet and called out to him, “Let’s go! We have to get inside!”

Once inside the cellar, Jacob struggled to light the lantern as they had practiced and Dwight secured the latch on the door. Exhausted, Dwight sat down on the floor next to shelves of canned tomatoes and peaches. Jacob sat down beside him while Caroline climbed into her father’s lap, together they listed to the fury outside.

“Pa?” Caroline said.

“Hmm,” Dwight opened his eyes.

“What about the horses? They don’t have a cellar?”

“They know what to do in storms. They’ll go where it’s safe.”

“But Betsy is only five like me.” Her bottom lip quivered as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Dwight softly wiped the tear, “Honey, five years old is different for horses, like I told you about dogs. Remember?”

She nodded and hugged her father, “But they don’t have their ma and pa’s with ‘em.”

“Don’t worry,” Dwight patted her back and pointed to the picture. “Mama will take care of them.”

“And the chickens, too?”

“Yes,” Dwight smiled. “Just like she always took care of us.”