Almanzo’s arms were rigid as he held the reins that were taut and straight as wires. Laura shrank back in her corner of the seat, held her breath and hoped they would not break.
At last the horses tired, and slowed to a trot. Almanzo drew a deep breath and relaxed a little. “Was that better?” he smiled at Laura.
Laura laughed shakily. “Much better, so long as the harness holds together,” she said.
“The harness will hold. I had it made to order at Schaub’s harness shop. Every strap is sound leather and it’s double-riveted and wax-sewed. In time these horses will learn the difference between running and running away,” he said confidently. “They were runaways, you know.”
“Were they?” said Laura, and her laugh was still a little shaky.
“Yes, that’s why I got them so cheap. They can run, but they can’t run away from us. After a while they’ll learn that they can’t, and they’ll stop trying and be a good team.”
“The buggy top is still up, and still scaring them. How will we ever get it down?” Laura wanted to know.
“We don’t need to put it down. Just be careful not to shake it when you’re getting out, and I’ll leave it up.”
The dangerous instant, in getting in or out of the buggy, was the instant that she was between the wheels. She had to be quicker than the h
orses, and go between the wheels without being caught.
When Almanzo stopped the horses at her door, very carefully Laura stooped under the buggy top’s braces without touching them, and quickly she got to the ground. Her skirts swooshed as she went, and the horses jumped and were gone.
She was surprised that her knees felt weak as she went into the house. Pa turned to look at her.
“Safely home again,” he said.
“There isn’t a bit of danger,” Laura told him.
No, of course not, but just the same I shall feel better when those horses are quieter. I suppose you’re going again next Sunday?”
“I think so,” Laura answered.
Next Sunday the horses were much quieter. They stood while Laura got into the buggy. Then quickly they started and trotted swiftly away. Almanzo drove them through town and northward. As the miles slipped behind them, their shining coats became dark with sweat.
Almanzo gently tried to pull them back to a walk. “Better slow down, boys, you’ll be cooler if you do,” he told them, but they refused to slacken their speed. “Oh, well, if you want to go, it won’t hurt you,” he added.
“It is terribly warm,” Laura said, raising the bangs from her forehead to let the wind blow underneath them. The heat of the sun was intense and strangely smothering.
“We can raise the top,” Almanzo said, but doubtfully.
“Oh, no, let’s don’t!” Laura objected. “The poor things are warm enough, without running away… without running,” she corrected herself.
“It is pretty warm to excite them so much,” Almanzo agreed. “It might not hurt them, but I’d rather not risk it, if you don’t mind the sun.”
As time passed the horses trotted more slowly. Still they would not walk, but trotted onward steadily until Laura suggested turning homeward earlier than usual because of the weather signs.
The wind came in short, hot puffs from every direction, and thunderclouds were in the west. Almanzo agreed, “It does look like rain.”
Turned toward home, the horses trotted more swiftly, but it was a long way to go. Ghostly whirlwinds sped invisible over the prairie, twisting the grass in small circles as they went, as if unseen fingers were stirring it.
“Dust devils,” Almanzo remarked, “only there is no dust, nothing but grass. They say they’re a sure sign of cyclone weather.”
The thunderheads piled up in the west; the whole sky looked stormy. The sun was shooting angry red beams of light across the dark clouds when Laura came home. Almanzo hurried away to reach his claim and make things snug there before the rain fell.
But the storm held off. Night came, black and oppressive, with still no rain, and Laura slept uneasily. Suddenly she woke in a glare of light; Ma stood by the bedside, holding a lamp. She shook Laura’s shoulder. “Quick, Laura!” she said. “Get up and help Carrie get her clothes, and come! Pa says there’s a bad storm coming.”
Laura and Carrie snatched up their clothes and followed Ma, who had snatched up Grace and her clothes and a blanket and was hurrying to the open trapdoor of the cellar.
“Go down, girls, quickly. Hurry,” she told them. They tumbled hastily down into the small cellar under the kitchen.