Farm life -- Indiana -- Fiction; Indiana -- Fiction; Sex role -- Fiction
He fell back on the pillow and went on sleeping. Kate tried again to
waken him, but he struck at her savagely. She ran to her room, hurried
into a few clothes, and getting the lantern, started toward the bridge.
At the gate she stepped into water. As far as she could see above the
dam the street was covered. She waded to the bridge, which was under
at each end but still bare in the middle, where it was slightly higher.
Kate crossed it and started down the yard toward the dam. The earth
was softer there, and she mired in places almost to her knees. At the
dam, the water was tearing around each end in a mad race, carrying
earth and everything before it. The mill side was lower than the
street. The current was so broad and deep she could not see where the
sluice was. She hesitated a second to try to locate it from the mill
behind her; and in that instant there was a crack and a roar, a mighty
rush that swept her from her feet and washed away the lantern. Nothing
saved her but the trees on the bank. She struck one, clung to it,
pulled herself higher, and in the blackness gripped the tree, while she
heard the dam going gradually after the first break.
There was no use to scream, no one could have heard her. The storm
raved on; Kate clung to her tree, with each flash of lightning trying
to see the dam. At last she saw that it was not all gone. She was not
much concerned about herself. She knew the tree would hold. Eagerly
she strained her eyes toward the dam. She could feel the water dropping
lower, while the roar subsided to a wild rush, and with flashes of
lightning she could see what she thought was at least half of the dam
holding firm. By that time Kate began to chill. She wrapped her arms
around the tree, and pressing her cheek against the rough bark, she
cried as hard as she could and did not care. God would not hear; the
neighbours could not. She shook and cried until she was worn out. By
that time the water was only a muddy flow around her ankles; if she had
a light she could wade back to the bridge and reach home. But if she
missed the bridge and went into the ravine, the current would be too
strong for her. She held with one arm and tried to wipe her face with
the other hand. "What a fool to cry!" she said. "As if there were any
more water needed here!"
Then she saw a light in the house, and the figures of the children,
carrying it from room to room, so she knew that one of them had
awakened for a drink, or with the storm, and they had missed her. Then
she could see them at the front door, Adam's sturdy feet planted widely
apart, bracing him, as he held up the lamp which flickered in the wind.
Then she could hear his voice shouting: "Mother!" Instantly Kate
answered. Then she was sorry she had, for both of them began to scream
wildly. There was a second of that, then even the children realized
its futility.
"She is out there in the water, WE GOT TO GET HER," said Adam. "We got
to do it!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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