Free Gabriel's Story by David Anthony Durham Page A

and painted a picture of the prairie blooming like a giant rose, a sweet-smelling thing of beauty and delicate refinement. “Are you looking for the Promised Land?” he asked. Eliza’s voice, singsong and light, said that they were. “Well, behold, you’ve found its location. Now farm and reap and thank God for the gift of life.” By the time he’d finished, there was little doubt as to the bounty of this land or the blessed rightness of their decision to journey here. Gabriel alone lacked enthusiasm, a fact that he tried hard to demonstrate with his twisted countenance.
    They bedded down a couple of hours later, Hiram wishing all a fine rest and heading out to his half-completed room. It was just after the house had fallen into silence that the wind kicked up. At first it just tickled the prairie, caressed the house as a benevolent hand pets a loved old dog. But as the night grew darker, so the wind grew bolder. Before long a tempest howled against the sides of the house like a Fury intent on utter destruction. Gusts tore through chinks in the walls and cracks in the door, creating a whirling dance within the cabin. Gabriel pulled his cover up over his head and lay listening.
    â€œYou hear that?” Ben asked.
    â€œI don’t hear nothing. Go to sleep.”
    But sleep had been blown away by the wind. Both boys lay with ears alert. The storm soon became a living thing running across the prairie. Far off they heard the pounding of footsteps, a steady bass over which the wind played. It grew louder, like a stampede of cattle, coming on hard and furious. It hit the house with a force that seemed to rock it. The window shook in its pane and the door bucked against its hinges. But the pounding was no herd of maddened beasts, no creatures of the apocalypse. It was rain.
    A few seconds after it began, water started leaking through the roof. It dribbled down at first in a single trickle, then two. Then a section of the ceiling, which had been so faithful in lesser rains, caved in. Water pelted onto the table and floor in a torrent, some liquid, some tiny balls of ice.
    â€œDamn,” Ben said. He jumped to his feet. “The roof’s broke!”
    Gabriel looked over his shoulder but only half took in the scene. He turned away and curled close to the wall. “Who cares?” he mumbled.
    Solomon emerged from behind the curtain with a lamp in hand. The light illuminated the downpour and caught the erratic bounces of the hail, like jewels thrown about the table. A second later, Hiram tumbled through the door. The light caught the surprise on his face as he stepped from one downpour into another. “You can’t escape the flood!” he yelled, finding sudden humor in the situation.
    Solomon was more serious. “Ben, see to Raleigh and the mule. See they don’t get too spooked and are tied up properly.” Ben jumped into action immediately, reaching for his boots and coat. He was out the door in the space of a few seconds. “Hiram, we gotta mend this roof.”
    â€œDirectly,” Hiram agreed.
    â€œGabriel, go fetch some of the cut sod. We’ll layer it over top as best we can.” He and Hiram lifted the table and chairs out of the way. Eliza appeared with the quilt from her bed. She tossed it across the floor, covering the larger part of the rain-soaked area.
    Gabriel went so far as to sit up and survey the chaos. He blinked and said, “Let the damn roof leak, for all I care.”
    Solomon had just set the table down. He swung toward the boy. His hand came up and flew at Gabriel, so fast neither of them seemed to know it was happening. He smacked the boy open-palmed across the cheek, snapping his head around and sending him sprawling back against the pallet. Gabriel was up in a second, chest thrown out and fists at the ready. Solomon met him head on. “What the hell’s wrong with you, boy? What kind of creature you got eating at