Free Gabriel's Story by David Anthony Durham Page B

you?”
    â€œNothing’s eating me except being here.”
    â€œYou’re a fool, Gabriel. You’re a damn fool child. If you would put away that anger, you’d see we’re making a life here.” A fresh gust of wind tore through the open door and around the room and fled through the roof, rocking them all where they stood. But Solomon kept his gaze on Gabriel. He spoke just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “I’ll accept you into this home like a son. I’ll love you like one if you let me, but I ain’t gonna tolerate you forever. You can make it with us or not. I don’t care. You can be damn sure we can do it without you.” He turned and shoved the door aside, Hiram following close on his heels.
    Eliza eyed Gabriel angrily. “Get out there and help.”
    Gabriel pulled on his boots and strode out into the rain without even a jacket to protect him. Ice balls pummeled his back and shoulders, sending his muscles into convulsions that he overcame by turning them into a full-tilt run. He could barely see the ground before him, and he ran with his arms outstretched, feet kicking out in a clumsy, stiff-legged gait. He stumbled over the sod before he knew he’d reached it and landed flat on the slick earth. He jumped up with all the speed of a man who’d tripped over a dead body, but then he stood, gasping, forgetting his mission and staring back at the spectacle that was their home. A jagged line of white lit the sky and a foul, misshapen world flashed into view, outlined in blinding detail. One could have mistaken the soddy for a dinghy afloat in a raging sea. The prairie’s contours were suddenly waves, moving with a slow and ominous bulk. The moment passed and all went black. There followed the slow rumble of thunder, a sound that in its breadth and depth overcame all other sounds, like God clearing his throat.
    This spurred Gabriel back into motion. He felt for the sod with his hands and feet, found it, and shimmied his fingers under a block. He hefted it up, sank beneath it, and let the dead weight lie on his shoulder. His footing was loose and sloppy as he struggled toward the house. By the time he reached it, the two men had leaned a ladder against the wall and Solomon had scaled it. He was hard at work on the roof, sorting through the material with some plan that Gabriel could scarcely conceive. Hiram greeted the boy but motioned him to stand back. He began handing short pieces of wood up to Solomon.
    Gabriel stood with soil running down one half of his body, rainwater washing down the other. It was only then that he noticed the hail had stopped. But to make up for it, the rain fell much harder. He could just hear the commotion coming from the barn. Raleigh and the mule were anxious. The roar of the wind and rain made it hard to hear what was going on over there, but Gabriel could make out brisk whinnies and hoofbeats, intermingled with Ben’s soothing voice, his explanations that all would be well.
    Gabriel jumped when Hiram called him. He helped the man push the block of turf onto the roof. Hiram climbed onto the ladder and Gabriel held it as best he could, but the crooked wood shifted and bucked and rocked precariously as the men worked.
    Eliza appeared in the open door and stood silhouetted there, her eyes hidden until the sky flashed again. Then Gabriel saw that she was looking at him. Her face went black again before he could read it. Solomon called for another block. This time Gabriel headed off without delay, so consumed in the work, the elements, and the electricity in the air that he didn’t even consider any further protest.
    THE NEXT MORNING THE FAMILY SURVEYED THE DAMAGE with somber eyes. If the house had once been an ogre, now it was that ogre’s diseased and feeble grandfather. Inside, mud clogged the floor and seemed to have climbed up objects of its own accord, staining clothes and beds and even worming its way into the