Free Paxton Pride by Kerry Newcomb Page A

slightly. “I’ve brought help, Mr. Hampton. We’ll have the wheel free momentarily.”
    â€œBe quick about it, man.”
    â€œYes, sir.” The door slammed again and directly the carriage began to rock to and fro as Hermann and the men he had found tried to push it loose. Muffled curses and shouts sounded through the steady drum of rain and drone of wind. The whinny of excited horses cut through everything. Karen held on as best she could, rocking violently against Barrett at one moment and the side of the carriage the next. Finally the rocking and cursing stopped. Silence, followed by another rap on the door.
    Barrett flung the door open for the third time. “Well, what is it?”
    â€œYes, sir. Begging your pardon, sir. The carriage needs to be a bit lighter. It’s sunk pretty deep.”
    â€œDamn it, man, are you asking me to help?”
    â€œNot actually, sir. Only if you’ll be so good as to step out while we try again, and if you could stand at the horses’ heads, sir. They’re a bit spooky, what with the thunder and all.…” He paused apologetically. “There’s but three of us, sir.”
    Barrett flustered. He started to tell the lanky servant to go straight back and get more help but there would be little use to that. Only hold them up longer. The best thing to do would be get out from the damned mess they’d found themselves in before they all drowned in the mud. Barrett sighed deeply, the picture of sacrifice and resignation. “Must my daughter get out too?”
    â€œNo, sir. I don’t think so.”
    Barrett pulled a rain slicker from the trunk under the seat, donned it, placed his already ruined hat on his head, his cane in hand and stepped nobly into the torrent. A rush of rain swirled in behind him before the door could be closed, spattering Karen’s dress.
    She could hear an assortment of male voices shouting back and forth.
    â€œIf you’ve got their heads, sir, we’ll give her a push.”
    â€œPush, then, damn it, push.”
    â€œAye, sir. Put your backs to it, men!”
    â€œTogether, now. Heave! Heave!”
    The carriage rocked forward then settled back into the rut, rocked forward again, almost righted itself and then settled back. The horses whinnied and strained at their bits, terrified of the storm, more so of the flapping slicker under their noses. The curses started anew, fierce and hard against the rain, wind and rolling thunder. A whip cracked and the horses screamed in protest as their bodies strained against the harness.
    â€œHeave … heave … heave!” The carriage bolted upright, free of the rut at last, hovered on solid ground for a second, then lurched forward a foot or two and held.
    Barrett relaxed his hold slightly just as the air sizzled with a bolt of cobalt blue. A pine tree to the immediate rear of the carriage and team exploded with a fearsome clap and an awesome cannonade of thunder roared through the man-made valley of low buildings and shops. The team, panicked by the lightning and sent into a frenzy by the thunderous retort, broke free of Barrett’s grasp, knocked him aside and surged into a terrified, mindless gallop. Hermann was clipped by the right rear wheel and sent sprawling face forward into the mud. Barrett stood rooted to the spot, his hand reaching for emptiness, his mouth gaping open in horrified surprise at being left behind, unable to realize that what was an inconvenience for him was an extremely real danger for his daughter.
    The inside of the carriage was transformed into a violent maelstrom, the air filled with flying objects. Karen was first slammed against the back of the seat then jolted about viciously, flung to one side then the other in a nightmare of unpredictable motion. She managed to grip the right door latch, pull her way over to the side and force the door open. Store fronts and staring faces, trees and parked carriages blurred