Free Lunatic Revenge by Sharon Sala

Littlehorse. You flew with the storm last night and lit in this tree just like a bird to roost.”
    Gracie whimpered.
    Tara kept patting her back. “I know, honey, I know. Uncle Nate is coming. Your mama is coming and your daddy, too. It’s going to be okay, little girl. You’ll see.”
    Minutes later, Gracie Littlehorse’s family surrounded the tree, all of them talking and crying at once. It was Nate who silenced them.
    “Hush,” he said. “The louder you are, the more Gracie will struggle. She’s alive by the grace of God. Let’s keep her that way.”
    Gracie still had a death grip on Tara’s neck. There was no way she could hold onto the child and climb down at the same time.
    “I don’t think I can get down with her,” Tara said.
    Nate looked up. “Don’t move. We’ll come up to you.”
    The family was so focused on getting Gracie down they didn’t notice the rescue was being filmed by a news crew from an Oklahoma City television station that had come down to cover the damage.
    Nate went up the tree first. John Littlehorse started up the tree behind Nate, with Nate’s father, Martin, going up behind John. They kept climbing until they were spaced up in the branches like members of a bucket brigade.
    When Nate reached Tara he was so elated his heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. He kept touching Gracie’s muddy little body, just to reassure himself this wasn’t a dream, then looked at Tara, in awe of what she’d done.
    Tara sighed. “I told her she flew with the storm last night and came to roost like a little bird. She won’t let go.” Tears began to roll down Tara’s face. “Oh Nate  . . . she’s so scared. I can feel her little heart beating all the way to my bones.”
    He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked down. John was just a couple of branches below him, and his father, Martin, was standing on the lowest branch, about six feet above the ground, ready to hand the baby off to Delia, who waited below.
    He looked off in the distance. His Mother and his nephew, Mico, were still over two blocks away, but it was time to get this done.
    He put his hand on Gracie’s back. “Gracie  . . . it’s Uncle Nate. Wanna go see Mama?”
    Gracie was still holding onto Tara, but the familiar voice and the word Mama got her attention. “Mama?”
    “Yes, baby girl. Come to me.”
    In the end, he had to tear her arms from around Tara’s neck, and when he did, she began to scream. There was no soothing her—no talking to calm her. She cried all the way down, from Tara to Nate—from Nate to John—from John to Martin—and finally from Martin to Delia. The moment she was on the ground and in Delia’s arms, a cheer went up from the news crew.
    That’s when the family realized the rescue had been filmed. The news crew had already alerted an ambulance that a baby had just been found alive up in a tree and it was enroute to the scene to transport her
    Tara was the last to climb down, and when her feet touched ground, she was shaking.
    Nate threw his arms around her and hugged her fiercely. His body was trembling as much as his voice. “I will never be able to repay you,” he said, as he reluctantly turned her loose.
    Tara combed her fingers through her hair, her voice shaking from emotion. “Payback isn’t how this works.”
    “I know, but you know what I mean. Come on. I’ll take you home.”
    “I can’t go home.”
    Nate frowned. “But—”
    Tara picked up her raincoat and put it back on, shivering as the coat sheltered her from the chill wind.
    “Someone else is lost. I made a promise to help the searchers find him.”
    Tara started walking and Nate followed.
    “I don’t understand. When did you—”
    “There’s a body trapped beneath a roof. The man’s spirit is still there, waiting to be found. He won’t cross over. He knows I saw him. I told him I’d be back.”
    Nate was speechless. “I never thought—” Then he began looking around. “Are their