Excerpt of The Gift by Shelley Shepard Gray

Friday, November 24

Crack! Susanna Schwartz jolted. She knew of only one thing that could make a sound like that. A rifle. Someone was shooting nearby. Right by where she was driving her buggy on Highway 218.

Crack! Ping! Ping!

That sounded closer. She glanced nervously toward the woods but didn’t see anything . . . or anyone. Of course, the way the icy snow was falling, it was a wonder she could even see her horse, Star.

She exhaled, tried to calm herself down and concentrate on driving her buggy home. Tried to make some sense of what she was hearing. It was Thanksgiving weekend, the first weekend of the hunting season. At least, it was back in Ohio. Maybe a hunter hadn’t realized that he was hunting so close to the road. That had happened all the time in Berlin, where she’d lived until two weeks ago. Boys and men would get so excited about tracking their turkeys and deer, they would neglect to pay attention to their surroundings.

Another crack sounded, just as she was sure a patch of asphalt kicked up. But maybe she’d imagined that?

Exhaling a ragged breath, she attempted to calm her beat- ing heart. No good would come of her getting in a tizzy. If she did that, she’d upset the horse, and then she’d really be in trouble.

But when yet another crack reverberated in the air, fear took over. Star whinnied and attempted to pick up speed.

“Steady, Star,” she called out. “Easy, girl. It’ll be all right.” At least, she hoped it would. At the moment, she wasn’t so sure about that. Everything about her decision to drop off her little sister, Traci, at her girlfriend’s house just a few miles from their new farm had been a bad idea.

The snow had already picked up, covering the empty high- way in a thick blanket, which had made driving her buggy difficult. The metal wheels had slipped and slid several times since she’d begun the journey.

Now she just wished it hadn’t gotten so dark so fast, and so icy. And she really wished the gunshots would stop.

Don’t make things worse by imagining things, she cautioned herself. Focus on what is happening now, not what could be.

She didn’t need to borrow trouble. She needed to do what- ever it took to get home as quickly and safely as possible. That meant she needed to remain calm and keep Star’s lines firm and steady.

When Star whinnied again, jerking her head to the right, Susanna tightened her grip on the leather straps. “Easy now, Star,” she called out once more, hoping and praying that the taut lines and her voice would soothe the mare before she lost control.

But it was too late. Star neighed in alarm and jerked to the right, neighing even more loudly. Then, as another crack reverberated through the air, the horse broke into a gallop.

Heart racing, Susanna leaned forward, holding on to the bench seat with one hand while trying to retain her grip with the other. “Whoa, Star! Please, Star!”

Her cry did no good.

The buggy wobbled, the wheels sliding precariously on the snow- and ice-covered black asphalt.

The muscles in her arms strained as she attempted to gain control. A steady burn raced up her forearms and biceps as she pulled the reins.

Star scrambled, her horseshoes clattering on the ice and snow.

Ping!

That was too close. Fully terrorized now, Star was kicking her legs. The action forced one of the lines to the buggy to snap. Seconds felt like minutes as the buggy jerked and slid. When the other line snapped, Star darted forward to safety. Susanna cried out. Screamed as the buggy slid and rocked precariously. Grasping the seat as tightly as she could, she pressed herself against the side of the closed space. Bracing herself for impact.

Suddenly free, the buggy skidded toward the center of the road.

She grabbed the brake. Attempted to pull. But she might as well have been clutching air. The buggy spun, then slid toward the other side, racing toward the ditch.

She was going to crash. Desperately, she tried to focus on where she was. But between the frost on the windshield and the sleet and ice falling in thick sheets from the sky, there was no way to tell.

All she knew for sure was that she was stranded on an unfamiliar road in the middle of an ice storm. And someone was shooting a rifle nearby.

Crying now, she closed her eyes, held on to whatever she could, and prayed.

Prayed as hard as she could. Prayed like she never had before.

And as the conveyance fell down into the ditch, crashing into a thicket of trees, the force of the impact threw her to- ward the door. It flew open and she was thrown out, landing on her side, her arms barely bracing her. Her body twisted and useless.

She’d gotten out. She’d survived.

But as the snow and ice fell against her skin, stinging like sharp pellets, Susanna wondered if that was enough. Then she didn’t care at all as she slipped into unconsciousness.