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.