The tornado’s roar surrounded them. Terrified, their horses took off. Small chunks of ice hidden in the driving rain battered their tired bodies. Bringing up the rear, Bryan felt the storm’s fury kissing his backside. With each stride, the gelding’s legs floated for a moment then fell, striking the ground to repeat the cycle.
Through the driving rain, he pushed everyone toward the dark outline of trees he’d seen just before the wagon lost its wheel. “Straight ahead!” he yelled, hoping either Sam or Grandfather heard him as his horse plunged through the scraggly oak trees, tearing low-lying plants from the ground in his wake.
He turned left at the red rocks and rode into the cave’s entrance. Behind him, the trees snapped like brittle sticks. The wind’s bellow followed their small group as
