Clouds of dust, whipped up by the wind, came from the direction of the pignut trees, which were being tossed around wildly, and I knew we were not only in for a real soaker, but a lot of dangerous wind. The whole sky was already all covered with clouds except the northeast corner, which is above Strawberry Hill and the cemetery.
Charlotte Ann wasn’t in the barn and neither was Mr. Everhard’s pretty wife.
My conscience was screaming at me for being such a careless baby sitter as to leave a two-year-old baby girl alone in the house and also for not locking the doors when I did leave the house.
Being a boy who believes in God, and also knowing that “Heaven helps them that help themselves” as Pop had told me, some of the stormy thoughts that were whirligigging in my mind were all mixed up with worried prayers and wondering what my parents would think with their baby lost in the storm.
Charlotte Ann, being a two-year-old and a “great imitator,” having seen me go rushing out our back door and across the lawn, through the gate and past Theodore Collins on our mail box, probably had done that thing herself. By this time she could be through the rail fence on the other side of the road and toddling along as fast as a two-year-old can toddle—getting up and falling down and getting up again—she was probably away down in the woods and maybe had already gotten to the spring and the creek—and you know what could have happened to her.
Just then the wind swept off my straw hat and sent it on a high, wild flight out across the yard, straight toward the walnut tree where it swished between the two ropes of the rope swing, went on and landed in the dusty road, was picked up again by the wind and whipped out toward the rail fence itself in the direction of Strawberry Hill and the old cemetery.
I was wishing my parents were there to help me. I was also glad they weren’t there on account of it would be time soon enough for Mom to start worrying—and once Mom gets started worrying it’s hard for her to stop unless she takes a minute to quick read or remember a Bible verse and then that verse is just like a new broom—it sweeps the worry clear out of her mind, she says.
The most important thing in the world right then was to find Charlotte Ann and not let her get caught in what I could tell was the beginning of a terrific storm. I was having a hard time to stay on my feet myself and I knew a wind like that would blow Charlotte Ann over as easy as anything. Of course, when a baby falls down it generally doesn’t hurt much because a baby doesn’t have as far to fall as a grown-up person. But a wind like this one could not only blow her off her feet, but could slam her against a tree or a rail fence or into the briers of a rosebush, or if she was anywhere near the creek, it might actually blow her into it.
So, half-scared half to death and worried almost the other half, I yelled to Mr. Everhard, “Come on! We’ve got to find them!”
Say, that man snapped into the fastest life I had ever seen a dignified man snap into in my life. Both of us right away were hurrying past Theodore Collins on our mailbox and soon were out in the woods. “If they are anywhere near the tent or the station wagon, they will probably go there to get out of the rain,” he said. “Let’s go back to camp first—”, which we were already on the way to, before he finished gasping out the last word of what he had started to say.