“Well, right over here is where I would put the rug,” Mattie said. She handed Ola May back to Granny Jane and unrolled the rug and went to place it next to the crude cot where Reed slept.

Granny Jane stepped forward, then back as she heard the creak and crack of wood. They all looked at each other as though this were the strangest and most terrifying thing they had ever heard. Then the ridgepole went on and broke the rest of the way, bringing the timbers and sod of the roof down on them.

Granny Jane bent forward, using her body to shield the baby from the avalanche of debris that came raining down. Reed jumped out the door and landed on the ground, rolling a couple of times before he came to a stop. Dirt and rocks and sticks came down on Granny's head, shoulders, and back. She brought the baby in tighter to her chest as she was buffeted by the falling roof. A chunk of sod came down and hit her on the back, sending her down into the pile of dirt on the floor of the cabin.

She lost consciousness and then fought back to it. Ola was still in her arms, and she knew right away that the baby was still alive. They were trapped, though, as Granny Jane had been driven to her knees and partially buried in the sod. What was holding her down was a couple of branches stretched across her back. She could not let go of Ola, so she twisted and pushed her back up, repeating these movements until she felt the force of the branches lessen. She held Ola in her left arm and began digging herself out with her right. Most of the sod had fallen in chunks on her, so though they were difficult to lift, once she got them up, she was able to get her legs free. She climbed over the debris to the door, still carrying Ola, and out to the sunlight.

Reed stood there outside the demolished cabin, mouth agape, his hands twitching and turning back and forth, like he was trying to shake something from them.

“The baby's all right,” Granny yelled, trying to break the trance that held Reed. He didn't move. Granny Jane put Ola on the ground in a bed of pine straw and ran back into the cabin, clawing at the dirt with her bare hands. It was a mixture of clumped earth held together with roots and loose, silty soil. Some of the biggest chunks she could not move, the loose dirt just sifting between her fingers. The faster she dug, the more silt slipped back into the pile.