A Cold Reflection

A Time to Remember
Hardcase
By Ronnie Powell
Once again it is time to reflect on an event that brought misery to the Ozarks. The title above should be explained. The title Hardcase is not mine but belonged to Luke Short a renowned western writer and title of one of his many books. Hardcase has little to do with this story, significant only in marking the arrival of a devastating event that began about midday January 12, 2007 lasting for nearly two weeks. A massive ice storm entered the Ozarks and surrounding areas resulting in downed electric lines, fractured poles and trees, blocking roads and highways. For many hours Nature’s emissary tread heavily across the land crushing or damaging everything in its path; its foot prints will remain for years to come. And so with the above in mind I begin.
Even as a veteran of two other similar events I shuddered at the sounds of the storm that first night as limbs and tree tops fell on the house, yard and area around the place. Freezing rain rattled against the house and the crash of falling timber persisted the entire night and when the dawn arrived I crept outside dodging falling limbs to see a landscape broken and tortured, bleak and cold. But that was not the end of it, for the following night the rain came again and the giant returned destroying even more and then it was over resulting in twelve days of trying to survive.
We, my wife and I settled down in our house that had withstood the storm, with blessed heat, kerosene light, water and a store of food. Buffalo, Lebanon and much of Springfield were badly crippled and many of the roads were blocked. It was at this juncture I brought out my treasured books of Luke Short and Max Brand and took comfort in those writings of the old West. Hardcase was the first. With the light of a lowly kerosene flame flickering above my shoulder I began reading, lured back into the past where the author endowed the main character with larger than life abilities, strength and courage. The passing time was irrelevant as I shadowed Dave Coyle riding in pursuit of outlaws and hooligans, yet mindful of how fragile our existence on this Earth can be.
My wife and I ventured out on the sixth day traveling to Buffalo and found Wal-Mart and Woods Grocery store open. Many people were in both establishments buying needed supplies. Their carts were soon filled to overflowing with batteries, flashlights, lamp oil and other essential items. The faces of the people around me reflected the severity of the calamity that had befallen the population.
We soon had what we needed and headed back along roads littered with tree debris, phone lines and electric lines laying beneath shattered limbs. Many poles leaned precariously across the highway as if to topple at any moment. The forest along the way sagged under the weight of the ice; fences were down and birds darted franticly about looking for food. Man, at least temporarily had been dealt a crippling blow and the reality that Nature’s wrath has the strength to cast us back into the dark ages at any time.
In the following days and nights, Bounty Guns, by Luke Short, Rustlers of Beacon Creek, by Max Brand and Silvertip, by Max Brand along with four others kept me occupied. Why, didn’t I read something more beneficial, one might ask? I wasn’t in the mood for serious stuff.
On the twelfth day in late afternoon, my true love said to me, “The power is on.” Adios