‘It’s a haboob. A dust storm.’ He turned back to Delphi as another gust of wind swirled across the sand. ‘Take Alima inside. Close the barn doors. Then go back through to the house and stay there.’
Gazing up at the quivering sky, Delphi felt her heart slow. She had thought a dust storm was just a strong wind. But this looked more like a tidal wave or some monstrous creature.
Behind her, Omar was shouting orders in Arabic at the men now moving swiftly across the yard, picking up stray buckets and bolting gates.
Talking soothingly to Alima, she led the horse back into the barn and into her stall. Against the gale, it took all her strength to pull the huge barn doors across, and incredibly the wind was getting stronger and louder by the second. Outside the air was growing hazy. The men were starting to lose their shape.
Her heart gave a lurch. Where was Omar?
Without thinking, she ran back outside.
It was like stepping into another world. Actually, it felt like the end of the world. The noise was deafening, and the air was churning with dust and debris. Choking, she staggered forward, lifting her arms to shield her mouth and eyes. Not that she could see anything.
She felt a flicker of panic. The barn had vanished. There was just swirling sand and the screaming wind tearing at her skin.
She turned, trying to get some sense of direction, but in zero visibility the five yards back to the barn might as well have been five hundred miles. She was dizzy, disorientated. And then a driving gust of wind made her stagger and she fell forward, coughing.
‘What are you doing?’
A hand caught her elbow and hauled her upright. It was Omar.
‘I told you to go back through to the house.’
Bent almost double against the wind, he was propelling her forward now, and she felt a sharp relief as the barn loomed into view.
‘Get inside!’ Omar shouted.
As she nodded, something dark and blurred spun through the air and slammed into his side. He grunted in pain.
‘You can’t go back out in that!’ She clutched at his arm, frantic with fear, as he turned towards the storm.
‘I’ll be fine. Go into the house.’ His eyes were narrowed against the wind and he was having to shout above the noise.
She shook her head. ‘No, I want to stay with the horses.’
She had never heard him swear, but he swore then—using a word that Dan had sent her thirteen-year-old self to her bedroom for saying.
‘I can be with them.’
He pushed her back into the barn, but as he turned to step back outside, she clung onto his arm. ‘I want to stay with you.’
The words came easily, just as if they’d been waiting to be spoken, but he didn’t react, and she thought they had been lost on the wind. And then he was pulling the doors shut.
The noise dropped a notch and her hand tightened on his arm. ‘Did everyone get inside?’
He nodded. ‘They know the drill. Better still, they follow it.’ A muscle beat in his jaw as he stared down at her, eyes accusing. ‘What the hell were you thinking, going out there in that?’
‘I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t see you.’
His expression was unreadable. ‘I thought you didn’t want to see me.’ Their eyes met and then he looked away. ‘I’m going to check on the horses.’
Heart hammering, Delphi stared after him. Outside the wind had settled into a kind of rasping howl, and most of the horses were stamping and moving uneasily. Only Alima seemed unperturbed.
Omar shook his head. ‘Brave as well as wise,’ he murmured.
He reached out to stroke the mare’s velvety muzzle and Delphi felt her spine turn to ice. On the front of his shirt, which should be yellow, a patch of red was spreading out like spilt wine.
‘You’re hurt.’