Winter Kill

by William W. Johnstone

  “It’s only for one night, Clem, and we’ll pay you extra,” Frank told him. “But the ladies are staying here. Soapy Smith’s men just tried to kidnap them.”

  The stableman’s eyes widened. “You know that for a fact?”

  “I can’t prove it, but I’m sure Smith was behind what happened.”

  The man rubbed his beard-bristly jaw. “Well, I got to admit, I wouldn’t be surprised. Soapy’s friendly, but sometimes he seems like a mite of a shady character, too. I wouldn’t go spreadin’ stories about him that I couldn’t prove, though. Those fellas who work for him can be mighty rough.” The stable man lowered his voice and went on. “I don’t reckon you need to pay me any extra. It ain’t costin’ me nothin’ to have these ladies here, and it’ll be good for business when word gets around that nigh on to a dozen honest-to-God women spent the night in my stable!”

  Frank grinned and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Clem.” He turned to the women. “Ladies, right up that ladder is the hayloft. I think you can take your blankets and make yourselves comfortable up there. We’ll stay down here to make sure no one bothers you again tonight.”

  “All right,” Meg said with a smile, “but you should have seen Ruth and Wilma blazing away at those men who tried to get into our room. They were a couple of real Annie Oakleys!”

  The two young woman blushed, but they looked pleased by the praise.

  Frank asked the proprietor, “Is there an outside door into that loft?”

  “Yeah, but it’s closed and bolted from the inside. Nobody can get in that way. Only way is up the ladder.”

  Frank nodded. “Good. One man can guard it, then. Pete, Salty, we’ll take turns doing that, along with Dog. Bart, you find yourself a place and get some sleep.”

  “Dadgum it, I wish I could help more,” Jennings protested. “I still feel like I owe you folks for what I helped Ben and those other fellas try to do.”

  “Maybe the time will come,” Frank said. “Your sight might come back when your eyes heal up some more.”

  “I sure hope that’s true.”

  The women climbed up into the hayloft, taking their blankets with them. The proprietor retired to his quarters in the rear. Only one lantern was burning, and Frank turned the flame on it down so that it cast only a faint glow. The doors were all closed and fastened, and he didn’t see any way that Smith’s men could get at them easily. He should have brought the women in here earlier, he told himself, but he’d been trying to give them as much comfort as possible before they started the long, arduous journey to Whitehorse.

  Of course, if Smith was angry enough over what had happened, he could order his men to set the barn on fire. Frank was convinced Soapy wouldn’t do that, though. For one thing, if the barn burned down and the women were killed in the blaze, then Smith would lose any chance of getting his hands on them. For another, the inhabitants of most frontier communities lived in fear of fire, and Frank figured Skagway was no different. With so many frame and canvas buildings, out-of-control flames might spread rapidly, and the whole settlement could burn to the ground. It had happened many times before in the West. Frank had even witnessed such an inferno firsthand, a number of years earlier.

  So as far as Frank could tell, this was the safest place for all of them tonight.

  Salty came over to him and volunteered to take the first watch while Frank and Conway got some sleep. Frank studied the old-timer intently and said, “Are you all right? The thirst isn’t too bad?”

  Salty licked his lips. “That’s one reason I figured it might be best for me to take the first turn,” he said. “Right now, I ain’t got the fantods yet, but I ain’t sure how long that’ll last. Without some Who-hit-John to ease me through the night, the bugs’re liable to be crawlin’ all over me ’fore mornin’. I’m hopin’ that ain’t the way it is…but it might be.”

  “All right, then it’s a good idea for you to take the first watch, like you said,” Frank agreed. “Let out a shout if there’s any trouble, though.”

  “Don’t you worry. If anything bad starts to happen, I’ll holler so loud they’ll hear it clear down on the Rio Grande.”

  Nothing bad happened, though. The night passed peacefully except for a brief commotion when the young women discovered that they were sharing the hayloft with a few rats. Frank shooed the varmints away, and the ladies settled down after that and got some more sleep.

  The snow had stopped by morning, but the storm had left about six inches on the ground with deeper drifts in places. The Swede delivered the dogs at eight o’clock, as promised. By that time Frank and Conway had the sleds ready in front of the livery stable, with the supplies already loaded on them. Salty supervised the hitching of the dogs to the sleds, trying to pick out the best animals and split them up among the teams. While that was going on, Frank saddled Stormy and Goldy, using saddles and tack that had been on a couple of the outlaws’ horses, then told everyone else to go over to the hotel and have a good breakfast before they left.

  “I’ll stay here to keep an eye on our outfit,” he added.

  Salty shook his head. “Let me do that, Frank,” the old-timer insisted. “I never have much of an appetite of a mornin’, and I sure as shootin’ don’t today.”

  “How are you doing?” Frank asked.

  Salty lifted a slighty shaking hand and stroked his beard. “Not as bad as I figured I would be. I reckon I’m in plenty good enough shape to stand guard over our belongin’s, but I don’t figure I could stomach any food. Maybe later I can gnaw some jerky on the trail, and if we stop in the middle o’ the day to brew up some coffee, I might give that a try.”

  “All right, if that’s the way you want it,” Frank said with a nod. “Pete and I will go over to the hotel with the women, to make sure Smith doesn’t try anything again over there. Dog, stay here with Salty.”

  The old man grinned under his beard. “You might as well be leavin’ a regiment with me. That critter’s worth a heap o’ fightin’ men in a ruckus.”

  Frank and Conway escorted the women across the street to the hotel. It was frozen solid now under the snow, so they didn’t have to worry about the mud. Frank scanned the street carefully for any sign of Soapy Smith and his minions. He didn’t see anybody he recognized, but he realized Smith could have plenty of men working for him that Frank didn’t know about. Still, no one made a move that was out of line.

  The women’s entrance into the hotel dining room caused quite a stir among the men having breakfast. The news of what had happened the night before had gotten around town, and men who would have craned their necks anyway to get a glimpse of the mail-order brides were even more interested because the women were accompanied by the notorious gunfighter known as The Drifter.

  Frank ignored the curious stares, as he always did, and ushered the women to a big, empty table. They were the only females in the place. A waiter brought coffee for everybody, and Frank ordered hotcakes and bacon all around. This would clean out the last of his cash. From here on, though, they would be living on the supplies he had already bought, plus whatever fresh meat they could kill along the trail.

  “Eat as much as you can,” Frank told the women as the platters of food arrived at the table. “You won’t be getting another meal like this for a while. Not until you get to Whitehorse, anyway.”

  The women followed his advice and ate heartily, finishing off several platters of hotcakes and bacon and washing the food down with three pots of coffee. When they were finished, Lucy Calvert moaned and said, “Oh, I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for a month!”

  “You’d better remember that,” Meg told her with a grin. “The rest of us will split your share of the supplies.”

  “Now, hold on—” Lucy said before realizing that Meg was joking. She smiled and laughed then, too.

  Frank settled the hotel bill, including the breakfast, and then he and Conway took the women outside again. Fiona said quietly to him, “I owe you more than I can ever repay, Fr
ank, and I’m not just talking about money. Although I intend to make things right with you on that account, too.”

  “Wait and see how things go when we get to Whitehorse,” he told her.

  “All right, but just don’t forget…you can have anything you want from me. That’s how much I’m in your debt.”

  Before he could think about what Fiona meant by that, he heard Conway say in a warning tone, “Frank…” and looked up to see Soapy Smith standing near the sleds, along with Yeah Mow Hopkins, Joe Palmer, Sid Dixon, and Big Ed Burns. Salty Stevens was on the other side of the sleds, clutching a Winchester tightly in his gnarled hands. Dog was at his side, growling softly.

  Smith grinned and waved a hand toward the old-timer and the big cur, saying, “Call off your dogs, Morgan…both of ’em.”

  Frank didn’t respond to Smith right away. He said to Conway, “Take the women into the livery stable, Pete. Keep them there until I tell you it’s clear.”

  “Right, Frank,” the young man said. He glared at Smith and kept his rifle pointing in the man’s general direction as he went with the women into the stable.

  Still smiling, Smith said, “All this caution isn’t necessary, Morgan. We may have had our differences yesterday, but that’s all in the past. I’m not the sort of man who believes in holding a grudge.”

  Frank didn’t believe that for a second. “What about last night?” he snapped.

  “Last night?” Smith said, raising his eyebrows in apparent innocence. “I heard that there was some sort of ruckus at the hotel, but it didn’t have anything to do with me. What was that all about, anyway?”

  “Somebody tried to kidnap the women and kill the rest of us.” Frank paused, then added meaningfully, “I figured you knew all about it.”

  Smith shook his head. “No, this is the first I’ve heard exactly what happened.”

  That was a bald-faced lie, and all of them knew it, but Frank didn’t have any proof to the contrary. He thought about the man whose throat had been cut and glanced at Sid Dixon. The little opium addict gave him a sly grin that caused anger to well up inside Frank. Dixon could have untied the man and helped him to escape. Instead, he had taken the quick, easy way out and used his knife, probably because he enjoyed it. As far as Frank was concerned, a man like Dixon was lower than a snake’s belly.

  “Anyway, I’d heard that you were leaving this morning,” Smith went on, “and I just wanted to come over and wish you good luck on your journey. I’m sorry we couldn’t come to an agreement on a business arrangement,” he shrugged, “but I respect your decision on that.”

  “You came to wish us good luck,” Frank said, allowing a tone of skepticism into his voice.

  “Sure. It’s a long way to Whitehorse. A long, hard way.” Smith was still smiling, but hatred burned in his dark, deep-set eyes. “And I figure that you’ll be able to use all the luck you can get.”

  Chapter 24

  Smith and his men left, but the veiled threat in the man’s words stayed with Frank as he called the women out of the stable and got them loaded onto the sleds. They were bundled up in parkas, fur hats, and blankets. Fiona, Elizabeth, and Lucy rode on the first sled, the one that would be handled by Salty, with bundles of supplies lashed on in front of them. The arrangement was the same on the other sleds: supplies in front, passengers in back.

  As Frank had expected, Meg had volunteered when she found out that one of the women would have to handle a sled. She took the second sled, with Marie, Ruth, and Ginnie. Lizzie and Maureen were on the third sled, with Bart Jennings standing at the gee-pole. Jessica and Elizabeth settled in on the fourth sled, the one that was Pete Conway’s responsibility.

  Frank wasn’t surprised that Jessica wanted to be close to Conway. The budding romance between them was obvious, and Frank still thought that might cause trouble once they got to Whitehorse. That problem could be dealt with later, though.

  Jennings told Salty and Meg, “If the two of you will sing out pretty often, I should be able to follow you without much trouble. I can still hear just fine. In fact, I think I hear a little better now than I did before I lost my sight.”

  Meg patted him on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Jennings. We won’t let you go astray.”

  He shook his head in obvious amazement. “I still can’t get over the way you folks have accepted me, even after all the bad things I done.”

  “Yes, but since then you’ve tried to help us as much as you can,” Meg pointed out. “I think most people could use a second chance, don’t you?”

  “Some of ’em might even need a third or a fourth chance before it takes,” Jennings said with a smile under the cloth tied around his eyes.

  When everything was squared away and ready to go, Frank led Stormy and Goldy out of the stable. He shook hands with Clem, the proprietor, and then swung up into the saddle on Goldy’s back. The street was crowded by now, even though it was still dark. The sun wouldn’t make its brief appearance until later in the day. Many of the citizens of Skagway had turned out to say good-bye to the women who had brought some femininity and excitement to the raw frontier settlement, even if only for a short time.

  “You know the trails, Salty,” Frank called to the old-timer. “Lead off whenever you’re ready.”

  “All right.” Salty’s beard bristled in the cold air as he stood on the runners at the rear of the sled and looked around at the others. “Ever’body ready at the gee-poles?”

  Meg, Jennings, and Conway called out that they were, and Salty lifted a hand over his head and swept it forward.

  “Mush, yuh danged hairy varmints!” he called to the sled dogs. “Mush!”

  With a noisy chorus of barking, the dogs strained against their traces and pulled ahead, drawing the harnesses taut. The sled’s polished runners began to glide over the snow. The other teams followed the example of the leaders, and with a big racket, including cheers of encouragement from some of the onlookers, all four sleds departed from Skagway.

  Frank rode ahead, and Dog bounded even farther in front. The barking of the sled dogs seemed to excite him, and he turned from time to time to bark back at them.

  Even though the sun wasn’t up, gray light filled the eastern sky. It would stay that way for hours yet, but during that time, the glow was enough for the travelers to see where they were going. Frank could tell from the light that they were headed almost due north.

  He rode ahead of the sleds at times, alongside them at others, and every now and then he dropped well behind them to check on their back trail. Soapy Smith had all but said that he was coming after the women, or at least sending men to run them down and capture them. Frank had a hunch that Smith would let them get away from Skagway before he tried anything else, but not too far. He would want to kill Frank and the other men and take the women prisoner while it would still be fairly easy to get them back to the settlement.

  Because of that, Frank knew he would have to be on guard nearly twenty-four hours a day.

  Which was a shame in a way because his vigilance didn’t allow him to just ride along and appreciate the magnificent scenery around him. Vast, snow-covered slopes; majestic stands of pine, fir, and spruce trees with their branches also decorated with the white, powdery snow; rugged mountains that were studies in black and white and gray looming over everything…Frank had seen some mighty pretty places in his life, but Alaska was right up there with the best of them.

  It was too bad that like most of the other places Frank had been, lurking in all that beauty were scores of dangers, dozens of ways a man could get himself dead in a hurry.

  One time when Goldy was trotting alongside Salty’s sled and Frank was leading Stormy, the old-timer pointed into the distance and said, “See that little notch where them two mountains come together?”

  “Yeah. Is that where we’re going?”

  “That’s White Pass, where we’re headed first. ’Bout thirty miles from here. Chilkoot’s only about ten miles beyond it, but it’s a mighty brutal
ten miles. You’ll feel like you’re goin’ straight up a sheet o’ ice durin’ some of it. It’ll be hard goin’ for them horses of yours.”

  “They can make it,” Frank said. He had every confidence in the world in Stormy and Goldy.

  “The ladies’ll have to get off and walk when we get there. The dogs can’t pull the loads on the sleds and their weight, too, not at that angle. That’s why I told you to get hobnailed boots for all of ’em. Otherwise they won’t be able to make it on the ice. If we’re lucky, there’ll be a little snowpack. It ain’t as slippery. Then, once we get past Chilkoot, things don’t get much easier for a while. The goin’s still slick, it’s just downhill instead of up. We’ll tie the sleds together and put all the dogs behind ’em, instead of in front, until we get down from the pass.”

  “What’s the terrain like after that?”

  “A mite better. Hills instead o’ mountains. We’ll have to cross some cricks, but they’ll be froze over already and shouldn’t be a problem, long as the ice ain’t too thin.”

  “Where’s the border?”

  “White Pass. By the time we get to the glacier that runs along there and turn northwest along it toward Chilkoot, we’ll be in Canada.”

  Frank nodded. He figured that Smith would make his move before they reached White Pass, not because that landmark was the borderline between Alaska and Canada, but because Smith wouldn’t want to go to the trouble of having to bring the women back that far, over such rugged ground.

  “How long will it take us to reach White Pass?”

  “At least three days, more likely four or five, dependin’ on the dogs and what we run into betwixt here and there. It looks a lot closer’n it really is.”

  So for the next five days, he couldn’t let down his guard, Frank thought, and he couldn’t once they passed that point, either, because Soapy Smith was hardly the only threat out here. The wilderness itself was an even bigger danger.

  “How about from White Pass to Chilkoot?”