“Duff, do you believe in ghosts?”
Duff chuckled. “How can I not believe? I’m from Scotland. Do you not know the story of the Scottish King MacBeth and Banquo’s ghost?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“’Tis a story told by Shakespeare. I’ll quote a bit for you.” Duff extended his arm.
“What are you holding your hand out like that for?”
“Have you never been to a Shakespearian play? “Sure m’lad and ’tis necessary for me to establish the mood, tone, and tint.”
Duff began reciting, as if on stage.
“Avaunt! and quit my sight!
let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!”
“Very good,” Smoke said.
“So, why did you ask me about a ghost? Have you seen one?”
“I don’t know exactly what I’ve seen,” Smoke replied. “Let’s nap until daylight.”
“Yes, we seem to have lost our mysterious light, so it probably is smart to wait until daylight before we look for a way down,” Duff agreed.
After a few more minutes, both men had drifted off to sleep.
On board the train
As they had on previous nights, Luke and Jenny were sitting side by side in the very front seat of the car. They were protected against the cold by her coat and the serape, and by their body heat.
She could hear Luke’s deep, measured breathing, and knew he was asleep beside her. She knew also it was more than just the wraps and the shared body heat that warmed her. It was something else, some visceral reaction she was having to his closeness.
As she thought about it, she found the situation a little frightening. When she knew that he was going to be gone for four years, and that she was being forced to leave Pueblo, there was a certain degree of detachment between them. They were like that passage from one of Longfellow’s poems:
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness.
That very detachment protected her. She could enjoy his company and lose herself in fantasy. As long as she realized that it was but fantasy, she wouldn’t be hurt when it didn’t come to pass.
But everything had changed. Luke wasn’t going to jail, and she wasn’t being banished from Pueblo. What did that mean? Would Luke return to Two Crowns, and she to the Social Club? If they met on the street, would they acknowledge each other’s presence? Or would they look away, and pass each other with no outward sign that they had ever even met?
It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair to have met someone she could truly love, only to have that love denied her. And she was certain that once they returned, that love would be denied.
Jenny wept quietly.
On the other side of the car, Herbert Bailey drummed his fingers on the cold window and looked out into the night. It was his fault everyone was stuck on the mountain pass. He was the one who’d insisted the train move on ahead—because he knew the railroad would lose money if the trip wasn’t completed—even though Don had been hesitant about it. And by that foolish insistence, he had put every soul on the train in danger.
He had believed the railroad would recognize his boldness, and as a result, his position and authority, to say nothing of his salary, would be increased, even though he had only been a conductor for a couple months.
Bailey had been a telegrapher, but though the job was interesting and provided a much-needed service to others, he’d wanted the money and prestige that came with being a railroad conductor. Looking into the dark night he remembered his father’s attempt to change his mind.
“You are being foolish, Herbert,” his father said when Bailey told him of his intention. “You are the only telegrapher in this town. If you leave it may be a long time before we can get another to take your place. What if there is an emergency, a need for a message to go forth, and there is no one to send it? It could be a matter of life and death, with no one to turn to, because you are gone.”
“But, Father, don’t I have to think of myself, first?” Bailey had replied. “I will make much more money as a railroad conductor, and people will respect my position.”
“You put money and importance ahead of all else. The mark of a good man is his service to others. Don’t you know that when you die, the only thing you can take with you are the good deeds you have done? When you answer to the Almighty, will He be more pleased that you made money and had prestige by your position? Or would it please Him more if you could bring Him a lifetime of service to others?”
“I must do what I must do,” Bailey said.
Bailey’s father handed him a Bible. “I know you have made your decision, so I will not try to change it. But I ask, only that you read Luke twelve, verses sixteen to twenty-one.”
To satisfy his father, Bailey read the recommended text.
“And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully:
“And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits?
“And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods.
“And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.
“But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?
“So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.”
His father’s attempt to change his mind had had no effect, and Bailey had eventually become a conductor. Ironically, it wasn’t his position as conductor making a difference during the Red Cliff Special ordeal. It was through his ability as a telegrapher. His father had been right. If he died during this ordeal, what good would the increased salary and position be?
He knew the small town of Higbee had been unable to locate a replacement telegrapher. Making a fist, he tapped the window once as if confirming his decision. When he got out of this situation, if he got out, he intended to go back to his old job as telegrapher for the town of Higbee.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
On the mountain—Christmas morning, December 25
Wrapped tightly in several blankets, Smoke was the first to awaken, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the old mountain man standing in front of him. The butt of his Hawkens was on the ground before him, and his hands were crossed and resting on the muzzle. His head, covered with a coonskin cap, was tilted to one side, and he was smiling down at Smoke. “I wondered when you were going to wake up.”
“I thought you were gone,” Smoke mumbled as he stretched.
“You didn’t think I would bring you this far, then not let you finish the job, did you?”
“You’ve brought us to the train, now what? There’s no way down to it.”
“I’ll show you the way.”
“There is no way,” Smoke said emphatically. “I’ve been here dozens of times. I know this pass like I know my own ranch.”
“Wake up Duff, and follow me,” the old mountain man said.
“Duff, wake up.” Smoke gave his friend a poke, then threw off his blankets to start the morning.
Duff opened his eyes, but didn’t move a muscle, staying snug in his blankets.
“Come on, we’re going down to the train.”
“How?”
“Just trust me.”
“I’m with you.” Duff stretched, then climbed out of the blankets and stomped his feet. “Whew. Didn’t get any warmer overnight, did it?” He made a few quick jumps to get the blood flowing and picked up the leader to the sled. “Where are we going?”
“That’s a good question,” Smoke said. “Where are we going?”
“Don’t worry about wher
e we are going. In all the years you have known me, have I ever steered you wrong?” the mountain man replied.
“What do you mean, where are we going?” Duff asked. “Don’t you know? You’re in front of me. Sure, lad, and I’ll be going where you go.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” Smoke muttered.
“Well, who were you asking? There’s nobody else here, but the two of us.”
“I . . . I guess was just talking to myself.”
Duff chuckled. “Don’t talk to yourself like that. It makes me nervous to think I’m wandering around out here in the mountains with a man who has suddenly gone mad.”
Smoke laughed as well. “What makes you think I suddenly went mad? If you ask Sally, she’ll tell you I’ve been crazy from the moment she first met me.”
“Ha!” the old mountain man put in. “You were crazy long before you ever met Sally.”
“You haven’t changed, have you?” Smoke said. “You are as cantankerous now as you ever were.”
“Cantankerous am I?” Duff questioned.
“No, not you. I’m not talking about you.”
“Oh, I see. You’re talking to your invisible friend, are you?”
Smoke chuckled. “I guess I am.”
On board the train
“Oh, Jarred,” Millie said, her voice choked by sobs. “I can’t wake Becky up.”
“Becky! Becky! Wake up, child! Wake up!” Senator Daniels called.
“Oh! Jarred! Is she . . . Is she . . . ?” Millie couldn’t finish the question.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Senator Daniels pinched his nose. “Oh, Millie, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry. You were right. We should have stayed in Pueblo and taken her to a doctor. It’s all my fault, I got us into this mess.”
“It’s not your fault,” Millie said. “You had no way of knowing anything like this was going to happen. If it had been a normal train trip, we would have been to Red Cliff long before now, and a doctor would have seen her.”
Senator Daniels knelt on the floor beside Becky, then leaned over to kiss her on her forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Senator Daniels stood up. It was morning, and the sun was streaming into the car. Those who had slept fitfully through the night were awakening. Some had overheard Daniels and his wife and were looking toward them with concern.
“Could I have your attention, please?” Jarred called. “I want to make a public confession and a public apology. I have been, well, there is no other way to say it, but to just come out and say it. I have been a jerk on this trip. No, not just on this trip. I have been a self-centered, arrogant jerk for some time.” He looked down at his daughter for a moment, trying to compose himself. “And now my daughter is dying . . . if she hasn’t already . . .” He couldn’t force himself to say the word died. “If we had stayed in Pueblo, a doctor might have been able to help her. Or maybe not. The point is, against my wife’s instincts, I insisted we make this trip because I had a very important speech to make tonight.
“But as it turns out, it wasn’t really all that important after all. It was important only as far as my political career is concerned. The fact that I missed the speech is of no consequence to anyone.
“I want to apologize to everyone in this car.” Senator Daniels looked over toward the porters. “And I especially want to apologize to you three gentlemen. My actions and comments toward you have been bigoted and small-minded, and I am heartily sorry. I ask your forgiveness, and from all of you, I ask your prayers for my daughter.”
“Senator, I been prayin’ for your little girl from the first I learned she was sick,” Troy said.
“Thank you, Troy.” Senator Daniels lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I thank the rest of you for giving me a moment of your time to let me make this public apology.”
“Senator, I would say the speech you just made is a hundred times more important than any speech you would have given at that dinner in Red Cliff,” Matt said.
“Hear, hear,” Luke said, and when he began to applaud, the others joined in.
After Senator Daniels’s apology, the passengers settled back into the routine they had established during the long ordeal. Luke and Jenny sat together, warmed by her coat, his serape, and the closeness of their bodies.
“Luke, when you asked if I would have dinner with you when you came back in four years, I said yes, because I didn’t know what else to say. The truth is, I had no idea where I would be four years from now, and I still don’t. But I do know where I will be if we ever get off this train. I’ll be back in Pueblo, and if you were serious, if you really want to see me again, I would be happy to have dinner with you.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”
“You know who I am. You know where I work.”
“I’d rather you not go back to work at the social club, though,” Luke said.
“I . . . I don’t really want to go back there, either. But Adele has been a wonderful friend. And I don’t know where else I would be able to work.”
“What about raising our children?” Luke asked. “Wouldn’t that be work enough for you?”
“Raising our children?”
“Yes, I would like to have children, wouldn’t you?”
“Luke, let me get this straight. Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Well, yes. I mean, we really should get married before we start having children, don’t you think?”
Jenny laughed. “But . . . that’s insane! We’ve only known each other for four days!”
“Remember the Samoans.”
“There is no difference in the heart of a flower that lives but a single day, and the heart of a tree that lives for a thousand years,” Jenny repeated what Luke had told her earlier.
“We’ve known each other for a thousand years, Jenny. Will you marry me?”
“Yes! Yes, Luke, I will marry you!”
They sealed the decision with a kiss.
Suddenly, Timmy shouted, “It’s Christmas morning! Hey, everybody, Merry Christmas!”
Bailey chuckled. “Oh for the spirit of a youngster. At a time like this, he can still be excited by the fact that it is Christmas.”
“He’s right, though. It is Christmas,” Luke said, getting to his feet. “And it is the most wonderful Christmas of my life. I’ve an announcement to make, folks. Jenny McCoy has agreed to be my wife. Merry Christmas ”
“Merry Christmas to you as well, young man, and congratulations,” Purvis said.
For a few moments after the announcement, and despite the fact that they were stranded and without food, a bit of good nature prevailed among the passengers. Anita and Clara came to talk excitedly to Jenny about her upcoming marriage.
Matt went over to Becky, who was lying on the seat, either asleep, or unconscious, or perhaps even dead. It was difficult to tell. “When was the last time she was awake? Do you know?”
“I don’t know,” Millie said. “I think she may have been awake for a bit, yesterday. But I don’t think she was awake at all during the night. I . . . I don’t even know if she is still alive. She is so . . . so unresponsive.”
Matt opened his knife, then took one of her fingers and pricked it with the point of the knife, studying the little girl’s face as he did so. She gave no reaction to the stimulus.
“Do you have small mirror in your handbag?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I do,” Jenny said, having overheard the conversation. She opened her handbag and took out a small compact, opening it to expose the mirror.
Matt held the mirror under Becky’s nose. A small cloud of condensation appeared on the mirror, and he smiled, then showed it to Millie. “She’s still breathing, Mrs. Daniels, so she’s alive. Don’t lose hope. She may be in what they call a coma. I’ve known people to be in them before and come out of them. All the people in this car are praying for her. And like Timmy said, this is Christmas. I’ve seen things happen on Chri
stmas, wonderful things that defy understanding. One Christmas I saw a baby born in a barn when all the odds were against it.1 That birth reminded us all of that first Christmas.”
“If you folks don’t mind, I’d like to say a Christmas prayer,” Troy offered.
“I don’t think we would mind at all, Troy,” Senator Daniels said. “In fact, I think we would appreciate it. I know that I would.”
Troy nodded and bowed his head. “Lord, we thank you for the sweet baby Jesus that was born so many years ago. Thank you that He paid for our sins by dying on the cross. We are in a dark time now, and we pray that you guide us through it, and Lord, we pray for this sweet child, Becky, who is so sick. Put your healin’ hand on her Lord. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”
“Thank you, Troy. That was a wonderful prayer.” Senator Daniels turned to the conductor. “Oh, and Mr. Bailey?”
“Yes?”
“Forget about what I said about holding the Denver and Pacific responsible. I am going to make a report to the Denver and Pacific, but it will be to praise you and all the rest of the train crew for your exemplary service under extraordinary conditions.”
“I deserve no praise, Senator. It was my insistence that we continue on that put you, your family, and everyone else on this train in danger.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
On the mountain
“I dinnae believe my eyes,” Duff said. “There is a path down the sheer side of this cut, and ’tis no ordinary path, but one that is wide and flat and hard packed with snow for the sled.”
“I told you we should wait until sunrise.” Smoke grinned.
“You mean you knew about this path? Of course you did. You live here. How could you not know?”
Smoke was silent for a long moment. Taking a deep breath, he said honestly, “I’ve never seen this path before in my life.”
“How could you nae see it? ’Tis almost like a ramp.”
A Rocky Mountain Christmas Page 24
