“All right. But remember what I said. I won’t sit by and allow Melanie or Bradley to be hurt.”
“Neither will I,” Smoke promised.
Louis nodded and then climbed back into the coach. The door slammed shut as Smoke was climbing to the driver’s box. He brushed aside the snow that had collected on the seat while he and Louis were switching the teams and sat down to unwind the reins from the brake lever.
The stagecoach started up the switchback trail.
The higher the elevation, the harder the wind blew and the thicker the blowing snow became. The white carpet was at least six inches deep on the trail now, but the team didn’t have any trouble with that and the coach’s wheels cut through it easily. The drifts would have to reach the coach’s belly before they caused any real problems.
Smoke could still see the trail, but he couldn’t see very far ahead or behind the stagecoach. Because of the trees and the swirling clouds of snow, he couldn’t make out much to the sides, either. It was almost as if the rest of the world had receded into nothingness, leaving only this small area around the horses and the slowly moving vehicle.
The light, dim to start with, had begun to fade even more by the time the stagecoach reached the top of the switchbacks. It had been a long, cold, hungry, arduous day, and as the trail leveled out again, Smoke was ready to stop and make camp.
Under normal circumstances, they would have reached Donner Pass and the Summit Hotel by now, but Smoke estimated they still had a mile or more to go. With the way the weather was worsening, he didn’t want to attempt it.
Then he saw something that made him even more convinced they needed to call a halt.
Something dark darted through the corner of his vision. He turned his head quickly but didn’t catch more than a glimpse of whatever it was. He could tell it was moving fast, and low to the ground.
There it was again, only in the other direction this time! Smoke peered into the blizzard—because by now it actually was a blizzard—and tried to locate whatever it was he had seen.
When he couldn’t, he realized the things had been too far apart to be the same one. More than a single creature was out there, and as a long, shuddery wail drifted to him through the storm, he felt a new chill go through him, a chill that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature.
He hauled back on the reins and brought the team to an abrupt stop.
Colbert jerked back the canvas and yelled out the window, “What are you doing, Jensen? I didn’t tell you to stop!”
“Got to,” Smoke said as he put a hand on the seat and vaulted lithely to the ground.
Colbert flung the door open and hung out of the coach to point the gun at him. “Don’t move, damn you! I’ll kill you if you try anything!”
“Don’t be a damn fool,” Smoke said. “We need to get fires going right now, on both sides of the coach and in front and behind it, too.”
“What the hell are you talking about? We don’t need four fires to boil coffee and cook food!”
“No,” Smoke agreed, “but we do need them to keep the wolf pack that’s stalking us from closing in, killing the horses, and stranding us here to freeze or starve to death!”
CHAPTER 30
Colbert’s features tightened in an alarmed frown.
“Wolves!” he exclaimed.
“Remember you joked earlier about leaving us for them?” Smoke snapped. “Well, you may have to deal with them yourself now.”
Colbert’s head jerked from side to side as he peered around with a so-called civilized man’s aversion to natural predators. It would never occur to him, Smoke thought, that to the peaceful, law-abiding folks of the West, men such as Frank Colbert were the real predators.
“Where are they? How many of them are there?”
“I’ve seen two,” Smoke said. “Don’t know how many more there are, but wolves usually travel in a pack of a dozen or so. Enough to take down all these horses . . . and all of us, to boot, if they feel like it.”
Colbert leaped down from the stagecoach. Snow puffed up around his feet when he landed. He waved the gun at the coach and ordered, “Everybody out! Now!”
“Let Salty stay inside,” Smoke suggested. “He’s wounded and wouldn’t be much help.”
The old-timer heard that, and the words rankled him.
“I’ve fought off lobos many a time!” he insisted as he leaned forward between Denny and Melanie.
“We don’t want to fight them unless we have to,” Smoke said. “We want to keep them from getting too close.”
The passengers were climbing out of the coach. Colbert said, “Alma, get hold of the kid and keep your gun to his head. I’m going to be busy and can’t watch everybody.” He raised his voice. “Listen! If anybody tries anything, she’ll shoot the boy. So don’t get foolish ideas.”
Denny said, “We want to keep those wolves at bay as much as you do, Colbert. When it comes to us versus them, we’re all on the same side.”
That wasn’t strictly true, Smoke thought. If a couple of the wolves wanted to pull Frank Colbert down and drag his carcass off, he wouldn’t try too hard to stop them.
He would just feel sorry for the wolves, having to eat such a skunk.
When everybody was out of the coach, Denny said, “What do you want us to do, Pa?”
“You and I will light the fires. Louis, Mrs. Buckner, Stansfield, and Kellerman, start gathering wood. Get the dryest you can find. Each of you pick a side and start piling the wood there. Denny, we’ll help with that until we get big enough piles to light.” Smoke turned to the outlaw. “Colbert, you and Mrs. Lewiston are the only ones with guns. You’ll have to stand guard and keep the wolves off us if they start closing in.”
At that, Alma said in an unsteady voice, “Frank, I’m scared. I don’t like wolves—”
“Nobody likes wolves, blast it,” Colbert barked. “Now watch the kid, like I told you.” He sighed. “And watch out for those beasts, too.”
Colbert went to the other side of the coach as the others split up and began gathering firewood. He stood there with the pistol gripped tightly in his hand as his head swiveled back and forth, eyes wide with watchfulness . . . and more than a little nervousness, Smoke thought.
Colbert being spooked might give them an opening to turn the tables on him, Smoke mused. But right now there was a more immediate danger threatening all of them. He heard another howl from somewhere out there in the storm.
He thought it sounded hungry, but maybe that was just his imagination.
He was on the right of the coach, Denny to the left. Melanie was gathering broken branches over here, shaking snow off of them, and stacking them about fifteen feet from the stagecoach, where Smoke had kicked a spot relatively clear of snow.
More of the white stuff was falling all the time, though, so he knew his efforts wouldn’t last long. He grabbed branches and tossed them onto the pile as well.
He could see how frightened and hollow eyed Melanie was, so he told her quietly, “Your boy’s going to be all right. I’ve seen enough to know he’s a smart, levelheaded youngster.”
She swallowed and said, “He must be terrified, having a gun to his head like that.”
“I reckon he’s scared. We all are.”
“Even you, Mr. Jensen?”
Smoke laughed softly. “Ma’am, my young’uns may be grown—mostly—but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop being scared for them. Having kids means being scared every day for the rest of your life. But that doesn’t stop folks from having them, and it doesn’t mean we love ’em any less. It’s just part of being a parent . . . at least if you’re a good one.”
“I suppose you’re right. You’re saying it never gets any easier?”
“Oh, I expect it does, if you’ve raised them right. But it never goes away completely. From the looks of it, you’re doing a fine job with Bradley.”
She brushed snow from a branch and added it to the stack. “He doesn’t like being called Bradley. He’d rathe
r be called Brad. He says Brad Buckner sounds like a cowboy name.”
“Well, it does, I suppose,” Smoke said with a smile.
“If we . . . if we get out of this alive . . . I should try to remember to call him Brad. . . .”
Tears began to run down her cheeks. Smoke said gently, “Try not to cry, ma’am. Tears are liable to freeze in weather like this.”
A few yards away, Colbert said, “Quit talking and keep working! I thought I just saw something moving out there. With all this snow blowing around, it’s hard to tell.”
“I imagine you did,” Smoke said. “The varmints are out there, sure enough.”
He told Melanie to continue gathering wood, then hunkered on his heels and started arranging the branches for a fire. Crumbled bark was the only thing he had for tinder, and as he began trying to light it, shielding the match with his body, it stubbornly refused to catch.
He shoved a hand in his pocket and brought out the telegraph flimsy with Sally’s reply to his wire printed on it. He tore it in half and put one piece back in his pocket in case he needed it later. The other half he crumpled a little and nested it down among the firewood and tinder.
The idea of burning up Sally’s message bothered him a mite, but Smoke knew she would understand. He struck a match, held it to the paper, and watched in satisfaction as flames began to curl it. That was hot enough to catch the tinder on fire as well. The flames spread to the branches, which began to smolder and smoke and then burn.
It wasn’t long before the fire was blazing brightly in the gathering gloom.
Smoke straightened from it, looked at the pile of firewood Melanie had stacked up, and told her, “Move back closer to the coach, with the fire between you and the woods. Throw a branch on there every now and then when it starts to burn down.”
She nodded and said, “I understand.”
Smoke looked through the coach’s windows and saw smoke rising on the other side of the vehicle. Denny had gotten a suitable blaze going over there, too. He called to her and said, “Light the one in the back!”
“All right, Pa!”
Smoke went to the front, where Jerome Kellerman, huffing and puffing as usual, had a stack of broken branches. Smoke noted with a frown that the banker had that leather case tucked under his arm. The man sure didn’t want to let go of it, and that made Smoke curious about what was in it.
“Let’s get a good spot cleared for the fire,” he said to Kellerman as he started kicking at the snow and bending over to brush it away with his hands. “Give me some of the branches.”
In a few minutes, Smoke had the fire ready to light. From where he hunkered beside the branches, he looked up at Kellerman and asked, “Got anything that’ll burn good to use as tinder?”
Kellerman clutched the case tighter to him and said, “No! I mean, ah . . . no, no, I don’t.”
Smoke didn’t say anything. The thoughts going through his head were pure speculation, but he wondered if Kellerman had money or bonds or something like that in the case. Was the man an embezzler? That was a big leap, but Smoke found that he wasn’t willing to rule it out.
It also didn’t matter right now, so he tried again to light the fire using bark as tinder, and this time it worked. He fed more branches into the flames until the blaze was a good one.
When he straightened and looked around, he saw to his satisfaction that fires were burning on all four sides of the stagecoach. The passengers had drawn back closer to the vehicle.
The horses still hitched in the team, as well as the ones tied with lead ropes to the back of the coach, were restless, moving around and nickering and throwing their heads in the air. Smoke figured they could smell the wolves out there in the trees.
For now he intended to leave the team in harness and the others attached to the coach, rather than picketing them. If they panicked, they would be less likely to break free.
As daylight faded, the garish, flickering firelight washed over the coach and the travelers. Smoke joined the others and said to Colbert, “There are a couple of Winchesters in the boot. They’d come in handy if we have to fight off those wolves.”
A harsh laugh came from Colbert. “What kind of fool do you take me for, Jensen? I’m not letting you get your hands on a gun, or any of these other people, either.”
“Then maybe you’d better get one of the rifles out and carry it yourself,” Smoke suggested. “They’ve got more stopping power than that pistol you’re toting.”
“Now that’s not a bad idea. Alma, keep an eye on everybody while I check on that.”
Smoke said, “The rest of these folks could get back into the coach, too. They’ll be safer there.”
“Fine. Go ahead. You stay out here, though, Jensen. I want you where I can keep an eye on you myself.”
Smoke didn’t mind. If he had a chance to jump Colbert and put the man out of action, he would take it. He thought he could handle Alma Lewiston.
Colbert proved to be too careful, however, keeping Smoke well away from him while he took one of the Winchesters from the boot and loaded it from a box of ammunition in the supplies.
The heat from the fires made the inside of the coach more comfortable than it had been all day, Smoke supposed. He hoped the flames would keep the hungry wolves at bay, too. But he worried that they didn’t have enough wood to keep the fires burning like that all night.
If the flames died down too much, the wolves might become daring enough to risk an attack.
Colbert worked the Winchester’s lever to throw a round into the chamber and told Smoke, “All right, get a cook fire going. It’s been a long day and we need coffee and food.”
Smoke couldn’t disagree with that. He built a smaller fire closer to the coach and got it lit with a burning branch he took from one of the other fires.
In the middle of the day, they had eaten the last of the bacon and biscuits from the night before, so Smoke had to cook fresh batches of both. He got the coffee started boiling, then worked on rustling the grub. He’d made many a night camp in his time and was a good trail cook. When Melanie called from one of the coach windows and offered to help, he told her it wasn’t necessary.
When the meal was ready, the others climbed down from the coach, with Alma and Brad emerging last, as usual. Alma didn’t have her gun pointed at the boy’s head, but it was close and ready.
While everyone was eating, Colbert asked Smoke, “How far are we from Donner Pass?”
“In this weather, it’s hard to say.”
“You know this country,” Colbert snapped. “Make a guess.”
“I believe we’re about a mile, maybe a mile and a half from the entrance to the pass.”
“So we should be through it and on our way down the other side by the middle of the day tomorrow.”
Smoke said, “You seem to think that just because you want something to be so, it will be. There’s no guarantee we can even make it all the way to the pass, Colbert, let alone get through it.”
Colbert’s mouth twisted angrily. He said, “You’d damn well better get us through it, Jensen, if you don’t want any of these people hurt.”
“You reckon I can just wave my hand at drifts too deep for the stagecoach and make them disappear?”
Before Colbert could respond, a shrill, terrified scream cut through the snow-filled air.
CHAPTER 31
Smoke whirled around and saw a large dark shape darting through the firelight. One of the wolves had overcome its instinctive fear of the flames and was charging toward Melanie, who screamed again as the beast left its feet and lunged at her.
Before the wolf could clamp its jaws on the young woman’s quivering flesh, Louis leaped toward her. He wrapped his arms around her and drove her off her feet, sending both of them sprawling headlong into the snow.
As the wolf sailed past, it twisted its head and snapped at Louis, but its teeth snapped together harmlessly.
An instant later, as the wolf landed on the ground, a shot blasted and the
shaggy creature jackknifed from the force of the slug ripping through it. The wolf rolled across the snow. Blood spurted from the wound and painted a crimson spatter on the white.
The horses all fought against their harnesses and lead ropes as they tried to rear up and let out shrill whinnies. The combined smells of wolf and blood had them panic stricken.
Smoke had no chance to try to calm them. He saw another large, furry shape hurtling toward Louis and Melanie where they lay on the ground. He shouted, “Louis, look out!” as he charged toward them from the other direction.
Louis threw himself on top of Melanie to shield her from the attack with his own body. He kicked at the wolf and caught it under the chin, slowing it momentarily.
That gave Smoke a chance to tackle the beast. He wrapped both arms around its neck and let his momentum roll them over so he was lying on his back with the wolf on top of him. All four of the animal’s legs flailed in the air as it tried to twist its head around enough to slash at him with its teeth.
The wolf was incredibly powerful, but Smoke’s arms and shoulders bulged with muscle as he tightened his grip on the beast’s throat. His lips drew back from his teeth in a grimace of effort. He squeezed harder and harder. The wolf’s struggles became more and more frantic. Its teeth ripped the sleeve of Smoke’s sheepskin jacket but didn’t penetrate to the flesh underneath.
Smoke heaved and twisted. A sharp crack sounded, like a branch breaking.
Smoke knew it was the wolf’s neck that had just snapped.
The animal went limp. He shoved it aside and sat up. His pulse hammered inside his head, but not so loudly that he couldn’t hear the shots as Colbert fired several times, aiming into the woods as he levered the rifle.
“Get out of here, you bastards!” Colbert bellowed as the echoes of the shots rolled through the trees.
Smoke clambered to his feet. Colbert swung the rifle toward him. Flame spurted from the Winchester’s muzzle. Smoke’s first thought was that Colbert was trying to kill him.
Then a heavy weight slammed into his back. Smoke barely had time before crashing to the ground to realize that Colbert had been aiming at a wolf charging from behind him.
A High Sierra Christmas Page 23
