A High Sierra Christmas

by William W. Johnstone

  “Bradley!” Melanie said. “You should be respectful to your elders—” She stopped short and looked at Alma, then went on, “No, wait, in this case I’m not sure you should be.”

  Denny picked up what was left of the shelter they had rigged from the canvas and the robes. “Let’s put this up again and get the fire going before we all get too cold to move.”

  Everyone pitched in except Kellerman, who stood sullenly to one side, and Alma, who was still tied securely. Denny checked her bonds to be sure. Alma’s fingers were bloody from broken fingernails she had suffered while struggling to untie Colbert’s ropes.

  The shelter was smaller when they got it back up again, and enough snow had fallen so that everyone was covered with it and had to shake it off their clothing before climbing in again. Denny gathered up what was left of the firewood, including the last two pieces of the broken bench from the coach.

  “We’re going to need some kindling,” she said as she looked meaningfully at Kellerman.

  “Then use some of your own damn money,” he snapped back at her. “I’m sure you or your brother have some bills.”

  Stansfield laughed. “No reporter is ever going to get rich, so what do a few dollars matter?” He drew out a wallet and took a greenback from it. As he handed the money to Denny, he said, “There’s more where that came from . . . although not a great deal.”

  Denny knelt beside the firewood and used a match to light the bill Stansfield had given her. She poked it into the stack and watched as flames consumed it without the wood catching.

  “Damn it, Kellerman, give me a handful of that cash!”

  Kellerman’s face worked miserably as he considered the demand. Finally, he sighed and reached into the case to take out one bundle of bills. He handed it to Denny, who broke the paper seal around the money and poked that into the firewood. She crumpled several of the bills and worked them into place, then struck another match and held it to them.

  This time, the “tinder” burned hotly enough to catch the wood on fire. As the flames began to jump up, warmth spread through the shelter, although it was fighting a losing battle against the storm raging outside.

  The trick to surviving would be keeping the fight going on long enough for Smoke to get back....

  Because Denny was never going to give up on her father. Not until she knew for certain that he was dead.

  CHAPTER 37

  It didn’t take Denny long to realize that she’d been wrong about the money in Jerome Kellerman’s case. The bills made fine tinder, but they burned too quickly to substitute for firewood. She could dump the whole caseful of cash on the fire, and the money would be consumed so fast it wouldn’t do much good.

  They were going to have to chop off more pieces from the stagecoach.

  Brad was trying to keep his spirits up by talking. He said to Louis, “I’m glad I got to ride in a real stagecoach. I read about them in books, but I didn’t think I’d ever even see one.”

  “This is the real thing, all right,” Louis said as he patted the side of the coach. “Listen, I have an idea. Salty, do you have a pocketknife?”

  “Sure I do,” the old-timer replied. “Never go anywhere without my trusty ol’ Barlow knife.”

  “If we could borrow it for a minute . . . ?”

  Salty dug the knife out of his pocket and handed it to Louis, who said, “Brad, I think you ought to carve your name into the door so people will always know that you rode this stagecoach.”

  “Wait a minute,” Melanie said. “The coach doesn’t belong to us. It wouldn’t be right for Brad to deface it like that. Doesn’t the man who owns it set great store by it?”

  “Fred Davis sure does, ma’am,” Salty said, “but there’s an old tradition in the West of folks carvin’ their names or initials into trees and rocks and such-like to show where they’ve been. This stagecoach is what we got right now, so we’ll have to make do with it.” Salty paused, then went on, “I reckon it’d be a fine idea for all of us to put our names on it.”

  Denny had seen the quick look that passed between her brother and Salty, and it didn’t take her long to figure out what they were doing. Carving their names into the stagecoach might seem like a lark to Brad, but if they didn’t survive, that would also serve to identify them when the wrecked coach was found after the blizzard. Their remains might still be here, or the wolves might have scattered them by that time, but at least people would know what had happened to them.

  Louis unfolded the knife and handed it to Brad. Melanie frowned and said, “Be careful with that. It looks sharp.”

  “Oh, it is, ma’am,” Salty said. “No point in carryin’ a knife that ain’t sharp.”

  Louis said, “I’ll lift you up, Brad, and you can carve your name right there on the side for everybody to see.”

  “Are you sure it’s all right?” Brad asked. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  Salty clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Sure, it’s fine, younker. Go ahead.”

  Louis bent and put his arms around Brad’s waist. As he lifted the boy, Denny said, “Louis, are you feeling well enough to be doing that?”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted. “You don’t have to worry about me at all, Denny.”

  Because they were all going to freeze to death before another morning dawned, she thought. That was what her brother was saying.

  Brad scratched at the wood with the knife point and said, “It’s hard. I don’t know if I can do my whole name.”

  “You can put your initials,” Louis told him. “I’ll add your name when you’re done.”

  Brad carved out B.B. on the door, then asked, “Should I put the date?”

  Louis laughed and said, “I’m afraid I’ve lost track. Is it Christmas Eve, or just the twenty-third?”

  “Just write December, Brad,” Melanie said. “I still don’t like you using that knife.”

  Brad frowned in concentration, stuck the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth, and scratched December 1901 into the wood of the stagecoach door. Then Louis set him back on the ground and took the knife from him.

  Melanie looked relieved. She said, “Maybe what we should do instead of carving up that stagecoach is sing a few Christmas carols. That would be a better way to pass the time at this season, wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Denny said. “Let’s start with ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.’ I always liked that one when we sang it in England.”

  She and Melanie started singing. Louis and Brad joined in, then Peter Stansfield added his baritone, and Salty warbled some scratchy notes as well. Alma just glared, and Jerome Kellerman sat there looking sullen, holding the case that was never far from him and refusing to join in.

  They sang “The First Noel” and several other carols, and then Melanie launched into a heartbreakingly poignant “Silent Night.” The others sat silently and listened, each thinking his or her own thoughts.

  Melanie had just reached the final Sleep in heavenly peace when the canvas was yanked back suddenly. The song ended abruptly, and Melanie screamed as a monster peered into the shelter.

  * * *

  “Earl, wait,” Smoke said as the giant yanked the canvas aside and looked curiously into the makeshift shelter. He heard the scream and knew it had to come from Melanie. Denny wasn’t the sort to scream, even when confronted with such a shocking visage as Earl’s.

  Smoke raised his voice and called, “It’s all right! Take it easy in there!”

  Denny rushed out, ducking around an obviously startled Earl, and threw her arms around Smoke. “Pa!” she cried as she hugged him. “You’re alive!”

  Smoke was more than alive. He was doing fine this morning, now that he was reunited with his children and the other travelers. Earl had returned his hat and gun to him and then led him unerringly through the blizzard to the stagecoach.

  Smoke’s hunch had been correct. Earl possessed an almost supernatural ability to find his way around in this pass, even under t
he worst conditions.

  Earl stepped back, looking spooked now, as if he wished he hadn’t let his curiosity get the better of him. Smoke heard him mutter, “Don’t let them hurt me. I’m sorry for what I did.”

  “No one’s going to hurt you, Earl,” Smoke said as he patted Denny on the back. Relief that his daughter was still alive filled him, and then seeing Louis emerge from the shelter made the feeling even stronger. He turned to Louis, gripped the young man’s outstretched hand, and then pulled him into a hug.

  “How are you doing, son?”

  “A lot better now,” Louis said with a relieved sigh. “Nothing to worry about, Father.”

  Salty was next out and slapped Smoke on the back, then pumped his hand. “I knew you wasn’t froze, Smoke,” he declared. “But, uh, who’s the big varmint with you?” Salty’s eyes suddenly widened. “That ain’t . . . ?”

  “His name’s Earl,” Smoke replied. “I don’t know his last name yet. But he’s the fella who saved me from that wolf the other night, sure enough. The one that folks have been calling the Donner Devil for all these years. But he’s no devil, Salty, just a man who had a really bad break a long time ago and never recovered from it.”

  Salty looked pretty leery, but he nodded, summoned up his gumption, and held out a hand to Earl. “Howdy there,” he said. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, old son.”

  Earl hesitated, but after shaking hands with Smoke in the cave the night before, he must have realized that not everyone was out to harm him. He clasped Salty’s hand for a second, then ducked his head and backed up.

  “Mighty shy, ain’t he?” the old jehu commented.

  “You probably would be, too, if you’d lived in these mountains for decades by yourself,” Smoke said. “Is everybody else all right?”

  “Hello, Mr. Jensen,” Brad greeted him. “I knew you wouldn’t freeze to death!”

  Smoke grinned and said, “Well, I was beginning to wonder about that myself.” He touched a finger to the brim of his hat as he nodded to Melanie. “Ma’am.”

  “By this point, I think I can give you a hug,” she said, and then did just that.

  “And I won’t object,” Smoke said. He patted her lightly on the back, then turned to Peter Stansfield and Jerome Kellerman, who had also come out into the falling snow. “Glad to see you fellas are all right. That just leaves Colbert and Mrs. Lewiston, and I reckon they’re tied up.”

  “Mrs. Lewiston is,” Denny said with a grim note coming into her voice. “But Colbert got away.”

  Smoke frowned. That frown deepened as Denny quickly sketched in what had happened.

  “So Colbert’s not only on the loose, he’s armed, too.”

  Louis said, “Surely he’s frozen to death by now, Father. He wasn’t dressed for this sort of weather.”

  “Well, it seems likely he wouldn’t have made it . . . but you never know about things like that. We’ll keep an eye out for him on our way to the hotel.”

  “You found it?” Denny exclaimed.

  “No . . . but Earl knows where it is and can take us there.”

  Louis waved a hand at the thickly falling snow and said, “In this blizzard?”

  “He brought me right back here to you, didn’t he?”

  None of them could argue with that.

  “Get what you need that you can carry,” Smoke went on. “Earl says it won’t take us long to get there. The hotel isn’t very far away.”

  All of them except Alma Lewiston bustled around getting ready to leave the stagecoach. Since she was still tied and sitting on the ground, Smoke asked her, “What do you need to take with you, ma’am?” Even after everything she had done, he was going to be courteous to her.

  “I don’t need anything,” she answered sullenly without looking up at him. “I’d rather you just leave me here.”

  “You’d freeze to death,” Smoke pointed out.

  “Good. I don’t have a damn thing to live for anymore. My husband’s dead, and the next man I trusted after that ran off and left me as soon as he got the chance . . . and after I was the one who helped him get away.”

  “Maybe throwing in with Colbert wasn’t the best thing you could have done,” Smoke said, “but that’s no reason to give up on living. You’re coming with us.”

  “So you can have me arrested when this is all over?” Alma shook her head and laughed harshly. “I don’t want to go to prison any more than Gordon did, even if I don’t have an opium habit. No thanks. I’ll take freezing to death. It’s just like dozing off, they say.”

  “I don’t see any reason for you to be arrested,” Smoke told her. “Sure, you pointed a gun at us for a while, but nobody got hurt except Salty, and Colbert’s the one who ventilated him. I’ll have to talk to the others to be sure, but I think there’s a good chance nobody will insist on pressing any charges against you.”

  Alma looked like she didn’t believe that, but at the same time, Smoke saw a flicker of hope in her eyes. No matter how bad things might appear to be, as long as a person was drawing breath, there was a chance to make things better.

  After a moment, Alma said quietly, “Kellerman’s a crook, you know. That case he’s always hanging on to is full of cash. He’s bound to have stolen it from the bank where he works.”

  “More than likely. My daughter said something about that to me. We’ll deal with that, too, when the time comes. Now, do you want us to take your bag with us?”

  “I suppose so,” Alma said, then added grudgingly, “Thanks.”

  A short time later, they were ready to leave. With Earl and Smoke in the lead, they set off through the whirling, whipping snowfall. Denny, Stansfield, and Kellerman led the horses. They couldn’t leave the animals in the snow to fend for themselves.

  The lifeline Smoke had followed the day before, then left to go ahead on his own, was still visible, and the path Earl took went along the same route. That told Smoke he had been going the right direction, anyway. The blizzard had long since covered up the tracks he had made, so once the rock with the harness tied to it was behind them, Smoke couldn’t tell if they were still going the same direction or not.

  Within a quarter of an hour, he saw something up ahead. At first it was just a barely glimpsed dark shape, but as the group trudged on through the deep snow, it took on form and definition and became a large building.

  The Summit Hotel. Smoke felt relief go through him as he realized they had arrived at their destination. They had been close, very close, just as he’d suspected. Fate had prevented him from finding the hotel himself, but his hunch had been right.

  Earl stopped and pointed. “There,” he rasped. “The place where people come in the summer.”

  Smoke put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Earl. You’ve saved our lives. Now come on, let’s get in there and warm up.”

  Earl shook his head. “Not going. Don’t want to. Not fitting.”

  “Earl, don’t be like that,” Smoke said. “I told you, nobody blames you for what happened a long time ago. Anything you did, you more than made up for it by rescuing us. Anyway, you didn’t actually hurt any of those people back then. Whatever happened to them, their lives were already over and you had nothing to do with that.”

  Stubbornly, Earl shook his shaggy head. “Going back to my cave, where I belong.” Smoke thought he smiled under the forest of beard, but it was difficult to be sure. “Not everybody is like you, Smoke. Some people would still hate me. I’ll be better off alone.”

  “But Earl—”

  Salty interrupted Smoke by saying, “Seems to me like the fella’s got a right to live however he wants. Reckon he’s earned it by now.” He turned to Earl and went on, “I used to call you the Donner Devil, and I’m plumb sorry about that. You ain’t no devil at all. You’ve been a mighty good friend to us.”

  Earl ducked his head and muttered something incomprehensible, probably thanking Salty for that sentiment.

  Smoke wanted to argue, but at the same time, he knew Salty was rig
ht. He couldn’t force Earl to reenter civilization; he didn’t have that right.

  Also, Earl might be correct about how other folks would regard him once the truth came out, as it inevitably would. Not everybody would be as willing to forgive what he had done, all those years ago, even though Smoke still didn’t believe what had happened was Earl’s fault.

  “If you’re sure that’s the way you feel, Earl, then Salty is right. It’s your decision to make, and I’ll respect it. And I’ll always be grateful to you for saving all of us.”

  Earl nodded, then surprised Smoke by drawing him into a quick, rough hug.

  Then he turned and loped off into the blizzard, vanishing in a matter of moments.

  Denny said, “It seems like there’s quite a bit about Earl that you haven’t told us, Pa, but I don’t suppose it matters right now. We’d better go on to the hotel while we can still see it.”

  “You’re right about that,” Smoke said. “Come on, everybody.”

  The hotel became more distinct the closer they came to it. Seeing the sturdy walls and the lights glowing through the windows lifted everyone’s spirits, even Alma’s. Brad tried to run ahead, but Melanie called him back.

  Smoke could see a long line of dark buildings off to his left and knew those were the snowsheds covering the railroad tracks coming in from the west. They ran close beside the hotel and then on out of sight. According to what they had been told in Sacramento, an avalanche deeper in the pass had demolished the sheds east of the hotel and covered the tracks.

  They reached the hotel porch, tied the horses to it for the time being until they could be put in the stable, and climbed the steps, which had been swept clear of snow at some point this morning. The white stuff was beginning to collect on them again, of course, but for now it wasn’t a problem. Snow had drifted onto the porch and was a foot deep in places, but a path had been shoveled from the door to the steps.

  A festive attitude came over some of the travelers as they approached the door. Not only had they survived a terrible ordeal, but now, even though they wouldn’t be with their families, they could celebrate Christmas somewhere warm and safe.