by Jim Cox
During the rest of the day, the entire ranch clan and their guests joined together in a time of festivities. Superb food, additional readings from Mr. Kelly’s Bible along with a few verses of poetry, and the singing of Christmas carols around the piano as Mrs. Kelly played. But what generated the most laughter and excitement were the lengthy tales of prior years’ celebrations. The wranglers remembered their own families back home and shared stories about them. Sometimes two or three people talked at the same time trying to emphasize a point. Eventually, Mr. Kelly spoke of their three children who were now grown and scattered about. Their oldest son lived in San Francisco, a daughter lived in Denver, and their youngest was a girl in finishing school in Philadelphia.
It seemed to Buck everyone at the homestead had someone to celebrate with. Mr. Kelly had his wife, Seth had his wife and grandchildren, and the ranch hands had one another even though they weren’t blood-related. But Buck had no one. He felt a bit like a stranger among this happy group of people, even though he’d been welcomed by all and grown comfortable in their company.
Buck stayed in the background and observed as the other folks shared stories. He remembered many good Christmas times with his own family, but those times had come to an end. His family members were all dead except for his two sisters who he was unlikely to see again unless he went back east. As Buck listened to the various conversations, a strange feeling come over him. A feeling of loneliness. A feeling it was time for him to move on and find a better life.
The day’s celebration was coming to an end. The evening chores had been completed, the ranch hands had eaten their evening meal and were drinking their second cup of coffee, when Mrs. Hastings spoke up, “What’s wrong Buck? You’ve been quiet all day. Is something bothering you?”
He hesitated for a long minute and then answered in a shaky voice, “I’ll be leaving in the morning. It’s time I’m going on to Arizona.”
Silence gripped the room for a long minute before Mr. Kelly spoke up, “I wouldn’t advise that under any circumstance, Buck. You’d have to cross over the mountains, and most often they’ll have six to eight feet of snow on them this time of the year. They don’t have a lot of snow on them now, but heavy snows will come any day now. I’ve seen three feet accumulate in a day’s time. If that should happen while you are in a mountain pass, you’ll be a goner - no question about it. There’s no way a person and his horse can survive in such conditions. Even Indians don’t attempt to cross the mountain this time of the year.” Mr. Kelly paused before continuing, “You’re more than welcome to stay with us ’til spring gets here and good weather sets in. That’s what I’d recommend, Buck.”
All eyes turned to Buck. “I appreciate your words of concern, Mr. Kelly, and I understand your warning, but I’m willing to take a chance. The weather has been good for several days, and the snow has melted some. If it stays this way for just another couple of days, I can be across the mountains and far enough south to be out of danger from bad weather.”
There was absolute silence. Finally, Buck broke the quiet again, “I’m obliged to you and Mrs. Kelly for all you’ve done for me, for what you’ve done for all of us, and your offer to let me stay here ’til spring is appreciated.”
“If I was you, Buck,” Seth said rather firmly, “I’d follow Mr. Kelly’s advice. He’s familiar with this part of the country and knows if it’s safe or not.” Buck nodded.
The only sound heard for the next few minutes was the clicking of coffee cups. Sun Kim brought more coffee, and when he had left from filling the cups, Mrs. Kelly said, “It’s obvious your mind is made up, Buck. If you go, you’ll need plenty of food to hold you over. I’ll have Sun Kim prepare you enough supplies to last two weeks.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I have cooking utensils and a coffee pot in my gear.”
Mr. Kelly quickly followed up, “Jess, see to it he has a bag of oats and two horse blankets to take along. Make sure he takes a buffalo robe, no telling what he’ll be going through.” Jess nodded.
“Thank you, sir,” Buck said as he stood. “I’d best be going to the barn to pack. I want to get an early start.” Buck had started to leave when Mr. Kelly called him back. “Buck, if I was you and was dead set on settling in Arizona, I’d travel on to the Southern part. Northern Arizona ain’t nothing but a desolate stretch of land folks pass through going to California—mostly heading to the gold fields.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kelly. I’ll take your advice.”
When Buck left the house, there was a cold wind blowing out of the north directly into his face. He pulled his coat collar up and gazed toward the star-filled sky. The air was so clear and the heavenly bodies so bright it seemed as though he could reach up and touch them. But what got his attention mostly was the cloudless sky. Tomorrow will be a good day to travel, he thought, there’s not a cloud in the sky.
Buck had removed his coat after entering the warm barn and was busy organizing his belongings when he heard the barn door squeak open—it was Margaret. “What are you doing out here, Margaret?” Buck asked.
“I…I thought you might need some help packing, Buck. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t have much to do, Margaret. I have my things laid out to put in my traveling bags, but I won’t finish packing them ’til morning when I have the food and gear Mr. and Mrs. Kelly spoke of. I checked on Black and Bell’s hooves this afternoon when I was doing chores, and they were in good shape.”
“What time are you leaving in the morning?”
“I’ll be in the saddle at first light, Margaret.”
Both stood in silence for a considerable time not knowing what to say. Finally, Margaret said, “I’m sorry for the nasty things I said to you, Buck. I can’t believe I called you a Blue Belly and said you deserved to be hung. Even though I didn’t know you very well at the time, I shouldna have said those things.” Buck nodded his understanding. A few seconds slipped by then she said, “Thank you for all you’ve done for my family, Buck. The food you shared with us, helping grandpa fix the wagon wheels, and rescuing my brother. Grandpa said you even gave us some money to get by on. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“It was the neighborly thing for me to do, Margaret. I have an idea your grandpa and grandma have done their share of helping folks over the years, and it’s payback time.” Margaret smiled at his comment, but her eyes remained serious.
“How far is it to Arizona, Buck? How many days will it take you to get there?”
“I’m not sure, but I’d guess a couple weeks, maybe three. It depends on the weather.”
“I shouldn’t have talked you into coming to Colorado with us. You could have been a long way toward Arizona by now without facing the dangerous weather conditions you’ll be heading into tomorrow.”
As they stood looking into each other’s eyes, an unspoken message passed between them and they were sorry their relationship was coming to an end. Buck reached for Margaret’s hand. “I’m glad I came along, Margaret. I’ve enjoyed being around your family and especially you.”
Her eyes became watery, and she spoke with great animation, “Don’t leave, Buck! Stay here. Stay here so we can get to know each other better!”
“I can’t, Margaret,” he said quietly. “If I stayed, I’d never get to Arizona, and I made a pledge to myself to go there. Maybe I’ll come to see you again someday—come to Golden.” With that said, Margaret totally surprised Buck by pulling him to her and kissing him rather firmly on the lips.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day Buck’s mind was on Margaret’s kiss most of the morning. He wondered if he’d made the right decision by leaving. After all, during the past couple of weeks, they’d spent quite a bit of time together, and he was starting to have feelings for her, and he felt sure she had feelings for him.
By mid-morning Buck was nearly a quarter of the way to a mountain pass Mr. Kelly had directed him to. The pass was just over thirty miles southwest of the Broken
Bow homestead, and Mr. Kelly warned it would take a full day to get there. He’d made a strong point about not venturing into the pass late in the day and that he should camp for the night in the prairie at the foot of the mountain.
The sky was clear as the late morning sunrays reflected off the snow, sending a bright glare making Buck pull his hat down low to shade his eyes. It was evident the temperature was above freezing because drops of water were falling from the snow-covered bushes. Crusted snow crunched as the horses’ hooves broke through the icy surface, but their strides were not interrupted, and they were doing fine. Buck had started off on Black but had switched to Bell after their mid-morning stop.
His noon stop was short and without a fire because firewood wasn’t available and buffalo chips were hidden under the snow. Buck removed Black’s backpack and Bell’s saddle. He fed each of them a quart of oats on the ends of their saddle blankets. He then retrieved two steak sandwiches from the food bag Sun Kim had packed and sat down on his saddle to eat. As soon as he and the horses were finished, he repacked the horses and was on his way riding Black.
The afternoon was uneventful except for the times when Buck saw a few Broken Bow cows and then later a maze of black dots in the distant west—undoubtedly buffalo. The high mountain pass now loomed only a short distance ahead, or so it seemed. The pass was still probably a couple hours away.
The repetitive motion of Black’s stride and the warmth of the sun made Buck’s eyes grow heavy. On two occasions, he woke in a startle, but Black had stayed the course. Buck eventually pulled the horses to a stop when they reached the foot of the mountain, and he looked around for a suitable place to spend the night. Camping under these conditions was new for Buck, but Jess and Mr. Kelly had given him plenty of advice on how to prepare a campsite in the cold, snowy weather and several other precautions to adhere to.
The mountain began with a gradual slope and was covered with aspen and long-needle pine trees. Looking about, Buck spotted a thick cluster of pines with one broken tree lying at an angle, six feet off the ground. That fallen tree will be a perfect place to spread my tarp over for a tent, he thought, and the trees will provide good cover for the horses.
Later, when the sun was showing its last glimmer of light, Buck spread his tarp over the fallen tree and staked it down. Afterward, he fed each horse a quart of oats and took them to the prairie to dig for grass. When he returned to camp from tending the horses, he gathered a good size pile of firewood and started a fire. He then packed snow into his coffee pot and looked about for a long-forked branch to hold his meat while it warmed over the fire. He already had biscuits warming on a rock by the fire. Buck kept an eye on the coffee pot, and as the snow melted inside, he refilled it several times using a pan from his food bag.
The sky was filled with God’s sparkling night lights by the time Buck rose with a full belly to go after Black and Bell. As he left the tent, he noticed the temperature had fallen substantially. Perhaps fifteen to twenty degrees. I’d better fill the coffee pot tonight and have firewood ready for in the morning. It’ll most likely be close to zero by then, and I’ll want to jump back under the covers while things are heating up. They were soon lying down for their night’s sleep. Buck in his bedroll under the buffalo robe and the horses sheltered in the cluster of trees clothed in horse blankets.
During the night, Buck woke himself from yelling and sat up. He was sweating profusely and taking deep breaths. The yelling had come from dreams. Dreams about brutal deaths during his war days. Nightmares of happenings on the battlefield and in the Andersonville prison. Dreams had been a reoccurring problem for Buck during the past several months, but lately, the dreams seemed to be getting more vivid and lasting longer. After settling himself, he stirred the fire and added three good size logs, then lay wide-eyed for several minutes thinking about his future.
It was extremely cold when Buck crawled from under the covers the next morning, but he quickly dressed, put on his sheep-skin coat and wool gloves, and revitalized the fire.
After eating his breakfast, Buck dismantled the tent, whistled for the horses, and headed out. The morning seemed to pass quickly. He had traveled through beautiful landscape in the crisp morning air while a few feather clouds floated lazily by in the blue sky. The only sound was an occasional rustle of tree branches or a squeak from the saddle.
When Buck mounted Black after his noon stop, he estimated they’d traveled over a thousand feet—less the way a crow flies, but he was satisfied with his progress considering the uphill climb. Actually, the traveling had not been as hard and tiring on the horses as he had thought it would be. Mr. Kelly had instructed him to ride high-up on the gorge’s west embankment, which turned out to be free of undergrowth with only a couple inches of snow covering. Mr. Kelly said the west wind currents normally carry the snow across the top of the mountain, completely missing the west bank before dumping its snow in the valley floor and the east bank, sometimes accumulating to over ten feet. The course required them to occasionally travel around obstructions such as gullies and steep embankments.
Onward they went, traveling southwesterly up the gorge toward the top. Possibly another five to seven thousand feet before the mountain terrain leveled off.
As Buck rode up the mountain in rhythm with Black’s strides, he became aware of his surroundings. It was deathly quiet. Even the trees were still, only a few of their tops swaying. The long-needle pine branches were patched with snow that glittered as the sun penetrated through the limbs. Pillow-like clouds had formed and were lazily floating eastward, seeming to touch the mountain’s top, and in spite of sub-freezing temperature, eagles soared overhead and elks bugled from time-to-time. Buck stopped and looked around. The view was so peaceful, so breath-taking, he felt as if he was looking at Holy surroundings. As if God himself was present, demonstrating the beauty of His creation.
Not long before their nightly stop the next day, the west wind had picked up substantially bring with it sub-zero air, sprinkled with snowflakes, causing Buck to pull up his coat collar and fasten his hat’s chinstrap. He had been watching the dark clouds accumulate in the western sky since mid-morning, but now the storm was upon him and getting worse by the minute. He rode on.
Buck was freezing. His hands were so cold he couldn’t feel the reins he was holding, and his torso was chilled to the bone even though he wore his sheepskin coat under the buffalo robe.
His vision became severely impaired from the thick snow in the swirling wind and the darkness of the black clouds engulfing the mountain. Buck trudged on, not knowing what else to do. The buffalo robe draped around him helped considerably, but he knew this was only a temporary solution and that he and his horses were in trouble. They would freeze in the frigid weather unless they found shelter.
For some reason, Buck’s mind went to the terrible experiences he had endured on the battlefield and at Andersonville. He recalled the many times he had prayed, never hearing an answer, but looking back on his war situations, he was starting to change his mind. Maybe his prayers had been answered. After all, he survived the war and prison and now had money in his satchel and he was free to travel where he wanted. Maybe I should pray about my present circumstances and ask for God’s help, he thought.
Buck was looking for a place to stop and erect some kind of shelter with the canvas in his pack, though he knew it wouldn’t be sufficient to keep him alive if the storm continued. He rode on and soon came to a rock faced cliff rising straight up nearly a hundred feet that thankfully blocked the wind. Even though the cliff was blocking the wind, Buck knew he needed to find protection. The temperature remained well below zero. As they continued on, he tried to generate body warmth by swinging his arms and wiggling his fingers and toes to keep them from freezing.
His hands clasped the buffalo robe from the inside. He held tightly to the part hanging down low over his head with his right hand and kept the torso part closed with his left. Black continued to find their course.
As Buck and
his horses walked beside the cliff, a glimmer of hope started to rise within him because he was now protected from the brunt of the storm. When he looked to the east, away from the cliff, he saw the raging, swirling snow had accumulated to more than two feet. Trees were swaying and bending halfway to the ground. Buck saw a few had been uprooted, and some snapped off with white splinters pointing skyward.
Another hour passed and the storm was still going strong in the extremely frigid temperature. By now Buck had nearly given up. His head drooped. He swayed to the cadence of Black with no plans to find safety—no thoughts about how he could survive the situation. He visualized himself and his horses frozen stiff and still lying in the mountain gorge come spring.
When he felt Black changing directions, Buck’s mind was brought back to reality. He raised his head and saw the cliff he was riding beside was curving to the east. As he took in the sight, a black spot along the cliff’s face caught his attention. “Maybe that’s the mouth of a cave,” he mumbled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
What Buck thought was a cave turned out to be a mining tunnel. Nevertheless, it was a life saver for Buck and his horses. The tunnel felt warm when they entered, almost hot to Buck’s chilled body. It was about seven feet high and stretched back nearly thirty feet before wooden header beams started supporting the shaft’s top. Buck stayed away from that part of the tunnel because the beams looked rotten and insecure.
He concluded the tunnel must have been dug out many years before because of the condition of the beams and the smooth rounded edge of the tunnel mouth. Inside Buck found the remains of animal skeletons and three mining picks, a couple of shovels, and a rusted-out drudge. The wooden handles had been gnawed on by some animal, probably a porcupine he thought.
The outside storm raged on, but Buck and his horses were safe inside the tunnel. Its natural temperature, about fifty degrees, gave them warmth. He had plenty of food, and the horses had their oats. The snow provided them with water and firewood abounded close by. The folded-up buffalo robe under his bedroll made a soft bed.
