Winter Crossing

by James E Ferrell

  “I could argue the cause of this situation, but may I say, you’ll git over it. I’m more concerned for the children than how you feel,” he said. One of the Pinkerton detectives came down the aisle and sat in the seat behind Nolan. “Now you back there. I advise you to move and really quick, because if you don’t, I will be forced to move you.”

  “I don’t think--” is all the man got out of his mouth when Mira said, “Mr. Shiver, would you please tell your man to get up and move. I don’t intend for my grandchildren to see an outburst of this uncivilized man’s behavior.”

  “You git up here in front of me whar I can keep an eye on you three polecats,” Nolan said.

  Shiver stood and checked his pocket watch. He said, “Mrs. Bonner, if you do not need our services, my men and I will go to the dining car and have supper.” With a nod from the grey head, the three men cast a look at Nolan and headed for the dining car.

  As darkness began to fall, Nolan looked over at Danny. He was fast asleep leaning against the windowsill. Getting up, he laid Mary in the seat across from him and said to Mira, “I better go feed and water the horses while the children are asleep.” Getting no response from the grandmother, he left for the stock car.

  Nolan had to walk through several cars, including the dining car, on his way to tend to the horses. In the dining car, the three men sat smoking cigars and pouring shots from a shared bottle of liquor. “Mister Tolivar, why don’t you sit down and have a drink?” Shiver asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m not a-drinkin’ man,” Nolan said, as he tried to make his way past the table.

  “Nolan Tolivar--Nolan Tolivar, why does that name ring a bell with me?” the leader of the Pinkerton’s asked mockingly.

  A stocky man in a Derby hat chimed in, “Say, there was a Tolivar that got his whole wagon train massacred a year back or so. Might that be you?”

  “I’m that Tolivar,” Nolan said.

  “Seemed kina’ funny the only ones that escaped was you and your son,” the third man said with a sneer.

  “My wife died on that wagon train,” Nolan said.

  Seeing a fight brewing, several people in the dining car moved to a different table as Nolan said, “I guess you boys just ain’t gonna be happy unless I have that drink with you.” Moving to stand in front of the table, he leaned over. “I know you’ve heard the old saying, ‘There’s safety in numbers,’ and there is something to be said for that,” Nolan said

  The three smiled at each other. The smallest of the three chuckled as Nolan swirled the liquor around in his glass.

  Nolan picked up the bottle and a shot glass from the table. Looking at the three, he filled the glass full of liquor and said, “Except in your case, it ain’t true.” Instantly there was a scream of agony as Nolan threw the liquor in the face of the closest man. The man grabbed his eyes and flipped over backward in the chair, trying to wipe the alcohol from his eyes. At the same time, Nolan broke the bottle across the hand of the second man. The crunch of breaking bones made the people in the dining car flinch. With a snarl, Shiver jumped to his feet only to meet a fist that almost covered his face, and as fast as he stood up, he crumpled into a heap on the floor. In as many seconds as there were men, the fight was over. “Now, you boys just set thar and enjoy your licker, while I feed the stock.” Nolan threw a coin on the table and walked on out of the dining car, whistling a tune to the amazement of the other people in the car.

  It was dark when Nolan stepped from the stock car and stood on the deck, watching the country fall away. ‘What wuz this country coming to? A feller could move across country all day makin’ ten miles per hour and never slow down,’ he thought.

  Holding to the handrails, he leaned out and looked back past the caboose. As far back as he could see, the ribbon of iron rails stretched around a snow-covered mountain peak. As Nolan looked forward, the tracks disappeared into a gaping black hole in the side of the mountain. He was fascinated as the engine vanished into the tunnel. Black rolling smoke poured from the opening, covering each car as they followed suit, one after the other into the mountainside. Caught up in the miracle of travel and the fast-moving landscape, Nolan hadn’t noticed the figures come from behind him. A gun barrel fell against his head and he felt himself falling into widening darkness.

  C17 Another Way to Get Along

  Jericho Dawson stood on a rocky slope scratching his backside through a large hole worn in his overalls. His mule stood a few feet down a slight grade giving him a blank stare. “You are the most aggravating and contrary jackass alive. I’m going to give you to the first muleskinner I come across, free--of--charge!” he said firmly to the mule.

  Jericho had wandered the wilderness for years, preferring the lonely existence of the wilderness to settlements full of nosey people. He no longer hunted buffalo or trapped beaver. Wandering the mountains, he camped along the streams of the vast mountain range east of the divide. “If you want to stand thar all day, that’s jest fine with me; I’m gonna find me a good level spot to camp and that pack kin jest stay on you all night,” he said. Dropping the lead rope, he made his way along a game trail into a cluster of trees. The mule stood watching him for a minute then started walking along the trail after him. “So, now you decide to mind. I had ought to give you to them Injuns back thar. They looked a might hungry to me and thars nothing them Injuns love moren a mule. Yes, sir, thar wouldn’t be anything left of you but a bad memory.”

  Living alone most of his life, Jericho occasionally would talk to himself as if there was someone there. “Now you take ole Balaam’s ass; thar be a real mule. One day ole Balaam up and beat the tar out of that mule and…” getting the urge, Jericho stopped talking and stepped from the trail to relieve himself behind a tree.

  From behind him, a voice said, “Balaam’s ass could see a darn sight better than ole Balaam and warn’t about to step on the Angel of the Lord. Asides, iffin’ you could pack a mule right, my back wouldn’t hurt all the darn time.”

  The old trapper stepped back on the trail, looking around cautiously as he took up the old Hawkins he had leaning against a tree. There was no one there but the mule. He stepped past the mule and kept the rifle ready as he watched the forest and his back trail.

  “Mule, if you can talk, why in blazes haven’t you been tellin’ me when that pack is hurtin’ your back?” Stepping in front of the mule, he waited for a response. The mule closed his eyes and stood dozing—his big ears darting back and forth as gnats buzzed around his head.

  “Now I guess you ain’t gonna talk at all. I wish I had a horse. I would shoot you on the spot as shore as my name is Jericho Dawson.”

  “Say, you think you might give me a hand over here?” the voice said.

  Jericho stepped away from the mule, knowing this time, the mule was not the source of the conversation and started searching the underbrush.

  “Over here in this bush and be careful which way you point that rifle,” the voice said.

  Jericho made his way along a line of thick bushes until he could see bits of clothing through the dense foliage. Pulling the limbs back, he could see the top of Nolan’s head with his body sprawled out among the broken branches.

  “Mister, how in tar--nation did you git yourself in that predicament?” Jericho asked.

  Nolan leaned his head back and was looking face to face with the old trapper. “I wuz thrown off the train,” he replied.

  Jericho looked up at the tracks a good thirty feet above where he stood. “That must be one mean conductor driving that train!” he said.

  “Nope, he wuz a little bitty feller. His wife now, she is plumb mean. Chunked me off the train without blinking an eye she did. How about you figure how to git me out of here and then we talk,” Nolan continued.

  The old trapper rubbed his bearded chin, and said, “Well, I suppose I can git you out. But I shore don’t want anyone to know that I fell for that old talking ass trick!”

  “Be a mighty mean man what would go about tellin’ a story like tha
t on the feller what done saved him from a predicament like I’m in,” Nolan said.

  “Well, you jest hold on thar,’ and I will be a-cuttin’ these brambles away,” Jericho said.

  Jericho made quick work of getting into the bush where Nolan was suspended in a thick clump. Long limbs had run through his buffalo coat from the impact breaking his fall, tacking him like a bug pinned on a piece of paper. “Now, if that don’t beat all, you a-hangin’ thar like a trapped bug in a spider’s web. You are one lucky feller,” Jericho whistled as he looked up at the distance Nolan had fallen. “I’m surprised you ain’t got a bone or two broke.”

  “You and me both. I jest woke up hanging here with a big knot on my head and heard you talkin’ to that mule of yours. You got any idea how long it’s been since the train came through?” Nolan asked.

  “This is the first time I been through this country in a couple of years. Warn’t no train tracks through here back then. I did hear a train horn a-fore midnight. That’s why I came over here thinkin’ I might git a ride into town,” Jericho stated.

  Once free, Nolan stood working the branches out of his torn coat and rubbing his sore head. “What you going to do with your pack mule if you jump a train?” he asked.

  “I’m gonna to turn this ornery critter loose so a mountain lion kin make a good meal out of him,” Jericho said, looking with disgust at the mule.

  Nolan took stock of his condition; his heavy buffalo coat had saved him from being impaled on the bush where he had fallen. “Looks like I got a sight of walking to do unless another train comes by,” he said.

  “Well pilgrim, why don’t we walk up the track a piece and find a place to camp tonight. Maybe we can git aboard if one comes by. I’m a-hankerin’ to visit a town and taste some good store-bought coffee and maybe smoke a ceegar. Asides, I ain’t never rode me no train a-fore,” Jericho said with excitement.

  “I guess a good cup of coffee and smoke is the least I can do fer a feller that done saved my hide,” Nolan said.

  The two camped on a ledge that jutted out alongside the track where the train would have to be slowly moving as it crossed the mountain. From Nolan and Jericho’s view, they could see above the tree line in three directions. Their camp exposed them to the north wind that was beginning to blow in a cold winter through the mountains. Adding sticks to the fire, the old trapper looked across the campfire at a man deep in thought. “What brings a tenderfoot such as yourself out in a wild country like this?” Jericho asked.

  Still looking into the fire, Nolan's thoughts were far away. “A while back, I found some children in the wilderness. A tribe of Injuns done kilt a wagon train full of pilgrims and took their ma prisoner. I left a mighty good man back thar to fetch her away from them savages while I took her children to safety,” Nolan sighed and continued. “Then, I got married, and the judge made me a deputy. He gave me this here badge, but that didn’t stop the evil grandmother from stealing the children. Then to make things more difficult, three Pinkerton Detectives done threw me off the train while I wuz caring for the stock.”

  The old trapper rolled his head around so he could look at Nolan out of the odd colored eye that was not glass. Clearing his throat, he said, “I see! You know, pilgrim--I don’t think the talkin’ mule story will git as big a laugh as your explainin’ your predicament. What kind of a nut did you leave back thar in the wilderness what thought he might jest take a woman way from the meanest tribe of Injuns this side of the divide, not to mention hell!”

  Squinting his eyes, Nolan looked at the old-timer across the fire and said, “Don’t tell me you been livin’ in these parts for years and ain’t heard of Elam Franklin!” The name rolled off his tongue slowly so it would sink in, bringing as much weight as possible.

  The old trapper didn’t want to sound ignorant on his home range by not knowing a fellow by that name. “Now that name does come to mind, but it’s been a long time since I heard it. Don’t see many folks out here, you unnerstand?” Jericho said.

  “Wall, it jest might surprise you to know young Elam Franklin is out in this very country right now rescuin’ that woman.” Nolan leaned forward and gazed into the good eye of the trapper. “Gave his word, he did, to them children that he wouldn’t be a-comin’ back without thar ma,” Nolan stated.

  “That’s mighty tall talk fer a feller to deliver on but ain’t no white man gonna to walk into Chief Two Cloud’s camp and jest take a captive away from him,” Jericho stated with certainty.

  Nolan knew he had an eager listener here and would enjoy spinning a tale or two with this Jericho Dawson. He started, “Wall, let me tell you how I met young Elam Franklin.” Nolan leaned back against a boulder. The reflection from the campfire outlined him against the rock. His eyes glistened in the firelight and the old trapper leaned closer to hear every word. “I wuz making my way through Casa Ridge Canyon below the waterfall. I speared me a mighty big fish for supper and wuz standin’ lookin’ up at the misty cloud that formed below the top edge of the waterfall, my--my--what a sight to behold!” Nolan said.

  The old trappers’ eyes lit up, and he said, “Been thar a time or two, a-fore the Injuns detected me, and I headed south in a big hurry. Purdiest place on God’s green earth, that waterfall be.”

  For effect, Nolan threw a stick in the fire and sparks flew skyward into the cold night. Pulling the tattered buffalo robe tight around himself, he continued, “Well sir, I wuz a-standin’ thar listenin’ to the roar of the falls and lookin’ up at a rainbow that clung to the mist. It wuz a sight like no other. Then suddenly, a single arrow floated down and bounced off the rocks fifty feet in front of me. Being the wise pilgrim that I am, I left the stream in a couple of jumps and hunkered down behind a boulder to watch.” Nolan’s eyes bore a hole in the old trapper’s mind. Moving his shoulders back and forth, he scratched his back against the boulder.

  Nolan reached over and took a small limb from the pile of wood next to the fire. Giving it an approving look, he stripped it of all its branches and leaves, then eased it down his collar and scratched his back. All the while, Jericho fumed, waiting for him to continue the story. Then pointing the stick at Jericho, he said, “I knowed the Injun what shot that arrow couldn’t see me through the cloud. I sat thar tryin’ to figure out what wuz a-goin’ on up thar--then--” Nolan stopped his story and pulled a boot off, turning it up and shook out several leaves from the bushes that had broken his fall.

  “Now iffin’ that don’t beat all--you gonna to tell me what happened or not?” Jericho asked anxiously.

  Leaning forward to get the right effect, Nolan stared into Jericho’s eyes and continued, “Well, sir! You ain’t a-goin’ to believe what I seen next. Naw-sirree--you won’t and I won’t forgit it never in a hu--nerd years!” Leaning forward, he threw another stick in the fire and ran the limb down his collar then held it out in front of him, pointing it at Jericho. “That wuz the first time I ever seen Elam Franklin. He came busting right through the cloud and rainbow with his pack in one hand and a walking stick in the other. I ain’t never a-goin’ to forgit that sight--never in all my born days!”

  The old trapper set straight up and asked, “Pilgrim, are you a-tellin' me that this Elam Franklin done jumped off that waterfall?”

  Nolan’s eyes grew big and he leaned toward the old trapper, and stated, “That’s zactly what I’m a-tellin’ and bless-my-soul I wuz thar to see it!”

  Jericho had been leaning back against a tree, but this brought him to a sitting position and said, “Pilgrim, the talking mule story pales in comparison to the whopper you are a-tellin’ me now. Thar ain’t nobody what could live after a fall like that!”

  “That’s zactly what I thought, too! I wuz a-gatherin’ up his belongings a-fore he had hit the water good. Then that shaggy head popped up, sucked up a sack full of air, and went down again like a cork on a-fishin’ line!” Nolan said.

  “What did you do then?” Jericho asked.

  “I grabbed his pack that wuz a-headed down steam
and realized it wuz tied to him and done run under a log or somethin’. Soon as I cut the rope, he popped up again. I grabbed him and pulled him out of the river. He wuz half-dead and took a longtime a-fore he started breathin’ well. I wuzn’t real keen on havin’ company, so I set him up a camp in the brush and left while he got his wits about himself alone,” Nolan said.

  “So, what about the children...whar did you find them?” Jericho asked.

  “That’s another story and I’m mighty tired. Shore wish you had some coffee!” Nolan added.

  “Pilgrim, you ain’t never tole me your name!” Jericho stated.

  Nolan lay on what was left of his buffalo coat and looked up at the stars. “My name is Nolan Tolivar. I’m that Nolan Tolivar!” He closed his eyes and went to sleep with the old trapper watching him from across the fire.

  “I reckon Pilgrim is good enough,” Jericho said.

  C18 A Yarn Worth the Tellin’

  For four days they camped by the rails, not knowing when a train would be coming again. Nolan told Jericho story after story. For Jericho this was a dream come true. He had been alone for years with no one to talk to but his mule.

  One night, Nolan eased out of the camp to a cluster of bramble bushes that seemed to grow out of the rocky ledge. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he could see that the old trapper was not in his bedroll. With his rifle at the ready, Jericho had stationed himself across the small opening behind a large rock.

  The night was cold and Nolan longed to be back next to the fire. At first, it was a low clicking sound that did not sound normal for the wilderness. Straightaway Nolan realized it was the rails and instantly he went to the tracks and laid his ear on the cold steel rail. Scrambling up to the camp, he called to the old trapper, “Jericho, a train be a-comin’! If you are a-plannin’ to go with me, then you better git your belongins packed!”

  For a long time, they sat watching in both directions, not knowing which direction the train would come. Jericho had turned the mule loose and quickly packed his belongings in two packs that they could carry onto the train. In the moonlight, it looked like a black snake making its way around the mountain passage until it was finally climbing the grade below them.