A LONG-REMEMBERED WINTER
Buck let out a huge, pleased sigh of enjoyment as he sat in front of the Four Corners sheriff's office and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Placing his folded hands behind his head, he gazed at the cloudy February sky, took a deep breath of the unseasonably warm air and thought, damn, this feels good.
Here it was, only two weeks into February, and it had to be at least fifty-five degrees outside. For most people this was still too chilly to be sitting out in the elements, but Buck loved it. After spending the past three months cooped up inside, he was ready to take any opportunity to get some fresh air and, possibly, meet any new young ladies who might just be arriving.
He looked up and down the street; still only a few people out, but it was early afternoon. He'd seen Vin and Chris ride out of town earlier, ostensibly to patrol, but Buck suspected that they felt as he did, that any chance to get into the open should be taken. Seven men afflicted with unrelieved cabin fever was not a pleasant thing to contemplate.
He heard a thump behind him, and turned to see JD emerge from the jail, bowler hat firmly jammed over his thick black hair. Over one arm was slung his thick winter coat.
The young sheriff saw Buck and gave a small nod. Oh, hey, Buck. You gonna be around for a minute?
Buck smiled, still looking at the sky. Aw, hell yes, kid. Got to enjoy this before it goes away, y'know. He saw the coat. See you came prepared.
JD gave him a look of mild alarm. Oh-ho, you bet I am, Buck. I ain't never forgot when I was little, back east, an' we'd get these really warm winter days. As he spoke he reached for the doorknob with one hand and fished the jail keys from the pocket of his checkered coat with the other. One time it got real nice like this, then it started to rain, and next thing we knew, WHAM! He pulled the jail door shut with a loud bang. Biggest blizzard you ever saw. Swear to God, drifts ten feet high.
Buck laughed as he sat up. You sure know how to spoil a nice day, kid.
JD didn't seem to appreciate the humor. It might happen, is all I'm sayin'. Ain't you ever been in a blizzard?
Well, sure, kid, an' I agree they ain't no fun, Buck assured him. But I also seen plenty o' nice warm winter days where nothin' like that happened. Just relax an' enjoy it, an' don't be so jumpy. You'll live longer, an' enjoy it more. Now. He leaned back again. Were you gonna ask me somethin'?
Oh, yeah-I gotta run over to the telegraph office, can you watch the jail for a minute?
Buck nodded, letting his gaze travel the length of the mostly deserted street. Yah, I reckon I can handle that. Any bad guys come by, I'll just pelt em with snowballs.
JD gave him an exasperated look, then tossed the keys into Buck's lap and hurried off in the direction of the telegraph office. Buck watched him go, amused, then glanced again at the sky, his smile fading. The clouds did look dark, at that...
Vin scanned the horizon, and decided he didn't like it. Not one damn bit.
He turned slightly in his saddle, the warm breeze stirring his long golden-brown hair as he waited for Chris to catch up. Vin sat patiently, knowing that it would be unfair to try to hurry his companion along, now that they had finally been able to take to the open trail once more. It might be several long months before such a chance would come again.
It hadn't been easy on any of them, this first winter together at Four Corners. Vin's mouth curled slightly as he recalled how antsy everyone had gotten lately. Fierce cold and the occasional storm of snow or ice had forced them all indoors for weeks at a time, and as much as they all tried to get along, the situation had still been enough to grate on even Nathan's nerves. Staying inside for so long had caused the healer to be especially concerned about them all coming down with colds, and his constant advice to them had lately taken on a tone of irritation. When the warm weather arrived, Nathan had all but pushed them out the saloon doors, insisting that they get some fresh air.
Most of them had not needed prodding; Ezra had taken the opportunity to ride off to Eagle Bend to see about replacing his winter-weary wardrobe, and Josiah wasted little time hauling out his tools to resume the repairs to the church roof. Nathan himself saddled up Prophet to check on the nearby Indian villages, while Buck had declared it his solemn duty to teach JD how to pitch horseshoes.
Vin, of course, had been the first one out the door; used to the freedom and openness of the prairie, he had never been comfortable staying inside for long, but had borne the forced hibernation secure in the knowledge that the open country would be there for him when the time was right. Now, riding in the gentle air, the rocky desert mountains spread before him, he gazed upon the landscape with warm blue eyes and drank it all in like a man who had been on the verge of dying of thirst.
But of all of them, the situation had been the hardest on Chris. Staying inside had forced him to be inactive, and being inactive had given the moody gunslinger too much time to think. Even when events swirled around him, the ghosts of Chris' murdered wife and child hovered around the edges of his mind. With nothing to distract him, their presence became even more acute, and Vin could tell that the strain had been taking its toll. Normally touchy, Chris' temperament of late had been downright explosive, and he had been drinking too much whiskey to alleviate the boredom and the pain for Vin's comfort. Now, as he watched the dark figure of Chris approach slowly along the rocky trail, Vin could tell by his partner's relaxed posture that the outdoors had worked their healing powers on him as well. The ghosts were quieted, for now at least.
Vin returned his troubled gaze to the forbidding clouds in front of him, not looking at Chris as he rode up. He heard the loud crunch of Valor's hooves on the barren ground and shook his head. That don't look good, he muttered, his voice low and raspy, his eyes never leaving the thin line of blue-black which stretched in a dark ribbon across the horizon.
Chris reined in and observed the sight as well, his eyes squinting against the breeze, which had picked up a little.
Vin's head bobbed a little. Yep. Could be a lot.
There was a pause, and Vin heard Chris say, very softly but fervently, Then, in a louder voice, We'd best get back to town and get everybody ready.
Vin nodded, turning Sire around to follow Chris back to town.
Should've known it wouldn't last, he heard Chris grouse as they began the ride back. Guess we'll have to spend some more time listening to Nathan's health lectures.
Vin trotted beside him, his expression one of resigned amusement. Spring's gotta come sometime.
There was a pause, then Chris replied, Yeah. That's what I keep telling myself.
JD hurried out of the telegraph office, telegrams clutched tightly in his hand as he sped back towards the jail. As he raced along he noticed that the breeze had picked up and turned slightly cooler; a few raindrops had begun to fall. He pursed his lips, unpleasant memories sneaking into his mind. Here we go again.
He turned to see Violet Potter, the young daughter of a local merchant's widow, hurrying towards him, one hand clutching a small book while the other grasped her black skirts to prevent their getting dragged in the moistening dirt. She was a small girl, thin but pretty, in a twelve-year-old way. She and JD had become friends after the seven men had succeeded in bringing her father's murderer to trial. Even so, JD was slightly irked by her appearance; he had so much to do.
Hi, Miss Potter. He smiled, touching his hat brim and trying to be nice. Look, I can't really talk right now, okay?
She trotted beside him as he walked, doing her best to keep up with his rapid pace. Sure, JD, I don't want to bother you. I just wanted to return your book.
She held it out to him, one of his slim dime novels, its paper cover dotted with raindrops which were coming faster now. They quickly crossed onto the covered sidewalk, where JD paused long enough to take the book back and jam it into his pocket.
Well, I hope you liked it, he said, giving her another smile.
She nodded, her eyes glowing in the gathering gloom. Oh, I sure did, JD, it was so romantic! When Mr. Masterson rescued that poor gal from the cattle rustler, why, I just about fainted dead away, it was so excitin'!
JD blinked, puzzled, then pulled the book halfway out of his pocket and read the title. BAT MASTERSON AND THE BLOODY BRANSON BROTHERS. Funny, he hadn't remembered that one as being particularly romantic-but, come to think of it, there was a girl in there somewhere. Oh, well. He tucked the book back down and looked Violet square in the eye. Now, look, Miss Potter, we got some bad weather coming. Go on over to your ma's store and tell her to close up an' go home an' get ready.
She grew serious at his concerned expression. Gosh, JD, you look worried.
He sighed. I'll be a lot less worried when I know you an' your ma are safe. The whole town could be hit bad an' we gotta prepare. Now, I gotta go-you run along to your ma's.
He watched as she gave him a nod and a quick, tight-lipped smile and hurried away in a flutter of dark ribbons, dodging the thickly falling raindrops. Then he resumed his urgent pace towards the jail, his hazel eyes scanning the dark clouds with concern.
Buck scowled at the rain, feeling his good mood slip away. Damn it, he thought, the kid was right.
He rose and drew his thin coat tighter, cursing the fact that he'd left his thicker jacket in his room. The rain was coming down heavily now, turning the hard frozen ground into shallow stands of mud. As Buck contemplated making his way over to the saloon to see if the charms of the black-haired, blue-eyed Molly were available, he heard the splashing of hooves, and looked up to see the dripping forms of Chris and Vin riding towards him.
I see you found some bad weather to bring back, Buck observed sourly, as the pair reined in.
Don't say I never brought you anything, Chris replied in a dry tone, his black garments misting silver in the rain. We're gonna stable the horses. Meet us in the saloon, it looks like we might have some nasty weather to deal with.
Buck nodded, folding his arms.
Nathan an' Ezra back yet? Vin asked, seemingly unbothered by the small rivers of water running down his clothes and dripping from his long curled hair.
Buck pursed his lips. Yah, I seen Nathan come back. Ain't seen Ezra, though-he mighta gone straight to his room.
Chris shifted in his saddle. He was sposed to send word when he left Eagle Bend, but the telegraph's been out. Well, if he ain't back yet we can only hope that he had sense enough to hole up somewhere until this passes.
With that, he spurred Valor towards the livery, followed by Vin. As they rode down the shining street small clouds of moisture bounced from their clothes into the dank air. As Buck watched them go he heard someone run up behind him, and turned to see JD, soaking wet and out of breath.
Where's Chris goin'? he gasped. I gotta talk to him.
Buck surveyed JD's condition and shook his head. Kid, what'd you do, remember your coat but forget your umbrella?
JD's eyes flashed fire. Dammit, now, Buck!
Buck laughed. Don't worry, kid-we're gonna meet Chris in the saloon.
JD was still wet, but seemed relieved. Oh, that's good, cause we might have trouble comin'. Look- He held up a soggy piece of paper before Buck. After a pause, Buck took it, read it, and frowned.
Bank at Eagle Bend got held up, suspect seen headin' towards Four Corners. Buck snorted. Hell, kid, he'll probably drown before he gets here.
JD shook his head. This telegram's from last night, Buck. There was some kinda problem with the equipment, an' they only re-sent it just now. He could be real close by now. An', on top of that- he waved another piece of paper, just as drippy, there's word from Yuma that we got a big snowstorm headin' our way.
Buck glanced at the torrent in the street. Looks like we just got rain, kid. We can deal with that, I reckon.
It can turn to snow, I've seen it happen, JD insisted. And if it does, we could be in a world of hurtin'.
Buck felt a little disturbed by JD's alarm, but decided it was just the kid's excitable nature. It was only a little snowstorm, nothing they couldn't handle. He saw a third telegram in the young man's hand.
What's that third message say, is the Wild Bunch comin' to town?
JD glanced at the forgotten missive. Aw, no, that's just from Ezra, tellin' us he's on his way back. I think Chris made him promise to let him know when he left Eagle Bend.
Buck eyed the inclement weather and chuckled. Hope he ain't wearin' his best clothes. Buck dug the jail keys from his pocket and locked the door.
Well, kid, I think we best get over to the saloon now if it's gonna set to snowin', he said, handing the keys back to JD, 'cause I done forgot my snowshoes.
Ezra hunched his shoulders against the cold rain and, for the hundredth time since starting out from Eagle Bend, cursed the day he decided to leave the warm climes of the South and come West.
As he made his way down the puddle-strewn mountain pass, he managed to dredge up a small amount of gratitude that the others could not see him at the moment. They probably wouldn't recognize him, now that he was sopping wet and miserable. He groaned inwardly at the vision of how he must look now: clothing soaked, hair dripping, eyes watering from the cold. At least his newly-purchased clothing was safe, and he smiled a little at the thought of changing into dry clothes once he reached Four Corners.
The ride had started out fine, if rather boring; the only item of interest Ezra had passed all day was what looked like a dead horse, lying behind some brush at the side of the road just outside Eagle Bend. Once the rain had begun, however, the conditions of the road had deteriorated rapidly, becoming a cold, muddy morass, and he was having to guide Chaucer carefully lest the animal slip on the treacherous terrain.
Fellow travelers had been few. During the whole journey he had passed only one other person, a man holed up in a shallow cave off to one side of the road. Ezra supposed he ought to have offered the stranger a lift, but he had never thought it wise to get mixed up with unknown wayfarers, and besides Chaucer was exhausted enough having to carry Ezra in this inclement weather. The man had ignored him as he passed anyhow.
He sneezed violently and muttered a choice oath; had he known the weather would turn so suddenly he never would have left Eagle Bend. Things had gone fairly well there, even though he had been unable to find any decent opponents on which to practice his gambling skills. In fact, challengers had been so scarce that he'd wound up in the local hotel lobby passing the time by doing card tricks for the owner's children. Entertaining the children had been enjoyable enough. Ezra infinitely preferred their company to that of adults, mostly, he supposed, because he found their innocence so refreshingly different from the sort of personalities he usually dealt with, himself included. But one dull, unprofitable night in Eagle Bend had been enough, and this morning he had hit the trail for home.
Everything had been fine until the winds picked up and the rain began. Ezra scowled at the elements and flexed his chilly fingers. Used to warm gambling halls and dry hotels, he generally detested uncomfortable weather, and cold was his least favorite temperature. Well, home was not far, and with any luck he'd be able to change before any of the other men caught a glimpse of him. He fished in his pocket for his good monogrammed handkerchief, but was doomed to disgust when he saw that it was just as sodden as he was. With a heaved sigh of exasperation he repocketed the useless article and turned his attention back to the road before him.
He felt Chaucer shiver and patted the horse's streaming neck in sympathy as the animal blew.
I agree, my friend, he murmured, looking into the darkening clouds. Not fit weather for man nor beast, I fear. However, we shall soon have you in a warm stable and myself in a hot bath.
A gust of cold wind caught him and he shivered himself. He was already wearing his riding gloves, but began to think that it would probably be a good idea to put on the winter coat he had in his blanket roll as well. Good thing Nathan talked him into taking it. The blue jacket he was wearing was stylish but not exactly made for cold weather.
Finding a sheltering outcropping of rocks near the road, he slid off the water-slickened saddle and quickly undid the straps restraining the bedroll. He grimaced in annoyance as the wind blew the rain into his face. It was really picking up now, and even the rocks would not provide shelter for long. As he lifted the blanket from the straps he remembered the shallow cave he'd passed, but decided against riding back to it. Four Corners was not far up the road, and he could probably reach it before the weather became much worse. Besides, the man who had been occupying it had looked none too friendly.
He was in the process of unrolling the blanket when he became aware of a new sound among the howling of the wind and the rhythmic patter of the heavy raindrops. Footsteps. He stopped his actions and sighed, closing his eyes; wet, miserable, and now he was going to get robbed, too? Now that really made him angry.
He stood still for a moment, hands on the half-undone bedroll, listening. There they were, muffled by the rain but definitely there. He continued to act casual, removing the coat from the blanket with one hand while deftly flexing the other. With a metal click the small Derringer he kept hidden up his sleeve for just such an emergency sprang into his right hand. He palmed it and quickly whirled, finger ready to pull the trigger.
As he spun something hard and cold slammed into his left temple with such violence that he toppled, stunned, into the muddy roadway. Enraged at both the painful blow and the soiling of his blue jacket, he attempted to rise. He saw a short, dark figure, black against the blue-gray sky, and recognized it as the unfriendly man from the cave he'd passed earlier. He raised the Derringer once more, but with lightning swiftness the figure struck again, much harder this time, and sent Ezra crashing painfully into darkness.
Josiah shook his head as he gazed out the half-mended window of his dilapidated church at the slashing, icy rain. Good days never seemed to last long any more, he mused sadly, and pulled the shutter closed.
He turned to see Nathan emerging from the side door, dripping and almost unrecognizable in his bulky coat and wide-brimmed hat. With a shake the healer removed his soaked garments, observing the puddles they made on the floor with consternation.
Sorry bout messin' up your floor, Josiah, he said, giving his hat a firm shake and watching the moisture fly off.
Josiah just chuckled. Don't concern yourself on it, Nate, he replied in an amused tone. It's seen worse things than water, I'm sure. Basement all set up?
Nathan wiped his nose and nodded, sniffing. Yeah, got some blankets an' cots down there. Probably have about as many as we did last time it stormed. Warm weather probably left a lot o' folks unprepared for this.
Josiah nodded silently, picking up a candle and walking around the sanctuary, lighting other tapers with its small flame until the room began to acquire a soft, warm glow. The wind howled outside, and the ancient wooden bones of the church creaked with the stress.
Nathan glanced uneasily at the groaning roof. Hate to see all your hard work come crashin' down, Josiah. You think this buildin's gonna be okay?
Josiah lit the last of the candles, then looked at his companion and shrugged. We'll just have to trust the carpenter, my friend. He replaced the candle in its holder and wiped his hands. Tell Chris we're all ready over here, if he finds anyone needin' sanctuary.
Nathan nodded and bundled himself back up again. Sure could do without this,' he muttered, jamming on his still-dripping hat.
Josiah gently smiled. Cheer up - it can't last more'n forty days and forty nights.
Nathan shot him a look of amused irritation and sped out the door, his long coat whipping in the stiff wind. After Nathan had pulled the door shut with difficulty against the force of the breeze, Josiah stood still for a moment, listening to the moaning of nature. Then he said a quick prayer and went to double-check his supplies.
The saloon was nearly deserted, despite the fact that it was not even two o'clock. The bartender had closed up and was hurrying home to his family, leaving only Chris and company to keep an eye on things. The saloon's wooden winter doors proved little protection against the now-freezing winds, and JD fidgeted as they waited for Nathan to arrive. The jail had to be warmer than here.
This gonna take long, Chris? Buck asked as he sat on his backwards-turned chair. I figured I could hurry on to Molly's, see if she needs warmin' up.
JD groaned from his nearby seat and shook his head, idly flipping through his dime novel. That's real gentlemanly of ya, Buck.
The other man only smiled, unperturbed. Man's gotta see to his duties, son.
Chris seemed edgy and didn't smile. Should only be a few minutes, Buck, he said shortly, looking out the windows at the gloom. Just want to make sure everything's covered.
JD grunted, still leafing through the book. Sounds like what Miss Molly should be doing.
Buck scowled, but was prevented from any further remarks by the entrance of Vin, whose long wool coat and hat had turned black with the rain. He paid it about as much mind as he seemed to pay most things-which is to say, none- and regarded Chris calmly as he unwound the long scarf from around his face.
It's gettin' colder, he said softly, balling the damp cloth in his hands. Think it's turnin' to snow.
The black-garbed gunslinger pursed his lips, but said nothing. He never wasted his anger, and it was useless to rage against nature. After a few moments he turned his piercing gaze back to Vin. See anybody out there, looked like they might need help?
Vin removed his hat and shook out his long, curly hair. Hell, no, cept the bank's still open. I told em to close up but there's a few people still wantin' money. Reckon they think this here's the rainy day they been savin' for.
Chris frowned, looked away, then back again. Any sign of Ezra? Telegram was sent this mornin', he should be here by now.
Vin shook his head wordlessly.
Probably sittin' under a tree somewhere, protectin' his fancy duds, Buck offered, staring at the cover of JD's book. Hey, kid, can I borrow that sometime? I think I knew them Branson boys.
Nathan sloshed in. Gettin' powerful nasty out there. Chris, Josiah wanted me to tell ya the church's ready for anyone who needs it.
Chris nodded. Good. Boys, I suggest we make one last round and then go the hell home.
They all made to leave, heading for the doors, except for Chris, who strode with purpose towards the bar.
Buck watched him, puzzled. Ready to go, Chris?
Just a moment, Buck, his friend replied, reaching behind the bar and retrieving a bottle of whiskey with one smooth motion. He turned back to the small group, his face set in a grim smile.
Now I'm ready.
Violet Potter bounced impatiently as she stood beside her mother in the small, hot bank. Why was it taking so long? Grown-ups and their stupid money. Ever since finishing the dime novel she'd been dying to write in her diary about it, but now she had to stand here in this stupid bank waiting for her mother to make a stupid deposit and the stupid man in front of them was taking forever.
Please stop fidgeting, dear, her mother gently admonished her. We'll be home soon.
Violet sighed and glumly twisted the knob of her umbrella handle. Other girls got to be rescued by Bat Masterson, she got to die of boredom in a bank. But Mother wouldn't understand. Normally she shared everything with her mother, but the dime novel had been a secret, which for some reason made reading it even more exciting.
Her mother was looking out of the window and shaking her head. My goodness, Violet, will you look at that rain? It's almost falling sideways.
Violet didn't look, hadn't even really heard. Yes, mama.
Her mother looked at her sharply. Are you all right, dear? You sound tired.
Violet gave her mother a wan smile and said impatiently. I'm fine, Mama, I just want to go home!
Mrs. Potter paused, then patted her daughter's shoulder. We'll be going soon, dear, I'm sure he's almost finished. As Mrs. Potter said this, she gave the man in front of them a less-than-friendly glance. Then we'll pick up your brother and go home.
Violet heaved another sigh and let her gaze travel out of the window. The rain sure was coming down now. As she looked she saw a rider tearing down the street towards the bank, the hooves of his horse sending huge sheets of brown mud into the air with each thudding stride. He's in a hurry. At least he was interesting to watch.
She heard him rein in outside the bank, listened as he hastily dismounted with a thick splash. Guess he's another bank customer. With a teenage sigh she opened her handbag to take out some peppermints.
She suddenly heard another sound, loud and unfamiliar and right behind her; two metal clicks. Startled, she looked up to see the teller staring past her with a look of shock. The other customer turned and jumped as well, and she felt her mother pull her away from the door with a gasp of horror. Surprised and a little miffed, she looked behind her, almost straight into the barrels of two deadly-looking guns, wielded by a short, wild-looking man. Her gray eyes grew round.
Don't move! the man bellowed, swinging the guns from person to person with a smooth, even hand. Then he aimed them at the terrified teller.
Gimme the Goddamned money! he cried. The teller didn't move, and without hesitation the bank robber fired at him, the bullet ringing off the wall just above the teller's head.
Vin walked slowly down the street, not minding the slicing rain or the howling winds. His head was low, his mind elsewhere as he wound his way towards home and bed.
Suddenly his head came up, his eyes snapping to attention as they traveled up the street to where the bank sat in the misty distance. Had he heard a shot?
The teller hastily stuffed the bank bag as full of bills as he could and shoved them towards the robber. Violet observed the bandit with rapt fascination. He was stubbled and dirty, his face fat and ugly from vice and dissipation, but he was wearing what looked to be a brand-new long winter coat that seemed a good deal too small for him.
Without warning the other customer pulled a gun from his belt. As Mrs. Potter screamed, the robber fired first, and the other man pitched onto his face as blood began to pour from a hole in his side.
The robber looked around wildly for a moment, enraged, then reached out and wrenched Violet from her mother's side, pressing his gun to her temple as he held her tightly against him. Violet gasped and struggled faintly, dropping her umbrella, her eyes locked on those of her mother, which were wide with terror.
Anyone else tries that, she gets it! he cried; then he quickly grabbed the bag of money, stuffed it into one of the coat's large pockets, and pulled Violet outside into the rain, the gun again pressed to her head.
Vin was approaching the bank at a half-run, wondering if the sound had been a trick of the wind. He heard footfalls behind him, turned to see Buck coming up on his left, guns drawn.
You hear what I heard? Buck asked.
Vin was about to answer when another shot and screams pierced the chilled air. Reckon I did, Vin replied, and they set off at a full run.
They were still some distance away when they saw a short, burly figure dragging a girl emerge from the bank.
Damn, he's got someone! Buck cried, as the robber mounted and dragged the girl onto the saddle behind him, holding her there with a firm grip on her arm. The horse reared slightly and let out a loud whinny as the robber sawed it roughly around. Vin paused, brought his sawed-off Winchester up to shoot. The gloom and rain made it hard to see, but if he could get one clear shot–
The horse wheeled quickly around, then pounded swiftly away, out of the range of Buck's handguns. Buck waited for Vin to shoot, but instead watched as Vin abruptly brought his rifle down, stood still for a minute, then spun around and dashed towards the livery.
Hey! Wait up! Buck cried, confused as he danced around and followed Vin. Ain't you gonna shoot him?
Go see to the bank, Vin yelled above the wind. I'm gettin' Chris. We gotta follow him.
Buck shook his head. In this weather? Are you crazy? No, wait, I know the answer to that - you ARE crazy! Why didn't you just plug him back there?
Ain't got time to explain, Vin replied, a little testily as he cast a look at Buck.
Thoroughly irritated, not to mention wet and cold, Buck grabbed his arm. Dammit, Vin, if you an' Chris are gonna ride off to freeze to death, I wanna know why! You know that guy or somethin'?
Vin stopped, faced Buck and gave him an intense look. Ain't the guy. It's the horse.
Now Buck was completely lost.
It was Chaucer.
The other man's mouth dropped open. Finally he stammered, You sure?
Vin nodded quickly, his eyes jumping. That bank ain't the only thing he's robbed today, an' we gotta take im alive so's we can find out what happened to Ezra. An' he's got a hostage, too, so the sooner we handle this, the better.
With that Vin splashed away towards the boarding house where Chris rented a room. Buck stood for a moment, then turned and ran towards the bank. He could see a dim figure silhouetted against the murk staring after the path the robber had taken, and recognized it as Mrs. Potter. Damn,that bastard's got one of her kids,. He felt his gut tighten. What could he have done to Ezra? He would've had to kill him to get Chaucer away from him. Grimly he pushed that thought away. Hopefully, Ezra was monumentally pissed, but all right otherwise. The Potter child, on the other hand, was in real trouble.
As Buck ran towards the bank he noticed that the rain had turned to snow.
The first thing Ezra became aware of upon regaining consciousness was the cold.
It felt like he'd been lying in that wet roadway forever. As he slowly came back to the real world, he immediately sensed that the mildly uncomfortable chill had deepened to biting frigidity. Awakening further, he felt the icy dirt scraping his face and blinked his eyes open, becoming gradually aware that the conditions had worsened in more ways than just the temperature. Raising his spinning head from its uncomfortable position, he surveyed his surroundings and gave a small groan of surprise.
The wind was howling overhead, bending the fragile desert trees almost in two with its ferocity. The rain had been replaced by snow, small icy pellets which sliced through the air in a wavering curtain of white. So thick was the snowfall that Ezra could barely make out the road in front of him. Everything beyond ten feet around him was obscured by the raging snow. He blinked again, the cold and wind causing his eyes to water, and slowly stood up, his hands groping the nearby rocks for support as he looked around in horror. This is not good, he thought.
The ground was just beginning to whiten; looking at the frozen road, Ezra could make out Chaucer's hoofprints heading away towards Four Corners. He felt his stomach lurch at the thought of his horse in the hands of that ruffian. Chaucer had come with him out West, had been his best and only friend for years. An angry heat replaced the winter chill for a moment as he stared after the robber's path. You hurt one hair on his mane and I'll have your hide for a saddle blanket.
He suddenly realized that he was shivering violently. His clothes were soaked through and getting wetter by the second. He looked around on the ground and saw what he was looking for: his discarded blanket, half-buried in the falling snow. He picked it up and shook it out quickly, hoping, but to his dismay it was empty. The coat inside was gone.
Damn. He brushed the snow from the cloth and wrapping it around himself. It was cold and damp, but afforded some protection, at least, against the raging wind, and he did still have his riding gloves. A new thought struck him; he checked his holsters. His Remingtons were gone. Dismayed, he inspected further: his sleeve gun had also been pilfered, along with all his ammunition. Finally, he reached underneath his blue jacket, feeling for the hideaway sling he concealed there; to his relief, that gun was still in its holster. He pulled it out quickly and checked the chamber. Three shots. Well, if he caught up with that loathsome bastard, one was all he was going to need.
Pulling the flapping blanket tightly around him, Ezra glanced up and down the road. The cave he'd passed would provide shelter, but it was a good distance away, and once there all he could do was freeze–he had no food and no way to start a fire. Four Corners was closer, and the wind would be at his back. Plus, hopefully, he would be able to find Chaucer and apprehend his abductor without too much bother. With trembling hands he pulled out his watch and checked it. It was a little after two o' clock, at least three hours of light left, enough time to walk back if there were no problems. Then, there would be a hot bath a warm bed, and a solemn vow to never venture outdoors again as long as he lived.
That sounded good. Ezra pulled his hat down securely and started off towards town.
Chris sped out the door of his boarding house, pulling his long scarf around his face against the sharp, icy snowflakes. His thick black woolen coat whipped in the wind as he strode swiftly across the snow-blinded street. There he saw Vin already bundled up and mounted on Sire, holding the reins of Valor and waiting.
Buck came up to walk beside Chris, yelling to be heard over the near-deafening roar of nature. You don't come back soon, we're comin' after you, he cried into Chris' ear, as the other man tied off his scarf and made to mount his horse. Chris stopped and looked at his old friend sternly.
We don't come back soon, it means we're dead, he replied, placing one foot in the stirrup. Don't waste your time, Buck. Stay here, things could get really nasty.
Buck looked around and snorted. If it gets any worse than this, I'm movin' to California!
Vin glanced at him. How's Mrs. Potter?
Half out of her mind, Buck responded, folding his arms against the chill. Josiah's with her an' her boy in the church right now. He gave them both a sincere look. I hope you do find this creep alive, cause right now I would personally like to beat the hell out of him.
No promises, Chris grunted, hoisting himself into the saddle.
Nathan came out of the saloon and handed Vin a small bundle. The tracker looked at him questioningly.
Some of Ezra's clothes, the healer explained. He's gonna need to get into somethin' dry right quick, when you find
Vin stuffed the small package into his saddlebag, then turned towards him as Sire shifted nervously. How's that feller the robber shot?
The healer glanced towards his room, where the would-be hero was recuperating. He's gonna be plenty sore, but he'll make it. He had enough spunk to be mad about gettin' shot. Guess he didn't think that guy would be so fast.
Any advice for when we find Ezra? Chris asked, his voice muffled by his scarf.
Nathan came closer and raised his voice, fighting the elements.
Yeah, get him sheltered and warm as soon as possible. But do it gradual – durin' the war I seen men who was heated up quick, an' then died cause their hearts gave out. An' he might be a mite confused – I seen that too. Happens when a man's been out in the cold too long.
What about Violet? Buck hollered.
Chris gave him a dark look. That bank robber ain't gonna let anything happen to her, Buck. She's his hostage.
Only he might dump her once he figures he's safe, so we gotta move, Vin urged. Chris eyed him and nodded, gathering up his reins. Nathan and Buck stepped back.
Good luck, Nathan said. An' watch out for yourselves, too – gonna have enough on my hands without havin' your sorry hides to deal with.
Vin and Chris both nodded, then spurred their horses forward. They plunged into the swirling storm; in moments they faded into two indistinct shadows racing away into the whiteness, then were swallowed up in the fury.
Buck whapped Nathan's arm. I'm gonna go check on Molly. You goin' to the church?
The other man nodded. Yeah. Where's JD?
Buck glanced around. Huh. I dunno, ain't seen him. I'll check the jail on my way to Molly's, maybe he's there.
Nathan nodded in agreement and began to move away. Tell im to get on over to the church – oughta be warmer than the jail, an' he can sleep there.
They parted, Nathan to the church, Buck to the jail. As he slogged through the streets he noticed that the snow was getting heavier, and was accumulating in sharply slanted heaps against the buildings. He shuddered and pulled his coat tighter against his body.
Violet clung desperately to the robber's bulky middle, her eyes squeezed tight shut against the wind and snow. She could feel the horse's powerful strides as it thundered through the flatlands towards the rocky hills beyond the town, and knew that they were riding at a terrific rate of speed. Where they were going was a complete mystery, and thinking about it only increased her panic, so she concentrated instead on staying in the saddle.
The bandit had released his grip on her, probably because he knew that if she tried to jump off she'd be killed, and even if she wasn't she'd soon die in the storm. Violet opened her eyes and saw the snow-swept land around her, rocky and barren and seemingly a million miles from home. The roaring curtain of white appeared to cut them off from all civilization, and she gasped. It seemed as if Four Corners had been wiped off the earth.
Excuse me, sir?
No answer.
she screeched.
He didn't turn around, only yelled.
Where we going?
There was a slight pause, then the fierce words, If you don't shut up I'm throwing you off! Got it?
She swallowed and clung tighter, closing her eyes tightly again as she thought of her mother.
Buck rubbed his gloved hands together as he neared the jail, marveling at the fact that it had only been a few hours since he'd been sitting there, enjoying the warm weather. And now this. Damn.
A faint warm glow shone in the windows, confirming Buck's suspicions. JD was inside. Crazy kid. He pushed open the door.
Hey, JD! he called to the young sheriff, who had been sitting behind the desk, feet propped up, reading his dime novel. JD glanced at him, but did not appear overly happy to see him. Oh, uh, hey, Buck.
Buck chose to ignore the lack of enthusiasm. He was in a hurry. C'mon, get yourself together, Nathan wants you over at the church.
JD brought his feet down and shook his head. Uh, no thanks, Buck, I'll stay here.
Buck furrowed his brow and glanced around.
Oh, I dunno, JD replied, apparently caught. I, uh, like it here.
Buck was confused. Well, I like it at the saloon, but it ain't the best place to be for bad weather. Ain't you noticed, kid? It's damn cold in here! You'll freeze your tail off.
JD fidgeted a bit. I'm okay, really.
Buck sighed and came closer, losing his good humor. Look, JD, Nathan wants you over to the church, an' that's where you're goin'. An' I'd rather fight you than Nathan, cause I can whup you. Nathan I ain't so sure about. So c'mon.
JD pulled back, and Buck was surprised to see real fear in his eyes. I ain't goin', Buck.
There was a pause, and Buck regarded his young friend seriously. Hey, you okay there, kid?
JD heaved a deep sigh of embarrassment and fiddled with his bowler hat. Well, see, Buck, I have this– he groped for a word, then bit his lip, thinking. When I was a stable boy back east, we had a storm a lot like this one, and it blew down the stable. Afterwards we had to clean up, and... He trailed off, ran a hand through his thick black hair, and looked up at Buck, his eyes flooded with pain. It was awful, Buck. All the horses were dead. Some died when the building came down, an' others froze. I ain't never forgot it.
Buck perched himself on the desk and folded his hands, nodding sympathetically. Yeah, that sounds real bad, kid. Sorry you had to go through that.
His companion looked at him steadily. That wasn't all, Buck. When I was movin' some beams we found one of the stable hands. He'd been crushed to death. He was... JD lost his voice again, and shivered, looking away.
Finally he looked back at Buck. I don't wanna die like that, Buck. And that church looks mighty rickety to me. I mean, you all can go in if you want, but I just gotta stay here.
Buck sat silent for a moment, thinking. Then he stood. I see your point, kid. Reckon you can stay here, but try to warm it up. Don't need you catchin' a cold.
JD nodded, plainly relieved that Buck wasn't going to fight him.
I'm goin' to Molly's, Buck continued, making his way around the desk and bundling himself up again. After that, I'll be at the church if you need me. Less'n, of course, we get blown to San Francisco.
Okay. Be careful, JD called, propping his feet up again.
Oh, yeah, Buck replied casually, pulling the door open and speeding out into the snow. After pulling the door closed, Buck glanced through the dirty jail window and saw JD smile to himself as he returned to his reading, looking as if he believed he was in the safest place in the world. Buck grunted, shook his head in brotherly amusement and hurried away into the snow.
Ezra crouched behind the rocky outcropping and pulled his hat down, rethinking his decision to return to Four Corners. His trip was not working out at all as he'd expected.
The road had been easy enough to follow-the wind was blowing so hard that the snow was not accumulating much, except against the rocks, where huge drifts were forming. But the wind and the cold were proving hard to fight with. More than once it had knocked him to the ground, until finally he had decided to get off the road entirely.
He hunkered down and pulled the snow-covered blanket tighter, looking up the road towards Four Corners. It felt like he had been walking for ages, he should be almost there by now. He beat his numb hands together, then pulled out his watch again. A few minutes past two-thirty. He squinted up at the gray-blue sky as he repocketed his watch–if he didn't make it there soon, he was going to be in trouble.
He sat back and rubbed his nose, vaguely wondering if anyone at Four Corners had missed him yet. He'd sent that telegram like Larabee asked, but the telegraph at Four Corners had been unreliable of late. Perhaps they didn't even know he'd left Eagle Bend. Well, all the more reason to take it upon himself to make it back. It couldn't be far, and the hot bath was proving increasingly motivational. Taking a deep breath, Ezra stood and took a step towards the road.
Suddenly he stopped and cocked his head. Through the moaning of the wind he could hear the quick, rhythmic pounding of hoofbeats. He perked up–someone who could provide a ride to shelter, perhaps. Then he paused, listened, and felt his heart thud. There was no doubt–the approaching horse was Chaucer.
Quickly ducking behind the rock, he pulled out the gun from his shoulder sling and waited. Once the robber passed, he could get a good shot at him and get his horse back, while disposing of that cretin at the same time.
He waited, trying to calm his breathing as he listened. The hoofbeats quickly drew closer. My God, listen to how he's driving the poor creature. Ezra's chest tightened in anger. He'll kill the unfortunate beast with such riding.
A few more moments passed; the sound grew still louder, until Ezra could tell they were almost past him. A dark shape shot by, blurred by the driving snow; Ezra would have to move fast. He moved swiftly into the road, his gun raised and ready to fire-
–and froze there, shocked at the sight of a young girl looking back at him from the back of the bandit's saddle. She had seen Ezra, but the robber hadn't. For a second their eyes locked, then the horse disappeared into the veil of snow as if it had only been a vision of the storm.
Ezra stood still for a moment, then lowered his gun as his thoughts collected. Dear Lord, that looked like the Potter girl. What in the world is she doing with that vermin? A hostage, he realized, and felt a shiver go through him that had no relation to the raging winds. He remembered the look in her eyes, a gaze whose intensity no cloud of snow could hide. A beseeching look of pure terror.
He reholstered his gun and looked back towards town, his mind racing. They must have known this had happened–would anyone be coming after her? Larabee, undoubtedly, and probably Tanner, too. But with the entire area to search they'd have a hard time finding her under the best of conditions–on a day like this, it was a near impossibility.
The cave, Ezra thought suddenly, and looked up the road after them. He'd probably return there. If Ezra could get there before nightfall and get the drop on the outlaw...
His voice of reason broke in, appalled. It was a long, freezing walk to that cave, and he was plenty exhausted already. He thought of the hot bath and the warm bed. They were so close, a half hour's walk maybe. Let the others find her. He could tell them where to look when he reached town. Chaucer was a strong horse, he'd survive. And the child...
Her face came up to him again, pale and bleak and terrified. She had seen him, knew he could help her, begged for his aid with her eyes. She knew who he was, they'd met in her mother's store often enough. One of the men sworn to protect the town, an oath Ezra had taken lightly enough at the time. All it had meant then was a pardon from jail, free board, a dollar a day and plenty of time to devote to the gambling tables. Those in trouble appealed to the group as a whole; nobody had yet singled Ezra out for assistance.
He ducked behind the rocks to escape the wind, and crouched down, hand to his mouth in thought. One of the other men should be here, Vin or Chris or Buck–they all had lived most of their lives outdoors, knew how to survive in this cursed climate. They'd be much better at handling this.
But they weren't here. And he was.
He rose and glanced again at the road to Four Corners. The snow was blinding, the wind fierce and freezing. By the time they got this far, night would be approaching, and they'd never find the cave in the dark. And who knows what could happen before morning? He shuddered. A man who thought nothing of leaving someone to freeze would not hesitate to hurt a child. The memory of her anxious face loomed again before him, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
Damn it. He wrapped the blanket tighter around him and set off down the road to Eagle Bend after the robber.
The snow was piling high against the faded buildings of Four Corners as Buck dashed through its deserted streets towards the end of town. Whew, this is pert near as bad as Chicago in the winter. Not near as much horse shit, tho.
Finally he reached the small house of Molly Havers. It was almost the last house on the street, tucked away from the rest of them as if it were embarrassed to edge any closer. Buck eyed the structure warily. It was old, one of the first built in the town, and wore its years badly. The boards were cracked and faded, the timbers splitting. He wasn't sure but he almost felt he could see it swaying in the ferocious winds. As he drew closer he could hear its joints angrily creaking from the strain.
He mushed up to the door and rapped on it with one thickly gloved hand. Hey, Moll! C'mon, open on up, it's me!
There was a pause; then the cracked wooden door was pulled open, and Molly appeared,wearing a worn woolen dress, her black curled hair disheveled. She regarded Buck with a look of pleased surprise. Buck, y'ol' stallion! Don't you know I'm off duty?
Buck grinned; thank God she seemed to be in a good mood. He pulled at the brim of his hat in greeting. Just came to check on ya, darlin'. Y'okay in there?
She smiled, reached out and pulled him inside. C'mon in and find out!
Now Moll, really, I can't–I gotta– But it was too late, and he didn't honestly resist all that much as she dragged him into the house and closed the door.
It was actually rather warm inside the small house. A bright fire was burning in the half-broken stove. Buck looked around quickly to see if anything was needed, but he'd been here many times before. Not much had changed–same rickety bed in one corner with its ratty quilt, same odd old sticks of furniture. The ceiling was nothing but a series of huge old cross-beams; the peaked roof arced high and dark overhead. The walls were decorated with a few tattered magazine pages without frames, nailed haphazardly to the bare wooden walls; there was only one decent picture on the wall, a small gilt-framed photograph of an elderly couple which was hung next to the bed. Buck did notice that the awful creaking sound was even louder inside. The frame heaved and sighed like an ancient ship at sea.
I'm so glad you came by, Buck! Molly said brightly, her deep blue eyes dancing as she led him inside. I was gettin' kinda bored. She put her arms around her neck and gave him a quick kiss.
Buck returned the embrace and kissed her passionately, leaning her backwards a little. Their lips parted. he asked, not moving from his bent position.
Yes, sugar? she replied, smiling.
Would you come with me to the church?
She giggled and patted his cheek. Why, Buck, is this a proposal?
He laughed. This ain't the best day for a weddin', darlin'. I reckon you'll be safer there, is all.
He straightened and released her.
She clucked her tongue and shook her head. You're such a worrier, Buck!
He smiled again and folded his arms. Way I see it, Moll, there ain't enough beauty in the world, an' I'm sworn to protect what little we got. Now move that pretty little behind o' your so's we can go, OK?
She chuckled and went to an old trunk in the corner, opening it and rooting around for her heavy wrap.
Buck watched, listening to the wind howl around the building's rotted timbers. Suddenly he looked around-a new sound was intruding, mingled with the anguished creaking. A sharp, cracking sound, faint at first but now growing rapidly louder.
Just a minute, Buck! I'm alm–
The sound grew in intensity. Buck's heart began to pound. He ran lightly to her and grabbed her around the shoulders. C'mon, darlin', we gotta get outta here, this damn house is about to fall in!
A deafening splitting noise rent the air; the building shifted a bit, dust and splinters showering the couple as the entire structure bent a little to one side. Molly screamed as Buck pulled her towards the door, the death cries of the building mounting in volume with each passing second.
They were almost to the door when Molly suddenly said something Buck couldn't hear and tore herself from his grasp, stumbling towards the bed in the far corner of the room. One hand was reaching out for the small gilt-framed picture.
With a human-like wail the structure gave way, the walls falling in a cloud of snow, sawdust and knife-like splinters. Buck dove to where Molly stood, knocked her to the ground and threw himself on top of her, shielding his head with his arm as the groaning remains of the shack crashed with a roar to the earth around them.
Chris and Vin galloped up the snowy road towards the mountains, all but unrecognizable in their bulky winter garb. They were both covered in snow; Vin's long hair was flying wildly in the icy gusts as he tore along. As they rode Chris scanned the landscape, which was quickly whitening beneath the savage snowfall. The snow was still raging, whipped along by the fierce wind. Beyond their immediate path, the hills loomed in the distance as shadowy blurs in the undulating clouds of white.
They had been following the robber's trail, with Vin leading the way. Here and there faint hoofprints had been left in the frozen mud, and the tracker had hardly looked up from the road once since they had left Four Corners. While Vin was normally a man of few words, Chris felt there was something else behind the former bounty hunter's silence.
He'd seen Vin track before, and knew the quiet, confident way Vin usually went about his work, but this time he seemed driven by more than the desire to find their quarry. There was something behind Vin's eyes, obvious even in the thick clouds of snow, an urgent, compelling light which commanded him forward, riding through the snow and wind with no more thought than if they were riding through a pleasant spring day.
Chris looked around and shook himself. He had better look to his own welfare, and leave off trying to analyze his partner's moods. Whatever ghosts Vin might be dealing with, they were his own concern. A man could lay claim to little besides his past, and Chris was not about to pry. He knew only too well how agonizing such intrusions could be, and felt Vin understood this as well. Perhaps that was the source of their quickly formed, unspoken bond – they each knew and respected the pain of talk, and the comfort of silence.
He sure was goin' hard, Vin finally yelled, eyes still on the snow-streaked trail. Them hoofprints are mighty deep.
Any signs that Ezra mighta passed this way?
Vin lifted his eyes and blinked, staring into the dazzling tundra. Tell ya what, Chris. If he ain't found shelter yet he might be a goner.
Chris pulled up beside him and gave him a glance, his eyes–the only visible part of his face–set with determination. Let's hope that fool gambler knows enough not to gamble with his life.
Vin gave a shake of his head. Bet it wouldn't be the first time, if he didn't. He paused, then said, Sure hope the Potter kid's all right.
She will be, once we find her, Chris replied firmly, his eyes now glinting hard in the bluish light.
Vin met his eyes, nodded, looked back to the road as they rode along. The light in those blue eyes seemed more intense now, fueled by something burning in his mind. Once, when I was a buffalo hunter, I seen a storm like this that went on for three days, Vin said in a slow, thoughtful drawl as they began climbing the ascent into the mountains. This other tracker, Bill Parsons, an' me got stuck in it, way up in the mountains. Bill was a real smart young feller, lot like JD – dyin' to learn about huntin' an' the wild. We was travelin' over the mountains when it hit, an' if we hadn't found a old settler's cabin we both woulda died.
The ascent leveled off and became rocky, the dirt road changing into icy, snow-swept stone. Both men eyed the landscape with grim faces. It looked untouched by anything but the relentless violence of nature.
As they spurred their horses on, Vin continued his tale in a low voice edged with regret. The cabin was half blowed down, an' we couldn't keep a fire lit. Bill kept gettin' scared we was gonna freeze or starve, an' he hadn't brought anything sturdy enough to keep out the cold. He kept sayin' he was gonna go for help an' wouldn't stay put. Two days later I woke up to find he'd eaten all the food, then wandered off. Even through the thick scarf, Chris could see Vin swallow at the memory. Found im later on. He'd pulled off half his clothes and was frozen dead.
So that was it. Chris shot him a look, waiting. For a few moments Vin was silent, absorbed by scenes from a winter long past; when he finally looked at Chris again there was an anxious expression in his eyes. Man's got to know how to deal with things out here, Chris. You take on nature, you gotta know that you'll wind up bein' part of it–one way, or the other.
Chris watched him carefully as Vin dropped his eyes once more to the trail, wondering what dark forms Vin saw in those gray-white swirls of ice-like snow. Then he turned his attention to the shadowy shapes of the mountains rising before them, their frozen rocks and crags hiding dangers more perilous than the lethal storm. They said nothing more as they continued up the path, and were soon swallowed up by the billowing gusts of winter.
JD sighed as he riffled the pages of his dime novel. He had never noticed it before, but this particular story really stunk.
Or maybe he was just bored with it. He tossed it onto the desk and leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head. It was safe here in the jail, sure, but it was also lonely and desperately dull. Outside he could see the streets still nearly obscured by the snow. Piles of it were everywhere, breaking in motionless white waves against the buildings. He could hear the windowpanes rattling from the force of the wind and shivered, thinking of Ezra. Sure hope he's okay.
The awful memory of the blasted stable threatened to invade his mind; he shook his head as if to remove it and sat up, drumming his fingers anxiously. Ezra was going to be fine, they'd find him and Violet soon enough, he'd trust Chris and Vin to do anything. Then the storm would be over and everything would be fine and he wouldn't have to worry any more about any of his friends dying in the cold or in the twisted, bloody wreckage of a building that had seemed so safe...
His gaze fell on the book, and he shuddered, thinking that maybe he wasn't enjoying it because when he read it, all he could think of was Violet, that poor kid, out in that storm with that crazy bank robber. He'd actually been sort of fond of her. She was a cute kid, kind of sad of course, what with her pa getting killed and all, but JD was proud that they had been able to ease her pain by bringing the killer to justice. Now this had happened to her, and JD's heart gave a painful thump. Damn it all, she didn't deserve this, she really didn't. It almost made him wonder if there really was any justice in the world.
He stood, disliking this increasingly agitated feeling he'd been getting. Maybe he would venture down to the church-it wasn't far, and he'd just check to see if everybody was okay there. He sure wouldn't stay there–he just wanted to do something, anything, to keep the memories away.
He was pulling on his coat when he glanced out the window to see Jeremy, the kid who swept up at the saloon, racing through the snow towards the jail. JD frowned. Don't tell me some other lunatic is out there committin' crimes.
A few moments later Jeremy burst into the jail, his face red from the cold. He looked at JD with an expression of panic that sent JD's heart clear down to his shoes.
Mr. Dunne, sir, they sent me to get you right away! he squeaked, panting. You're needed down at the east end of town.
JD tried to quell the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The boy only shook his head, too upset to explain. You gotta come right away, is what the preacher man said. A house done blowed over an' there's a coupla people trapped.
JD's face went white. There was only one house he knew of on the east side of town.
Molly Haver's house.
Oh, God, NO.
JD flew past Jeremy and into the street, not even pausing to shut the jailhouse door.
Ezra paused for a moment to catch his breath, squinting against the piercing winds as he stood in the middle of the snow-covered mountain road. I must be almost there by now, he thought as he panted in the frigid air. Looking around at the arctic scene, he cursed himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings earlier that day. He couldn't tell if he was getting closer or not.
The wind caught the fraying edge of the blanket and tugged at it violently; Ezra pulled it tighter against him, wishing he could stop shivering. He'd never been so cold, not even in the snowstorms he had lived through during the war, when he and his mother were barely surviving in a cheap rented room in St. Louis. He remembered complaining then of the cold, but compared to this, the Missouri winters were downright tropical.
He cast a hopeful glance behind him, praying to see a rescue party riding through the swirling clouds of snow; but there was only the bleak, deserted road, disappearing into a gray-blue haze. He noted with mild alarm that his footprints had already been erased by the rampaging winds, and realized that even if anyone came this way they'd have no idea that he was going on ahead, possibly on the trail of the robber and the Potter girl. I should leave a mark of some sort,to let them know they're on the right track...
He fished around in his pockets and pulled out his wadded-up monogrammed handkerchief, still too cold and wet to be of any use. Moving quickly, he stepped to the side of the road and with trembling fingers tied it to the scraggly branches of a young tree. It was almost invisible in the howling gale, but it would have to do. It frightened him to notice how stiff and uncooperative his hands were getting. Much more of this, and I'll lose my bread and butter.
He stood back in the road and watched as the small white piece of cloth danced erratically in the wind, but held on tight to the tree. Someone would have to see it, and would hopefully be able to decipher its meaning.
Ezra turned and resumed his journey, leaning a little as he walked and turning his body half against the wind and snow which flew against it. The shivering was becoming violent, as well as annoying, mostly because it didn't seem to be doing any good. Just keep walking and you'll be fine. If only the wind was blowing the other way...
A sudden gust blew him backwards; he stumbled a bit, cursed, and pushed ahead, as his common sense told him, in what had become a monotonous plea, to abandon his journey. This was crazy, it insisted. He would freeze to death out here. He was no hero, let the other men handle this job. What was he in this for, anyway?
He tried to ignore the question, but it kept lapping at his mind, refusing to go away. It was true, Ezra had rarely ever done anything without some expectation of compensation, especially life-threatening activities such as this one. So if he was here, trudging along this frozen road after a maniac who would doubtless not hesitate to kill Ezra with his own weaponry, what sort of reward was he hoping to gain?
Well, of course, he wanted to get Chaucer back. He wasn't about to let that poor beast live the rest of his days in the hands of that cretin. Chaucer was far too beautiful and proud an animal to deserve such a fate; often, he had been Ezra's only reminder of the gracious civilization he had left behind. So, that had to be it.
Only that wasn't it. He wanted Chaucer back, of course, but the girl's plight seemed just as urgent – oddly more so, since Ezra barely knew her and he could hope to gain nothing from her rescue. It was that look on her face when she passed, he could still feel it piercing his soul. He could not hope to turn his back on her and continue living with himself.
He thought of the times when he himself had been a child, lonely, confused, abandoned, his con-woman mother far away. He had often hoped for rescue, but none had ever come. There had been brief moments of respite–that wonderful summer with his cousin and best friend Sophie, for one, or the times when his mother would come for him–but they were few. His mother would leave him again, the happiness would inevitably end, and the loneliness would return, more acute than ever.
He was usually able to convince himself that he had outgrown such childhood traumas, but there had been times–mostly when he was feeling melancholy, or on a losing streak–when he could still feel the bitter ache which had never quite gone away. The Potter girl's situation was far more dangerous than any he had ever had to endure, and he was going to see to it that her predicament would not turn out as unhappily as his did.
He caught himself musing and shook his head, bemused at his somber thoughts. He shivered. God, I've been associating with JD and his dime-novel heroics too long. I'll be pulling stranded cats from trees next. This is hardly the time to think on such matters, just find Olivia, shoot the bastard, and...
He blinked, suddenly startled. Wait, her name wasn't Olivia, what was he thinking about? Olivia was a different little girl, who had been abducted, and then rescued by him and Buck, ages ago. But for a moment, he had been absolutely convinced that the girl he was trying to rescue had been Olivia Greer. He shook his head, slightly amused at his momentary lapse. Huh. Strange.
He shrugged and continued trudging through the relentless storm.
JD's run to the east end of town had taken only five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. With each step his mind conjured up a dozen anxious questions and possibilities. Maybe it wasn't Molly's house–but nobody else lived in that old neighborhood, it had to be hers. But perhaps Buck and Molly weren't the ones trapped. But who else could it be? Robbers, maybe. On a day like this? Well, someone robbed the bank, and that sure was crazy, but it happened. But why would Josiah send Jeremy for JD over a couple of petty thieves...
As JD neared the end of town he saw crowds of people gathered, all in heavy coats and scarves, thick shapeless blobs of darkness moving against the shifting white snowfall. He scanned each one, hoping to see Buck's lean form. No, he'd be in there helping probably, that was why JD didn't see him.
A tall figure detached from the crowd, waved its arms. Josiah.
JD cried, slowing as he neared him. JD saw his friend's expression and swallowed, dreading what was going to happen. Then he saw the house, and groaned out loud.
It was half-collapsed, a twisted corpse partially buried in the blinding snow. One end was completely fallen; all that remained was a pile of split beams and shattered clapboards, quickly turning white in the snow-laden winds. Broken timbers stuck up from the rubble, their sharp splinters naked and dangerous-looking against the winter air. Dark clouds billowed up from one of the destroyed corners, where a group of men were working to extinguish the smoky remains of the fire from Molly's now-destroyed stove. JD could see dark forms moving furiously through the haze as they hefted buckets of water on the smoldering blaze. The other end of the building had not yet fallen in; it was leaning inward at a suspenseful angle, as if making up its mind whether to complete its own destruction or not. Nothing seemed to be holding it up except the wind.
Aw, God, JD moaned, too horrified to apologize to Josiah for his blasphemy. Then he began to walk towards it, not turning as he asked, Who's in there, Josiah?
A hoarse, strangled cry of pain, followed by some choice cursing, streamed from the dark wreckage, and JD felt himself go even colder as he stopped in his tracks. For a moment he couldn't move, then he plunged into the crowd, pushing people aside in his anxiety, thinking, not again, dear God, please. Not again.
Buck bit his lip, tried not to cry out as the pain again shot up his entire body. He glared angrily at the heavy beam lying wedged across his leg, as if he wished its broken state could be as agonizing as his broken leg was.
Of course, they had been fortunate in that only half of the house had caved in; another few feet in the other direction and they would have both been crushed. But as it was they were trapped, lying within a dark, tangled network of boards and beams. Having escaped injury during the initial collapse, their luck had run out when the beam fell on Buck while they were trying to get out of the wreckage. Buck was on his back, his hat gone, blood smearing his winter coat and pants; Molly crouched beside him, unable to move much due to the pattern of the collapsed walls. They were partially protected from the icy blasts outside, but there was still a constant cold draft leaking through the tangled rubble, causing both Molly and Buck to shiver from its chill.
They had barely enough room to sit up. A few feet over their heads loomed the skeletal remains of the shack, and higher still, the teetering, uncollapsed portion waiting to come down on their heads. The path outside had been almost completely sealed, only a tiny opening remained in the debris, through which they could see the people milling about outside.
Molly was nearby, bloodied but not seriously hurt. She gripped Buck's hand as he grimaced.
Y'okay, Buck? came Nathan's voice from beyond the rubble-strewn barricade. Jus' hold on, we'll have you dug out in no time.
Buck laughed a little and yelled back,
I never thought I'd say this if I was ever trapped with a pretty lady, he gasped, but could y'all kindly hurry up an' get us the hell OUT of here?
There was a pause, in which Buck could almost see Nathan shaking his head.
Jus' stop talkin' an' try not to move around too much, Nathan replied. Save your spoonin' for when you get out!
Buck looked at Molly and smiled a little, his eyes full of pain.
Sorry, Moll, doctor's orders ya know, he said on a breath, then stiffened as another throb coursed through his body.
She gripped his hand tighter and stroked his hair. Don't worry, sugar, we'll be out soon, she soothed. He cast a doubtful look at the rubble, but nodded anyway.
Buck blinked, looked in the general direction of the entrance.
Buck could see the youth crouching by the lopsided opening, trying to peer past the broken, crooked beams.
Buck shook his head in the darkness. Dang, kid, this is the second time today you been right about somethin'. Too bad Ezra ain't here, now'd be the time for you to try an' clean im out!
JD gulped, dismayed at the pain in Buck's voice that his cavalier attitude couldn't hide. He turned to Nathan and Josiah. Can't we get them out?
Fixin' to do just that, JD Nathan assured him, patting his shoulder. Then he leaned towards the opening and yelled,
came her muffled response.
Spose we'd best get you out first, an' then there'll be enough room for us to get in an' help Buck. See if you can't get through this hole.
There was a pause, then, I ain't leavin' Buck!
Inside, Buck sighed. Now c'mon, darlin', what's the use of your stayin' in here?
Molly made a small, anxious noise. I can't just up an' leave you like this, Buck! You need me!
Buck grunted, shifting a little, unless you can somehow move that damn pillar that's settin' on my leg, you can't do me much good in here.
She hesitated, still unsure.
Go on, he insisted, nodding at the bright portal, I reckon you can make it up to me later.
She looked into his eyes, smiled, and planted a long kiss on his lips before turning towards the small opening and yelling, Okay, I'm comin' out!
Buck watched her anxiously as she carefully half-crawled to the entryway, feeling her way along in the gloom. She reached the opening and bent down, almost on her stomach, and blinked against the brightness of the outside, looking at the crowd gathered around with surprise.
Easy, girl, Nathan urged. Looks like you'll just fit.
With a good deal of twisting and colorful language, she managed to squeeze out through the hole, into the blanket held open for her by Josiah. She stood slowly, painfully, her cold cramped muscles stiff from their confinement. As Josiah wrapped the blanket around her she gave him an embarrassed smile of gratitude.
I must look a fright, she gasped, one quivering hand brushing at her matted hair.
Josiah smiled. You look alive, he said gently, an' there ain't nothin' more beautiful than that.
He began to lead her away. She pulled back, turning to the collapsed house. I wanna wait til Buck comes out, she insisted, then tottered a bit.
Josiah gently put an arm around her shoulder and steadied her. You'd best come with me to the church, Miss Havers, he said quietly, as they walked away. Once we get you looked after, we can pray for him together.
She out okay? Buck's voice hollered.
Nathan yelled, as he watched Josiah lead Molly to the church. Sit tight, Buck. You're next.
During all this, JD had danced around, a ball of anxiety with nowhere to expend itself. He hated being helpless; it felt too much like it did back east, when they had been unable to aid the victims of the stable collapse. He was happy that Molly was okay, but he knew he'd never be able to relax until Buck was out, too. He cast a worried look at the leaning half-wall which hung overhead, poised to collapse. Then he let his gaze wander down to the tiny opening, so small in the seemingly immense pile of debris, and got an idea.
Hey, Nathan?
Nathan turned back to face JD.
I bet I could fit in there.
Nathan stood for a moment, looked at him, then the hole, then came to crouch down next to him. I bet you could, JD. I been wonderin' how we're gonna get in there. Why don't you try, maybe you can move that log that's been pinnin' him down.
Happy to finally be doing something, JD pulled off his bulky coat and bowler hat and dropped in front of the hole.
Buck? I'm comin' in!
After a moment came Buck's surprised cry of
But before Buck could protest, JD had begun to try to crawl through the opening. After a short while he had worked his head and upper body through, and looked around the dark interior, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the feeble light. After a few moments he could see Buck, leaning on his elbows and looking at him in surprise, a huge cross-beam lying on top of one of his legs. JD broke out into a reassuring smile and was about to greet his friend when the air was split with a horrific moaning. Startled, both men looked up at the tottering half of the house still looming above their heads as it emitted its ear-splitting death groans.
Images of the crushed stable hand flashed in front of JD's eyes, and he suddenly realized what he was doing.
And froze.
Chris was beginning to lose hope, and he hated it.
At first the chase had been oddly exhilarating. He cursed the circumstances which led them into the storm, but derived great satisfaction from the feeling of being active again, accomplishing something besides sitting around getting drunk and feeling sorry for himself. Several months of being confined had built up in Chris a serious longing to kick someone's butt, and the despicable bank robber they were following was a perfect candidate for this position. The criminal had abducted a child and robbed one of his men, and Chris had been relishing the idea of finally laying his hands on the guy. As he and Vin rode on and found little to lead them to the criminal, however, the gunslinger had become increasingly worried and frustrated. The damned creep could be anywhere.
They had been riding hard down the road to Eagle Bend, looking in vain for any sign of the bank robber, Violet or Ezra; but all they had found was a monotonous array of snow-covered rocks, trees, and scrub brush, their skeletal branches clotted with hard clumps of icy snow. The storm had finally begun to ease. The path was becoming more visible, but this proved to be of little help in their search. Chaucer's hoofprints were obliterated now, and they were going on the blind assumption that the robber had come this way, rather than the hundred other directions he might've taken.
Damn. Chris looked around at the blasted landscape. The winter winds had left unmistakable signs of their passing: everywhere were branches, uprooted saplings, and thin trees broken in two, their snapped corpses lying in wait for spring to claim them. It was a scene of bleak destruction.
Vin, however, did not seem to notice it, his eyes ever on the trail. He had skirted rocks and leapt downed trees as if they had not even been there. The tracker seemed to be increasingly driven, but whether it was by the desire to find Violet and Ezra, or the bank robber, or simply to erase the disturbing memory of his long-dead hunting companion Bill Parsons, Chris had no way of knowing.
Just as Chris was thinking that they should try another path, he saw Vin stop and quickly dismount, the snow falling from his encrusted hair and clothing in small, broken clumps.
Vin glanced back at him. Tree's blockin' the road.
Chris slid from his horse and slogged through the snow towards Vin. It had fallen deep here, almost a foot, it looked like. He came up beside his companion and joined him in trying to yank the tree off the road.
Musta been blowin' pretty good up here, Vin observed as they dragged the carcass to one side. Snapped this thing like a toothpick
Wouldn't mind if it blew our robber friend to hell, Chris grunted as they dropped the tree onto the rocks beside the road. The thin branches rattled, the last vestiges of the snow falling from their dead fingers. As the two men brushed their gloved hands off and began to move back towards the horses, Chris let his gaze run idly over the quivering twigs. Suddenly he grabbed Vin's arm, pulling him back.
Chris said, his eyes still on the tree.
The tracker turned as Chris swiftly knelt down and violently tug at one of the branches. After a few moments he straightened and held something up in his right hand for Vin to see. Look familiar?
It was a limp, frayed handkerchief, one corner knotted onto a twig, now broken off in Chris' fingers. Even with Vin's face covered by a scarf, Chris could see he was surprised.
Only man I know who'd mark a trail with a five-dollar handkerchief, Chris replied, fingering the corner where Ezra's battered initials still clung. Then he glanced up the road. We didn't pass him, he must be ahead of us somewhere.
Reckon he's followin' the robber, Vin said, as they began moving back towards their horses. Probably lookin' to get Chaucer back.
Chris quickly mounted up. We'd best find im before he finds that kidnapper. If he's been out in this weather all day, he's not gonna be able to help Chaucer or anybody else.
I'm with ya there, pard, Vin said, swiftly swinging himself back into the saddle and picking up the reins. Trouble is, he might not realize it til it's too late.
They spurred their horses on with a new urgency and galloped up the road.