Chapter Two
The cave provided shelter, nothing more. Jess stood near its opening, his hand clutching the top of his jacket to make it rest tightly against his neck, yet he still felt the wind's terrible bite through each of his layers. He knew he should have turned back as instructed when he felt the first gust, the pour from the north like it was shooting down an icy mountain, but without a cloud in the sky, Jess had urged his mount forward, past the section of ground that had been his intended limit. Jess could have said then that it was a mistake, but now that he was inside one of the canyon's earthen holes instead of in the wide-open unknown, he could call it a more positive name, even if it still spelled out trouble.
He had been in the middle of the returning loop when he saw the cloud, if he could have called the giant, gray blob only that. Its menacing appearance spoke of what it boasted and he felt the first sting of snow touch his cheek, carried on the wind before the monstrosity in the sky met him head on. For a few minutes Jess entertained the thought that he could do as he told Jonesy and beat it, but the storm would only prove him a liar. It was rolling in fast, covering both hill and valley in white, but it was the wind, shrieking in violent puffs that made the path treacherous as the accumulation continued to grow in ever-changing depths. A mile was all his horse could muster, and Jess landed in the depth beside him.
The snow in a frenzy, Jess shifted his gaze to the canyon wall, already dimming behind the swirls that were increasing with every blink of his eyes and then made the switch to the homeward trail. The tug from the family's stoutest line being pulled with steady jerks, Jess had to look away, the pain marring his features as he mentally severed the line to make the direction change. It would be the cave, not the house that would receive his entry this night. His boot met the threshold with a shiver, his body producing a continuous repeat, for dank darkness was all the interior would afford.
"Dad-gum, Slim," Jess muttered, taking a step backward as a gust that seemed to have stones in its throat coughed, spewing a mass of flakes into his face. "Why do you gotta always be so blamed right all the time?"
At least Slim made him take his heavy coat. Without it, the chill would already be scraping away at his bones, yet Jess knew that it could anyway, if the blizzard had more than a few hours of wrath in store. He had nothing with him. No other provisions had been taken in his hasty exit from the ranch. A few matches were in his pocket, but what use were they when any fuel was buried under a frozen pile? One of the first things Jess had done when the cave swallowed him up was search for the remnants of the last occupant's fire, but there were only stones in place. Not even a mound of ashes could rest in their center, for the wind, unable to be fully blocked by the wide mouth, rushed in to sweep the ground of what used to be a stack of wood.
Jess' surveying hadn't stopped at the charred rocks, but concluded at its rear. It wasn't a deep cave, but there was an extra curve in the rocks that would suffice as an extra wall. Huddled up in its corner, he could withstand the elements for a day, maybe two, but Jess wasn't ready to start the count. Not yet. Once light was completely diminished he would tuck into its shelter. For now, it was the storm that received his attention, viewing the raucous display with mixed emotions. Wonder, guilt, and the unmistakable jab of fear.
This wasn't his first time stuck out in a snowstorm alone, but when he had made a former mine his protection, Jess had been nothing more than a drifter. No one thought of him, and he thought of no one. During this snowstorm alone, there were three that would be thinking of him, and Jess' thoughts in return were on the three. Particularly on one.
"Don't you come looking for me, Pard," Jess said, his teeth gripping his lip as white's worst display stood in front of him. "This wind could cut you down faster than a gunman's perfect aim. You're needed at home far more than me, you hear?"
Of course Jess knew Slim couldn't hear, but he said it aloud anyway, his eyes looking into the nothingness that was an unfathomable amount of snowflakes. He knew that Slim had better sense than to burst into a snowstorm looking for a wayward wanderer, but the thought was still there that he could be making Pine Ridge his aim at that very moment. Jess wasn't snug, but he was out of the most brutal force, which was information that Slim didn't obtain. No matter how strong a body and mind could become, during danger's loudest threat there were always negative thoughts, and Slim's could be treading in that dark direction if inside of his imagination, he placed Jess' frame in the wide open, with nothing to stop the cold from taking away his every breath. If Jess hadn't taken the extra miles of his ride and gone past Pine Ridge he could be stuck alone in that very place of imminent death.
Jess slapped his hands against his arms, yet the repetitive action did little to provide warmth. To think that only a few hours before that his underarm had produced sweat. Jess gave his head a slight shake, his body starting to turn toward the rear, but then his eyes swung back to where the line of light and dark were divided. The wind was making more noise than a room full of squalling babies, yet there was still another sound working through the scream that his ears were attaching to. Something was coming.
The snow was being driven by the fiercest force, yet there was something close by breaking through the layers that covered the ground. Narrowing his eyes to try to spot a shade darker than white, the thoughts of what kind of animal could be seeking the cave's shelter ticked off in Jess' head. Bear, cougar, deer, coyote or wolf. Or man. The movement was closer now, and the sound of the steps had a distinct rhythm. Down with a sink, out with a spurt, up, down, again and again. The world was a distorted mess, but it was clear enough that Jess knew it had to be made by two legs. He didn't think it could be possible, but Jess felt the stab of anticipation run through his veins that his best friend was turning into a rescuer and his boot inched forward, the curl of a smile changing the shape of his face.
"Slim," Jess said, but even as he projected his partner's name, it was erased right in front of him. The man stumbling into the cave was too short and heavy to have the moniker of "Slim" attached to him. "Who are you?"
"Abe Dowling," came the reply, muffled under a scarf that took up most of his face, but it was audible enough for Jess to grasp, and like he did during all strangers' introductions, Jess ran the name through his memory, this time, coming up empty.
"Jess Harper." He didn't bother thrusting his hand out for a shake, keeping both tight to his armpits, but Jess did let his head nod with the greeting. "You get lost, or just an unfortunate traveler out in the storm?"
"Both. I should've listened to my brother and not split from him this morning."
Sounded familiar, so much so that Jess felt the pang of regret that he chose otherwise hit him solidly in the chest. "You aiming for Laramie?"
"No. Just someplace between there and Cheyenne. Got to reconnect with my brother."
It was kind of a strange destination, having no real marker, and as the Sherman ranch fit in the wide area on the map between the two towns, Jess couldn't help but press further. He didn't know who this Dowling was, and despite his memory not being stirred by a name built by reputation from Jess' past life, maybe he and his brother still belonged on a wanted poster. "Gonna be kinda hard to do in all that weather out there if you don't got an exact landing."
"I'll take my chances," Dowling said, his eyes starting to focus on something in the cave other than Jess. "Hmm. I've got a need to be fulfilled. And it looks like I've come to the right place."
"Sorry, Mister," Jess said, giving his head a shake, pausing so that his chin could give a point behind him to where the dark set of eyes were pointed. "I ain't got provisions to wait out a storm for one man let alone two. The only water's in that pile of white outside."
"I'm not looking for beef and beans or a pillow to lay my head on. I told you I need to meet my brother."
"No fool is foolish enough to go out in that kinda weather," Jess said, his cheeks taking on added color as he realized that he could have been listed under his own definition, but the shade also had reason to intensify by what was finally making his blood find heat. Anger.
"I'm still planning on going."
"How you gonna get there? I ain't seeing no wagon that can plow through that kinda stuff that's falling outta the sky. Dad-gum, if there were, I'd be on it heading straight for home."
"I'm looking at what'll get me there, Harper. Your horse. Old Friend snapped his leg awhile back. Had to put him out of his misery. Yours'll have to do."
"You ain't taking my horse." Jess' voice dropped below the temperature of the air, but the man across from him had the same chilling ability.
"I have to," Dowling answered, his hand brushing aside his jacket to reveal the gun that he wore on his hip. "And I'll get him one way or another."
"Careful," Jess warned, his legs naturally moving to perfect his stance, and in doing so, the holstered gun was no longer underneath the flap of his coat. "It's talk like that that'll only get you a permanent marker. I'm wearing one of them too and you better know I'm willing to use it, because I ain't giving up my horse."
The stare seemed to stretch for an eternity, unbroken by nothing but the necessity to blink as the challenger weighed the choices in front of him. It was obvious by looking at Jess' body that he wasn't inexperienced with using the weapon, but Dowling couldn't dismiss his need for a mount, yet by viewing the man alone, he knew he would not be getting the horse without going over Harper's downed body. When time came into existence again, the decision had been made, and a hand went for the gun that he wore. Jess' hand followed, the winning speed already granted to the former gunfighter before the handle was touched, making the shot that came out of his gun the only one that struck flesh, while the opposing bullet skipped an uneven line far in front of Jess' feet.
When the cave's floor was met with a thud, the gun still resting in his clasp, Jess slowly walked toward Dowling's body. Jess pushed the released revolver far away from the man who had fallen belly-first, and then kneeling by his side, Jess slid his hand underneath the body to feel for a pulse. "Dad-gum."
He was still alive.
Holstering his weapon, Jess used both hands to turn Dowling over, the action enough to bring the man out of painlessness, and when the waking sensation collided with the hole in his upper abdomen, he let out a whimpering moan. The head lifted, but it was rapidly dropped back to the cold stone, the knock against his skull threatening to pull him back under, but Dowling was strong enough to push away unconsciousness' black-clad hands. His breath came in rough spurts through his parted lips, the sound close to a cry, but it was closer to a call.
"Easy," Jess said, his gloved fingers working to unbutton the man's jacket, already soiled with his blood.
"Zack?"
Jess frowned, his hand pushing a wadded bandana into the hole. "No, it's Harper. Lie still."
"Zack?"
"Must be the brother's name." The repeat had been even more imploring, and Jess felt the need to lower his head as Dowling's eyes focused on the highest reach of the cave's ceiling, calling for a man that was nowhere near.
A fresh gust of wind tore through the cave with a whine, drawing Jess' focus back to the opening and the circus of snow on the other side. He was so cold his teeth could have been chattering, yet they were clamped together, hardened by a jaw that was locked at its tightest, for the blizzard's toll has just gone up higher. Much higher, because the cost was that of a man's life. It didn't matter that Dowling was possibly an outlaw, or a man brought low by desperate circumstances that would go so far as to steal his horse, just that he was a man, bleeding from a bullet triggered by his own hand that could die if he didn't get him help. Jess was a short stretch beyond four miles from the kind of help that could save him. The ranch, Jonesy's moderate skill, but perhaps the most important element home had was food and warmth. The cave had nothing except a small crevice of stone in its rear that could become Dowling's grave.
Pulling himself to his feet, Jess walked to the cave's mouth, the wind fighting to jerk the hat from his head before he even made it to the fully open air. There, Jess strained his eyes through the snow, the sight beyond three feet a blur of nothingness, yet there were still the accurate points of north, south, east and west to go by, even if everything else was missing, including another important factor. Amidst the monotony of the screaming snow, Jess had lost all sense of time. He could gauge nothing by the gray and white mass, and his watch, left in the drawer with his short supply of belongings could tell him even less. All Jess knew was that during a normal day, the sun would still be shining. But for how much longer until its set would swallow the white and make it black?
"Zack? I need you, Zack."
Jess shook the snow from his arms, but by the way his body trembled, he wouldn't have needed his hands, and it wasn't just the cold that was biting his skin. He had to do something to help Dowling, but how far that compassion could be extended, Jess knew hung in the wide expanse of the unknown. The last blizzard he was stuck in, although seemingly unending, lasted a mere night. This one could rage for more than one, or stretch into such a dangerous territory that he could succumb to its freezing power, and Jess didn't have a hole inside of his belly that needed a plug to slow its steady flow. The other man did, and time, no matter where it stood on a clock, was preciously ticking away.
"Zack, please help me. I don't know how much longer I can hang on."
Men had been moved before. To tears, or another emotion that involved heartache, but this feeling in Jess' inner being literally moved his feet. Stopping beside Dowling, Jess tried to mumble some words of comfort for the man, but whether they were heard or even understood, he couldn't detect by the shadows that circled the man's eyes. And then, his feet back in motion, Jess' hands were reaching for his horse, tied in the farthest edge of the cave where not a single snowflake could touch his hide. But that was about to change.
"I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I gotta." The bedroll was cast aside, but the rest of Jess' gear was set in place on his mount, the final step of the process giving his horse a steady pat on the neck. "He'll die if I don't get him some help."
But he left out the most difficult part. They all could die. Dowling, Jess, and Traveler.
Jess led his mount to where Dowling lay, the bedroll coming open to cover the man's body, and then with a hoist that used every muscle from Jess' shoulders all the way down to his calves, he fitted him on the saddle. The change of position knocked the man into oblivion, which might have been welcome from pain's viewpoint, but from the cold's side of things, it could make their venture harder to endure. With the way Dowling flopped forward over Traveler's neck, Jess used his rope to secure the body, and ending with a tight loop around his leg that received a knot at the pommel, Jess tugged on the reins.
The storm was laughing at him, taunting him to enter its frigid version of hell, but it didn't know the loudest taunt had already been made, using a brother's name with quiet, pained force. He was going to tread into the unknown no matter how loudly the storm goaded, but once in it, there would be no further need for it to tease, because then it would be doing its damage.
His handkerchief would do little to protect his face, but it was all that he had, and he pulled the thin fabric over his nose and mouth and then with an encouraging note that was made by the pursing of his lips, Jess took a forward step. "I'm sorry, Son. But you and me's gotta go back out in this."
The first foot and hoof hit the snow with silence, but inside of each core was a fearful scream that would have put the storm to shame.