Chapter Six

A song, a song high above the trees…

"I warned you."

"I know, I know."

"And now you gotta put a bullet in him. I'll do it if you want me to."

"Sure, and give you a gun so you can turn it on me after. I'm not dumb, Harper."

"You said you weren't gonna push your horse this hard either, and now look at him."

He couldn't do anything but. The horse that had carried him far too many miles was now slumped in the snow, unable to rise on the leg that had snapped.

"How'd I know there was a crevice buried here? As far as the eye can leap, everything looks the same. Funny thing, though. How'd you not fall into it?"

"My heel clipped it. Didn't you see me slip?"

"No. But you could've shouted a warning," Singer said, holding the butt of his gun over Jess' head. "Or did you want to see my horse fall?"

"Watching you fall woulda been a pleasure, but your horse, no. I wouldn't inflict punishment on an animal. Although I can't say the same about you, Singer. It ain't my fault you didn't listen to what we were up against. I warned you."

"I know. I know."

Jess looked at the raised gun, so close to crashing into his skull that his scalp prickled in the exact place that would get hit if Singer chose to drop his hand. "Well, are you gonna give your horse the easy way out or not?"

Nodding, Singer changed the position of his hand, holding the gun to the most merciful place and then pulled the trigger. "Sorry, old friend."

Turning away from the death, Jess' eyes stared at another version of the same, straight up into the falling snow. "Now what?"

"We keep going." Putting the saddlebags over his shoulder, he motioned the six-gun at Jess. "Start walking."

"It's gonna be slow going."

"Then start walking so we can get there."

"What's gonna happen if you fall down and break your leg too?"

"Then I'll shoot the both of us. Walk!"

"Fine." Turning away from Singer's gun, Jess motioned toward the higher ground. "Gonna have to start climbing, though."

"Is this the start of the pass?"

"Not yet."

"Well, is it visible from here?"

"No. You'll just have to trust me that I'm getting you there."

"Trust? You think I'm going to put my life and all the money out of Laramie on trusting you?"

"You're the one that decided to rob a bank in a snowstorm."

"Yeah, and I thought it was a pretty good idea at the time. How'd I know it was going to keep snowing until Easter?"

"Wanna give up?"

"No. I want to see you marching through the pass. I thought you'd get me there last night."

"How far do you think we've come? It only feels like we've gone a hundred, but it's only been a coupla miles from where you let Mike go. There's still a fair stretch to cross before we get there."

"Then you better get moving, because I want that pass crossed before dark hits again."

"Fine. Hope you ain't weak-kneed. Gonna have to use everything you got to be able to walk that far before nightfall."

"Don't worry about my knees, just worry about your own skin. I can put a hole in you anytime, Harper. Having a red trail underneath you just might make things easier for me to follow, especially if we don't make the pass in time and I decided to keep walking you after dark."

The threat pushed him forward, but it wasn't the bullets in Singer's gun that Jess was thinking about. His thoughts were of home, with Daisy, Mike and Slim. He had told Slim to have a happy Christmas. It really couldn't be. Not now. If Jess hadn't become lost in time, then the church bells should be ringing tomorrow. Jess didn't even know if he would see tomorrow come. Likely Slim had guessed the same date. By the anguished shout that tore through his partner's mouth, Slim knew what Jess was taking Singer into, what he was taking his own hide into.

There would be tears this Christmas day. More hugs than usual. Dinner wouldn't be the same. The amount of presents wouldn't add up just right. While he felt for what his family would endure, Jess wasn't mourning this loss.

No man didn't fear the day of his death. Jess just looked at the dark veil differently than most. Maybe because death had been chasing him since his youth, Jess was familiar enough with it's presence to not hide from it, to not run the other direction when it finally caught up with him. He had always figured a bullet would have the final say of his life. A snowstorm was never among Jess' imaginings of his last day, but that didn't mean Jess was going to try to hide or run now. This kind of gravestone could be faced without flinch because Jess wouldn't be falling alone.

Jess gave Singer a glance. This man, a robber, killer, kidnapper, he needed to die. Jess had no weapon on him, he was so numb he couldn't fling his fist properly, but he did have something to use. The snow, the wind, and Jess had Summit Pass to do it in.

Looking up, Jess saw the entrance to Summit Pass. It looked even narrower, more treacherous buried under feet of snow than when he had stared into its doorway earlier in the year. With it still snowing, still blowing, and now that they were this high, the sound had changed to a whistle that sang a frightening tune, Jess figured they wouldn't make it much farther. It would be this very night. He would die on Christmas Eve, or the actual day, depending on where the clock would strike when he could hold his head up no longer.

Jess took a deep breath. There really was no fear. While he wished that there could have been a more fitting farewell with Slim, it was more important that the man responsible for all of their hurt was going to die alongside of him. Maybe it was just as well. He couldn't say goodbye anyway. Variations had come through his mouth, but not the actual parting cry. But then again, Slim was his partner, his closest friend. He deserved more than silence. Looking again to the land that would bury him, Jess figured he should offer it now, before the snow stole everything, even his breath.

Sniffing, Jess blamed the cold, the wind, for his sudden tearing of both soul and vision, but Jess knew what the actual cause was. His steps were numbered now, and Jess would have to let go. Jess' eye releasing one droplet of his pain, he gave the parting word, hoping that the true sentiment could travel by his heart, all the way to the ranch house.

Merry Christmas, Pard.

Breaking through a thicker layer, Jess placed a hand on his thigh, giving the tight muscles a short rub. "You serious about not setting up camp tonight? I ain't got no guarantees that I'm gonna be able to find my way after dark."

"I don't intend on going until midnight. But I want to reach the pass."

"Good luck."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"All right, I know it's not going to be easy. But I've got all the incentive I need in these saddlebags. And all the incentive you need is in my gun."

"Whatever you say, Singer."

"Once we get there, is there any kind of cave we can nestle into?"

"Not on this side, there ain't. It's straight up to the top, with more hollows and cubbyholes opening up in the down slope."

"Then that's where we'll aim for. Keep going, Harper! Or do I have to start shoving you along?"

"I ain't stopped. There's a rock here that I gotta get past. Careful, it's real slick."

Stretching his leg around the boulder, Jess' fingers dug into a ledge to assist his climb. Built out of the hillside at a slant, it couldn't hang onto the snow like the rest of the ground. Using it as his support, Jess pulled his body over the rock and turned back.

"You'll have to holster your gun."

"Huh?"

"You need both hands to get through."

"You better not be lying to me."

"I ain't. If you're so doubtful, gimme your hand. I'll haul you over."

"Sure you will, you'll haul me straight into a hole somewhere."

"There ain't any holes."

It wasn't a lie if Jess didn't know a hole existed. It was only waiting for some weight to be put on the frozen sheet before the deep span could show its existence. The gun unable to be released, Singer's leg performed similarly to how Jess climbed through, but his mistake was to not grab the same ledge. Sticking his left hand down, his fingers went straight into the snow. There was no grip, no support, and scrambling for something more solid, Singer's backpedal turned into a wild flail as he began to go down.

"Singer, gimme your hand!"

He wouldn't even have time to reach. The cavern's covering breaking with the delicacy of glass, the snow crumbled underneath the outlaw, hurtling him to whatever lay below. A large amount of powder whooshing down with him, Jess leaned over the edge, but there wasn't enough white to lighten the dark abyss. Singer was down deep, yet he hadn't been lowered to his grave. Jess could hear his groan.

"Singer?"

"Help me, Harper. I'm hurt bad."

His boot heel trying to dig in, at the slide of his toe Jess knew he was teetering too close and he quickly pulled back, lest he became the earth's second victim. Hand back to the little ledge, Jess' breaths could begin to slow. He wasn't going to fall. But he had to look into the hole, he had to know.

"How bad is it, Singer?"

"It's my head, Harper. It's bleeding. And my ribs. I think they're busted."

"Sounds like you got yourself in quite the fix."

"You have to get me out of here."

"I do, huh? A dirty no-good thief and killer, and I gotta rescue you. That don't sound all that right. More like I should just leave you right where you are."

"Harper, you can't!"

"Why not?"

"I still have my gun, Harper."

"What're you gonna do with it?"

"Shoot you if you don't get me out of here."

"All you're gonna do is bounce some bullets off the rocks down there. You just might take your scalp off. You ain't gonna fire."

"Harper, I mean it. I'll kill you!"

Jess shook his head. "Not when you'll be dead yourself."

A burst of profanity flinging from his tongue, he fired. It would turn out that Jess was right. The bullet couldn't take the proper leap through the opening. Hitting the rocky wall, the ricochet missed Singer's flesh, but the gun would still have opportunity to bury him. With the reverberating noise making another avalanche to cascade on Singer, the outlaw added another frigid shower to fall over him when the echo of his scream boomed from the cavern's bottom to top and back down again.

Stepping away from the hole, Jess slid over the rock to where the ground was already proven to be sturdy. And there Jess stood, staring at the land that could take him away from certain death.

It would be a hard journey, but if he could reach the road and the ability to push through every hour, even the darkest ones, Jess knew he could make it home before Christmas came to an end. Even with the early hours of tears, hugs and presents not adding up just right, their celebration would still have a chance to come. There would be laughter, joy, even the brighter kind of tears, truly an event that would get remembered at every Christmastime in the future.

The desire to make it home made Jess take a step, and then another, until he was close to running through the snow.

"Harper!"

Then he stopped. His lashes lowering, Jess' head followed the somber direction and bowed. Jess couldn't leave the man there to die. No matter who he was, what he had done, Jess couldn't walk away. He had to save Singer's life. But how could he do it without succumbing to the same cruel fate? He had nothing. Out here among the snow was an even bigger nothing. He couldn't save Singer like this. But Jess knew he had to try.

Turning back toward the hole, Jess' foot slipped, twisting his knee until he cried out. Immediately his fingers felt for the bone, gingerly squeezing as he expected to feel the separation and the gasp that could turn his world black. The color, even if all that was around him was solid white, would remain. Jess' leg was whole. But it was in this close call that gave Jess his answer.

Singer's horse wasn't so far back that he couldn't reach it before dark. The rope attached to the saddle would be Singer's saving grace. There was something else there that would have the same description, only in this case, for Jess's wellbeing. The walk to Summit Pass promising to be long and hard, Singer had set out wanting little to carry. With money-filled saddlebags and a gun on his hip deemed as enough to get him through, Singer had left the rifle behind.

Already anticipating the feel of the rifle in his clasp, Jess started back down the hillside. Again he was stopped. Hearing his name, Jess' head shifted into the wind to listen. The screams were so tortured that Jess' face couldn't stop from wincing. Singer really thought he was being left to die.

Jess cupped his hands around his mouth. "I'll be back, Singer!"

Listening for a reply, Jess kept his stance solid. With nothing but the whirl of snow and wind biting into his ears, Jess wondered if Singer heard him, or if he had, even believed him. He couldn't linger to find out if there would be another call, one of gratitude or a heartrending plea. Needing to get the distance traveled before dark, Jess grit his teeth, hoping all of his tenacity wasn't used up yet. The walk to the dead horse wasn't going to be a slow one.

Even with his legs giving their hardest punches, darkness was hovering when Jess reached the carcass. Looking up, Jess gauged how much time he had left. There definitely wasn't enough. It wasn't possible to hear Singer from this distance, yet somehow Jess could hear the man's pitiful call, going quieter, getting weaker. Jess shook his head. He knew the sound only existed inside his mind, born from guilt, or maybe from his own fear, but Jess couldn't shake the outlaw's voice off so easily.

He had promised Singer he would come back, but the vow's fulfillment would have to wait until morning. Right now, Jess had to make sure he survived this night. Undressing the horse, Jess pulled the saddle to a tree trunk and beat the bottom edge of the leather chair into the snow. The top leaning against the rough bark so that it wouldn't fall, Jess draped the blanket over the entire saddle.

Snuggling into his private cave, Jess pulled the collar of his jacket tighter to his neck and then crossed his arms over his chest. If there was any body heat left inside of him, he should make it through. Closing his eyes, Jess waited for sleep to claim him. It didn't come. Maybe it wasn't supposed to. Slim had told him more than one story about a body freezing to death in his sleep. While Jess had already made peace with the storm taking him out, he still wasn't willing to hand his life over to it. He would stay awake, and alive, until gray replaced the black at dawn.

It was still snowing when Jess crawled away from his manmade shelter. If there was any encouragement in this view, it was that the flakes had changed in appearance. Sugar crystals barely cascading down on gentler air, Jess hoped the worst of the storm was behind him. If only he could turn to what really was behind him. Home sat that way, along with a fire, coffee, food and Christmas presents. But Jess already made his decision. Draping the rope's coil over his shoulder, Jess put his boots in motion, going back up to where Singer had fallen.

But was he alive? Through the long night of keeping himself awake, Jess hadn't only thought of the kind of memories that would ease his mind. He couldn't help but think of Singer. If the hole wasn't enough protection, Singer might already be dead. As the muscles in Jess' legs loudly protested their upward climb, again he thought of Singer's fate and what likely had happened sometime in the night.

Was he going back for nothing?

There wouldn't be an answer until Jess leaned over the hole. "You still in there?"

Looking into the light, Singer gasped. The voice was like a song, high above him. But at least Singer didn't have to take his thoughts down that unfamiliar road of believing or misbelieving to know if it was an angel coming to call. He recognized the gritty undertone and smiled.

"Harper? That you?"

"It ain't a jolly red elf. I'll have you out in a coupla minutes."

"How?"

"I went back to where your horse fell. I got your rope."

"You're a genius, Harper."

"Sure," Jess answered dryly as he tied the rope around what he hoped was the kind of rock that could never be moved out of its position.

Tossing the loose end into the hole, Jess tucked the rifle under his armpit. He quickly let it slide back into his palm. While he wanted to show Singer who was now in control, Jess knew he couldn't carry the rifle down with him. The surprise would have to wait. Leaving the rifle at the rock's base, Jess gave a tug on the rope and satisfied in its security, he dropped into the hole.

Gun pulled, Singer gave it a solid thrust into Jess' middle. "What're you doing, Harper?"

"You asked me to help you, didn't you? Well, that's what I'm aiming to do. But it'd go a whole lot better if you didn't have that gun sticking into my stomach."

"All right," he said, slowly giving the gun a retreat into his holster. "But know I'm keeping it close enough."

"Don't know why you gotta be so stuffy all the time."

"I'm a bank robber and a killer. That answer your question?"

"I reckon. Where're you hurt?"

"Like I said yesterday, my head. And my ribs."

Tipping Singer's head toward the light, Jess looked at the gash that had sealed itself off. "It ain't all that bad."

"No. My side's worse though. I'm having a hard time breathing."

Hands to Singer's sides, Jess probed the man's flesh, pulling back when Singer's mouth dropped with a haggard wheeze. "Feels like a coupla ribs are outta shape. I reckon when I pull you up, I better put the rope around your armpits instead of your waist. You'll have to help me out, though. Use your feet to climb up the edge."

"I'll try."

"You better do more'n that if you wanna live," Jess said, securing the loop around Singer's chest. "That'll hold, all right, so I'm gonna climb back up and then pull you out."

"Wait."

"What for?"

"Get me the saddlebags! You think after all this I'm going to leave them here?"

"And here I figured you'd discovered that your life was worth more than what's stuffed inside," Jess said, slapping the saddlebags over Singer's shoulder.

"Sure it is, but you're saving me. So the money matters all over again."

"Only if you get to spend it."

"I'll spend it. Don't you worry about that."

"I ain't. My only thought is getting outta here. Can I get on with climbing up there so I can pull you on out or are you gonna sit back down and count your winnings?"

"Go ahead, Harper," he said, giving Jess a slap on the arm, but then he did a peculiar thing. He held on. "And thanks."

"Yeah, sure."

"I mean it, Harper. I didn't expect you coming back like you did. But don't you expect me to go easy on you just because you're saving my life."

"I don't."

"Then why do it?"

There was a fiery retort there, but Jess kept his tongue quiet. He wasn't even sure himself why he came back. Maybe because Jess wasn't a killer. Maybe because it was Christmas. Maybe it was best to not figure it out.

Back up to the rim, Jess pushed the rifle farther away from the hole. Since the man viewed everything with the vision of an outlaw, there was a good chance the moment Jess pulled Singer over the edge that the iron would be the first thing Singer saw. Then the next note of thanks could be voiced with a bullet.

The rope again in his clasp, Jess offered a pair of short tugs to signal the man below him. "All right, Singer. I'm ready to pull."

"Don't go too fast!"

"How can I when the snow's gonna bunch up to my hips? Don't complain, just climb!"

The snow would end up growing higher than Jess' hips. He didn't realize Singer's weight until he was pulling on the man. While fat wasn't the word, sturdy could suffice, and with every pull, Jess dug himself deeper into the difficult terrain. The snow rose to his belt line, leaving him close enough to be buried that it wouldn't be a swift escape once Singer was on the same level.

Jess looked at the rifle. What had been within an arm's reach now felt like a mile away.

"Dadgum."

"What'd you stop for? Get me out of here!"

"All right. It was nothing. Just had to brace my feet better. You're almost out."

One more step backward, another couple of inches the snow climbed toward Jess' belt buckle, and then he was at the final moment. Singer's belly hitting the rim, Jess gave a hard tug, swinging Singer's body away from taking another drop.

"I'm out," Singer said, rising up to his knees, but then his head started to tilt. "What's this?"

Tearing his body out of the snow, Jess lunged for the rifle. Being injured, Singer should have been slower, but stuck in the worst winter had to offer, neither man could move fast. Singer's boot jutting out, he caught the iron before Jess' fingers could wrap around the handle. Sliding on the white surface, the rifle fell into the hole. No one would touch it again.

Hand to his side, Singer pushed his pistol into Jess' chin. "So you thought you'd save me just to drag me back to Laramie, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"Well, it's not happening. You're still getting me out of here, Harper. So walk!"

"Ain't you too hurt to go on?"

"When the only other choice is dying, then yes, we're going on, even if you have to carry me!"

He almost had to. An arm going around Singer's waist, Jess walked, but he was no longer going up. Hoping that Singer's pain would blind him enough to not notice the change in direction, Jess trudged a new path in the snow. It would have been easier to put miles behind them if it was only Jess' body taking one step at a time. With Singer attached to his side, Jess was working too hard to make this trail turn into the amount of miles he would have liked to come. But their time of travel wouldn't all be lost. Jess knew where he was going, knew what was ahead of him and with the destination in his sight, Jess let go of his load.

"What're you stopping for?"

Panting, Jess nodded ahead. "There's a shelter over there in the rocks. I reckon we could use one right about now."

"I can't make it out. My eyes are getting fuzzy. How do I know you're not going to drop me in another hole?"

"You don't. But I reckon since I'm the one dragging you along, you're gonna have to have some faith in what I say."

"I don't, so keep walking."

"I'm beat, Singer. If you think you can go on by yourself, go ahead. I'm gonna get outta this snow awhile."

"All right, Harper, but there better not be any more tricks."

Jess shook his head as he tucked his arm around Singer and walked toward the small cavern built inside the rocks. All of his tricks left behind him, there really were none now, unless surviving another night would be considered a trick. No, for that they needed a miracle.

Leaving Singer in the back corner of the stone shelter, Jess looked back out at the land of white. The last of the snowflakes were reminiscing with how this storm got its start, randomly dropping out of the brighter sky. Off to the north, it was starting to clear, a promise of even colder air when the stars started to pop.

"I feel like that kid the other night. I'm shivering so hard that I just might start begging you to make a fire."

Jess turned his head to look at the outlaw. "I ain't got anything to light, unless I burn that money you've got."

"You touch even a dollar bill and I'll blow your ear off," Singer said, gun out, lining the sights with the side of Jess' head.

Jess shrugged. "You're gonna have to stop making threats, Singer. They don't mean much to me right now."

"I don't know how you can say that while looking down a gun barrel."

"It's easy," Jess said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You're just as close to death as I am."

"That may be. But this gun still makes me in control. Now ease your hands out, real slow."

"Unless your horse was carrying a derringer that I didn't know about, what makes you think I've got a weapon in my hand?"

"No derringer, but you might've found a knife. Now do as I said. Ease your hands out, real slow."

Obeying, Jess pulled his hands from his pockets, one empty, the other full. But there was no reason for Singer to pierce Jess' ear. "I stuck some hardtack in my pocket when I met up with your horse. Here. I know it ain't much, but it's food."

His scowl lightened. "Thanks."

Taking a bite of his own stash, Jess sat down next to the outlaw. "Merry Christmas, Singer."

"What?"

"It's Christmas today. So I wished you a merry one."

"What's so great about it?"

"Well, you ain't dead. Neither am I."

"I guess I can be happy about something. And this shelter's definitely it. Since we made it to one of the caves you were talking about on the other side, we must've reached the top of the pass. How far are we from where it bottoms out?"

"Too far."

"But we should be almost there! We've come at least three, four hours today alone."

"We ain't going toward the pass anymore, Singer. I turned us around when I pulled you outta that hole."

"Then where're we headed?"

"To the south trail that leads into Colorado."

Hardtack forgotten, Singer filled his hand once again with his gun. "You told me you'd get me out of this place! You were lying! You never intended on getting me anywhere. You only made me climb that hill to kill me. I oughta shoot you right now!"

"Go ahead. Your death'll be a lot harder than mine. Freezing 'til you're a solid brick ain't all that pretty."

"Why, Harper?" He paused through his hard stare at the man next to him. "You knew you'd die up there too."

"Like I told Slim. I got what I wanted for Christmas when I sent Mike back home. I spent a lotta years without, so I don't need any gifts. Dadgum, I don't even need my life."

He scoffed so hard it sounded as if Singer was about to be sick. "You're not a savior of the world."

"No. The one I saved is enough."