The Traherns #1 (29 page)

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Authors: Nancy Radke

BOOK: The Traherns #1
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CHAPTER FOUR

There were four Indians, on foot, and they yelled and lowered
their lances. Luke shot one as they tried to rush him, then a second, but the
others came through quickly.

I had dropped to my knees, and tried to avoid Pride’s hooves as
he started backing up. One of his hooves went off the trail and I figured we
might lose him even as I shot past him into the Indian that was trying to kill
Luke. I didn’t know if I would hit the horse or Luke or the Indian, with everyone
scrambling on that ledge, but Luke’s luck held and I hit the Indian. The fourth
Indian ran up, all his momentum carrying him forward, and when he threw himself
at Luke, Luke simply dropped down and let the man go over him. I don’t know if
he figured Pride would stomp on him, or if I would shoot him, but then I didn’t
have to. As he went past Luke, he went over the edge and out of sight. It all
happened so fast, it was over in a heartbeat, and I found my legs a mite
wobbly.

“Mahala? You all right?”

“Yes. You?”

“The first one nicked me with his lance before I could get my
rifle up.”

“Where?”

“My left arm. I think his hand hit the overhang and spoiled his
aim. I shifted a little, too.”

“How bad?”

“Nothin, compared to that bear.”

We tried to lead the horses across the dead men, but they
wouldn’t go, so Luke rolled them onto the side where there was a little extra
cliff sticking out and dropped them onto that.

He took their knives. Good steel. He placed one on the ground
where I could get it as I passed by. We carried them with us across the
mountain trail. We didn’t encounter any more Indians, but we did come upon a
cougar that was desirous of passing. He had quite a time making up his mind to
let us go through. We could see it didn’t sit right with him, but he finally
left the trail and circled around below us. He could leave the trail, but we
still couldn’t, although it had widened here, giving our skittish horses some
dancing room. If we’d met him on the overhang section, we would probably have
had to shoot him.

The trail broadened, finally, and I took some of Luke’s old
bandages that I’d washed and saved, and bound up his arm. It was more than a
scratch, but hadn’t gone deep into his arm.

Now, traveling together, you just learn some of the other
person’s habits and likes and quirks. Luke liked things clean. He kept a neat
camp and picked up after himself. He treated Pride well, and talked to him
kindly. Like a good pair of shoes, we got more and more comfortable together.
And like a good team of horses, we shared the load, learning to work together.

The only blot on my liking the fellow was his insistence on
taking that there gold pan with him. He took more care of it than himself.

The notch opened up into a whole range of mountains, one on top
of another, as far as we could see. The view from the top of the pass was
spectacular, but it was cold and so we didn’t linger.

Those mountains were unlike any I’d seen before. They weren’t
limestone with gentle ridges and large caves. They were solid granite, the
Rockies, and they made what I had called mountains look like foothills.

“Granite. Here’s where the gold is found,” Luke said.

I wanted to take that gold pan of his and hit him with it,
preferably over the head, to see if I could knock some sense into him. Instead
I nodded and we rode off down the trail because clouds were forming.

About an hour later, it started to snow, and we were still on
that trail with no shelter in sight.

“We’ll make camp as soon as we reach those trees,” Luke shouted
back to me.

I looked down. They seemed a mite small from this height, but
where we were, right now, there were no trees. No caves. No clefts in the rock
where we might take shelter. Just an open ridge with snow coming down, heavier
and heavier.

The snow made things slick, the footing bad. We rode at a fast
walk, as fast as we could for as long as we could, then had to slow down for
the horses began to slip and slide.

Soon we were barely moving. The wind had picked up and the snow
was coming in sideways. Luke got off Pride, and I dismounted too.

“Can’t see much where I’m going,” he said when I walked forward
to join him. “I’m afraid I’ll lead us off a cliff.”

“We’ve got the rope,” I said. “I don’t want to tie onto a horse,
but we can tie to each other. We can’t stop here.”

“We’ll do that.”

He tied one end around his waist and I took the other end and
walked back to Rosie. I got to thinking that he could pull me off with him, so
I took the end of that rope and laid it over the saddle horn. Just one loop, so
I could let go of it if Rosie fell, but if Luke fell, she’d be able to hold
him.

We slipped and slid down that mountain, hoping we were still on
the trail. The snow got deeper, I got colder, and exhausted. I didn’t know how
Luke kept going. He had to break trail. I was following Pride, so had a better
time of it.

With the wind blowing the snow around, it started to drift. Big
drifts. It made the going almost impossible. As the horses fought through the
drifts, the snow formed large snowballs under each hoof, so it was like they
were walking on stilts. We had to stop and knock the snowballs off every few
yards. They started to form again immediately.

We weren’t going to make it. I started looking for a place where
we could dig into the snow and make us a snow cave. We’d probably lose the
horses.

Then we rounded a corner of the mountain, and the wind hit us
full force. It also blew the snow away, so here it was just a few inches.

Somehow Luke was still on the trail. I was beginning to believe
in his luck.

We cleared their hooves, then hurried to get ourselves off the
bare mountain and into the trees.

The first trees were scrawny and barely tall enough to call
trees, but as we descended, they quickly became tall and stately. They blocked
the wind, so the snow was around a foot deep in them. I was stumbling and
falling with each step and Rosie was stumbling, too. We were following Luke and
Pride into a sheltered area, when Rosie caught her foot in the rope and fell on
me.

She caught me between herself and a sharp rock and I felt my leg
snap, just above the ankle. She scrambled to her feet, but I stayed down.

Had I broken one of the bones, or both?

I waited, and soon Luke appeared.

“Mahala? What happened?”

“Rosie fell on me. I’ve got a broken bone in my leg. Hopefully
just the one.”

“I’ll carry you—”

“No. Make a camp for us. As close to here as possible. Get me a
couple of sticks to use as a splint, then come back for me.”

“I found a spot. That’s why I left the trail.”

“I’ll be out of your way here. Hurry, but take care. We don’t
want both of us hurt.”

He left and I could hear him tromping down the snow, then the
axe as he chopped branches. I put my gloved hands under my armpits. If I had
been alone on this mountain, I would probably have died here. Even with Luke
breaking trail, it was all I could do to get this far.

I rested. Slept.

“Mahala.” Luke was standing next to me with two sticks and a
bandage in his hand. “Which leg?”

I pointed at it and he bound the sticks tight. He pulled me
upright, then got behind me and lifted me enough to lay my upper body across
Rosie’s saddle.

“Can you hang on?”

“Yes.”

He led her down into a hollow area where he had built a shelter
of branches, about fifty yards off the trail.

“The snow will cover our tracks,” he said, “so if we have to
stay here awhile, we’ll be hard to find. We both need to heal.”

I used him as a crutch and he brought me inside, helped me lie
down on some pine branches, and then he went back outside to tend to the
horses.

He’d picked a good spot, with a couple of tall trees to flank
the lean-to. He brought in our gear and supplies and put it next to me. He
pulled out all five blankets, and put them on me. Then he brought in wood for a
fire.

He cut off the needle end of each branch and added it to our
shelter, then stacked the rest of the branch as wood. It was twilight when he
finished.

“How you doing?” he asked, ducking his head as he entered the
shelter.

“I’m cold. I can’t stop shivering. I almost can’t feel my leg.”

“That’s not good.” He came in and knelt behind me and commenced
to rub my arms and hug me warm. It took a bit, but the shivering finally
stopped. Then my leg hurt.

“I’ll get the fire started,” he said. “As soon as it gets going
good, it should help. I’d look at that break, but it will probably be too
swollen to feel anything.”

“I agree. Our best chance at getting it straight is after it
stops swelling. Have you ever set a bone?”

“A little. I helped my pa set his leg. He was able to walk fine
after it healed. And I fixed my dog’s leg, when a cow stepped on him.”

Luke got a fire going and then set about arranging things in the
shelter. There wasn’t much room.

“We’re up pretty high,” he said as he scooped some snow into the
pots and put them on the fire. “These might not get very hot.”

“As long as it’s warm and water, that’s what counts. Pa had some
dried beans in his pack. Put a handful in one of those after we’ve drunk what
we need, let them soak overnight.”

“Sounds good. I’ll put out your snares once the snow stops and I
find tracks.”

“I don’t think there will be rabbits this far up.”

“There’s a little rabbit-like animal, a coney. I saw a few
before the snow started.”

“I could do with that bearskin, if we had had time to tan the
hide.”

He laughed. “I hope you don’t mind spooning.”

Spooning meant sleeping on your sides, with the taller person
behind the other one so your bodies fit together. It kept both people warm.

“Fine with me. I don’t intend to freeze.” I would have the fire
in front of me and him behind me. I’d be a lot warmer than him. Hurting, but
warm.

He put our guns by our heads, then piled branches where I could
reach them, along with a longer stick I could use to round up the fire.

He arranged the blankets and settled down behind me, moving
close, careful of my leg. I used his arm for a pillow, and fell asleep, warm
and comfortable.

I woke, much later, my leg hurting, saw the fire had almost gone
out, and used the poke stick to round it up. I added more wood, then fell into
a lighter sleep. It didn’t give me too much rest, but I did keep the fire
going.

Luke slept through it all. I think he had used up all his energy
to get us to shelter, and just didn’t have any more to spare. Like a mother
with a sick baby, I could almost sense the fire getting low, and would wake up
and replenish it. So we went through the night.

I had never slept snuggled up against another person, but it
sure made sense. My backside stayed toasty and we both got more rest than if we
were sleeping single.

The next morning I was so thirsty, I could hardly wait for Luke
to melt the snow and give me a drink. My leg was still too swollen to set.

Now it’s not supposed to be proper for a man to even look at a
woman’s ankles, but Luke rolled up my pant’s leg and looked at the break to
make sure nothing had come through the skin. He wrapped some snow-cooled cloths
on it, changing them ever so often to bring down the swelling.

We hadn’t had time to hunt while we were on the dangerous part
of the trail, and Luke considered going out now.

“Wait a day,” I suggested. “I’d like my leg splinted before you
leave. Then if something happens to you, I’d at least have a chance to find
you.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“That’s what Pa said when he left me. I have a piece of dried
ham in my saddlebag, some jerky. Cut the ham into chunks and toss it into the
beans. And throw in some salt. Soon as they’re tender we can eat.”

It seemed to take all day to cook those beans, we were up so
high on the mountain. The water acted like it was boiling, but it wasn’t very
hot.

We ate while the beans were still a little crunchy, but the salt
and ham made it right tasty, and when you are hungry, even groundhog would
taste good.

That afternoon, Luke went out to set the snares and came back
with a porcupine he’d found in a tree. He had knocked it out of the tree with a
branch, killed it and brought it back. He skinned it out a good distance from
the camp so that the wolves wouldn’t follow the smell to us, then brought it in
and set it on the coals.

Porcupine is good eating. Pa had told me of many a trapper who
had saved his life eating porcupine, and Luke and I had a feast. It filled us
up in a way the few beans hadn’t.

It snowed again that night. We slept together same as the first
night, spooned in side by side, and I got to thinking that it was something I
could get used to mighty fast.

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