William Johnstone - Winter Kill

Dog hadn’t returned after the fight. Frank believed that the big cur had pursued the bushwhackers. He was a little surprised that Dog hadn’t come back by now, though.

Salty was right about Dog saving his life. As it was, things had been touch and go for a while. Salty’s face had been blue when Frank went down the hill to the fire Conway had built, and the old-timer had been shaking so hard that it seemed like the few teeth he had remaining might come flying out of his head. The sled that had been left behind by the bushwhackers had some fur robes on it, so Frank had grabbed a couple of them before starting down, as well as a blanket.

He and Conway had worked the soaked clothes off Salty. They were already frozen and crackling. They dried him as best they could with the blanket, then wrapped the robes around his spindly shanks. Combined with the heat from the fire, that gradually eased the chill that gripped the old-timer. They used branches to rig a framework next to the fire so that his clothes could be draped on it and dry out while Salty was warming up.

Now, dressed again and studying the trail left by the bushwhackers, the old man was still cold but no longer in any danger of freezing. As long as he didn’t come down with the grippe, he would recover from his plunge through the ice.

“At least since there’s not much wind and no fresh snow falling, we shouldn’t have any trouble following their trail,” Conway commented.

“Yeah, and that’s exactly what they’re counting on,” Frank said.

“What do you mean?”

“Smith didn’t send those men just to bring the women back. They were supposed to kill the rest of us.”

Salty grunted. “They ain’t too good at their jobs. The only one they managed to send across the divide was a blind man.”

“I’m sure they thought you’d drown in the creek and that they could gun down Pete and me. When it didn’t work out that way, I reckon they must’ve panicked a mite. That’s why they grabbed the women and lit a shuck out of here. But then they started thinking again. They don’t want to go back to Skagway and have to tell Soapy Smith that we’re still alive. So they headed for that old cabin you mentioned, Salty, instead of the settlement.”

“You mean they’re settin’ a trap for us.”

“And the women are the bait,” Conway added.

Frank nodded. “That’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Salty scratched his beard. “So if we go after ’em, we’ll be doin’ ’zackly what they want us to do.”

“Yep.”

“But we’re gonna do it anyway.”

“Damn straight,” Frank said. “Just maybe not the way they’re expecting.”

They couldn’t formulate any plans until they had gotten a look at the situation facing them. What Salty remembered about the cabin wasn’t encouraging. According to him, it sat out in the open, with no cover around it, so it would be impossible to approach without being seen.

They were getting ready to set out on the trail, with Frank riding Stormy and Conway and Salty doubling up on Goldy, when Frank suddenly spotted something moving across the snow in the distance to the east. His heart leaped as he thought he recognized Dog.

A moment later he knew for sure that was his old friend and trail partner bounding toward them. Dog’s barks floated to their ears through the vast Alaskan sky.

“Thank God!” Salty exclaimed. “I was afraid the critter might’ve froze after bein’ dunked in the creek like that.”

“Dog’s coat sheds water pretty well, and it’s thick,” Frank said. “Plus he never stays still long enough to get cold.”

Dog ran up to them, and Frank greeted the big cur by wrestling with him for a moment. There was a shallow wound on Dog’s hip where it looked like a bullet had grazed him, but that was the only injury Frank could find.

“The fella he jumped got a shot off, but that was all,” Frank said. “You’re like Salty and me, Dog. You’re slowing down a mite.”

Salty snorted. “Speak for yourself, mister! Now that I ain’t froze half to death no more, I’m as spry as ever.”

“Maybe we should hitch Dog to that sled,” Conway suggested. “We might need some of those supplies before we get the women back.”

Frank nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Salty can ride on the sled.”

“You’re gonna ask the big feller to pull me after he done saved my life once today already?” the old-timer said.

“I don’t reckon he’ll mind. Let’s get to work mending that harness they cut.”

The repairs didn’t take long. They hitched Dog into the harness, and Salty climbed onto the runners and grasped the gee-pole.

“You followed those varmints before and then came back for us, Dog,” Frank said. “You lead the way. Trail!”

Dog seemed a little confused by the harness and the weight attached to him, but he threw his muscles into the effort and ran along through the snow, pulling the sled behind him. Frank and Conway flanked the sled on the horses as Dog followed the trail left by the bushwhackers.

The marks left in the snow by the sleds weaved around hills and through valleys. A range of jagged peaks loomed over the spectacular scenery. Farther to the north, White Pass cut a gap through that range, and on the other side of the pass was the glacial ribbon of ice that led to Chilkoot Pass.

For now, though, Frank could only be concerned about rescuing the women, not the rest of the journey to Whitehorse. Without the women, there was no reason to keep going.

Salty had said that the cabin was about two miles east of the place where they had attempted to cross the creek. But that was as the crow flies, and the trail weaved back and forth so much that they actually had to cover at least twice that much ground. It was late in the afternoon, with the light beginning to fade, when they reached the top of a wooded ridge that overlooked a wide flat. In the middle of that flat, as Salty had said, stood a ramshackle old log cabin.

White smoke curled from the cabin’s stone chimney.

“Well, I reckon they’re in there,” Frank said as the three men came to a halt. He pointed to the five sleds and the large gang of dogs outside the cabin. That was more proof the men they sought were here.

“What do they think we’re going to do?” Conway asked. “Just walk right up and demand that they give us the women, so they can shoot us?”

“They won’t expect us to do anything that stupid,” Frank said. His eyes narrowed as they studied the terrain around the cabin. About a hundred yards behind it, there was a long, irregular line where the snow had drifted several feet deep, forming a snakelike hump that eventually ran within twenty feet of the cabin’s rear corner. He pointed it out to Salty. “I thought you said there wasn’t any cover around the cabin. What’s that?”

“There’s a old fence along there, most of it fallen down. It ain’t enough to give a man any cover when there’s no snow. And when the snow’s deeper, it ain’t drifted up like that. That hump’s completely covered. Reckon when the snow’s like this is about the only time a feller could hide behind it to sneak up.”

“Is that what we’re going to do?” Conway asked.

“You and Salty are,” Frank said. “We’ll wait until dark, though.”

“It won’t make much difference,” Salty pointed out. “Sky’s clear. There’ll be enough starlight they can see us almost plain as day against that snow when we stand up and try to make it to the cabin.”

Frank shook his head. “No, they won’t, because I’ll be distracting them.”

“How you gonna do that?” Salty wanted to know.

Frank didn’t answer immediately. He dismounted and went to the sled, where he started pawing through the bundles of supplies that were packed onto it.