William Johnstone - Winter Kill

But then, when Salty said they were only two more days from the Canadian settlement, the wind began to pick up during the night and by morning was blowing fiercely out of the north. It brought snow with it, a thick, blinding white cloud. The wind was blowing so hard that it seemed to be snowing sideways, Frank thought as he struggled to help the women take the tents down before they blew away.

“Should we try to wait it out?” he asked Salty, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

The old-timer gave a vehement shake of his head. “No, we gotta keep movin’, at least until it gets worse! The dogs can handle this, and we’ll just have to put up with it, too. Whitehorse ain’t but about twenty miles from here, and there’s a cave about halfway there where we can hole up if we have to. I’m hopin’ this storm ain’t the real thing, though, and it’ll blow over ’fore noon.”

That hope proved to be futile. The blizzard continued to rage, filling the air with fresh snow. Frank let Salty lead the way, since the old-timer was the only one among them who had the vaguest notion where he was going. At Salty’s suggestion, they ran ropes from each sled to the one behind it, so they wouldn’t get separated in the storm, and Frank tied both horses to the rear sled and trudged along beside Conway. Once again, the weather and their surroundings had forced them to slow almost to a crawl.

Salty had to be relying on instinct, Frank thought on more than one occasion. He couldn’t possibly see well enough to know where they were or where they needed to go. The countryside was a blur of white, broken only occasionally by stands of pine or frozen creeks. These streams were covered with thick, solid sheets of ice, and there was no danger of falling through them. The temperature had been well below freezing for more than a week and dipped below zero most nights, according to Salty.

Frank wasn’t all that surprised when Salty led them straight to the cave he had mentioned. The instincts that the old-timer had developed as a hunter, scout, stagecoach driver, unofficial lawman, and range detective came in handy now. Frank didn’t even see the cave at first, just a big mound of rocks. They had to approach at an angle before the gap between two boulders that led to the black mouth of the cave became visible.

Salty turned to wave the others ahead. “In here!” he shouted over the wind.

At the rear sled, Conway asked Frank, “What if there’s a bear or two hibernating in there?”

Frank smiled. “Then I hope they don’t mind having some company for the night.”

Conway just shook his head.

Still, the young man had a good point, Frank thought. He took his Winchester and strode forward through the piled-up snow, past the other sleds, until he reached Salty’s sled.

“Pete wanted to know what we’ll do if there are some bears asleep in there!”

Salty shook his head. “There won’t be! The Injuns been usin’ this cave for years and years, maybe centuries. Bears don’t like the smell o’ wood-smoke and men.”

Frank went into the cave with him and saw that Salty was right. He lit a match and saw in the glow that the cave’s relatively narrow entrance opened out into a roomy chamber with an arched ceiling and rings of soot on the floor where campfires had burned in the past. Salty pointed to the ceiling and said, “There are enough cracks up there to let the smoke out. Shoot, we’ll have all the comforts o’ home in here. There’s just one thing I’m worried about.”

“What’s that?” Frank asked when the old-timer didn’t go on.

“Bein’ able to get outta here in the mornin’,” Salty said. “If that storm dumps enough snow, it’ll drift up over the entrance, and we’ll have to dig our way out. That can be dangerous. I’ve heard tell about fellers who tried to tunnel through deep drifts gettin’ turned around so they didn’t know which way they was goin’. They just kept diggin’ and diggin’ until they froze to death or the snow collapsed on ’em and suffocated ’em.”

“We’re not alone, and we have ropes,” Frank pointed out. “If something like that happens, we can tie a rope onto whoever tries to tunnel out and pull them back in if they get into trouble.”

Salty nodded slowly. “Yeah, that could work, I reckon. Well, let’s get the rest o’ those folks in here. I’d planned to stop here tonight anyway, even before this storm blew up. This’ll be the first night in more’n two weeks we’ll really be warm.”

Frank was looking forward to that, and he knew the others were, too.

They left the sleds and the horses outside. The cave was rather crowded anyway with fourteen people and three dozen dogs in it, and the smell got a mite thick, too, Frank thought. But as Salty had promised, after they built a fire in the center of the chamber, the heat from the flames reflected back from the rock walls and ceiling and filled the place with warmth. They were able to take off their parkas, and after a while, everyone shed their coats, too. They had coffee and hot food, and Frank discovered to his amazement that he was actually starting to feel human again. He wasn’t the only one, either. The women began to talk and laugh. Color came back into their cheeks. Life sparkled in their eyes. Frank even saw Conway and Jessica steal off into a corner to share a few kisses.

Exhaustion was quick to catch up with everyone, though. The women spread their bedrolls and crawled into the blankets, and within minutes they were all asleep. So were Salty and Conway. Snores came from both men. Frank remained awake for a while, taking the first guard shift. Under the circumstances, he figured one sentry at a time was enough. There was only one way into the cave. Salty and Conway could take the other two shifts, and as always, Dog was the best sentry of all.

The fire had burned down to embers but was still giving off a pleasing warmth when Fiona got out of her blankets and came over to the rock near the entrance where Frank was sitting. He moved over to give her some room, and she sat down beside him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked her quietly.

“We’re almost there, Frank,” she whispered. “We’ve almost made it.”

He nodded. “I know. Sort of hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“You don’t really think anything else could possibly go wrong when we’re this close, do you?”

“I wouldn’t go saying that. You’ll jinx us.”

She looked worried, so he chuckled and went on. “No, I’m just joshing you. I think we’ll be fine.”

“Then…I have a proposition for you.”

His smile went away. “You’re not talking again about me being your partner, are you? I told you, I’m not interested in being in the mail-order bride business.”

“After everything that’s happened on this trip, I’m not sure I am, either,” Fiona said. “But whatever happens in the future, we’re going to be stuck in Whitehorse for the next few months, Frank. We might as well enjoy them…and while we’re at it, maybe we could think of some new business venture that would interest you.”

The offer was tempting in a way, but as Frank sat there in silence for a moment, he knew his heart wouldn’t be in it. Despite what had happened between them in Seattle, Frank knew that he and Fiona Devereaux weren’t meant to be together, even for a winter in Whitehorse. And he wasn’t going to lead Fiona on and allow her to think anything different.

“That’s mighty nice of you,” he said, “but I don’t reckon it’d work out.”

Her face hardened in the faint glow from the fire. “You’re sure about that?” she said.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Is it because of Meg? I saw you kissing her that night, you know. Blast it, Frank, she’s not that much younger than I am.”