A Rocky Mountain Christmas (25 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas
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C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-
THREE
On the mountain
Smoke and Duff took turns pulling the sled. Unlike the first part of the journey where pulling the sled had been laborious, it trailed behind Smoke as easily as if it weren’t loaded. They followed the wide, flat path set out in front of them, amazed at how much easier it was to climb and how clearly it could be seen. The snow shimmered so brightly it looked as if it were being illuminated by lanterns.
Duff had never seen anything quite like it and he stared at it in curiosity. “’Tis a miracle of sorts, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, here it is, so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face, and yet the path before us is glowing in the moonlight, almost as if it had lights of its own.”
“Yes. You could say it is a miracle.” Smoke looked at the old mountain man who was leading them. He was about twenty feet ahead of them, moving as easily if he were walking across a parlor floor. As before, there was an aura around him, an enveloping silver glow that looked, not as if it were shining on him, but as if it were coming from him. That same light spread out along the path they were following.
Smoke knew, of course, it wasn’t possible the light was coming from the old man. A full moon could be really bright, especially when reflected by the snow. No doubt what he was seeing was, as Duff had said, a reflection of the moonlight.
Smoke had climbed, hunted, and trapped on this mountain, many, many times in the past. He knew every inch of it as well as he knew his own backyard. But he had never seen a path like that, and had no idea how it had gotten there. He wasn’t one to turn his back on opportunity, though, so he kept putting one foot in front of the other, following the path that was making their climb incredibly easy.
“How much farther do you think it is to top of the pass?” Duff asked.
“Do you smell that?” Smoke called back to Duff.
Duff took a deep sniff, then smiled. “Yes. I do smell it. It’s smoke.”
“And not just any smoke. It’s coal smoke. That means we are very close now. I would say we are within a mile, maybe even closer.”
“I don’t know how you found this trail,” Duff said. “But it has certainly made our effort much easier.”
“I didn’t find it. Preacher did.”
“You have mentioned Preacher before. Tell me about him.”
“Preacher is as fine a man as I’ve ever known. One of the original settlers of Colorado, he came out here to live in the mountains when there weren’t more than two or three hundred white men within a thousand miles. He trapped beaver, lived off the game he took—bear, deer, elk, mountain goat.”
“Why do call him Preacher? Was he an ordained minister? A man of God?”
“He wasn’t an ordained minister, but he was, and I have to say is, definitely a man of God.”
“Aye, ’tis a pleasure when one can find such a man, and a treasure when you can call him your friend. You are truly blessed, Smoke.”
“Yes, I am.” Smoke looked back to the path in front of him, but the old mountain man was gone. “Where did he go?”
“Who, Preacher? What do you mean where did he go? I thought you said he had died.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s true. Preacher is no longer with us.”
They continued their trek up, following the path to the top of the mountain.
“What now? We’re at the top of the mountain, and there’s no train,” Duff said.
Smoke realized then that the path had taken them all the way to the summit of the mountain, to the very top of the cut, above the pass. Approaching the edge very carefully, he looked down and saw the train, or rather, what could be seen of the train, well below them. It was sticking out from a high wall of snow, almost like an arrow protruding from a target. Lights could be seen in the windows of the last car and the coal smoke they had smelled earlier was drifting up from the chimney.
“Come over here, but be careful,” Smoke said. “This is the top of the cut and there’s a sheer drop here.”
Duff approached, and Smoke pointed. “There’s the train.”
“Aye. ’Tis easy to see why they are trapped. There’s a mountain of snow in front of them.”
“And behind them as well. It looks to me like this train could be stuck here for a month.”
“How are we ever going to get them out?” Duff asked.
“Let’s feed them first, then we’ll worry about getting them out,” Smoke proposed.
“My word,” Duff marveled.
“What is it?”
“Look at the moon. I thought it must be full, but it’s only in its last quarter. Now, would you be for tellin’ me, how a moon like that could produce enough light to make our path glow as it did?”
“I don’t know,” Smoke admitted. “Maybe it was the way the snow was spread out, just right to reflect what light there was.”
“That can’t be it. I mean it was almost like the snow itself was lighting our way for us. I know that sounds strange, but if you will look back at the path you’ll see what I’m talking about. It—” Duff paused in mid-sentence. “Smoke? The path!”
“What about the path? Is it still glowing?”
“There is no path!”
Duff’s voice was laced with awe. “Look behind us, Smoke. There is nothing there but rocks and trees and snow. There is no path, lit or unlit. How did we get here? We could not possibly have come up that way.”
“You aren’t making sense, Duff. We’re here, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. We are here, which means there had to be a path. We just aren’t standing where we can see it clearly, that’s all. Anyway, what is behind us doesn’t matter. We still have to get down to the train.”
“Aye. ’Twould be a shame to have come this far, and not be able to go the rest of the way. There’s nothing now but the sheer wall of the cut. And even if we could climb down it, how would we get the sled down? If we show up without any food, we’ve just made the situation worse. We have to go on, or our trip has been nothing but a waste of time.”
“I am determined that it not be a waste of time,” Smoke declared. “We will get there, and we will deliver the food.”
“Aye, ’tis my belief as well that we will succeed. I
dinnae
think the Good Lord would be for bringin’ us this far if we
cannae
go on.”
“Let’s wait until sunup. I’m sure we’ll find a way. If nothing else, we’ll just push the sled over, then find a way to climb down.”
“I’m putting my trust in you, my friend. You haven’t failed us yet,” Duff avowed.
“I thank you for your vote of confidence, Duff,” Smoke replied. “I just hope I can live up to it. What do you say we take a breather for a while?”
“Good idea,” Duff replied.
The two men sat down in the snow and leaned back against the sled.
“Duff, do you believe in ghosts?”
Duff chuckled. “How can I not believe? I’m from Scotland. Do you not know the story of the Scottish King MacBeth and Banquo’s ghost?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“’Tis a story told by Shakespeare. I’ll quote a bit for you.” Duff extended his arm.
“What are you holding your hand out like that for?”
“Have you never been to a Shakespearian play? “Sure m’lad and ’tis necessary for me to establish the mood, tone, and tint.”
Duff began reciting, as if on stage.
“Avaunt! and quit my sight!
let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!”
“Very good,” Smoke said.
“So, why did you ask me about a ghost? Have you seen one?”
“I don’t know exactly what I’ve seen,” Smoke replied. “Let’s nap until daylight.”
“Yes, we seem to have lost our mysterious light, so it probably is smart to wait until daylight before we look for a way down,” Duff agreed.
After a few more minutes, both men had drifted off to sleep.
On board the train
As they had on previous nights, Luke and Jenny were sitting side by side in the very front seat of the car. They were protected against the cold by her coat and the serape, and by their body heat.
She could hear Luke’s deep, measured breathing, and knew he was asleep beside her. She knew also it was more than just the wraps and the shared body heat that warmed her. It was something else, some visceral reaction she was having to his closeness.
As she thought about it, she found the situation a little frightening. When she knew that he was going to be gone for four years, and that she was being forced to leave Pueblo, there was a certain degree of detachment between them. They were like that passage from one of Longfellow’s poems:
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness.
That very detachment protected her. She could enjoy his company and lose herself in fantasy. As long as she realized that it was but fantasy, she wouldn’t be hurt when it didn’t come to pass.
But everything had changed. Luke wasn’t going to jail, and she wasn’t being banished from Pueblo. What did that mean? Would Luke return to Two Crowns, and she to the Social Club? If they met on the street, would they acknowledge each other’s presence? Or would they look away, and pass each other with no outward sign that they had ever even met?
It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair to have met someone she could truly love, only to have that love denied her. And she was certain that once they returned, that love would be denied.
Jenny wept quietly.
 
 
On the other side of the car, Herbert Bailey drummed his fingers on the cold window and looked out into the night. It was his fault everyone was stuck on the mountain pass. He was the one who’d insisted the train move on ahead—because he knew the railroad would lose money if the trip wasn’t completed—even though Don had been hesitant about it. And by that foolish insistence, he had put every soul on the train in danger.
He had believed the railroad would recognize his boldness, and as a result, his position and authority, to say nothing of his salary, would be increased, even though he had only been a conductor for a couple months.
Bailey had been a telegrapher, but though the job was interesting and provided a much-needed service to others, he’d wanted the money and prestige that came with being a railroad conductor. Looking into the dark night he remembered his father’s attempt to change his mind.
“You are being foolish, Herbert,” his father said when Bailey told him of his intention. “You are the only telegrapher in this town. If you leave it may be a long time before we can get another to take your place. What if there is an emergency, a need for a message to go forth, and there is no one to send it? It could be a matter of life and death, with no one to turn to, because you are gone.”
“But, Father, don’t I have to think of myself, first?” Bailey had replied. “I will make much more money as a railroad conductor, and people will respect my position.”
“You put money and importance ahead of all else. The mark of a good man is his service to others. Don’t you know that when you die, the only thing you can take with you are the good deeds you have done? When you answer to the Almighty, will He be more pleased that you made money and had prestige by your position? Or would it please Him more if you could bring Him a lifetime of service to others?”
“I must do what I must do,” Bailey said.
Bailey’s father handed him a Bible. “I know you have made your decision, so I will not try to change it. But I ask, only that you read Luke twelve, verses sixteen to twenty-one.”
To satisfy his father, Bailey read the recommended text.
“And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully:
“And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits?
“And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods.
“And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.
“But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?
“So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.”
His father’s attempt to change his mind had had no effect, and Bailey had eventually become a conductor. Ironically, it wasn’t his position as conductor making a difference during the Red Cliff Special ordeal. It was through his ability as a telegrapher. His father had been right. If he died during this ordeal, what good would the increased salary and position be?
He knew the small town of Higbee had been unable to locate a replacement telegrapher. Making a fist, he tapped the window once as if confirming his decision. When he got out of this situation, if he got out, he intended to go back to his old job as telegrapher for the town of Higbee.

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