[Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm (17 page)

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Authors: Janette Oke

BOOK: [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm
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CHAPTER
Thirtenn
A winter blizzard was sweeping across the prairies when the call came in to the RCMP office. Due to poor visibility, there had been a motor accident on one of the local roads. The caller had little further information to provide. “He just banged on my door and asked me to phone the police,” she said, her voice trembling. Pencil in hand, Henry took all the information he could gather. When he hung up, he turned to his two junior officers, who had heard only his half of the conversation. “An accident. Out near the Double Bar Ranch.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“The caller didn’t know.”
Both men were already on their feet. “That’s open country. Be a miracle if we can find our way there in this storm.”
“We’ve got to try.”
All three reached for winter jackets and fur hats. Henry appreciated the fact that both his men responded immediately in spite of the risks.
“Someone needs to stay here in case we’re needed,” he now said. “Laray—that’s been your patrol area. You come with me.”
It was pitch black, and the snow was driving hard. As they left the town, they found themselves guessing as to where the road was. It was even worse when they reached open country.
“This is when I think the Force should’ve never given up their horses,” noted Laray.
Henry had to agree. “What we really need is my dog team,” he responded.
“Dog team? Yeah. What did you do with yours?” .
“No one told me I’d need one here on the prairie. I left the team with the Hudson Bay trader at my last posting.”
They were talking to try to cover some of the tension they felt. Someone was out there in that storm who needed their assistance. Would they make it? It was a sobering thought.
“This isn’t going to work,” said Laray, staring out into the whirling whiteness. “I can’t even see the trees on the side of the road.”
Henry fought grimly to keep the slow-moving vehicle on the track. He felt blinded and disoriented. The swirling snow swept across the windscreen in mesmerizing fury.
“What do you remember from this road, Laray? Anything?”
“It’s about eleven miles to the ranch. You need to swing off to the left about a mile and a quarter from town. There’s a coulee about half a mile further. And a bridge. Wooden. Over the creek. There are some scrub willows along the road for about half a mile, then it’s wide open. Wind sweeps through there like there wasn’t even a cactus to slow it down.”
“Any fences?”
“A few. Yeah. Lazy-Eight has some fence lines. So does that little farm that sits up against the butte. Then the Double Bar has fences around part of their property—not all of it. All together they ranch about three sections, I think. Never really figured it out.”
“Any steep hills or ditches?”
“There’s a couple of good dips. Straight edge on one of them. You don’t want to mess with it.”
“How far?”
“It’s a few miles from the farm site.”
“Any buildings where we might catch a light? Windows? Anything?”
“Usually. Yeah. But I don’t know in this soup. Be a miracle if anything shows up. I’ll roll down the window and stick my head out. See if I can catch any glimpses of the ditch. Watch for anything that might give us a landmark.”
Laray leaned out as far as he could.
The heavy swish of the wiper laboring against the snow along with the howling wind through Laray’s open window limited their conversation.
“You sure we shouldn’t be walking?” Laray asked after a while. “I can’t see a thing out here.”
“Snowshoes. Wish I had my snowshoes.”
“Snowshoes wouldn’t show you the way.”
Henry clamped his jaw tight and fought the car against the wind.
“Hey—slow down,” called Laray. “I think this might be our corner.”
Henry wondered how they could possibly go any slower.
“It is. Yeah—I see the corner post. You’ve got to make a turn to your left. Easy. Easy. Not quite yet. Now. Turn it easy. A little more. I think we made it.”
Laray ducked back in. “That’s the first hurdle,” he said, sounding excited. “Now if we can just follow this road.”
They crawled along, mile after mile. The storm did not slacken, and the snow on the road increased. Henry felt the car slipping sideways and fought for control. Ahead loomed the worst part of the road, and they were already fighting just to stay on it.
“Laray,” Henry said. “You ever done any praying?”
“Not since I was a kid. I let my mother do the praying for me, sir.”
“I think it might be wise for us both to do some now,” he said, not just in idle jest.
They found themselves in the ditch. “Oh-oh. I think we’ve done it,” called Laray. “We’re awfully close to some fence posts here.” He climbed out and put his shoulder to the back of the car as Henry fought to get the car back up on the road. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the wheels were able to respond.
“You see anything you recognize?” Henry asked as Laray climbed back inside.
“I hardly know what to look for. You lose all sense of distance in this white whirl,” he answered, shaking the snow out of his face. “Would it be any faster if I ran along in front?”
“Appreciate your offer, but let’s just hang on for as long as we can. That wind would be pretty hard to buck, and I wouldn’t want to take a chance on losing sight of you.”
“Don’t want to drop over that edge,” he warned.
“Are we getting close?”
“I’ve lost all track,” he said, swearing softly. “Sorry, boss, about the language, but I’ve no idea where we are.”
By some miracle the car clung to the road as they struggled onward against the storm. More than once Henry breathed an earnest prayer. They would be of no help to the accident victims if they ended up in one themselves. He was glad for a praying mother and father. And Laray had said that he let his mother do the praying. Perhaps they were surrounded by even more prayers than he knew.
Laray hoisted himself up to lean out the window again. “Whoa,” he said, letting the breath out in a gasp. “We just passed over that drop-off. We missed the edge by about a foot.”
Henry felt the tension in his chest. So close. Yet still going.
“We shouldn’t have much further to go now. Not if it’s by the Double Bar.”
Through the storm a dark shape suddenly loomed before them. Henry hit the brakes and skidded sideways. He was sure they were going to hit whatever it was, but the car jerked to a stop just short of the shape that showed through the whiteness. Soon other shadows began to move around them. People running, waving arms, and all trying to talk at once.
Henry reached down to turn off the ignition. Already Laray was sprinting from the car.
Henry zeroed in on the man closest to him and called out above the howling wind, “Take us to the site. What’s the situation?”
“This way,” the fellow called back. “Over here.”
Two trucks had collided in the storm. One had been sent reeling into the ditch and landed on its side. The other, though upright, was the most damaged. Henry winced. Certainly there were injuries. How would they ever get them to a hospital?
“How many people?” he asked as he closely followed the man who led the way.
“Three. A couple of young cowboys from the truck in the ditch and a farmer in the other.” Henry was glad no women or children were involved.
“Anyone badly hurt?”
“Could have been worse. One guy has some pretty bad head cuts. He’s up walking around. Couldn’t keep him down. I think the farmer has a broken leg. We laid him in the back of that truck and pulled a tarp over him. Got ’em both over there. The other fella—I don’t know. He keeps saying his head hurts. That’s all I can get from him. My son here and me heard this crash all the way to the barn where we were tending stock. Came on down to check it out.”
“You the one who phoned for help?”
“No, I sent my boy. Over to the neighbors. We don’t have a phone.”
They had reached the truck where the man was lying under the tarp. Henry heard him groan before they even reached him. Laray was already studying the one with the cuts.
Henry did a cursory examination of the leg. It was broken all right. The man would need to be moved—soon—or he’d be freezing as well. Henry turned to the farmer who’d given what help he could. “You say you live close?”
“Right over there.” He pointed with his beard.
“Can we get them over to your house?”
“You’re welcome to do that. The boy and I couldn’t handle all three alone, and we didn’t dare leave them.”
“You don’t happen to have a sled?”
“Kids have a small one.”
“Can you send the boy for it, please?”
All the time they were talking Henry was checking the man with the head pain. He removed his gloves and let his fingers slide over the skull and neck. Dare they move him? Yet they had no choice. If left where he was, he would soon freeze to death.
He spoke to both men now. “Just hang on. We’re going to get you out of here. Get you in where it’s warm.” He took off his heavy jacket and wrapped it around the man’s, upper body. The wind bit and tore at his shirt. Even heavy underwear could not hold the cold at bay.
Laray was at his elbow. “Don’t think the guy’s cuts are serious. Don’t seem to be too deep. He’s bled a lot, but head cuts always do. At least he can still walk. He should be thankful for that.”
“So should we,” said Henry, his voice low. “We’ve got to somehow get these two over to that farmhouse on a kid’s sled.”
They managed it. It wasn’t easy, but they did it. One at a time through the storm. The boy, who turned out to be a strapping young lad whom Henry had seen in town on a few occasions, did the pulling. Henry walked beside the most seriously injured man, trying to ease the bumps and the jolts as best he could. Laray stayed with the other fellow until the sled returned. They would all be glad to get in out of the wind.
The house was small, but the woman who met them at the door quickly put everything she had at their disposal. Henry noticed that she was very relieved to have her husband and son safely back inside. From somewhere in a back room a baby cried. He heard another young voice trying to comfort the infant.
They brought every lamp in the house to shine on the accident victims. Even so, Henry could not determine the seriousness of the head injury. He dared not give the man anything for pain. The woman worked with cold compresses on his forehead, hoping to somehow ease the throbbing.
They knew one another by name. Henry was sure that at least helped ease some of the trauma for the man. However, it also made the farm family more concerned.
“We’ve gotta get us over to that phone and let their folks know they’re here,” said the farmer.
“I’m not sure anyone should be going back out in that storm,” cautioned Henry. The woman looked at her husband, eyes pleading with him to heed the warning.
“I’ll ride ol’ Barney. He’s got a nose like a bloodhound.”
“If you are intent upon going, could you call the office and let my man know we made it?” Henry requested. “And take your rifle just in case you need to signal for help.” The words were more to reassure the woman than to help the farmer.
Ol’ Barney must have done his job, for before they had even gotten everyone settled as comfortably as possible, the man was back.
“Got aholt of yer ma, Davey,” he said. “She was mighty glad to hear you’re all safe.”
“Thanks,” mumbled the young man with the broken leg. He was still damp with sweat in spite of his chill. Henry had needed to straighten the leg and bind it as best he could. Now the woman was busy spooning warm soup into the lanky lad.
It was the other man who most concerned Henry. He needed a doctor, but to try to get to one in the storm would be foolhardy. Henry prayed the storm would blow itself out before it was too late. He accepted a cup of the hot coffee the oldest girl was passing around to the huddled group and lowered himself to the floor, his back up against the wall. He looked across the room at Laray. The young fellow was going to make a great Mountie. He had handled himself well under pressure. Henry was proud to have him as a member of his detachment.

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