On the mountain
“I dinnae believe my eyes,” Duff said. “There is a path down the sheer side of this cut, and ’tis no ordinary path, but one that is wide and flat and hard packed with snow for the sled.”
“I told you we should wait until sunrise.” Smoke grinned.
“You mean you knew about this path? Of course you did. You live here. How could you not know?”
Smoke was silent for a long moment. Taking a deep breath, he said honestly, “I’ve never seen this path before in my life.”
“How could you nae see it? ’Tis almost like a ramp.”
“It wasn’t here before.”
“Then how did it get here?”
“I don’t know,” Smoke admitted. “Maybe it was created by the storm. Weather does such things, you know.”
It took less than ten minutes to reach the bottom of the cut, where they found themselves at the back of the train. A black man lay on the ground just off the track, a dark shadow against the brilliant white of the snow.
Duff knelt on one knee and put his hand to the man’s neck, though the fact that he was lying there, unmoving, and with both eyes open, made any further investigation unnecessary. “Och, the poor man is dead.”
Smoke and Duff climbed up onto the rear platform and tapped on the door to the car.
Nobody inside the car had seen the approach of the two men and the sled, so the tapping on the door was unexpected.
“It must be Santelli!” Puris shouted.
“Everyone down, behind the seats!” Matt called, pulling his pistol and pointing it toward the back.
The passengers scurried to follow his directions.
The door opened and two men bundled in winter coats came in.
“Hello?” Smoke called out tentatively.
“Smoke!” Matt shouted happily. Holstering his pistol, he rushed to him. “You made it!” Matt grabbed Smoke’s hand and pumped it vigorously.”
“Why is it I always find you bottom-lip deep in snow?” Smoke teased.
Matt grinned and turned to Smoke’s friend. “Duff !”
“Aye. Happy to be able to help.”
Matt called the others from their hiding places and introduced Smoke and Duff. “I told you he would come.” Matt couldn’t stop grinning.
The passengers expressed their happy gratitude.
“Oh, by the way, is anyone hungry? I’ve got food on the sled outside,” Smoke said.
Several people made a mad rush for the door.
“Wait, wait!” Smoke held up his hand. “We’ll bring it in to you. It’s only bread and sardines, but that should hold you until we get you out of here.”
“Praise the Lord, he’s done delivered us loaves and fishes!” Troy called out.
“By golly, Troy, you are right!” Bailey acknowledged. “But I hope it’s more than five loaves and two fishes.”
Smoke stood on the rear platform as Duff took the food from the sled and passed it up to him. Smoke passed it to Matt, who handed it to Luke. Luke and Bailey opened the tins of sardines and passed them out, one each to everyone in the car. There was no crowding or feeling of fear that they wouldn’t get their share. On the contrary, everyone was solicitous for others.
“Mama, this is the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever et,” Timmy said.
Clara laughed. “You mean the best that you have ever eaten, and I agree with you. It is delicious.”
“I wish Becky could enjoy it,” Barbara said.
“So do I, Sweetheart,” Anita said. “So do I.”
“Becky?” Smoke asked, the name piquing his interest. “You have someone here named Becky?”
“Yes. She is Senator Daniels’s daughter, and she has been ill from the time we left Pueblo. Over the last twenty-four hours she has been unconscious.” Matt looked around to make certain he wasn’t overheard, then he added, “I’ve been trying to keep their spirits up, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure she is going to make it.”
“And her name is Becky? You are sure that it’s Becky?”
“Yes. Why are you so curious about that particular name?”
“Because I—” Smoke stopped in mid-sentence. Duff already thought he had gone mad. If he told Matt he’d seen Becky out on the trail, that she had come to him, Matt would also think he was crazy. “Nothing. I would like to see her.”
“She’s over here.” Matt led Smoke over to the seat where Becky lay, still covered by Matt’s coat. Senator Daniels and his wife were sitting together in the seat across from Becky, eating their sardines and bread.
“This is my friend, Smoke Jensen,” Matt said.
Senator Daniels started to get up, but Smoke held out his hand. “No, don’t get up.”
“Mr. Jensen, I know I speak for all of us when I tell you how thankful we are for your courage in tackling this mountain to bring us food and hope. I didn’t think you could do it, but here you are.”
“I heard about your daughter,” Smoke said. “I just thought I’d like to take a look at her.”
“Of course you can,” Millie agreed.
Smoke pulled the coat down slightly, so he could get a better look at her. He wasn’t at all surprised she was the same little girl he had seen on the mountain. He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t surprised. He reached down to place the back of his hand against her cheek. “I have come, Becky,” he said quietly. “Can you hear me? I have come.”
“We are so worried about her.” Millie’s voice shook a little.
“She will be all right,” Smoke declared.
“I pray that you are right.”
“I know that she will be all right,” Smoke said emphatically. “I can’t tell you how I know, but I know.”
Tears welled in Millie’s eyes, and she took Smoke’s hand in hers, the same hand that had touched Becky’s cheek, and she raised it to her lips to kiss. “I believe you.”
Smoke nodded a confirmation to the Danielses and he and Matt walked back to the rear of the car. Matt tore off a piece of bread and picked up an open tin of sardines. “How in the world did you two get up here? I know this mountain, if you don’t come up through the pass, it is practically impossible to climb.”
“It was easier than you think. We just followed a path up to the top, then down here. Look, you can see the path coming down the—” Duff stopped in mid-sentence. There was no path. There was nothing but mountains of snow all around them. There weren’t even any tracks in the snow left by Smoke, Duff, and the sled.
“What happened to the path? It’s just like when we were coming up the mountain. That path was gone, too. I don’t understand.”
“The path left when Preacher left,” Smoke said quietly. “He is the one who led us here.”
“Preacher?” Matt exclaimed. “Who are you talking about?”
“You know who I mean by Preacher. You met him,” Smoke pointed out.
Matt shook his head. “Excuse me, but you aren’t making any sense. Preacher is dead. At least the one I know. But you’re saying Preacher led you here. Unless you are talking about someone else.”
“No, I’m talking about the same one. He’s the one that guided us here.”
“Smoke, sure ’n did the cold freeze your brain?” Duff asked. “There was no one that guided us here. You led and I followed, every step of the way. I heard you mumbling and talking to yourself, but you were in the lead. There wasn’t anyone else.”
“Then how do you explain there is no path, and that we left no tracks?” Smoke asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
“I can. The path was there when Preacher was there. And when Preacher left, the path left. And I’ll tell you something else. Becky?”
“What about Becky?” Matt asked.
“She was there, too. I saw her on the mountain. The same little girl that’s lying over there on that seat.” Smoke pointed toward the Daniels.
“That’s impossible,” Matt argued. “She hasn’t left this train. She’s barely been conscious. So how do you explain that you saw her?”
“I can’t explain it. Just like I can’t explain how I saw Preacher. But I saw Preacher, and I saw Becky.” Smoke was absolutely positive what he saw.
“Smoke, Matt, sure ’n let’s not be for tellin’ this tale to anyone else,” Duff suggested. “They’ll think we’ve all gone daft. And I don’t know but that they would be right.”
“Look!” Bailey suddenly shouted, pointing to the track behind them. “The track behind us is clear! We can get out now.”
“I’m not walking back down this track,” Senator Daniels fussed. “I’m not leaving Becky.”
“There’s no need to leave anyone,” Don the engineer advised. “And there’s no need for anyone to walk. I’ve made this run so many times I know every inch of this track. All we have to do is disconnect this car . . . and we can roll all the way back to Buena Vista.”
“I believe he is right,” Bailey said.
“Let’s try it,” Smoke suggested.
Matt, Smoke, Duff, Bailey, Don the engineer, and Beans the fireman worked on the coupler until they got it free. Then they strained against the car, pushing to get it started.
Suddenly, a bullet careened off the side of the car, raising sparks where it hit the metal frame, then ricocheting off with a loud, echoing whine.
They turned to see Santelli, Kelly, and Compton coming toward them, all three with pistols in their hands. Santelli fired again, and again he missed.
Smoke and Matt drew their pistols, but Don called out. “No! Don’t shoot! You might start an avalanche!”
Even as he shouted the warning, they heard a roaring thunder high up in the mountains. And, though they could hear it, as yet, they saw nothing.
“Get the car moving! We have to get out of here!” Matt shouted, and the men turned to the task at hand, starting the car to roll, slowly at first, then more rapidly, then faster still, until gravity took over and the car started rolling on its own.
Don and Beans jumped on first, then Smoke and Duff. Bailey and Matt were the last two aboard, barely catching up to the car, so fast was it rolling.
“Don’t you leave us!” Santelli shouted. “Don’t you dare leave us!
Don’t . . . you . . . leave
. . .”
Beyond that, Matt couldn’t hear him. Santelli’s words faded as the distance increased, and were quickly silenced by the growing roar coming from the mountaintop.
“Look!” Bailey shouted in awe, pointing to the top of the mountain.
A fifty-foot-high wall of snow, half a mile wide, came sliding down the side of the mountain, its churning white wave filled with rocks and broken tree trunks.
Santelli, Compton, and Kelly stood looking up at it, their mouths and eyes wide open in horror. Matt was sure they were crying out a death scream of terror, though from his position on the car, he couldn’t hear anything but the roar of the avalanche.
The gunmen disappeared under the huge wave of snow, rocks, and broken tree trunks as the avalanche smashed against the train cars, crushing them as if they were naught but children’s toys.
As the men watched from the free-rolling car, the avalanche was increasing in width as more and more of the mountain began coming down. It moved fast, racing down the track behind them, easily matching the car in speed.
Fortunately, it wasn’t going
faster
than the car, and therefore, not overtaking it, though Matt feared it might, so close was it behind them. He literally willed the car to go faster until, finally, the distance between the cascading snow and the rapidly moving car was increasing. After a full minute, he was satisfied the car was no longer in danger and went back into the car.
The engineer had gone to the other end of the car and was standing out on the platform, looking ahead as the car swept rapidly down the track. Matt joined him, and felt the cold air knifing through him as the car rushed ahead.
“We are really going fast,” Don said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never gone this fast.”
“I don’t know how fast we are going, but we needed every bit of it. The avalanche was coming down the track toward us, and we barely escaped.”
“Count off twenty seconds. I’ll count the number of rail joint clicks. The number of clicks we hear in twenty seconds will tell us how fast we are going in miles per hour.”
Matt counted off the seconds, but when he got to twenty, Don shook his head. “We’re going too fast for me to get an accurate count, but my guess would be that we are doing at least sixty miles per hour.”
“Wow! Sixty miles per hour? Is there any danger of us running off the track?”
“I don’t think so. Most of the turns are long and gentle. Though, certainly none of them have ever been taken at this speed.”
“What do you say we go back inside the car and get out of this cold wind?” Matt suggested.
“Yes,” Don replied. “That’s a good idea.”
Duff was standing just inside the car, and he had a question. It was a question Matt had already considered, but hadn’t yet asked.