Winter Kill Read online

  “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.”

  He shook his head, remembering the night Meg had kissed him. “No, Meg’s got nothing to do with it. She’s got a husband waiting for her, remember?”

  “Yes, of course,” Fiona said, her voice flat. “All right. I understand. I won’t bother you again.” She stood up. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Frank…even if it was just out of a sense of duty.”

  “That’s not—” he began, but she turned and walked back to her bedroll, not letting him finish.

  Just as well, he thought. There was nothing he could tell her that she would want to hear.

  Chapter 31

  Salty’s worries proved to be well founded. The storm piled so much snow in front of the cave’s entrance that by the next morning it was completely blocked by the white stuff.

  Frank and Salty
stood there looking at it for a few moments before Salty said, “Well, I reckon somebody’s gonna have to burrow out through there. You feel like bein’ a mole, Frank?”

  Conway stepped up behind them. “Let me do it,” he said. “I’m the biggest. I can make a good tunnel for us.”

  Frank turned toward him. “Are you sure you want to risk it, Pete? The tunnel could collapse on you.”

  “Well, you’ll have a rope tied to me, right? Just pull me back out, and I’ll try again.”

  Frank thought it might not be that simple, but Conway had a point about being the largest member of the group. He nodded and said, “All right, we’ll give it a try. I’ll get my rope.”

  Everyone gathered around as Conway got ready to try to dig out. Jessica threw her arms around him in a hug that contained a hint of desperation. “Don’t let anything happen to you,” she told him as she embraced him.

  Conway patted her awkwardly on the back. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  He started the tunnel by digging a hole out as far as he could reach without leaving the cave. Then he stretched out on his belly, and Frank tied the rope around both his ankles, so they could pull him straight out of the tunnel if they needed to. Then Conway looked back over his shoulder, grinned at them for a second, and started using his mittened hands to shovel snow behind him as he crawled forward. He packed it on both sides as best he could, to strengthen the walls of the tunnel.

  It was slow going, and it took a long time before Conway’s feet and legs disappeared completely into the tunnel. Salty had warned him not to shout back to them unless it was an emergency, because loud noises could cause the snow to fall, collapsing the tunnel. So a tense silence filled the cave as minutes stretched out into an hour or more since Conway had started digging out.

  Frank knelt by the entrance to the tunnel, letting the rope slide through his hands. They had worked out signals before Conway went into the hole. Two tugs meant they should pull him back as quickly as they could. Three meant that he had made it through the drift safely.

  He didn’t really need to feel the three tugs that came on the rope, though. A shaft of light shot through the tunnel, and Frank knew that Conway had reached the outside world. A moment later he felt the rope go slack and pulled it back through.

  “Who’s next?” he asked.

  “I’ll go,” Jessica said.

  Frank knew she didn’t want to be separated from Conway any longer than she had to, but they all had to crawl out sooner or later, so Jessica might as well go as any of them. He nodded and said, “All right, lie down here and I’ll fasten the rope to you. When you get out, untie it and tug on it three times.”

  Jessica was able to make it through the tunnel a lot faster than Conway had, of course, since she didn’t have to dig her way out. Frank sent the women through one by one; then Salty enticed the dogs to follow him with some dried fish. That just left Frank in the cave. He was glad to be leaving, because that meant they were on the last leg of the trip to Whitehorse, but he was sorry to lose the warmth from the fire, which was burning down to nothing behind him as he crawled out.

  The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky appeared to be clear. The storm had passed, leaving several more feet of snow on the ground. That wouldn’t slow them down, though, Salty declared. They would be in Whitehorse before nightfall.

  Frank had been worried about Stormy and Goldy, but they had made it through the night just fine and tossed their heads in greeting, happy to see him and Dog, as always. He saddled them up while Salty and Conway hitched the dog teams to the sleds. Everyone had already eaten breakfast in the cave, so it didn’t take long before they were on the move again.

  They left the range of hills where the cave was located and entered a long, broad valley flanked by white-capped mountains. Whitehorse was at the other end of the valley, Salty informed Frank, in a great bend of the Yukon River near that stream’s headwaters.

  It was a beautiful day and they were able to make good time. Everyone’s spirits rose even higher. Frank rode alongside Salty’s sled and asked, “What are the chances of getting back to Skagway?”

  “None at all,” the old-timer said, confirming what Frank had suspected all along. They were doing good to beat the worst of the weather to Whitehorse. “That last storm probably dumped a good fifteen or twenty feet o’ snow in the passes. Nobody’ll get through there until it melts off in the spring. If you ain’t willin’ to spend the winter in Whitehorse, you might be able to make it out by goin’ down through Canada, but I wouldn’t recommend it. That’d be a hell of a hard trek at this time o’ year.”

  Frank smiled. “I suppose I can be a Canadian and stay in Whitehorse for a few months.”

  “That’s what I’m gonna do.” A wistful note entered the old-timer’s voice. “Next spring, though, I think I’m gonna head south. I got me a hankerin’ to see the Rio Grande again.”

  That sounded good to Frank, too. But before that would be possible, he had to settle accounts with Soapy Smith. And before that, he had a few awkward months to look forward to, spending time in the same town with Fiona Devereaux, who was still angry with him. With luck, Meg would be out at her new husband’s claim, and he wouldn’t have to see her and think too much about what might have been.

  It took most of the day to cover the length of the valley. The light had begun to fade by the time they reached the settlement. The sight of smoke rising from numerous chimneys was a welcome one. It represented civilization.

  Whitehorse was a bigger town than Skagway, but it was a similar mix of tents, log buildings, and frame structures made of raw, unplaned planks. As the sleds approached, the young women grew more solemn. Maybe they were thinking about the fact that they would soon be meeting their new husbands, Frank mused. Those had to be sobering thoughts.

  The dogs were yapping noisily as they entered the settlement, and that drew plenty of attention. Men stepped out of the buildings to see what was happening. Frank expected some cheers of excitement, but the town was strangely quiet.

  “Over there,” Fiona said, pointing to a large, two-story building with a sign over its entrance that read HARGETT’S. “That’s where we’re supposed to go.”

  “Looks like a saloon,” Frank said with a puzzled frown.

  “Well, it may be, but it’s also a hotel. I have rooms booked there for everyone. I lost the letter I got from Mr. Hargett in the shipwreck, but I’m sure he’ll honor our arrangement.”

  Frank hoped so. From what he had heard about Whitehorse, the place was as full up with gold-hunters as Skagway had been, maybe more so.

  The sleds came to a stop in front of Hargett’s. The snow in the street was deep enough that it was level with the porch. The women were able to step from the sleds right onto the porch, where they congregated nervously. Frank dismounted and tied Stormy’s and Goldy’s reins to one of the posts that supported the awning, since the hitch rails were covered up.

  Fiona pushed back the hood of her parka and said, “All right, ladies, let’s go inside.” She turned to Frank and went on. “Would you come with us, Frank? You’ve been with us all the way, so I’d like for you to see the end of this.”

  “Well, sure, I suppose I can do that,” he said with a smile. “Be nice to be there for the finish.”

  Meg turned and gave him a sad smile as the group started to file into the place. He sensed that she was saying good-bye to him.

  Hargett’s looked even more like a saloon when Frank stepped inside. He saw a long hardwood bar on the right, poker tables and faro layouts to the left and rear, and some stairs at the end of the room leading up to a second-floor balcony with rooms opening off it. The main room was full of men, most of them hard-faced hombres in thick coats. A couple of potbellied stoves in the corners gave off some heat, but the room still held a chill.

  Alarm bells suddenly went off in Frank’s brain. Something wasn’t right here. His hand had started to move toward his gun when boot leather scuffed on the floo
r behind him. Even with all the speed he could muster, he wasn’t fast enough. The blow was already falling. Just as his fingers touched the Colt, something crashed against the back of head, driving him forward off his feet. He heard screams as he landed on his face, scraping it on the rough floor. Blackness swirled around him, trying to close in and carry him away.

  But he was still aware enough to hear Fiona say, “You really should have taken me up on my offer, Frank.”

  That was the last thing he knew for a while.

  As he had told Conway after the shipwreck, pain meant life. Pain was a good thing, because the absence of it was death.

  So Frank knew he was alive, because his head hurt like hell.

  He had been knocked out before, and the experience hadn’t improved any. Now he was cold, too, he realized as awareness seeped back into his brain, and lying in darkness on what felt like cold, rocky ground. He got his hands underneath him and tried to push himself up. As he did, he bumped into something beside him. He heard a groan and then a muttered, “What in tarnation…?”

  “Salty?” Frank rasped. “Salty, is that you?”

  “Yeah. Frank? What…what the hell happened?”

  Frank struggled to a sitting position and reached out to explore around him. His fingers brushed what felt like a log wall. He leaned against it to steady himself and ease the pounding in his skull.

  “We got double-crossed, that’s what happened,” he said grimly.

  “Double-crossed? By who?”

  “Fiona.”

  “Miz Devereaux? But that don’t make no sense!”

  It was starting to, Frank thought. It was all starting to make sense now, and he didn’t like the picture that it formed in his head.

  “There were men waiting for us when we went inside,” he said, “but they weren’t miners who sent off for mail-order brides. I don’t reckon those ladies were ever intended to have husbands. Fiona made a deal with this fella Hargett to bring them up here and turn them into whores.”