A High Sierra Christmas

His reflexes and reactions were still faster than those of at least nine out of ten normal men. He was convinced of that. But Colbert possessed unusual speed and strength, too. Life as an owlhoot had hardened the man, although Colbert’s underlying pallor hinted that he had gotten out of prison only recently.

Well, prison was no walk in the park. A man who went in there as a deadly killer usually came out even more dangerous. That seemed to be true in Frank Colbert’s case.

Smoke felt the stagecoach shift underneath him as Salty climbed in, helped by Denny and Melanie. He heard the old man groan and knew Salty had settled down on one of the seats. The others followed him into the coach.

Colbert put the gun muzzle against Brad’s head again. Melanie saw that and cried out in fear.

Colbert ignored her and said, “Get in the coach now, Alma. Nobody will try anything unless they want me to kill this boy.”

“No, please, no,” Melanie begged. “Everyone, please do what he says.”

“Alma, sit on the backseat,” Colbert went on. “Everybody else crowd onto the front, or sit in the floor between the front seat and the bench in the middle. Once you’re inside, Alma, keep them covered while the boy and I join you.”

“I understand, Frank,” she said.

They got loaded up. Smoke couldn’t see how everything was arranged inside the coach, but Colbert seemed satisfied as he looked in through the open door.

Then the outlaw looked up at him and said, “The boy’s gonna be sitting between me and Alma, Jensen. If you or anybody else tries any tricks, one of us will kill him. You can count on that.”

“No trouble,” Smoke said flatly.

For now, he added to himself.

“You’re going to drive at a nice, steady pace. You know the trail through Donner Pass?”

“I know it. It’s been a long time since I went through there, but I can find my way.”

“Good. You take the route that’ll get us through the mountains and on to Reno the fastest. If I get even the smallest suspicion that you’re trying to double-cross me, the boy dies.”

“I’m getting mighty tired of that threat,” Smoke said.

“It’s not a threat,” Colbert responded with a leering grin. “It’s a promise. We clear about everything?”

“We’re clear.”

“Good. You know what to do.”

Colbert pushed Brad into the coach and climbed in after him. Smoke’s jaw was so tight as he took up the reins, it seemed like his teeth might crack.

But he got the team moving again and started the stagecoach up the slope, following the old wagon road between the thick growths of pine. As he looked at the snow-mantled trees, they were a reminder of the season and how close Christmas was.

It might be a bloody Christmas this year, he thought grimly.

Because he didn’t believe for one second that Frank Colbert intended to leave any of them alive after he got what he wanted.

* * *

Inside the stagecoach, Denny and Melanie sat on the rearward-facing front seat with Salty propped up between them. They pressed in close against him so the coach’s motion wouldn’t jostle him around too much. Louis was crowded in next to Denny.

Stansfield and Kellerman were forced onto the floorboards in the cramped area between the front seat and the bench in the middle of the coach. The ones on the seat pulled their legs in close as much as possible, but it was still crowded and uncomfortable for the two men.

The heavyset banker had it the worst of them all. He didn’t make the situation any better for himself by clutching the flat leather case. His carpetbag was back in the boot, but he had insisted on keeping the case with him.

“I’ll never be able to get out of here,” Kellerman complained as the coach rocked along. “I’m stuck!”

“The others can grease you up and use a horse and a rope to pull you out,” Colbert joked. “You’ll pop out of there like a seed out of a watermelon!”

Kellerman just glared at him.

Alma sat on the right side of the rear seat, Colbert on the left, with Brad between them. The youngster was pale and scared looking, but he was more composed than his mother was. Melanie still sobbed quietly from time to time.

“Don’t worry, Ma,” Brad told her. “It’ll be all right.”

“Sure it will,” Colbert said. “I don’t have anything against you folks. I just need to get to Reno, that’s all. Once I’m there, you can go on about your business.” He laughed. “Hell, you might even thank me for getting you there sooner than if we’d gone that other way.”

Denny knew good and well Colbert was lying about letting them go. He had tried already to kill Smoke and Salty, and whatever his reason was for wanting to reach Reno, obviously he was up to no good. He was a criminal . . . and criminals didn’t like to leave witnesses behind them.

Salty said, “If this shoulder o’ mine didn’t hurt so much . . . I’d be plumb tickled to be stuck betwixt two pretty gals like this. Derned near . . . the best stagecoach ride I ever had. Course, I ain’t rode inside that many. I was always . . . up on the box, handlin’ the team.”

“Do you think my father will do all right with the driving?” Louis asked.

“Smoke?” Salty grunted. “Son, I don’t reckon Smoke Jensen ever set his hand to anything without windin’ up better at it than pert near ever’body else.”

Colbert said, “You’d better hope he’s good at it, old man; otherwise you’ll be back up there, busted shoulder and all. I don’t have time to waste.”

Denny looked out the window at the gloomy day and said, “We’ll have to stop in a couple of hours. It’ll be too dark to go on.”

Colbert gestured with the gun in his hand and asked, “How about that, old-timer? Stagecoaches sometimes keep going at night, don’t they?”

“On a good road that the driver knows like the back of his hand, with lanterns on the coach to help light the way?” Salty said. “A fella might risk that, especially on a clear night with a big moon and a lot of stars. But with them clouds up there, there ain’t no moon nor stars, and there ain’t no bein’ sure what sort of shape the road’s in farther up. A fella would have to be a plumb fool to risk travelin’ through these mountains after dark.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Colbert wanted to know.

“You mean besides drivin’ off a cliff and fallin’ two or three hunnerd feet?” Salty shook his head. “Nothin’, I reckon.”

Colbert’s lips drew back in a grimace. “All right,” he said. “You’ve had your sport, old man. Quit your japing, or I’m liable to forget to respect my elders.”

“I’d say it’s a mite too late for that,” Salty muttered.

A tense silence fell over the coach. The vehicle leaned slightly to the side as Smoke reached the first of the switchbacks and wheeled the coach around the sharp turn. The pace slowed even more as they spent the next hour ascending that steep, zigzag path up the side of a mountain.

Colbert’s impatience grew visibly, but he seemed to understand there was nothing he could do other than put up with their progress.

Finally, the ground leveled off. Smoke slowed the stagecoach and gradually brought it to a halt.

Denny felt the vehicle shift on its thoroughbraces as her father leaned over to call through the windows, “We’ve reached a little bench that would be a good place to make camp for the night. There’s only about half an hour of light left, so it doesn’t make sense to go on. This’ll give us a chance to build a fire and heat some food and coffee.”

Colbert frowned and looked like he didn’t agree with Smoke’s suggestion, but Alma said, “Some hot coffee sounds awfully good, Frank. And a half hour won’t make any difference.”

“We don’t know that,” Colbert snapped, but a second later he shrugged. “All right, I suppose it won’t hurt anything.” He leaned closer to the window. “Stay where you are, Jensen, until the rest of us are out. Don’t even move. This stagecoach bounces, and I shoot the boy.”

That threat brought another muffled sob from Melanie. She had a handkerchief pressed to her face, and Denny thought it must be soaked with tears by now.

She shouldn’t judge the woman, though, she told herself. She didn’t have any kids, so she had no idea how she would react if one of her offspring was threatened.

But she hoped she would be looking for a way to fight back, and she had her doubts that was what was going through Melanie Buckner’s mind right now.

“You get out first,” Colbert told Alma, “and cover the others. The boy and I will get out last.”

She opened the door and stepped down from the coach, then turned to face it and backed off with Salty’s gun held in both hands.

“Be careful with that,” Denny said. “They go off easier than you might think.”

“I’ve been around guns,” Alma said curtly. “Now get out here, you first, then the old man and Mrs. Buckner.”

Denny knew she had no choice right now except to cooperate. She eased through the door and swung down to the ground, then turned back to help Salty. Getting him out of the coach wasn’t easy with Louis in the way on that side.

That was the idea, Denny thought. Make things as awkward as possible, so the passengers would be less likely to try anything.

When Salty and the two women were standing in the snow, Colbert ordered, “All right, the rest of you get out now.”

Louis emerged first and helped Kellerman. The banker wasn’t stuck, as he had feared, but he had to struggle to get his bulk dislodged from the small space. When he finally succeeded, he stood there red faced, breathing heavily. Denny thought he looked like he was about to have an attack of apoplexy, but his discomfiture gradually subsided.

Stansfield came next, unfolding his gangling length from the coach. That just left Colbert and Brad, and the gunman kept a tight grip on the boy’s collar as they got down from the vehicle.

“All right, Jensen, you can tend to the horses now,” Colbert said. “You ladies see to the old man.” He nodded to Louis. “Gather some wood and build a fire.”

“Of course,” Louis said. “A fire will feel good.”

Smoke swung down from the driver’s box and said, “I could use a hand with the team. It’s an easier job with two men.”

Colbert laughed and gestured with the gun toward Stansfield and Kellerman. “These two look like they barely know which end of a horse is which, but between them they might add up to one man. If you can get any use out of them, go ahead. Just don’t try anything. The boy and I will be keeping an eye on you.” He looked down at Brad. “Isn’t that right, son?”

“I’m not your son,” the youngster said. “And if I was, I’d never admit it.”

Colbert let go of Brad’s collar and cuffed him on the side of the head, bringing a sharp cry from Melanie as she and Denny helped Salty sit down on a nearby log.

“Leave him alone!” she said, showing a spark of real anger for the first time.

“Tell the little brat to watch his mouth, then,” Colbert said.

Melanie swallowed hard and looked at her son. “Bradley, don’t give Mr. Colbert any trouble. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Brad said with a surly pout. “I hear you.”

“That’s better,” Colbert said. “Now, everybody get busy.”

“What do you want me to do, Frank?” Alma asked.

“Watch those three,” he replied, nodding toward the log where Salty sat with Denny and Melanie hovering over him. “I’ll keep an eye on the others.”

“If any of them try anything . . . ?”

“Kill them.”

Louis gathered up an armload of broken branches that looked dry enough to burn. Since the temperature was below freezing, the snow hadn’t gotten them wet, so all he had to do was knock it off the branches.

He kicked a space clear of snow on the ground, piled the wood on it, and cleared another space for the fire.

Meanwhile, Smoke unhitched and picketed the horses, with Stansfield and Kellerman able to help a little as long as he told them exactly what to do. The layer of snow on the ground was thin enough that the horses would be able to snuffle their way through it to the dry grass below, so they could graze.

When Louis had branches laid for the fire, he told Colbert, “I don’t have any matches.”

“I do,” Smoke said. He paused in what he was doing, took a tin container from his pocket, and tossed it to his son. Louis had to use a couple of the matches to get the fire burning, but when he succeeded, the flames were soon dancing merrily in the cold air.

“Coffeepot’s in the boot,” Smoke said, “along with the supplies.”

Denny said, “Heat some water by itself first, so we can do a better job of cleaning these bullet holes.”

Everyone stayed busy setting up the camp for the next little while, but no one forgot about the menace of the guns held by Colbert and Alma.

The darkness began to settle down while that was going on. The light and heat from the fire were both very welcome. Louis fed branches into it to keep it burning brightly.

When Salty’s wounds had been cleaned and bandaged properly, Colbert said to Denny and Melanie, “All right, you two rustle up a meal for us.”

“You don’t want me rustling up anything, mister,” Denny said. “I’m a terrible cook.”

“She is,” Louis agreed, nodding solemnly.

Melanie said, “I can fix some food.”

“We didn’t bring along anything fancy,” Smoke said. “But there’s bacon and the makings for biscuits.”

“It won’t take long,” Melanie promised.

She was as good as her word. Hot coffee, bacon, and fresh biscuits were all very much appreciated on a night like this. The food should have made for a spirit of camaraderie around the fire.

Instead there was only fear and anger.

When the meal was over, Colbert said to Alma, “See if you can find some rope or cord in the boot. Everybody in this bunch is going to have to be tied up for the night.”

“Do you expect us to sleep on the ground?” Kellerman asked.

“No, we’ll all get back in the coach.”

Stansfield said, “That’ll be even more uncomfortable than before, if we’re tied up.”

Colbert cocked his head a little to the side. “You seem to be forgetting that I really just need Jensen to drive the coach. I could kill the rest of you and leave you here for the wolves.” He grinned. “Or maybe just leave you here alive in the morning, so you can give the wolves a little fight before they eat you.”

“Just leave it alone, Stansfield,” Smoke said to the reporter. “We’re going to cooperate with what Colbert wants.”

Denny frowned slightly. That was so unlike Smoke Jensen that it had to be tearing him up inside. There was only one reason he would ever cooperate with an outlaw and killer.

He was trying to protect the lives of his children and the other passengers.

And he was waiting for the right time to strike back at Frank Colbert.

One by one, Alma tied their hands behind their backs with rope she found in the boot. With the barrel of Colbert’s gun pressed to Brad’s head, there was nothing anyone could do except go along. Then they clambered into the coach and sort of piled up on one side under the lap robes. They probably wouldn’t get much sleep, but at least they wouldn’t freeze to death during the night.

Colbert and Alma were on the other side, again with Brad trapped between them. “You’ll stand first watch,” he told Alma. “I trust you more to stay awake now than I would later in the night. I’ll take that shift.”

“Don’t worry about me, Frank,” she told him. “Once I decided to back your play, I was in all the way. I won’t let you down.”

“I’m lucky you wanted to come along on this trip, then.”

“Lucky that my husband killed himself, you mean.”

“I didn’t say that. But he was a weak man, Alma, and I have a feeling you need a strong man in your life. I’m strong. I take what I want. Always have.”

That didn’t make him strong, Denny thought. It just made him an outlaw.

But there was no point in saying that now. She told herself she might as well try to get some sleep.

It was liable to be a long night.