Elam followed the horses’ tracks. The soft earth made it easy to follow. This man was not trying to hide his trail. He was just trying to get out of the country as fast as he could. Night fell and darkness stopped Elam’s progress. He was miles away from the point where he and Nolan had parted.
A trestle offered him the only place to get out of the cold north wind. Staggering but hopeful, he crawled up on the side of a mountain and scanned the mountain range, hoping to see the twinkling of a campfire. The scene before him was of cold shadows and darkness. A helpless, sinking feeling crept into his tired mind. Never in his life had he felt so hopeless. That night, Elam fell to his knees and prayed for help from the Creator of all that lay before him. He asked for peace and guidance in a world where all too often the trails of life were filled with heartache, uncertainty, and doubt. He asked for faith to walk the unclear trails. He prayed for the safety of the children and peace in his worried mind. This one trail through life we all walk alone. That is as it should be. It is a personal thing when you come right down to it. The Holy Bible calls it a transforming by the renewing of your mind when you make your eternal peace with the Creator.
In the other direction, the man Nolan trailed had been traveling hard. He was well mounted on Banner and Red. If he were a true wilderness man, he would be hard to catch and it may take weeks. Nolan made several miles before nightfall. He checked each stop the man had made to water the horses or get relief from the hours in the saddle.
As night fell, Nolan found a crevice under a rocky ledge that would accommodate his pack and himself. Weary from the heavy pack, he made a cold camp and settled down to sleep. For an hour, he lay chewing on a piece of jerky, trying to rest his worried mind. The night hours were torment for him. Unable to sleep, he wished for morning light. Long before first light, he crawled from the warm bedroll and made a campfire for coffee. Sipping the hot coffee, he listened to the night sounds. The trail he followed was several days old, taking him deep into the wilderness. If he just had a packhorse to carry his heavy pack, he could make twice the miles in a day. The pack held the tools he needed for survival in the wilderness. To leave it behind would mean death.
At the end of the second day, Nolan had found two campsites where the stranger had camped. He had hoped the man would eventually grow careless, assuming the man had distanced himself from his crimes. He was camping early and getting up late. On the third day, the wind began to build sending its icy breath across the mountain range. In a few hours, a blizzard would hit and the tracks would disappear below a foot of fresh white powder. By noon, Nolan had narrowed the distance between them. Bending over the ashes of a campfire, he felt the warmth and smiled to himself of the laziness of this foolish man.
A few miles later, the smell of a campfire came to him through the trees. The wind was building and a flurry of snow was beginning to fall. Checking his weapons, he advanced through the thick foliage until he came to the edge of a large clearing. Below him a group of small sod-covered dugouts lined the edge of a long valley. This was a trapper’s winter camp.
Sitting in the trees, Nolan studied the activity below, watching men chopping wood and dragging logs to a new sod hut they were building hurriedly. In the cleft of the mountain, there stood a corral with several horses and a mule. While others worked, three men sat on stumps around a campfire, sharing what was probably a jug of corn liquor among them. The big red horse and Banner were easy to spot. Tied to a corral fence, they stood three-legged eyeing a water trough they could not reach. It was apparent they had been standing there for a long time.
Nolan considered the situation, ‘Had this man just met up with his friends or wuz he just passin’ through?’ That was a question Nolan had to know before he braced him. Looking around the valley, he saw trails coming from the forest in several directions where men had come and gone from the settlement. Nolan made his way around the mountain, watching the encampment from several different directions with his field-glass studying the settlement and each face he found. Within an hour, he had determined there were seven men and two squaws in the settlement. One man was crippled and made his way about the camp on a set of homemade crutches. The rest had the appearance of being rugged mountain men.
Circling the valley, he made his way into the camp from the opposite direction. Most of the men working around the camp stopped what they were doing long enough to watch his advance and then turn back to the task at hand. It was not in Nolan to beat around the bush for long, so leaning his heavy pack against the horse trough, he washed his face all the while cautiously watching the men around the settlement. The men sitting around the campfire were enjoying their liquor and gave him little attention. Placing his cap back on his head Nolan walked over to the three horses and led them to the watering trough. Banner rolled his eyes at Nolan and buried his muzzle in the water trough.
“Mister, git away from my hosses! You ain’t got no business a-messin’ with them!” one of the men yelled.
Nolan had got the information he had wanted. “These hosses are mighty thirsty. I wuz just a-doin’ you a favor givin’ them some water.” Standing next to the pack-mule, he ran his hand under the pack, and he felt the raw back of the mule. “When’s the last time you took the saddle off these hosses?” Nolan asked.
“Don’t see that’s none of your business now git away from my hosses,” the trapper said.
Nolan sized up the man doing the talking and said, “Whar you boys from anyway? Only a tenderfoot would treat such fine animals so cruel.” The rest of the men in the settlement stopped what they were doing. They watched the men from around the campfire and sensed trouble.
Nolan had stepped around where no one could get behind his back. His coat was open, and as he stepped from behind the horses, he had both of his pistols hanging at his side.
Seeing the guns in Nolan’s hands, one of the men stood and said, “Bedewing, it looks like it’s time we be a-movin’ on.” Two of the men sitting around the campfire rose and started to step away from the fire.
“You can go if you didn’t come with this feller. But if you did, then just keep your seat and stay warm by the fire,” Nolan raised his voice for all in the camp to hear. “You all better listen to me! I been a-trackin’ a man what done hurt two children to git these three horses and pack. Anyone want to back his word just step in when the dance starts. I intend to make this feller tell me what he done to them children or skin him alive, one piece at a time.”
The two men at the fire dropped the whiskey jug and stepped away from the man facing Nolan. “We never seen him a-fore today. He rode in on them horses this mornin’ a-fore noon,” said one of the men. A man stopped notching a log and moved over a little closer to the three men.
“That’s a fact! These two came in here from the north and that man came from the south this mornin’,” another man said. Then the two men mounted horses and rode out of the valley.
The look of Nolan kept everyone perfectly still knowing this was no time to move or scratch an itch. “Seein’ I don’t know any of you, I would appreciate none of you fellers a-movin’ so much as a muscle until this man gives me the information I need,” he said. Nolan replaced a handgun in his belt and pulled a long blade knife from his boot. “Now, I will ask you one time only. Then if you don’t answer me true--” Nolan never got to finish the sentence before the man pointed his finger at him and shouted.
“I bought them hosses fair and square!” he shouted.
Suddenly Nolan’s left-hand gun spat fire and the man grabbed where his left ear had been. “You didn’t let me finish; I wuz a-goin’ to say--I will shoot your ears off first. Now, whar be the children?”
“I don’t know what you are a-talkin’--” again, Nolan’s left-hand gun roared and the small finger in the man’s left hand lost a joint.
“I left them alive,” the man yelled, holding his left hand.
At that revelation, the men around the camp moved closer, and one of them said, “Mister, you sayin’ this polecat done hurt some children?”
“That’s what I’m a-sayin’,” Nolan said. “Now, he is a-goin’ to tell all of it and he better not leave out the slightest detail.”
Fear and pain loosened the man’s tongue. “I didn’t do harm to them kids. I just wanted that big red horse. I followed them as they left the train and took the hoss from the boy,” he said grimacing in pain.
“You could have left the pack and the other horse. The boy is wilderness smart. They could have survived iffin’ you would have done that. A blizzard done hit that side of the mountain. With the provisions in that pack, they could have made it. Whar did you leave them?” Nolan asked.
“They were by the third overpass out of Yellow Rock Station. There is a cave in the side of the mountain big enough to live in for a while. I’m shore they are just fine,” the man said.
“Are you a-lyin’ to me?” Nolan asked.
“No, them kids were just fine when I left them!” the man yelled.
“You are a-wearin’ Danny’s gun. You want to use it?” Nolan asked pointedly.
Quickly the man unbuckled the gun and let it fall to the ground. The four men tied his hands behind him and tied him to the corral fence, while the crippled man talked to Nolan. “Out here, no one hurts a child. Leavin’ them stranded in this weather is the same as a-killin’ them,” the man said.
Nolan stripped the saddles from the horses and looked at the men and said, “I need to buy a horse from you. If them children are still alive, I need to travel fast and these horses have sores on their backs.”
“Well, sir, now I’ll swap you that there pack mule of mine for your pack mule, but you shore ain’t a-gittin’ the best of the deal. I found this ornery critter out on Bald Ridge. I thought I had something until I brung him home, and now I wish I had left him out thar,” the crippled man said.
“I know that mule,” Nolan said. “He is a sorry excuse for a pack mule, but if he’s all you can part with, I’ll take him.”
The crippled man stood looking at his corral. “That paint will git you whar you need to go. He has a lot of bottom, but I shore would suffer to let him go,” he stated.
“It sounds to me you have a fond attachment to that animal,” Nolan said while stripping the saddles and pack from the horses.
“Yes, I shorely do and I would suffer to let him go cheap,” he said.
Nolan looked across the corral at the paint. “I’m a-givin’ you a mighty fine pack mule and a-takin’ a-beatin’ with that hard-headed mule. Seein’ how I’m a-doin’ you a favor by removin’ that jackass from your valley, I am obliged to offer you ten dollars for that paint,” Nolan said.
“Truly, you done gone and hurt my feelin’s offerin’ me ten for that fine animal,” the man on crutches said.
“The paint may be worth more, but what I am a-doin’ for you by a-takin’ that jinxed donkey away from this valley is worth the difference,” Nolan said.
“What you mean by jinxed?” the crippled man asked.
“Well it might have seemed a might strange that you found a good pack mule out there in the wilderness, but the man that owned him and myself done jumped on a-movin’ train in the middle of the night to git away from that animal,” Nolan said as he rolled his eyes and squinted at the crippled man. “Now what trapper will leave a good mule like that?” Nolan asked. Rubbing his bearded chin, he asked, “Since that mule has been in your valley has anythin’ bad happened?”
The man swallowed hard and exclaimed, “I done broke my lag and been crippled ever since.”
“So you say!” Nolan exclaimed.
The crippled man quickly stated, “You can have the Paint for ten just you take that devil mule with you when you go.” Two men helped Nolan pack the mule and saddle the paint horse.
“What we goin’ to do with that feller?” one of the men asked.
Leading the horses to the watering trough, Nolan said, “I’ve already marked him, but so’s he is known I want you to brand his forehead with an X and let him go. He left a six-year-old girl and her twelve-year-old brother out in the wilderness after a-takin’ their horses and provisions. If I find them dead, there won’t be a place on earth he can run to git away from me. I’ll be a-comin’ back and won’t stop chasin’ him till I send him to hell for what he done.”
“Well, I rather hang him, but iffin’ you say so we will brand him and let him go. Anyone who sees him will know him by the brand, and the missin’ fingers and ear you done shot off,” said the man.
Nolan looked at the sky and said, “Run him out of your camp without so much as a weapon or blanket, that’s how he left the children. Tell every trapper that comes through here what he done.”
“Elam Franklin is back thar a-lookin’ for them children. The boy Danny is mighty resourceful, but I’m a-fearin’ what I will find when I catch up to them,” Nolan said.
“You said Elam Franklin is out a-lookin’ for them children?” the man asked.
Amazed Nolan realized the train had carried the tales of Elam Franklin through the wilderness. Looking at the man tied to the fence post, Nolan said, “That’s a fact them kids belong to Elam Franklin and I will be hard-pressed to git to you before Elam does.”
The man on crutches stood by Nolan as he tightened the cinch, and without looking back at the men standing around, he said, “Brand him and git him out of my valley a-fore I change my mind and hang him! Elam Franklin war a friend of mine.”
Nolan fastened his eyes on the crippled man and asked, “Wuz you one of the three men with Elam at Little Deer Crick a year or two ago when Elam war no more than a lad?” Nolan asked, knowing there was never a Little Deer Creek incident.
Rolling his cud, the crippled man spat and looked at Nolan and said, “I war thar and Elam war no more than a bar cub.”
“Then I take my hat off to you and go up this valley a-glad I met you this day. Elam from a pup always rode the straight and narrow bein’ more than fair even to those what treated him untrue and never takin’ a drink of licker and such. Honorable even as a boy,” Nolan said. Riding away, Nolan chuckled to himself and would have liked to hear the cripple man spin his yarn, but he had a task to do.
The snow came as Nolan rode away from the valley. It was blowing against his back as if to increase the urgency of his travel. Fine white powder stuck to his buffalo robe and covered the horses. This was not a time to travel, but he had no choice. He knew of a river to the east that he had traveled long ago with trails south that horses could go. They should get him back to the tracks in half the time. By moonlight, he rode through a white land and at midnight, he dismounted from the tired paint and walked until sunup. Banner’s back had no sores, so he switched the saddle to him. By noon the following day, he was back to the rail lines. The wind was relentless, and he needed shelter fast for himself and the horses. By his judgment, he should be within miles of the cave where the children should be.