It was a beautiful day. It had been snowing higher up and, as they followed on the trail of George Wright, they ran into places where it lay.
Gleaming white in the bright Colorado sun, the temperature low enough to keep it from melting. The horses picked their way through it, leaving a double set of tracks to overlie the single set from the fleeing man.
‘He’s still pushin’ on real hard,’ said Herne, slipping from his saddle, holding on the rein of the lead horse, stooping over the trail.
‘He would.’
Herne looked up at the girl, sitting hunched over, hat tugged down over the straggling hair. Face pinched and white. She shrugged her shoulders when she realized he was staring at her.
‘What the Hell you lookin’ at, Jed?’
‘Nothing, girl.’
‘Jesus, but you are a cold-hearted son of a bitch, Jedediah Herne.’
He nodded. ‘Heard that said before, Joey. Plenty of times.’
‘Couldn’t you maybe let…?’
‘No.’ He interrupted her with the single, flat word. ‘No. I know and so do you.’
‘They’ll hang me.’
‘Maybe. Guess you’re more than likely goin’ to the penitentiary.’
‘Oh, God.’ She was almost crying again. That’d kill me sure as a bullet, Jed.’
‘Folks buried all across Colorado and eastwards on account of you and George and the others. Seems a fair accountin’ to me.’
They rode higher.
Reaching up close to the tree line where the horses labored and every breath was a struggle, the cold, thin air seeming to burn the throat.
‘Guess we can walk a spell,’ the shootist said. Reining in and lifting Joey down from her mare, marveling at her lightness.
‘Will you untie me?’
‘I guess so.’
‘I won’t hurt you, Jed. I swear that.’
He half-smiled. ‘I’ll take that chance.’
They walked in silence. Coming across a pile of fresh horse-droppings in the middle of the expanse of whiteness. Herne stopped to examine them, rising again and looking ahead.
‘His stallion’s near blown. We’re closing in on him and we’re on foot.’
‘George always was one for more of the haste and not so much of the damned speed,’ replied the girl, her voice quiet and bitter, looking over to the right where the ground fell sharply away towards a river.
‘Be on him within a couple of hours. This trail gets higher still, then goes over the crest. Mile High Point. Supposed to be that far straight on down. I don’t know anyone ever measured it.’
He knew that the man ahead of them had been riding too far too fast. His horse, once it was exhausted, would take hours to recover. Herne, by going on at a steady, gentler pace, was closing inexorably with his prey.
It was a struggle for them all. The sun blazed down, giving them no heat, and the mountains around seemed to be sucking all the life out of the air, so that each breath pained and made their throats raw and their eyes to water. The snow grew thicker until they were wading through it above their knees.
‘Can’t we ride, Jed?’ gasped the girl
‘No. Kill the horses in this snow to have to bear us as well.’
He could see from the wavering in the tracks how severe Wright’s stallion was finding the long, long climb.
The girl fought on, impressing him with her relentless stamina. Battling towards the crest of the trail, now less than a quarter mile ahead. Panting, falling twice to her knees as she tried to breathe.
There was little conversation. A couple of times Joey tried again to persuade the shootist to let her go. Kill Wright, then free her. But she could as well have been talking to one of the granite walls around them.
‘Here’s the top,’ he said, finally.
The wind had blown it clear of snow and she collapsed against a large, smooth boulder, closing her eyes, chest heaving. He tethered the horses for a five minute break, walking and staring down the other side of the trail, seeing it worming away, clinging to the side of the mountain. For a moment he saw a small, dark figure, riding around a sharp turn. Less than a half mile ahead.
‘Soon, George,’ he said. ‘Soon.’
‘Jesus,’ she said quietly. That sure is real beautiful. Ain’t it?’
Herne looked up. She was standing very close to the edge of the sheer drop. Better than four thousand feet, clean down to the turbulent waters of the river. The sound of the tumbling waters carried away from them by the height and the wind.
‘Watch the wind, Joey,’ he called. She was so near the brink that a strong gust could easily have plucked her from the cliff and dashed her to a certain doom.
‘I’m fine, Jed. Thanks for caring. Not a whole lot of men have ever cared a fuck for me.’
‘Yeah,’ he replied. Walking again and staring down the trail, both ways. Guessing it wouldn’t be long before they ran into another posse.
Wright had disappeared from sight, but Herne stood for several seconds, shading his eyes with his gloved hand against the brightness of the sun off the snow. Trying to decide whether or not he could see a body of men moving through trees. Three or four miles away, near where the trail snaked down to the river. But the light was too dazzling for him to be sure.
‘Jed?’
He turned to face the girl. ‘What is it, Joey?’
‘Nothing’ll change your mind, will it?’
‘No. Nothing.’
‘I truly couldn’t live through goin’ back, you know. I just couldn’t.’
‘You can do what you have to do, girl.’
She nodded and smiled at him. Seeming somehow years younger.
‘That’s right, Jed.’
Then he guessed, but he was too far away to do anything. Even if he’d wanted to.
‘Wish I’d met you long years back, Jed. Fare thee well.’
Joey stepped off the edge of the world, vanishing in the white, swirling void, falling silently to her death.