Nate started awake, sitting straight up in bed. Sweat had soaked his nightshirt, and his heart beat so hard his chest hurt. His dreams were troubled the minute he’d closed his eyes after Ma and Pa had tucked him into bed.
Thank God, every dark corner of the room was empty. No Tipsy. Nate let out a deep sigh. He’d had such a good time earlier with Abby that he believed his dreams would be filled with thoughts of his new friend.
It was useless to try to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Tipsy and those Colts were there. Nate pushed back the blankets and slipped out of bed. His breath steamed the windowpane. None of the stars twinkled. A quarter-moon hung low in the sky, pitching very little light. Out there somewhere in the darkness was a very evil man.
Nate heaved the window open. Some fresh air might clear his head, but he doubted it.
When would Tipsy attack? Nate spent too much time looking over his shoulder, almost every minute of the day. And that wasn’t much of a way to go about living.
Nate stepped through the open window and onto the porch roof. Wetness soaked into his socks. The frigid air stung his lungs, but he was so hot it all kind of felt good. A dusting of freshly falling snow painted the roof, and a flurry melted on the end of his nose. A horse blew, and Nate’s legs did a dip as his heart skipped a beat. All the horses were in the barn, but that one sounded close. It was too dark. He could barely see his feet. He carefully inched his way toward the edge of the roof.
Surely it wasn’t Tipsy at this hour. Maybe one of the horses had somehow gotten out, but that hadn’t ever happened before.
High up on that ledge, Nate could faintly make out a speck of orange hovering in the black about five and half feet off the ground between the barn and the corral. What was that? Nate squinted. That dot reminded him of a tiny red-hot coal. Maybe he should get Pa or Jesse.
He stepped back inside, scampering quickly into the hall. Jesse’s door was open. Nate tiptoed in and stood over Jesse at the edge of the bed. He shook his arm until his eyes fluttered open.
“What is it, partner?” Jesse yawned and stretched his arms over his head. The Winchester was propped against the wall, his gun belt curled up on the night table.
“Ain’t sure, but I think I seen something.” Nate’s wet socks suddenly felt too cold.
Jesse threw back the quilts as he sprang up and sat at the edge of the bed. He gripped both Nate’s shoulders. “Where?”
“Near the barn,” Nate squeaked, and he crawled into Jesse’s bed, bumping him a few times while he buried himself.
“Are you wet?” Jesse’s brow rose. “Where’s that draft comin’ from?”
Nate must have forgotten to close his window. He didn’t say a word about going outside alone and hoped Jesse didn’t ask any more questions. He yanked off the blankets and grabbed Nate’s foot, eyeing the dripping sock.
Jesse’s mouth turned down into a deep frown, and he shook his head. “I oughta blister your ass.” He ripped the wet socks off Nate’s feet and threw them on the floor. “Go wake your pa while I get dressed.”
“Yes, sir.” Nate fetched Pa, and a few minutes later, he followed them right to the front door. Ma stood next to Nate and held the Henry. He didn’t want Pa or Jesse to go out there in the dark.
When they’d gone, the house seemed to groan more, and every shadow took on a scarier shape. Pa had sent Jesse to the barn and promised he’d stay around the house. That wasn’t close enough. Nate couldn’t see Pa and couldn’t wait for them to come inside.
A floorboard creaked upstairs, and something made a thump. Nate should probably go shut his window. Wind could have knocked something over on his desk, but he didn’t want to go up there by himself. He looked at Ma, pleading with his blue eyes.
“I’ll check on Elizabeth. She’s been crawling out of her crib lately.” Ma propped the Henry against the railing before heading up.
Nate turned back, watching out the window for Pa. The snow had stopped falling, so he could see into the yard a little better. Pa stood at the edge of the porch, studying the ground.
“Young man, I closed your window. Why was it open?” Ma had returned, and she didn’t look any happier about that open window than Jesse had.
The door swung open. Pa and Jesse brushed the snow off themselves as they came inside, saving Nate from some explaining.
Jesse held up the rubbed-out butt of a cigarette. “Do believe we had a visitor tonight.”
That had been the glow Nate had seen. He’d forgotten all about Tipsy’s addiction to his smokes. Had the moonlight been bright, he might have shot Nate off the porch roof. Nate flopped down on the settee. He just couldn’t believe it.
Ma sat down and gave him a little squeeze.
“I’ll keep watch down here if you wanna take them upstairs.” Jesse had barred the door and stood watching out the window.
Pa nodded and then marched over and stood in front of Nate. He looked livid. Nate shrank back against Ma. He had an awful hunch that the ear chewing he was about to get had everything to do with the open window. Jesse must have tattled.
“Unless you have my permission, you do not leave this house for any reason, but I think you already know that. I’ve told you over and over.” Pa pulled off his belt, folding it in his hand. “Stand up.”
Tears flooded Nate’s eyes, and he clung to Ma.
She pillared up while Nate hid behind her except for peeking around her hip. “We’re all tired. It’s been a long day, and it’s late. Nathanial made a mistake. I don’t believe he intentionally disobeyed you.” Ma must have seen Nate’s tracks in the snow when she shut the window and figured it all out. It was a little shocking that she had seen any prints because of the pitch black, and more snow had fallen after Nate had come inside.
“A mistake like that might seem insignificant, but it could’ve cost our son his life.” Pa’s tone had softened just a bit. One or two of Ma’s points must have struck a nerve.
With an air of understanding, Ma rested her hand on Pa’s arm. “I realize that, but I also understand we’re all scared and sometimes when that happens, our tempers can get the best of us.”
Pa hadn’t strung his belt through the loops on his waist yet, so Ma must not have had him completely convinced. Nate wiped a tear off his cheek. He couldn’t meet Pa’s hard stare.
“Tipsy’s footprints come right up to the side of the porch.” Pa pointed toward the front corner of the house. “That’s almost directly under Nathanial’s window.”
Jesse turned around, wearing a puzzled look. “The tracks just stopped?”
Pa nodded, and Nate wished he would’ve just stayed in bed. Jesse scratched at his jaw as if Tipsy’s disappearance into the dark didn’t make sense, and it didn’t. Pa could track a bird through the sky.
The house groaned against a gust of wind. Maybe Tipsy’s tracks had been blown away?
Ma slapped her hands on her hips, eyeballing Pa. “Our little boy has been forced into dealing with way too many circumstances out of his control. So I expect he’ll make some mistakes, but we will not. Nail the window shut if you want.” What she was really saying was that Nate didn’t deserve swats.
Ma hadn’t ever stepped in like that, so she must have been convinced. Was Pa convinced though? If he didn’t agree, Nate would get his behind warmed.
Pa pointed the belt. “Last warnin’. I’ll not tell ya again. Now git to bed before I change my mind.” He stomped off toward the back door while Jesse stood guard near the front.
Nate sniffled. He just wanted his life to be normal again.
“Let’s get you to bed.” Ma turned him toward the stairs.
He tore off while wiping at his stream of tears. He buzzed past his room and straight into Jesse’s. With a flying leap, he landed in the middle of the bed and threw a heap of quilts over his head. Tipsy must know which room was his, so that eliminated any chance of him falling asleep in there. Being in Jesse’s room made him feel safer even though he was downstairs.
“Nathanial, uncover your head.” Ma pulled back the quilts enough that his red eyes weren’t hidden. She smoothed his hair. “I suppose Jesse won’t mind if you sleep in here.”
Ma knew Nate had favorite places. When he needed to think, he sat in the hay loft. Ma and Pa’s bed was his usual retreat when he was scared, but lately he had run to Jesse.
She tucked him in. “I want ya to know that your pa ain’t really mad at you. He just doesn’t want to see ya get hurt when it could easily be avoided with a little forethought. Do you understand what I mean?”
Nate nodded. He needed to be more careful, because Tipsy seemed to be able to appear anywhere at any time. He rolled onto his side, facing the dim flames in the fireplace.
Ma kissed his head. “Try to get some sleep.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and Nate was alone. He’d feel much better if Jesse were right beside him. What were the chances that Tipsy might come back tonight? Likely slim to none. He was probably long gone since Pa and Jesse had been stalking around outside.
Nate closed his eyes. The door creaked, and he rolled that way. Maybe Jesse had come to read to him.
A rough had slapped down over his mouth, and the cold iron of a Colt .45 jammed into his cheek.
“Make a noise. I’ll blow your brains across this room,” Tipsy snarled.
Shadows from the flames twisted in strange shapes across his face, making him uglier. Nate didn’t dare to blink or breathe. He couldn’t do anything but stare into those hateful dark eyes.
Both corners of Tipsy’s mouth curled into a wicked grin. “Don’t cry. I ain’t gonna kill ya here.” An evil snicker slithered out between his lips.
He yanked Nate out of bed without making a single noise, keeping him bound up tight in one arm while the other poked the Colt into his ribs. Nate grimaced, although the rest of him had become as stiff as a board. If he squirmed, Tipsy would likely thrust the iron in harder, and if Nate screamed, then Pa and Jesse would be all over Tipsy in about two seconds, but in that wink of time, he would likely be dead.
Without making his spurs jingle, Tipsy stepped into the hall while keeping Nate shackled in that tight hold. The door to Ma and Pa’s room was open about three inches. Was Ma in there, or had she gone downstairs? The house was quiet, and everyone believed him to be asleep. There was no reason for Pa or Jesse to come check on him. The only thing keeping Nate quiet was the gun pressed into his guts.
Tipsy slipped into Nate’s room and stood silently at the window for a few short breaths. His lips touched Nate’s ear, and his whisper sent an icy chill through every bone in Nate’s body. “I’m gonna put ya down. Keep quiet, do exactly as I say, or I’ll gut everyone in this house. You’ll be last.”
Nate stiffly nodded. Tipsy began to slowly lower him until his feet softly touched the floor. He didn’t twitch a muscle, didn’t breathe. Tipsy eased open the window without so much as one little squeak. He wanted to get away with his crime. That’s why he hadn’t killed Nate right on the spot. Simple geography was the only thing keeping him breathing.
Tipsy gave him a hard nudge with the Colt. This was really it. His time had come. He crawled out the window, filled with dread, Tipsy hanging over him. Once he’d hauled Nate up, his feet slipped. Before his ass thumped the roof, those mean, fast hands of Tipsy’s gripped him painfully, keeping him dangling miserably on his toes. That sprang an idea into his head.
“I’m steady now. I got it,” Nate whispered without fear. Inwardly, he was mush. If his plan was going to work, he needed Tipsy to let go of him.
“Do you remember that day at Crooked Tree Canyon near Cherry Hill when you threw me into that gorge of water? That cliff must’ve been at least ten feet high.”
“If not more.” Tipsy snickered and let go of him. “Learned how to swim, didn’t ya?” His hot breath steamed the back of Nate’s neck as he prodded with the Colt, inching them toward the edge.
Indeed Nate had, and he learned more than that. He’d seen Tipsy use idle talk to distract his enemy, learned how it was done. Learned how to survive in the worst of situations. He guessed he should thank him for all that know-how and really throw him off.
Twelve inches to go and Nate would be right where he wanted to be. This was goodbye one way or the other. It was hard to believe this man had taught him how to lace his own boots, had watched over him hundreds of times.
“Ya know, you was always more of a father to me than my old pa. Thanks.”
Tipsy straightened, his gun lowering. He must not have expected Nate’s appreciation, and to a small degree, Nate honestly did feel that way.
Perfect timing. The Colt was at Tipsy side. Nate didn’t hesitate. He was within three inches of the edge and pitched himself over headlong, falling just like that day Tipsy had tossed him into that deep gorge at Crooked Tree Canyon. Tipsy lunged but his mean swipe missed, and Nate screamed all the way down. His face rushed toward the ground. He tucked a shoulder, thudded into the snow, and his wind burst out in a whoosh. Had Pa and Jesse heard?
Tipsy came swinging down after him. The house door smacked open off the outside wall. Jesse’s Winchester exploded at the same time Tipsy’s pistol barked. Gun smoke filled Nate’s nostrils as he rolled onto all fours and dizzily scurried around the corner post toward the steps. Booms seemed to fly from every direction. He looked up a split second too late and cracked into the pointed edge of a step. Stars floated around his head. Then everything went black.
When Nate’s eyes fluttered open, a painful thumping rattled his skull. Jesse scooped him up, hustling into the house. Nate took one look at Ma, and tears burst out of him. In no more than a wink, he was wrapped in her loving arms. Ma sat and rocked him while Jesse stood guard again.
Nate wiped his eyes. “Where’s Pa?”
Jesse turned. Wrinkles uglied his brow. “Hasn’t returned. Still chasin’ Tipsy.”
Ma and Nate slept in the rocker that night.
Jesse’s eyes were circled in dark lines the next morning. It was obvious he hadn’t caught a minute of shut-eye, and Pa hadn’t come home. Nate paced the floor on Jesse’s heels all that day and the next.
The sky remained gray. Flurries spun in the air when darkness fell. Nate, Ma, and Elizabeth, who was asleep, were snuggled up on the settee under a thick quilt, and Jesse stood at the window with his Winchester.
A horse clomped into the yard. Nate and Ma both sat up straight. Jesse lifted the bar off the door, swung it open, and Pa walked in looking cold, tired, and miserable. Nate popped up as Pa handed his rifle and saddlebags to Jesse. He jumped over Ma and right into Pa’s arms.
“Did ya get him?” Jesse asked as he set aside Pa’s things.
“Unfortunately, no, but I did chase him clear out of our jurisdiction. He’s bleedin’ again.” Pa kept a tight hold around Nate as if he’d die before letting him go.
The days that followed were blustery and brought more snow. Pa and Jesse took turns sleeping during the day. At night, though, they both prowled inside the house. No corner or dark spot went unchecked. Nate barely slept anymore. By chance when he did nod off, it was in the safety of Ma’s lap. Tonight Pa was letting Jesse get some real sleep because he’d been out on the trails for most of that afternoon, and there’d been no sign of Tipsy.
Nate crawled into bed.
Jesse flopped back into his pillow. “Don’t think you’re gonna hog all the blankets.” Grouchy jerked most of the quilts over, covering himself as he rolled onto his side, snoring in seconds.
Nate woke again, haunted by the same nightmarish vision of Tipsy dragging him to an early grave. When the gray of morning began to seep into the room, he had been awake for hours.
Jesse thought he might have to pull Nate out of his back pocket while heading to the outhouse so the kid could relieve himself and then again on the way to the breakfast table. The boy had tramped on the heel of Jesse’s boots several times, nearly tripping himself. Nate yawned four times until they got to the dining room.
Jesse took his seat, and no surprise, the youngster scooted himself so close that he was basically sitting on Jesse’s lap. Ma set a full, steamy plate in front of each of them. Jesse had to nudge the kid for elbow room more than once while eating. Nate wasn’t touching his vittles, just staring as if his plate were empty. It had only been a few days since Tipsy had given them all a scare, but Nathanial was a tough little pup. He’d buck up.
Jesse leaned back in his chair, taking notice of the sky. Thick, smoky-gray clouds hung over the top of the mountain. Yesterday had been colder than all get-out with that blasted wind. Today it didn’t seem as harsh, or at least the house only creaked twice since Jesse had sat down.
Sheriff Crosson shuffled in, looking as if he could use a few hours of undisturbed sleep.
Jesse picked up his coffee. “Mornin’. Looks like we’re in for some snow.” Flurries touched down at a fast pace but hadn’t inched up yet.
The sheriff didn’t nod or even look up. He didn’t seem to notice the weather at all. He’d flopped into his seat and was studying the sleepy-eyed boy who was nodding off, nose in his eggs.
Jesse got an idea. He hadn’t come across a single horse track yesterday. There’d been a few cattle prints though. He shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth. Chances were Tipsy was probably holed up somewhere warm. Nate could definitely use some fresh air, like when he’d gone sled riding the other day. A mountain ride would be peaceful with the fresh white flakes clinging to the evergreen branches. The kid hadn’t uncurled himself after that frighteningly close call. It had given Jesse a good, hard shock too. Maybe a ride on the mustang in the crisp air would lift the boy’s spirits.
“I came across some strays of Shorty’s yesterday.” Jesse was talking to Sheriff Crosson but thinking about Nate.
All that worry had the kid shrinking up inside himself. He hadn’t picked up a book in days, and Elizabeth had more of an appetite than him. Besides, Jesse didn’t want the half-pint pitching a tent with him every night.
“I’d like to take Nathanial with me to round them up. I know where they’d be headed.” Jesse was surprised at how quickly Nate’s tired eyes had brightened. The kid actually had a smile on his face.
“I think Nate should stay home and rest.” The sheriff’s gaze was stuck on Nathanial, who had perked up at the idea of rounding up cows.
“Pa, please! I wanna be a cowboy with Jesse. I ain’t that tired. He can watch for Tipsy. He’s full of coffee and wide-awake.” That had been the first time since the night Tipsy had gotten his hands on the boy that he’d mentioned the man’s name without bursting into a sob.
Nathanial’s mouth turned down into an almighty big pout. Jesse knew that little rascal was up to his old ways, and it was good to see. Sheriff Crosson most likely knew it too. The little shyster was using that cute face to make his pa cave. It seemed to be working because the sheriff hadn’t said no. He sipped at his coffee as if seriously considering it.
Jesse stood and pushed in his chair while the sheriff eyed the weather. Jesse was far too old to pout or bat his blue eyes in the same way the kid was pleading. Sheriff Crosson was a sensible man. Jesse could appeal to that in an effort to sway the decision. “With the way the snow’s comin’ down, I doubt we’ll run into any trouble. We should be home by noon if the cows are where I think they are, and I ain’t green when it comes to chasin’ cattle.” He swallowed the last of his coffee.
Nate squirmed in his chair, waiting for an answer. Sheriff Crosson didn’t say a word, though he rubbed thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin.
“Please, please, please, Pa?” Nate had his head tilted ever so sweetly and hugged around his pa’s neck. That boy was something else. What a little conniver.
Jesse ginned and admitted to himself that he would have given in already.
“All right, you can go with Jesse.”
“Woo-hoo!” Nathanial sprang out of his pa’s arms, running for his coat.
“You boys be careful,” the sheriff hollered from the table. Maybe had his lids not been so heavy, he would have ridden along.
“Wait for me.” Jesse threw on his hat and coat.
Out the door the speedy little jackrabbit went. There hadn’t even been time to give the sheriff a nod. Jesse hurriedly shut the door behind him. Nate didn’t bother with the steps, jumping off the porch at a run. He hit the ground racing, leaped the picket fence, then dashed across the yard toward the barn. Jesse had never seen such a spurt of energy from someone that only two minutes ago looked barely half-awake.
Nathanial had both the mustang and Appaloosa led from their stalls, waiting to be saddled.
“Can I borrow your rope? I wanna do the lassoing. Bet I can catch me a longhorn.” The bouncy little bugger was already unraveling the rope from where it was secured to Jesse’s saddle.
“Partner, we gotta ride there first.”
Behind them, the door faintly creaked. Jesse twisted at a breakneck speed as he swung the Winchester up. His finger squeezed back on the trigger just a touch. Tipsy would be cut down, not Nathanial.
Kate screamed, jumping damn near out of her skin. The poor woman dropped the knitted hat and scarf in her hands.
Jesse’s finger flew off the trigger. “Sorry, Ma. Thought you were—” He quickly lowered his gun, his heart banging hard.
The half-pint’s eyes were as wide as could be, and he stood stiff as a board.
Ma hurried and wrapped the scarf tight around Nathanial.
His little partner’s eyes had welled up. “Do you think we’ll run into Tipsy?”
Jesse reckoned the thought of playing cowboy really had distracted Nathanial from worrying about Tipsy.
Ma kissed his face, then looked over at Jesse with confidence and grinned. “I believe Jesse isn’t taking any chances and you’re in very good hands.” She pulled the matching red hat down over the half-pint’s ears while he slipped on each mitten. For once, he didn’t give her any guff about wearing it.
When they left the barn, Ma was twisting the corner of her apron. “Be careful.”
Jesse tipped his hat. He had no intention of being caught off guard. It was certainly understandable that the kid’s folks would be uneasy, but they must have recognized that their little boy needed some sunshine in his life. Not that the big ball of light was in the sky, because it wasn’t. Snow fell at a fair pace. What Nate needed was this chance to look forward to something, to be happy for a few minutes. Lately the poor kid had been nothing but teary, sulky, and quiet.
Nathanial hugged Ma goodbye for the third time.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Jesse coaxed softly.
Nate slowly peeled himself away, and Ma stayed and watched as Jesse lifted him onto the mustang. Buck swished his tail, then shook his head as though he were scolding the boy for not riding him in so long. The mustang eagerly pawed at the dirt, which put a big smile on Nathanial’s gloomy face.
When Jesse swung a leg over Dapple, the sheriff leaned wearily against a porch post, watching. Jesse and Nate both gave a quick wave goodbye as they rode out of the ranch yard.
They headed up the mountain in the direction of Shorty’s ranch. A half hour later, they touched on his land. There was something in the cold air that made Jesse feel alive. Nathanial must have been feeling it too because he whistled a happy tune as fat flakes sprinkled over them. His little cheeks were rosy. Jesse hadn’t seen the boy look so spry in days. It made him sort of feel like a kid himself, so he stuck out his tongue and caught a flake. Nate giggled, and Jesse gave him a wink.
They trotted their horses over a bald knob, and Shorty’s ranch disappeared in the distance behind them. Bigger, heavier flakes now fell, inching up on the ground as Jesse led the way across the ridge side by a short length. Surrounded by trees, the wind wasn’t able to bite at them so badly. Had it been this cold when they left the house? Another mile and they would be there. The mountains were frosted in a thick layer of white, and the sky turned a bleak, dark gray. A strange hush had come over the land with the steadily falling snow.
A great crashing noise rumbled through the air behind them. Nate twisted around in the saddle so damn fast he nearly fell off Buck. Buck’s ears perked up, and he stepped nervously. Jesse had the Winchester aimed. Was it Tipsy or a grizzly that didn’t know he should be sleeping this time of year?
A large brown-faced cow burst into the open and stared at them. Nate could breathe again. That quick, the dumb thing turned and ran back into the brush.
“Git her, Nate!” Jesse gave a whoop, and Dapple took off as if born to be a cow pony.
Nate kicked Buck and held tight as he crashed through the thicket. Winter had withered everything except the thorns, which scratched, and Nate didn’t see the cow ahead. Buck broke through the brush into a small clearing. The cow ran while kicking up her heels and bawling loudly toward a wobbly legged calf standing under an evergreen. It was the wrong time of year for cows to be dropping young. If the weather didn’t overtake the little thing, wolves would.
“I see her,” Nate called.
Jesse rode into the clearing at the far end of the meadow. He was much closer to the cow than Nate. He swung the rope. The stupid beast spooked and ran off with her calf into the brush, and Jesse followed without pause. Nate kicked the mustang, not wanting to miss his chance to help.
Nate went one way, and the cow ran the other. He was basically spinning circles in the snow while more white stuff came down heavier than just a few minutes ago. Being a cowboy wasn’t easy. They’d been chasing that shifty cow and her calf around in the brush for close to an hour. She’d thrown her long horns, slipping free from the rope a few times. Nate wanted to punch a cow, all right. He was so cold he couldn’t feel his ears, even with his stupid hat on. He was ready to let her to the wolves. But Jesse wouldn’t give up, cursing that cow an awful lot for besting him.
He had somehow wrangled the beast out into a small meadow. “Partner, ride around thataway. Let her see ya.” Jesse seemed unaware of how deep the snow had gotten, and it was still inching up.
Nate turned the mustang. He hadn’t signed up to be bait.
That big dark-eyed beast snorted, watching his and the mustang’s every move. Every thick pound of her pawed at the ground, a warning not to come any closer. It was the mighty swish of those pointy horns that made Nate’s life flash before his eyes. Those weren’t play toys, and he didn’t want Buck getting gored either. Jesse was sneaking up behind her. This had better work, because all Nate’s nerve might be spent on this one try. He’d lost the ability to swallow.
Two, three swings and Jesse tossed the line. Nate crossed his fingers as the rope flew. It landed perfectly around the stupid animal’s neck. Jesse yanked the rope taut, tying it around his saddle horn. The cow turned and charged like a bull, head down, horns leading the way.
Nate’s heart took off pounding, but Jesse’s Appaloosa countered the charge and the next and each one after that. Near to a foot of fresh white had piled up since that morning. Maybe Jesse could wear down that beast by keeping her running in it.
The calf bawled for its mother. Nate had almost forgotten the cute little thing. He slid out of the saddle, sinking in well over his knees. There was no way the calf could walk the distance to Shorty’s ranch. Jesse would have no choice but to carry the little critter over the saddle. Poor thing hadn’t stopped crying.
He patted the calf’s head. “It’ll be all right. You’ll be with your mama soon.” Nate couldn’t wait to be with his mama either. Ma and Pa might be getting worried since the weather had turned ugly.
Nate twisted toward all the cursing. Jesse and the cow were running circles around one another. That big, dumb beast just wouldn’t give up her fight, though Jesse still had her caught in the rope.
Nate blew into his hands. Jesse whooped and hollered after that feisty bitch, and the two of them crashed through the brush. If he didn’t hurry it the hell up, Nate might turn into an icicle.
“Nathanial Younger.” That hiss of a voice belonged to the man Nate feared the most. Tipsy!
Nate spun around, slipped, and fell on his backside. The cushion of snow must have covered the mare’s steps.
Nate sat there in the snow, tears in his eyes, facing death. A thick veil of white flakes masked Tipsy’s face. He didn’t have to see that bastard clearly to know that his time had come. Stained and wrinkled, Tipsy’s long coat hung open, Colts strapped on each hip. Oh dear God, let him show some mercy and be quick about this.
All Nate had wanted was to play cowboy. Now his last breath would be drawn on that mountainside, away from Ma, Pa, and Elizabeth. His heart pounded harder than ever. Their faces flashed before his eyes. Why hadn’t he said I love you? He crossed his fingers that Jesse could get away. There was no guarantee, not even with the Winchester, that he could get the drop. The speed with which Tipsy could clear leather was in itself frightening. The last thing Nate wanted to witness was Jesse’s guts being splattered everywhere.
Tipsy pushed his coattail behind one of the Colts. “That feller yonder, he Sheriff Crosson’s deputy?” The thickly falling flakes made him squint.
Nate absentmindedly looked over his shoulder as if he didn’t know. A blur in all that white, Jesse was still fighting the cow and drove her into the brush, both disappearing. Nate’s flicker of hope had been put out. Jesse hadn’t seen Tipsy, so he was unaware of what was about to go down.
The words don’t ever give up rang in Nate’s mind from long ago. He stared straight into Tipsy’s black eyes. “I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’, jackass.”
Fighting back when caught was another thing that son of a bitch, who deserved no respect, had taught him. And he wasn’t going to let Tipsy hurt Jesse. He meant as much to Nate as Ma, Pa, or Elizabeth. Snatching up a handful of snow, Nate pitched with every ounce of oomph in him. Tipsy ducked that first hard ball, but Nate fired again before he had time to look.
“Damn you, ya little brat!” Tipsy wiped the mess from between his eyes. He began to laugh, and Nate knew why. Snowballs were no match for bullets. He was going to die.
Slowly he scooted away. Tipsy sneered. This was it. Nate swallowed hard.
A boom rang in their ears. Tipsy jerked in the saddle.
Nate dared throwing a glance over his shoulder. Jesse had dropped the rope. The cow and calf weren’t in sight. The Winchester was aimed at Tipsy’s chest. Maybe Nate wasn’t going to die after all.
His heart pounded so fast, and dampness trickled down his neck. His eyes flicked back and forth in a split second’s time. The dreaded moment had come. Somebody—maybe all three of them—would die in the next few seconds. Nate couldn’t watch, but he couldn’t close his eyes.
God, please save Jesse.
Tipsy glared, the Colt in his hand taken aim. The iron had instantaneously appeared there. Snow spun every which way, creating a thickening wall of white. Nate’s thumping heart couldn’t take much more. Would any of them live to see the sunset?
A fiery charge stabbed into the white from the end of Tipsy’s gun.
What a time for the blasted mean wind to kick up, spitting heavy-falling snow in their eyes. Nate could hardly make out Dapple, let alone Jesse. Had he been hit? Was he hurt? No scream or groan echoed in the bitter air. The Winchester boomed. Nate was within spitting distance, and he could barely distinguish Tipsy’s outline. No bullets were being thrown at Nate, at least not at the moment. Tipsy was too distracted with staying alive.
A horrific shriek broke in between the shots. What the hell? It wasn’t exactly screaming, but it made Nate cringe. Was it Jesse?
The wind died down. What emerged from behind the thick shroud of snow was a big bloody mess. Nate’s eyes sprang wide. Dapple was tossed into the air with bull-like strength. Jesse flew ten feet high before both hit the ground with a sickening thud. They had all forgotten about the cow. How Jesse managed to hold tight to the Winchester, God only knew.
Before the Appaloosa could get to its feet, that devil of a longhorn impaled the horse’s underbelly, tearing savagely at the flesh. Poor Dapple kicked but couldn’t stand. That mean cow showed no mercy, ripping with her pointy horns even after the Appaloosa stopped moving.
Nate slapped a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the burn from his churning stomach. A frosty twister whistled around them like a freight train, and the cow suddenly disappeared. Tears stung Nate’s eyes. He didn’t want his guts slopped all over the place.
He didn’t see Tipsy either. What was that blur running at him? He pitched himself into the nearest thicket and rolled through the half foot of new snow.
Tipsy’s pistol cracked. A rifle boomed. Jesse’s alive!
Nate didn’t look back, scrambling on all fours toward a cluster of rocks. A bullet cut through the brush, missing him but not by much. Another boom rang out. Then the pistol barked. Something sliced Nate’s behind. Holy shit, it hurt. He bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood. Oh God, he wanted to let out caterwauling, but that would give away his exact position. He grabbed at his ass while tears ran down his face. A warm ooze seeped through his pants, and when he pulled his hand away, there was blood on his fingers.
A bullet tore through the branches above his head. Fragments of twigs mixed with the heavy flakes sprinkling his shoulders. The Winchester fired again. Nate glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing but pure white everywhere he looked. He’d never seen anything like it. It looked as if someone had draped a thick, bland curtain and blocked out the rest of the world. No Jesse. No Tipsy. That must have accounted for all the missed shots. There was nothing he could do to help Jesse but pray.
Out ahead, a sliver of a dark spot caught his eye. Was that a crack between two rocks? Nate crawled as fast as he could while cursing his pain. It looked big enough to hide him, but with the blur of spinning snow, he might be crawling off a cliff. Behind him, the Colts and the Winchester battled, the volley of gunfire rumbling through the air. Gunpowder filtered through all the flakes and got stuck in his nostrils. He was almost to the rocks or whatever that dark spot was. He hoped it wasn’t that bitch of a cow.
Jesse’s boots slipped. He fell on one knee and quickly rolled flat on his stomach where he cracked off a shot. His bullet missed Tipsy and skimmed Buck’s rump, which made him wildly kick and take off running. Just that fast, Buck got swallowed up in the swirl of white and was lost from sight. Dapple lay dead, nearly covered in the heavy-falling blanket of snow. Where was Nathanial and the damn cow?
Jesse jumped to his feet and ran for a stand of trees close to where he’d last seen Nate. A bullet ripped through his coat, and he grabbed where the flesh stung along his side. Diving into the tree line, he quickly rolled, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. Lead ripped through the evergreen branches above him. He ducked his head, searching left then right. The kid wasn’t either place, but how could he be sure? Nate was so little, and the snow was falling harder. Jesse was having a hard time seeing past his nose. Had he even escaped into the brush, or was the imp lying in the open, same as the Appaloosa? His horse was now buried under a growing mound of snow. He strained his eyes frantically. Hell, he couldn’t make out anything on the ground. There was no sign of the boy anywhere. Tipsy’s outline was obscure at best, and he was sitting atop a horse.
A bullet zinged, just missing Jesse’s head. Tree bark flew into his eyes. The Winchester clicked empty. He was out of cartridges. The others were in his saddlebags. He dropped the gun, skinned his pistol, and fired. Tipsy jerked in the saddle. Jesse squeezed the trigger again, and Tipsy spun the other direction when the bullet slammed his chest. The panicked mare reared. Jesse kept his finger working the trigger until the pistol was empty. Tipsy was full of holes when he hit the ground. His horse ran off and disappeared into the blizzard.
Jesse grimaced as he stood. Blood covered his hand where he’d touched under his shirt.
A thickening cloud of white loomed before him. Nothing in that meadow, near or far, took its shape. A tinkling noise started up, and wetness stung his face. Sleet now fell with the snow.
Jesse staggered forward, every breath hurting. That rotten bastard had to be somewhere on the ground. If he wasn’t dead, then that son of a bitch had to be close to drawing his last breath. Jesse fed shells into his pistol.
A slight gurgling moan carried in the wind. Was that Tipsy or Nathanial? With each step, pain cut through Jesse’s middle, damn near doubling him over. Water filled his eyes. Tipsy had hit him good, but there was no time to look. Whoever was groaning, the awful noise grew louder. Jesse stumbled blindly through the whiteout, holding his wound while keeping his pistol hand aimed toward that death rattle. Tipsy might still be holding tight to one of the Colts.
Jesse squinted against the wind, though the red stain stood out against all the white. An obscure lump began to take shape. Tipsy lay gasping, a half inch of sleet already covering most of his body. There wasn’t a speck of sympathy in Jesse’s blood. Vengeance had come to claim the life of a little boy, but Jesse intended to finish the job of sending Tipsy straight to hell.
Something large shouldered past Jesse at a run, sending him spinning and stumbling backward, and Tipsy vanished inside the cloud of falling snow. A high-pitched screech ricocheted within the twister.
Jesse’s boot touched down on a small lump under the snow. Fear cut through him. That might be Nate. He jerked his weight off and fell flat on his back, which did nothing but worsen the pain he’d already been dealing with. When he thumped the ground, he lost hold of his gun. The calf’s muffled bawl reached his ears. It wasn’t his little partner.
Thank God! Jesse slapped a hand to his heart.
Everything was painted a pure, thick white. It didn’t matter which direction he twisted. There was nothing for his eyes to focus on. The tree line, rocks, brush, even those things within a few feet of him had been swallowed by that mighty angry cloud. Lost somewhere was a little boy who was probably scared to death. How the hell was he going to find Nathanial? Dead or alive, he wouldn’t leave that spot without him.
Tipsy fell out of the sky, hitting the ground next to Jesse with a god-awful thump. The charging cow took shape out of the snow. When she scooped her head, Jesse rolled out of the way, just missing a swipe from the long horns. She threw Tipsy high into the air again.
Where was Jesse’s pistol? Frantically he brushed through the snow. It was more than protecting himself. The sound of gunfire could be heard through the wind as a signal. Nate might not respond to the blast from a revolver, likely thinking it to be Tipsy. Any gunfire would lure Sheriff Crosson if he had seen the storm early enough and possibly come to fetch them home.
Tipsy smacked the ground, blood splattering. That mean cow rolled him like a squeaky barrel. Jesse’s heart pounded as fast as the sleet hit. His hand touched iron, his cold fingers barely recognizing it, shoving the pistol into his holster.
That big four-legged bitch had no quit in her. Over and over, she flung Tipsy helplessly against the cold, hard ground. Not that the piece of shit didn’t deserve each stab of those horns, but those mangled screams and then that sickening splat turned Jesse’s stomach. Or it might have been all the blood he was losing that made him awful queasy. Before hightailing it out of there, one thing needed to be done. He forced his stiffening muscles to work quickly and stood the bawling calf on its feet.
Wherever Nathanial was, if he was alive, Jesse hoped to hell the boy couldn’t see the brutal attack. Jesse had once seen a grizzly bear rip apart a stray cow. It hadn’t been this awful messy. The thought of getting his guts torn out kept him hustling, though his side was giving him hell. He was almost to the tree line, or what he thought was the tree line. Shapeless and pure white, it was hard to tell what he faced, especially with the wind swirling.
“Jesse?”
He skidded to a halt. Had he heard Nathanial?
“Nathanial!” Jesse strained to hear. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks because he wanted to hear that little voice more than anything. He cupped an ear. Between the dying Tipsy and the howling blizzard, it was hard to discern. He hurried anyway toward where he thought the boy’s muffled voice had carried from.
“Jesse?” Strained and high-pitched, but that was definitely Nathanial’s voice.
The boy was alive. Was he hurt? Jesse touched at his paining side. Finding Nate would not be easy, especially since Jesse would have to watch out for that mean cow.
When he called out, Nate’s return shout caught in the nasty wind, seemingly thrown from every direction. Jesse spun around, not knowing which way to go. It was very possible that he’d walked right past. He stopped, standing still. What he didn’t hear anymore was Tipsy.
“Nathanial!” Jesse screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Jesse!” The kid’s voice sounded closer, or he’d yelled as hard as possible.
They seemed to be playing a game, only this was no fun. Even if they found one another inside the storm, the likeliness of them surviving was pitifully slim. It had to be below zero.
Nathanial’s voice slowly grew stronger as Jesse took one step at a time, wishing he could see something more than white. Anything but that cow would be good. Nate might be a foot away and Jesse would never know it.
“Nathanial!” Jesse took a step and bumped into something hard. His gut tightened. Don’t let it be that mad cow. No sharp horns speared him. Stiff as a board, he waited.
“Jesse!”
For a second his knees went weak. His hands rubbed over the roundness of the boy’s head, then he patted down over the tiny face and shoulders just to be sure. He held tight to Nathanial’s arms and leaned in close until his lips pressed against the boy’s ear. “You hurt?”
“No … you?”
“He grazed me, but I’ll be fine.”
They were fifteen miles from Shorty’s ranch and even farther from home. Jesse’s side was afire with pain. And Nate, an eight-year-old child who had just been shot at about ten times, quivered from top to bottom. The two of them were anything but fine. He wasn’t going to let on how bad he was truly hurting. He didn’t want to panic the kid.
“We gotta walk, partner. The horses are all gone.” Jesse’s bearings were all off. The horizon was lost in the storm, which meshed with the land. He was barely keeping himself thinking straight. His mind was woozy from the amount of blood he had already lost.
If only they had a horse, they might have a chance of getting out of there, getting home, surviving. Out in the chilly weather all day, Jesse now hobbled with the stiffness of an old man. With each drip of blood, his strength rapidly drained.
There was one thought that would keep his tired bones moving.
The boy’s pa wouldn’t be sitting at home, warm in front of the fire, not at this late hour. It had to be well beyond noon, past when Jesse and Nate should have been home. Sheriff Crosson would be out searching for the two of them.
Should Jesse walk them toward Shorty’s or home? He couldn’t be sure of the direction of either place. What they needed right now was to hole up somewhere and get out of the blizzard before they both froze. A film of frost had bleached Jesse’s coat, and the three underlayers had stiffened. The air was growing colder. Warmth was what they needed, soon, or neither one of them would last.
“I’ll go look for one of the horses,” Nate shouted through the squall.
Before the boy could take a step, Jesse grabbed him by the coat sleeve. “No!” He could barely see his little partner standing tight against his hip. “Keep ahold of my hand!”
If the kid took one step away, they might not find each other again.
Jesse squeezed Nathanial’s hand tight. In what direction should he head them? He spun around, dragging Nate with him. He had hunted hereabouts and found a cave maybe four miles southeast from that meadow. Could he find it again in this blasted weather? If his instinct wasn’t right, it would be a miserable end for the two of them. That little hand Jesse held made the risk seem too unforgivable, but they couldn’t just stand there and freeze to death.
He needed to think. When he’d shot Tipsy from inside the tree line, he had been facing south. The cow spun him around, he fell, and when he got up, maybe he was facing west. He had then turned a few times to follow the boys voice. Shit. This wasn’t helping any, and no solid landmarks could be made out.
Nathanial tugged on his hand, and Jesse leaned down. “Why ain’t we gittin’ outta here?” His voice shook, either from cold or fear or maybe both.
Jesse would guess the latter because this blizzard had him rattled too. And what he was about to say wouldn’t be of any comfort. “I ain’t sure which way is up.”
Nate leaned in close so his icy lips touched tight against Jesse’s ear. “Them big rocks that I hid between, they stood on the west side of the meadow. After I called your name, I walked straight out, so we gotta be facin’ east.”
The boy had to be right. Jesse shielded his eyes from the blowing snow and squinted. Nothing around them in that desolate meadow had changed, but somehow the path before them was laid out fairly clear in his mind.
Jesse pulled Nate, stumbling along through the deepening snow. His boots filled, toes tingling cold, but the poor half-pint was buried waist high. If they were tromping in the right direction, they should soon cross a long meadow with a wooded patch at the far end. Inside that tree line, the ground formed a deep ravine connecting two hillsides. At the bottom of the ravine, there would be a small pond of spring water, most likely frozen now. Off to the right of that water and about halfway up the second hill sat the cave hidden among some rocks and trees. The chances of him finding the place, since he hadn’t been there in at least six months, was looking worse, but he had stocked some canned goods and cut wood there for future use.
Ice chunks as big as a nickel peppered their hides. Some of those big suckers stung. Even with their heads tucked into their shoulders, there was no place to escape. Doggone man-eating headwind bit at their every miserable step. Why wouldn’t the man upstairs let it die down? Even a little would help. The woolly scarf Kate had knitted him stopped warming the frigid air, and Jesse’s lungs stung with every inhale.
He and the boy would likely wander the hills until exhausted and then freeze to death.
It was hard to tell how far they’d come. Maybe three miles, but judging by the way Jesse huffed and puffed, it felt more like ten. He wanted to blow into his hands for warmth but feared his fingers wouldn’t unbend from gripping Nate’s hand. All his muscles were rigid.
Jesse stumbled. Then three steps later, he tripped and dragged Nathanial down. It took a few grunts before he was able to push up. Neither of them had any breath left. The words ashes to ashes and dust to dust went through his head, and that’s about where they were.
They hadn’t walked more than a few steps when Nathanial fell, his hand slipping from Jesse’s grasp. Jesse held an empty red mitten. His heart damn near seized.
“Partner!” Jesse grabbed wildly while twisting every which way. Pain jabbed at his side, but that didn’t matter. He clamped down on what he believed was Nathanial’s arm. Jesse’s hands were too frozen to tell, but he had no intention of letting go. They were going to turn to icicles in the middle of nowhere if he couldn’t soon get them to that cave.
“Hold on tighter!” He could hardly hear his own words shouted against the howling wind.
“Can’t feel my hands.” Nathanial was bawling.
Jesse had to ignore the crying for now. He wouldn’t chance them drifting apart. “Hang on to my leg.” He had an idea.
Nate wrapped his arms around tight. Jesse’s stiff fingers fumbled until he finally unbuckled his belt, threading one end through a loop on Nathanial’s pants before fastening the other to himself, belting them together. Jesse’s numb hands could not be trusted either.
He hunched against the tough-hitting blizzard. Legs quivering, he was barely able to bumble forward. A winterly mix spiraled around them from what seemed like up, down, and all around. Heavy flakes stuck to Jesse’s eyelashes. He couldn’t seem to focus, feeling cross-eyed from straining. They had to be close to the cave. He couldn’t go much farther and had been dragging Nathanial the last half mile or so. Jesse didn’t like to think that they might be walking in the wrong direction.
Barely visible was a line of white-covered trees. Had they come that far? Were they at the ravine that held the cave? Jesse quickened his pace into the patch of trees, thinking he recognized the slope. Though he doubted his senses. How could he not since all of nature’s markers were hidden under almost four feet of snow?
He skirted the edge where he suspected the pond should be. There was no telling if he was right. Even inside the tree line, everything had blended together as one big pale slate. The wind wasn’t as harsh, but the snow was still falling too thick. Jesse ignored his hurt, dragging himself while pulling Nathanial up the adjoining hillside. Amid the barren white land, how was he to tell where the cave mouth stood, if he was even in the right place?
There was a small, hollow-looking black spot smack in front of him. Jesse cocked his head. His heart raced. Could he believe his eyes?
He dug the drift away from that spot as quick as he could, and the black began to grow. Nate’s little hands were working fast next to him. One of Jesse’s hands sank through the dark opening, which was dead brush, and into empty space. What else could it be? Before he’d left the cave months ago, he propped dead branches against the opening in hopes of keeping any critters from making their shelter inside.
“What is that?” Nate stuck his hand in the hole.
Jesse didn’t know what else to think but that they’d found salvation. Tears stung his eyes.
“It’s gonna be home for now.” Jesse yanked the branches away, tossing them aside, and Nate helped. The dark cave mouth opened, which was easy to see against the blinding white.
Jesse stepped inside with the half-pint still belted to his side. The raging wind no longer battered them, but it howled something fierce just outside. They stood still for a minute, allowing their eyes to adjust. A stab of pain doubled Jesse over, and he grabbed his side.
“What’s wrong?” Nate snagged hold of Jesse’s arms as if he were going to keep him from falling over.
“I’m okay, partner.” Jesse slowed his breathing, but the pain wasn’t going away and he couldn’t stand straight. “Unbuckle this belt, then find the matches in that crate.”
Nathanial clung to Jesse’s leg and whimpered. The boy wasn’t willing to take a step away, not after what they’d been through. He couldn’t blame Nate for being scared. A lot of dire things had happened in a short time. That didn’t change the fact that if they didn’t soon get warm, they might die.
“You wanna freeze? We gotta git these bad shivers out of us, so do as I tell ya.” Jesse wasn’t harsh but firm enough that the kid understood they were still in a serious way. Nathanial slowly let go and unfastened the belt.
The little boy shuffled away, farther into the dark, watching over his shoulder with every other step. Jesse nodded for him to go. A pan clanked. There was lots of rustling while the half-pint fumbled about inside the crate. Jesse had used that dusty box as a small table when he’d been there last. Nate finally struck a match.
When they had a fire started, Jesse hunkered next to the flames, warming his hands. Nate flopped down, shucked his boots, and stripped off his squishy socks. Jesse’s feet burned so bad from being cold that he damn near wanted to cry. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t ouch.
“My legs sting.” Nate scratched at his skin. Both the boy’s hands and feet were a brilliant red that matched his cheeks and nose.
Jesse eased back against the cave wall. He should pull off his own wet boots and have a look at his tingling toes, but first he needed to tend to the boy. If Nate kept that scratching up, he’d soon have his feet bleeding.
“Come here.” Jesse patted the ground, and the kid scooted closer. “Give me a foot.” He rubbed the skin with vigor, and tears sprang up in Nate’s eyes. “The sting will fade as I move the blood.”
Nate nodded, though tears slid steadily down his face. Jesse brushed his hands up and down the half-pint’s legs from knees to toes, and he began to relax.
Jesse’s feet throbbed. As much as he wanted to rub his own toes, that would have to wait. He needed to have a good look at his wound, but he didn’t want Nathanial getting scared if it was bad. Judging by all the pain, he figured it was.
“Now that I’ve shown you how, why don’t ya take over?” That should distract the kid.
Jesse turned away, touched real gentle at his side, and winced. Tipsy had gotten him good.
As Jesse thawed out, the pain got worse. He grimaced and had to stop and breathe as he pulled the bloodstained coat off one shoulder. It was a wonder his little partner hadn’t seen the red stain. The kid had been badly shaken up when they’d gotten there. Now the sway of orange flames throwing shadows might hide it some.
“Had a feelin’ you were hidin’ somethin’ from me.” The half-pint squatted on his knees. His eyes fixed on the wide, seeping gash. It had to be a finger-length deep. The kid’s face waned.
Stitches was what he needed, but unless the boy was carrying a needle and thread on him, Jesse was shit out of luck.
“You liar. That’s more than a damn graze. Look at all that blood.” Nate had his little face right in there. “What are we gonna do?” There was panic in his shaky voice.
“Help me off with this other sleeve.” Drenched, his wool coat must have weighed twenty pounds. He couldn’t muster the strength to throw the heavy thing off. He was weak as a newborn.
Fear-stricken, Nathanial didn’t move, just stared, eyes brimming with tears. He was probably asking himself what he would do without Jesse if he was to bleed out. They were a long way from home, and no one knew where they were. Their supplies were few, and the blizzard raged. Nate might not know their exact whereabouts to find his way home once the storm let up, and who knew when that would be?
“Dry your eyes. Today ain’t my day to die.” On his say-so, the boy tugged easy on Jesse’s coat sleeve until his arm was free of the soppy garment.
He pointed to a second dusty old crate covered in cobwebs and dry leaves that had blown inside at one time or another. Sometimes helping made people feel better, and Jesse wanted to comfort that little boy as much as he was able.
“Fetch that pot and boil some water.”
Nathanial went to work, wiping the aged frying pan clean with some packed snow. Every other breath, the boy’s teary eyes crawled all over Jesse’s bloodstained side.
“Stop your worryin’.” Jesse wasn’t altogether sure he wouldn’t bleed out. He was feeling mighty poor, resting his head against the cave wall, but he couldn’t die. Nathanial needed him.
“What next?” The kid stood near the heat, wiggling all ten toes, a touch of healthy pink on his cheeks.
“Scoop up a few handfuls of snow and melt it over the flames.”
Jesse sleepily stared off into the pan, waiting for the water to boil. Nathanial had taken off his shirt and wore only the underlayer of long drawers, which weren’t thick, but worn from use, so not as warm as his shirt. Most of their clothing was draped across the floor, drying, so he thought nothing of the kid doffing a layer. Jesse hadn’t realized what he had been up to, even after he’d pulled Jesse’s knife.
Jesse dozed off for a few minutes.
The shirt had been cut into strips for bandages before he had woke and figured it all out. Aw, the fool-headed kid was now down a layer of warmth. Good thing the cave was toasty.
“Water’s hot.” Nate had his hands cupped over the steam.
Jesse shook off the sleepy haze that had come over him for a while. He inched closer to the hissing pan. Nate handed him one of the bandages. Jesse dipped it into the frying pan, then began to clean his wound. It was taking every ounce of strength to hold back his yelling. The half-pint closely watched the bloody work and turned green. Jesse wasn’t feeling any better.
When he packed a dry piece inside the cut, sweat blistered all over him. He took a deep breath. “Knot two of those bandages together, then tie it tight around me.”
Nate bent and picked up the strips.
Jesse’s eyes widened, his focus straight on the bloodstain on the back of the boy’s pants. “Did you git shot?”
“I forgot.” Nate twisted to look at his own backside. “I was so cold … I guess I stopped feeling it.”
“Turn around and drop your drawers.” Jesse was already spinning him.
It wasn’t more than a scratch on his bottom. What a relief. Jesse weakly grinned. Now that he saw the kid wasn’t hurt bad, he rested back against the wall.
“Oh boy, that wound is purdy serious.” A little funning was something they could both use. “Prepare yourself … You got a big crack in your ass.” Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle.
In one huffing swipe, Nate hiked his pants over his hips, whipped around facing Jesse, and rolled those baby blues. He was obviously not amused. “Am I hurt bad or not?”
“Stop wrinklin’ up your face all ugly like that. You’ll live. It’s barely a scratch.” Jesse reached up and dropped his hat over the kid’s head, and that little scowl was hidden.
Nate pushed the hat up over his ears, and a pair of sad blue eyes peeked out from under the brim. “I’m sorry.” The kid’s shoulders slumped, and he practically curled up into a ball.
Jesse sobered. “For what?”
“I got lucky, and you got hurt … again.” A tear dripped off his chin. This time Nate pulled the hat down, hiding his face.
Jesse hadn’t expected any of that.
He flicked the brim once, and Nate looked up at him. “That ain’t the way I see it. We’re partners, and as such, we fight for one another. That’s exactly what we did out there today. I saw you hit Tipsy with that snowball.” Jesse’s lighthearted teasing had been thoughtless and stupid. He was sorry he’d done it.
Nathanial slowly began to smile and wiped at his eyes.
Had the swirling snow not thrown Tipsy’s aim off a wee bit, his bullet might have gone through Nathanial’s back. It would have killed the boy, and that wasn’t something to joke about.
“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Jesse knew he was forgiven as Nate gently hugged around his neck. He patted the little boy’s back.
His little partner had fought through a hell of a lot today, and they weren’t out of this mess yet. Snow was still falling by the inches, and no one knew where they were holed up.
“All right, enough with the sappy stuff. Come on an’ tie that bandage round me. Then you can help me pull off my boots. Don’t that sound like fun?” Jesse grinned. Sometimes he made stupid jokes when he was nervous, and he wasn’t so sure they were going to get out of that cave alive.
He rubbed at his splotchy red skin. His feet were stinging something awful. At least his toes weren’t black. Two winters ago, a fellow ranch hand on the Seven-C lost a few after being exposed to the elements too long.
Nathanial laid out Jesse’s socks alongside the fire with their coats, gloves, both sets of boots, two scarves, and Nate’s itchy hat. He had kept Jesse’s hat on. Maybe it made the kid feel better, a bandage of sorts, a piece of Jesse to hold on to. Who knew?
Jesse couldn’t have been any more tired had he been yoked to a plow and churned up ten acres himself. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he eased himself down, resting his head against the dirt floor. Nate quickly curled up beside him, and Jesse’s eyes closed. The crackling of the fire began to relax his aching muscles. A whiff of pine smoke made him think of home and that night of his birthday celebration when they’d all lounged around the fireplace and shared stories. No matter what might happen, he would always treasure that.
“Jesse?” Nathanial’s soft voice quivered.
Jesse forced his eyes open. “What is it?”
“What happened to Tipsy?” The pup shook at the mention of that name.
Jesse, half in shock, studied the boy almost stupidly. He hadn’t realized. Nate must not have seen Tipsy being finished off by the mad cow. The damn blowing snow had been good for something.
He wouldn’t share the gory details. “You don’t ever have to worry about him again. That mean cow took good care of him.”
They settled themselves in next to one another, and judging by how weary Nate looked and Jesse felt, the two of them could both use a long rest. The wind howled, but inside the cave, they were safe from the sharp bite of it.
Nathanial’s eyes drooped heavily as he stared toward the flames that swayed rhythmically, throwing strange dancing shadows against the stone wall. Those blue eyes drifted shut. Within a minute, his chest rose and fell at a slow, even pace.
Jesse took one quick look under his shirt. The bandage was soaked through with fresh red. There was simply nothing he could do about it. They’d used all the bandages. He closed his eyes, and for the boy’s sake, he hoped he didn’t die.
Nolan rode into the high country where the missing pair had gone looking for cattle. He’d found the mustang a few miles into the hills and now led him along. There had been dried blood on the buckskin’s rump, though none on Nathanial’s saddle. Nate hated walking anywhere, hardly went a single place without Buck, and that horse wasn’t the type to spook and run off easily.
Nolan checked the rounds in his pistol. Surely Tipsy hadn’t been out in this snowy shit, hunting for Nathanial. The blizzard wasn’t letting up. Snow fell just as heavily today as it had yesterday. That son of a bitch was the only explanation.
The meadow was quiet. Barely visible were a cow and calf huddled under a stand of trees. Everything else but the two brown faces was covered in white.
Nolan touched spurs to the bay. The big horse balked at stepping forward, shook his head, and snorted. The mustang swished his tail, not wanting to go any farther either. Nolan stepped down out of the saddle, holding tight to the reins. It’d be a hell of a thing to lose the horses and have to walk all those miles out of there.
There was a large lump of something hidden under the snow, directly blocking the horses’ path. Nolan couldn’t imagine what that was. A fallen cow maybe. He bent, brushed the snow away, and uncovered the remains of the Appaloosa, Jesse’s saddle still cinched in place. Nolan stared, mouth open, eyes wide. It couldn’t be true.
His boys, where were they? What had become of them? Why had he given permission for those two to go traipsing off after damn cows? He took a deep breath. What had happened here? Nolan walked the horses in a widening circle and searched the ground for any sign of either boy being alive.
Nolan’s boot toe caught on something hidden under the snow, and down he went on hands and knees, somehow managing to keep hold of the reins. Part of a gray coat was uncovered. Neither boy had been wearing gray. Besides, those Confederate buttons were a dead giveaway as to who that was.
Nolan brushed away the snow and found the mangled, bloody, stiff carcass. The dead man’s end hadn’t come easy. Pain was frozen on Tipsy’s face. That wasn’t surprising given that his guts had been torn open and were hanging out. Hell of a sickening sight. Nolan turned his head away. Had Nathanial seen that happen? He hoped not.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Nathanial! Jesse!”
Damn contrary wind seemed to only want to hear itself bark and blocked his shouts from carrying too far. He spun in every direction, searching for the least little sign of them. There were no more lumps in the snow that he could make out.
It was hard to be sure, but he didn’t believe Nate or Jesse were near. Any trail his sons would have left behind had been buried under the four-plus feet of snow that had fallen. Since tracking them wasn’t an option, he could only guess what direction they might have headed. Being afoot and with the snow standing taller than Nathanial, Nolan doubted the boys had made it too far. He didn’t like to think that one or both of them might be hurt.
He would ride toward Shorty’s ranch. It was closer than home. Jesse, being savvy, would have considered that. Nate was probably just scared and wanted his mama.
No sooner had Nolan swung a leg over the saddle than a great bluster of cold air kicked up. A thick, blinding white cloud swirled around everything, and he tucked his face into his shoulder, sheltering himself. Maybe he had ridden past the boys along the way. It wouldn’t have been hard to do.