Nate fed several small pieces of wood to the fire, which had burned down overnight to nothing but red coals. The cave held a chill, and once again, he shivered. He pulled the red-stained coat up to blanket Jesse’s shoulders. There wasn’t a better sound than his loud snore. He sounded healthy, definitely alive.
Nate had tossed and turned throughout the night, worrying that Jesse might bleed out. He was strong-bodied and strong-willed. He had survived bullet holes before. This time would be no different.
Nate just had a sense that everything would work out. How could it not? Tipsy was gone for good. He would have danced around and sang praise, but he didn’t want to wake Jesse. He needed rest to heal.
Nate donned his coat, socks, and boots without making too much noise, then tiptoed over and peered out of the mouth of the cave. The heavy snow was still falling. He had bundled up tight in his scarf, even pulled his red hat down over his ears, before walking outside to breathe in the fresh air.
Today all those deep mounds of snow looked like pure fun. Never again would he look over his shoulder with that gut-sickening worry that Tipsy might be there. Nate caught snowflakes on his tongue and blinked wildly as more landed on his face. Eating flakes just wasn’t enough to pop the cork on that bottled-up tingling that had spread throughout his body. He flopped on his bottom and winced. It would be some time before he could altogether forget that scratch Tipsy had given him. Nate scooted along until he took off sliding down the hillside toward the pond.
The trees had sheltered small chunks of the ice from being drifted over with snow. Nate pressed a boot firmly at the edge. Not a crack or groan surfaced. Seemed safe to him. Luck was on his side. He skated onto the pond without fear. The frigid air stung his lungs, but he didn’t care about that. Tipsy was no more, and Jesse was alive. Nate whistled a lively gay tune and did a spin. He ran and slid across the pond, plowing through the snowy fluff. Again and again, he slid along the top of the ice until most of the snow was pushed off.
Nate stopped and lay on the ice while catching his breath. The coldness seeped through his clothes and cooled his sweat. From that spot in the middle of the pond, quiet and peaceful, he stared up through the trees with a new appreciation for life, snow falling on top of him. He slid his arms and legs in a fanning motion while he lay there, smiling big and toothy.
“Git your hide up here!” Jesse’s face seemed pale, even against the snow, and that scowl didn’t make him look any better. With one sharp swipe of his hand, he signaled to get off the ice.
“I’m makin’ a snow angel!” Nate wanted to finish because he was having lots of fun.
Jesse’s lips thinned. “I’m gonna skin ya if you don’t get your ass movin’.” He crossed his arms tight while standing there impatiently, his hard glare jolting Nate straight up onto his feet.
One last time, he ran and slid toward the edge of the pond, then scrambled up the hill as fast as he could through the deep snow. His smile was wild with life because that was exactly how he felt. Tipsy’s gun was no longer a threat to him or anyone else. That rotten bastard had gotten what he deserved.
Nate hadn’t believed Jesse weeks ago when, as a new deputy, he had promised to do more than just keep Tipsy away from him. He had made good on that vow. There wasn’t another man besides Pa that Nate trusted more.
“Boy, why are you smiling at me like you haven’t seen me in forever?” Jesse’s brow rose as he eyed Nate. “Did you find some wild berries growing under the snow?” The furrowed lines on his face smoothed into a grin.
Nate didn’t say it, but he was simply happy. He threw his arms around Jesse’s waist.
“Easy, partner. I don’t wanna start bleedin’ again.”
Nate backed off, although he kept on smiling. Jesse wasn’t being a sore head, which was good. After all, they were going to be stuck in a small cave together for a spell, so what was the sense of holding on to a bad mood?
“Grab some of that wood an’ bring it inside.” Jesse studied the split hunks for a minute. “Huh, thought I had cut more than that.” He looked at Nate as if he had a clue.
Nate shrugged, and Jesse didn’t say anything more of it. Nate skipped along, following him the few steps, and cheerily did what had been asked of him. He got his hands in there with Jesse and brushed the snow from the pile of ranked wood with his mittens, stacked a few pieces in Jesse’s arms, then loaded up himself.
Another six inches of snow fell before noon. Jesse made some weak coffee in the frying pan for Nate to warm himself after the early-morning romp. Over and over, his eyes came to rest on the three cans of beans. Someone had been there long before them, leaving behind empty cans from Jesse’s stash. They hadn’t noticed at first because of all the leaves that had blown inside at one time or another and buried the empty pile of cans tossed in the corner. The glass jars of pickles, peaches, and string beans were completely missing. It appeared that whoever had done it didn’t much care for the taste of beans. That was a little something to be thankful for. Though Jesse wasn’t letting them eat.
For some reason Jesse had stacked what measly portion had been left behind on the flip side of the crate, and those dusty and dented buggers stared teasingly at Nate. His willpower was about broken. If Jesse didn’t soon punch open one of those cans with his knife, Nate might just chew through the tin. The two of them staring at those cans wasn’t going to make them multiply, if that’s what Jesse was waiting for.
Nate’s belly rumbled every few minutes. Would whining do him any good? Probably not, since Jesse’s stomach had angrily cried out a few times and that hadn’t prodded him into opening one.
Nate just wanted a bite. Heck, he’d settle for a fulfilling whiff. Anything to keep him from wanting to eat his socks. The plan, he guessed, was to spread out what little they had for as long as they could, which meant there was a chance no one would find them. Nate hadn’t really thought about that until now. He wrapped his arms around his knees, cradling himself while Jesse distracted them from thoughts of food with talk of sweet Kristy.
“I’ve had thoughts of someday marrying Kristy if…” Jesse paused. He couldn’t seem to go on.
Nate wasn’t dumb. If we live through this. And there was a good chance they wouldn’t.
Nate had been so happy last night to get out of the wind and snow and away from Tipsy that he hadn’t thought about all those other things. Jesse’s talk of Kristy made him miss Ma and Pa and how much they loved one another.
“Think Pa is looking for us?” Nate interrupted. A search in the storm wouldn’t be easy. Six-foot drifts weren’t something to tangle with.
“Sure I do.” Jesse nodded.
Neither of them had to be told that, without a horse, they were stuck. And with the snow growing ever deeper, they weren’t going to walk down out of the mountains.
“You think he’ll find us?” Nate’s heart pounded.
Jesse looked quickly away, a telling sign that he wasn’t so sure about that. He stared off into the flames. “Your pa, most likely, is searching near the meadow. We’re miles from there, but I do believe he could track a skeeter through a swamp. He don’t need to see your trail to find ya.”
Part of what Jesse said was true. The other half had been spoken with less confidence, but all of it was said for Nate’s sake so he wouldn’t lose hope.
Pa had taught him lots about tracking. Any trail he and Jesse might have left behind would be long gone, either covered by snowfall or swept away by the blowing wind. Guesswork, that’s all Pa could do, but Jesse had been right about one thing. If anyone could find them, it was Pa.
Nate curled up tight against Jesse’s side and rested his head.
Jesse wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Found this cave just after I shot a bear. That big thing rolled down the hill, landing on the spot of flat ground just outside.” He shook his head as though he were mad at himself. “When you live in a bunkhouse, ya don’t get much privacy. Coming here for a few days at a time to hunt had always been a quiet retreat. So I kept this place to myself. Never once did I mention it to the boys on the Seven-C. Then I forgot about it. And I didn’t think to tell your pa or Shorty that it was here. I surely do wish I had told one person.”
Nate considered that Jesse was no longer talking to him but laying blame on himself. How could he be thinking that way? If it hadn’t been for him bringing them there, they’d be as dead stiff as Tipsy. True enough, Jesse was too weak to walk very far, and the drifts stood taller than Nate. So yes, they were stuck. But Nate wasn’t ready to let go of hope.
It was his turn to give Jesse a pep talk. “We have a stack of wood that should last out the week.” Maybe longer if they burned only enough to slightly warm the cave. “You can have my share of the beans, and we have a day’s worth of coffee.”
Jesse ruffled Nate’s hair. “I left a deck of cards in one of those crates. See if you can find it.”
Nate sat down Indian style next to the fire. Jesse dealt. Nate picked up the five cards and shuffled them around in his hands while trying not to smile at the three jacks he was holding.
He was caught each time he tried cheating. Strangely, they both laughed easily. It seemed the two were trying hard not to worry about the growing mound of snow that was so high it nearly had them buried alive. If the blizzard didn’t soon stop, they might have to dig themselves out. What worried Nate more—and likely Jesse too—was that Pa couldn’t find a cave he couldn’t see. And that cave, all but a small space at the mouth, was draped over in white just as much as everything else out there.
The more Nate thought about it, the less he felt like playing cards. “I fold.” He dropped his two pairs. “I’m goin’ to sleep.” Maybe then he wouldn’t think about how homesick he was.
Nate woke as Jesse sat up, grabbing his side, and let out a deep, throaty moan. His face twisted grotesquely, and blood dripped from his wound. Nate’s eyes welled up. His stomach had rumbled until seeing that, but now his guts churned. Jesse needed stitched. Nate wished he was big enough to carry him out of there and straight to Doc Martin.
“Stop your frettin’. I’ll be fine.” Jesse seemed more concerned about Nate than possibly bleeding out.
Nate looked down at his feet. If he didn’t see all the red, then maybe he wouldn’t cry or throw up.
“Is it morning?” Jesse nudged him to talk.
He looked out the opening. “I can’t ever tell. The sky never seems to change from that thick, dark gray, an’ snow is still falling purdy heavy.” Nate sighed, sounding defeated.
Jesse bumped Nate again. “I’m hungry. Are you?”
Nate nodded with vigor, ready to make a stew out of his crusty socks.
“Hand me one of them cans.” Jesse pulled his knife.
Nate’s stomach panged. He didn’t care that the tin can was covered in dust and cobwebs. Even if the beans inside were spoiled, he would still eat them. He wasn’t about to be particular, as long as he got his half.
They were eating boiled beans within the hour.
Nate didn’t want to talk or hear any more about Kristy, the dance, or being deputy in the town of Gray Rock. Every word made his heart ache for Ma and Pa. With his stomach full of beans and his eyes full of tears, he lay next to the fire and pillowed his head on his arm. He wiped the other sleeve across his face, then closed his eyes. The wind whistled, for once a soft tune. So it wasn’t long before Nate drifted off.
How long could it snow? The sky had already dumped too much of that white crap. They had eaten the last of the beans four days ago and were filling their stomachs with nothing more than boiled water. At least it warmed their insides.
Light flurries dropped from the sky. They had busted up one of the wooden crates and burned what little they had sparingly. The cave always held a slight chill, which was uncomfortable enough that they huddled together for added warmth.
Nate rested his head against Jesse’s shoulder. “If we’re lucky enough to see the pretty blossoms of the comin’ spring, well, I hope you’ll stay on the ranch with us and be Pa’s deputy. I don’t want ya to go away to some other town.”
“I’d like that a lot, partner.” Jesse added a stick to the fire.
They didn’t do much that day but try to stay warm, and they both fell asleep early.
Morning came, and Nate left the cave to take a piss. A miracle had occurred sometime overnight. The snow had stopped falling, and now the sun peaked out. Everywhere, the white sparkled like tiny crystals. It was beautiful for a split second until he thought about how harsh this wondrous land truly was. Bitter cold, almost heartless at this time of year. A natural-born killer.
They were surviving, barely. Nothing else seemed to be alive out there, or at least he hadn’t seen sign of any creature that had survived the storm. Come spring, this spot, the mountain range itself, would be vastly different. Things would be growing, buds on the trees, life reborn. This was good hunting ground, according to Jesse, with lots of game and good water.
Snow dropped from a branch, making a poof sound. Nate’s gaze climbed that tree for no particular reason. Something moved high up on a branch, and a mist of white trickled down. Maybe it was something they could eat. The glint from the sun made it hard to distinguish details. What was that? He squinted. The little animal was the same damn color as everything around it. Nate shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. A snow owl called out. Wow. What a magnificent creature. Nate had never seen the likes of it.
The grand bird watched with those big yellow eyes. Nate eased backward into the cave just a step while keeping his eyes glued on the owl. He’d bet Jesse would like to see it. Those tufts of fuzz on its ears must have stood two inches high.
“Jesse,” he whispered and waved a hand to come quick.
They stood in the mouth of the cave. Jesse slowly reached for the pistol. The owl was in close range and they were starving, but Nate only wanted him to see the beautiful creature. Though he couldn’t deny his craving for meat.
Jesse’s pistol cracked.
Nate’s mouth watered, and he licked his lips every other minute while waiting for the bird to finish roasting over their tiny fire. It wouldn’t make much of a meal, but a little meat might quiet their stomachs for a short time.
The flickering flames crackled while the bird sizzled. Jesse checked if it was cooked through. Nate practically drooled all over himself. Clumsily, supper was dropped off the spit and into the dirt. Weighted down with disappointment, Jesse’s shoulders slumped. Nate thought that big boy might cry.
Who cared about a smudge of dirt? Nate dove in with his grubby little fingers, ignoring the burn as he picked every shred of meat off the bone and shoved the succulence into his mouth. Jesse gobbled down a wing, licked his greasy fingers, then crunched on the marrow.
Another three days passed at a crawl. No new snow fell, but a fierce wind blew down from the north. White whirled up into the air in blinding thick clouds, and Jesse had never heard a meaner roar. That draft packed a hell of a punch, day or night. It had broken into the cave a few times. Jesse had put an arm around the boy, snugged him closer, and still, they both lay there shivering. Neither of them ever stopped shaking from the constant chill. Days ago, it had become obvious that if no one had found them by then, they weren’t going to be rescued.
They had smashed up the second crate into kindling and burned every splinter. Hell, they’d even burned the owl’s feathers to keep their wee fire smoldering. Day by day, they rummaged through the snow for a few sticks to dry at the fireside. So far, that had been enough to keep a little warmth inside the cave. There might be just the right amount of wood left to get them through one more night.
Darkness ringed Nathanial’s sunken eyes. There wasn’t a sparkle of hope in those baby blues. The boy wasn’t the only one shriveling up. Jesse was near to being a skeleton. They’d hacked with his knife to break a small hole in the ten-inch ice. A lure. Perhaps some kind of game would come and drink, but any critter with a bit of sense had holed up out of this blasted weather.
They hadn’t eaten since Jesse killed the owl. The half-pint hadn’t any spare meat on his bones to begin with, and now his clothing hung off him, three sizes too big. He hardly ever said a word, just kept curled up tight next to the pitiful flame. Most days, they both just lay there in pure misery and only moved when needing to take a piss or dig for firewood. Even if there had been an animal out there in that cold hell, it would take strength to chew and Jesse had lost that gumption.
Those drifts had stacked up nigh to kingdom come, far too deep for Nathanial to walk the many miles home. Could Jesse carry the boy? What a ridiculous thought. He almost laughed, doubtful he could make the distance alone. It would be quite a feat even if his wound was fully healed, which it wasn’t.
He and his little partner would leave together or not at all.
Jesse leaned against the cave mouth, looking out over that white wasteland, and figured out the best path home. One question repeatedly rolled around in his head. Was he doing right by the boy? They likely wouldn’t make it a mile before they both played out.
“Nathanial,” he softly called.
Nate moaned and slowly pushed himself up from lying next to the little fire.
A few minutes passed while they silently stood together. Jesse would not give Nathanial false hope. How could nature be so awfully cruel? Tipsy’s gun would have been a kinder end, quicker anyhow.
Jesse looked sorrowfully at Nate’s wan skin and dull eyes. He didn’t know how else to say it. It was best for the boy to know exactly what they faced, neither option being good. “We’re gonna die either trying to git home or freeze and starve in this tomb of a cave.”
Nate rested wearily against the length of Jesse’s side. If the kid was worried about dying, it didn’t show on his face. There wasn’t a tear in those blue eyes. Their stomachs had stopped rumbling days ago. Jesse couldn’t speak for the boy, but his body just hurt all over.
Nate met his saggy eyes and weary grin. “I wanna go home.”
Jesse nodded. Home sounded good. “Me too, partner … Me too.”
They went back to the fire, settling in next to one another, and Nate dozed off quickly. Worry would probably keep Jesse from getting any sleep. Tomorrow wouldn’t be an easy day and might just be their last.
Jesse woke with a chill and tightened his scarf. The fire had burned out. A small speck of early-morning gray peeked inside the cave. He shook the boy awake. Hell was waiting for them, but there was no reason to put off their fight. They would need every second of daylight. It wouldn’t be hard to lose their direction. Every tree-covered hill had lost its shape under all that bland white.
What was Jesse thinking? What lay before them was too many godforsaken miles of raw country that could swallow up a man in the tall drifts. Maybe Sheriff Crosson or one of Shorty’s men would find them out in the open. If they weren’t found and didn’t play out until nightfall, the drop in temperature would surely kill them. Neither of them had a spare ounce of fat to keep warm.
Jesse tightened the red scarf around the boy’s neck and ears. Of course the nasty-ass wind had to be kicking up today. There was no use in grumbling. It was just what they had to deal with.
He stupidly grinned at the kid as if they were headed out to frolic. Maybe it was Jesse’s way of being brave, because that inward flutter certainly wasn’t giving him confidence. “You ready?”
“Yes, sir.” Nate’s hopeful smile was buried under the thick scarf, but the creases at the corners of his eyes gave away that wishful thinking. That little beam of happiness gave Jesse strength.
Tipsy’s Colts, Jesse’s badge, the hanging, and Shorty’s cows—none of that mattered anymore. If Jesse failed to get them home, the little boy would suffer the same fate. No way could he stomach the thought of Nathanial not making it to birthday number nine. Jesse fixed his mind right then and there. No matter what befell him, he would give Nate every chance possible of escape. This unjust land wasn’t tougher. He had grown up fighting his name and everyone else. Punched cows, broke broncs. He knew hard work and took to it, proving himself a capable man.
Jesse took a firm hold of Nathanial’s frail hand. When they stepped outside, the wind hit them hard. They hunched their shoulders, tucked into their necks, leaned into nature, and plowed through.
The boy wasn’t the only one short of breath after climbing out of the ravine. Jesse desperately sucked in, aware of how weak he was, and the scarf he wore barely warmed the bitter air. Was the wind chill even at zero?
Across an open field, he waded hip deep in most places. Other spots, the drifts were even with his shoulders, forcing him to dog-paddle through while tugging Nathanial along behind. The half-pint’s slight weight wasn’t enough to break through the heavy snow in some places, which was great while it lasted. When he was able to walk on top, it quickened their pace a little. In lots of other spots, softer, less stable, and much more dangerous, the boy would break through the drift, nearly burying himself, and that made their forging ahead worse than slow.
Jesse’s boots filled with snow, his stockings squishing. Son of a bitch, his hands stung, even with gloves. Unable to take that pain, he let go of Nate. Jesse shoved his fists into his coat pockets. By the grace of God, they made the distance to the meadow where they’d found the cow and calf all those days ago. Jesse’s legs quivered. He had practically crawled the last half mile. Nate, who was sullen, was on all fours. Both of them gasped for air.
Jesse wiped the sweat from under his hat. Beads of labor also spotted the half-pint’s brow. He could almost read the boy’s mind. “Don’t you even think about unbuttoning that coat. You’ll freeze up quick.”
Nate’s mouth turned down into a big pout. Those sad blue eyes weren’t going to break Jesse’s will, not this time. They had a long way to go yet and would need every bit of warmth to keep their bodies from stiffening up. If the bitter cold settled into their bones, it would strip them bare of all strength. Jesse didn’t fancy the idea of freezing to death.
“Let’s go.” He gently pulled Nate.
The half-pint bumbled through after him. It was a struggle for the pup to keep pace. Not that Jesse tromped with any speed, but even still, the poor kid had fallen behind several times, including right this instant. Jesse doubled over with hands supported on his knees and waited. His chest heaved. He couldn’t recall ever breathing so hard or it hurting so bad. Nathanial struggled nonstop in the middle of the drifts and finally crawled out. The boy plopped down at Jesse’s feet and sucked air between sniffles. After a few long minutes, they were both still gasping. Neither of them seemed to possess the drive to go on.
Jesse couldn’t take the kid’s tears. Those hopeless blue eyes were exactly the kick in the ass he needed. “Come on.”
One more time. That’s what he had told himself the past twenty times he’d hauled the kid to his feet, and that was okay. It was stupid really, but it kept him going. Jesse would take that one more step. He would haul his little partner out of the snow once more, every time. And damn straight, he’d say it ten thousand more times if that’s what it took to get them home.
A snowy gust kicked up, forming a white twister that skipped across the top of the ground and scratched at their faces. Jesse yanked up his scarf, burying all but his eyes. Nate’s lips were tinged blue, his eyebrows frosty. If there was anything more pitiful than that boy standing there shivering from head to toe, Jesse couldn’t picture it.
He and Nate weren’t anywhere near close to home. They had to just keep moving. As much as it hurt, each step was closer to home. Jesse’s legs barely lifted, but somehow he trudged through and fell too often. He had pulled Nate up at least twelve times in the last fifteen yards.
“Jesse!” The little voice seemed suddenly far away.
He twisted around. Where was Nathanial? The boy had been only a few steps behind.
Jesse marched, backtracking his exact steps at a fast pace.
“Help!” Nathanial’s cry led him right to the spot. He dropped on his knees and looked down. Good God, that drift had to be better than ten feet deep. Nate’s red scarf stuck out bright inside the white shaft. The boy was almost buried halfway down. Jesse shoveled feverishly with his hands, despite having no feeling in them. Crumbles of wall fell. Nathanial slipped farther. How was he going to get him out without knocking more in on top of him, maybe completely burying him?
Nate wailed, shaking the walls. Snow fell in. Jesse’s heart pounded. The boy clawed wildly for a handhold and, unbelievably, inched up a good foot.
No way could he climb those last four feet, not with the walls swaying. For certain, that digging would bring the whole thing down on him. Jesse leaned far in and stretched. He didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t time to think. He just hoped he didn’t send the walls down on both of them.
Just an inch more. Nate grunted and reached that extra little length. Jesse almost had him. A chunk of wall fell, and their fingers slipped apart. More started to crumble, and Jesse crawled back. He had become skin and bones in the number of days they’d been without food, but still, he was too heavy for the flimsy walls to support him.
Nathanial’s cries rose up and stung Jesse’s ears. There had to be another way. He peered in without getting too close. Nate scratched at the walls, but he was stuck. If only Jesse had a rope.
He did have something.
Come on, fingers. Work, doggone it!
All that fumbling felt like forever until he got his belt undone. Jesse lowered the buckle end. Nate’s hands slipped off the stiff leather each time. Somehow he lost both mittens. Snow tumbled. This time the belt slipped out of Jesse’s frozen hands. Tears welled up in his wide eyes. Nate stared back at him with the same fear of never getting out. The wind roared, and the walls of that hole shook worse than a few minutes before. Jesse swung his arm as if throwing a line and caught hold of Nathanial’s bright red wrist. His skin had been exposed too long, and that wasn’t the worst of it.
Jesse yanked him up out of that snowy pit just as the walls avalanched. Nate’s face was a deathly blue. Frost clung to his ears and chin, painted his collar, and bleached his coat. No longer were the boy’s lips just tinged purple. They’d turned a deep gray. Jesse uncurled his stiff fingers from around the little arm. Nate flopped and closed his eyes.
Jesse’s gut tightened. Absolutely not! He wasn’t going to let the half-pint give up. It didn’t seem right to surrender after fighting their way out of that. Yes, his strength had been drained in that hole too, but maybe someone would find them over the next hill.
“Git up!” Jesse wasn’t asking. He wavered on his feet as the fierce wind pushed against him. Barely did he own the strength to keep upright. Fight, that’s what he aimed to do. The same as he always did.
Born an Adams, he learned early how to throw a punch. This time the blows he took didn’t come from a fist. The raw, hateful land, scarring wind, and treacherous, hungry snow, these were his enemies. For Nate, he would keep fighting them all.
“Just let me sleep a few minutes.” Nate curled up.
Plenty of nights, the boy had snuggled up next to Jesse and looked very much the same. It was a deep sleep he desired, one he might not wake from. Nathanial hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes when he whimpered his complaint.
“I said git up!” Jesse jerked Nathanial onto his feet and kept ahold of his arm.
The half-pint burst into tears, wailing for his mama. Jesse understood the kid’s emotions because, inwardly, he had briefly been that unsure a few times, talking himself out of it. Wasn’t there a verse in the Bible that spoke of not being tested beyond what one could handle? Was God even looking? They hadn’t gone more than five, maybe six miles, and Nate was played out. Could what little strength Jesse had left carry them both home?
He grunted as he threw the boy over his shoulder. Nathanial wasn’t as heavy as a sack of grain, not even by half. His scrawny arms and legs hung limp. Soft whimpers pained Jesse’s ears. It was evident that the child possessed no will to try moving on his own.
With each labored stride, Jesse sank into the deep snow, then pulled himself out, only to face another damn step. Several times he stopped and caught his wind. His weary legs quivered to the bone, and he contemplated not going on almost every other step. His fight was quickly dissipating. Those pitiful cries for their ma prodded Jesse.
He stumbled and fell on his knees. Nathanial plopped off his shoulder and just lay there. Maybe if they’d had some food to strengthen them before starting out that morning, perhaps Jesse’s mind wouldn’t be teasing him with the pleasurable thought of closing his eyes and finding rest. Somewhere in his cold, slow brain, he was aware that he might never awaken, even if his intention was to shut his eyes for only a few minutes. Nathanial would follow him into that dark place. That awful thought should have scared him to life, but it didn’t. He’d lost all feeling in his feet, and that nearly paralyzing numbness had since spread throughout Jesse’s body.
Nathanial lay belly up next to him. Stiffly he turned his head. “J-J-Jesse … we’re not giving up, a-a-are we?”
The kid’s teeth chattered. He pulled himself up to sit by using Jesse’s coat sleeve, which nearly toppled Jesse over. His brave little partner then forced his quivering little chicken legs to stand. Nate offered a helping hand. For the boy’s sake, Jesse hoped they would soon be found.
They plodded and stumbled along step after miserable step, fell more than they walked, and crawled too often. Each time they pulled one another up, more of their strength had been torn away. Two steps later, one or both of them would be swallowed by a drift, and the damn harsh wind hadn’t let up any, pushing against them the whole time.
Jesse took to carrying Nathanial piggyback. His knees buckled every other step, and he barely caught himself before falling flat on his face. He stood there wavering in the middle of an open field, a frosty gust biting at them. His feet seemed dead. That “one more step” pep talk had shriveled up and blown away. There was no fight left in Jesse to give, nothing in his muscles or brain willing him to go on. No strength. No hope. He could hardly hold his eyes open. They’d maybe gone another three-quarters of a mile and weren’t yet halfway home. What he longed for was a peaceful, everlasting sleep.
Jesse dropped the kid off his back and was truly sorry his efforts weren’t good enough to save them. He flopped next to Nathanial, who stared at him and seemed to be waiting for him to lead them home. Nathanial’s eyes drooped heavily and rolled around, too tired to even focus. More than anything, Jesse wanted sleep. He could see the boy did too. But something deep inside gnawed at him to get up. This was a no-good way for him and the boy to leave this world.
They just sat there shivering and stared off into the blur of whiteness that surrounded them. It was in fact the cold face of death.
The kid’s expression was blank. In the past hour, he hadn’t cried once for his folks. If he was scared of what was coming to them, that fear wasn’t showing through.
Somewhere in that godforsaken snow, Jesse had lost all his emotion. Maybe they should have been afraid. Though Jesse didn’t believe dying could really be any worse.
“Well, partner.” Jesse tucked his arm around the kid’s shoulders.
It was a miracle how far they had come together, not just the rough, snowy miles. They had grown into being brothers after a long, hard road of the boy biting at Jesse like a scared pup. They’d survived Tipsy’s guns, and for what? So their end could come by way of a snowy hell? This wasn’t fair. Nathanial deserved a long life after all he’d been through. It just wasn’t right. Everything was supposed to be okay once Tipsy got his due.
Nathanial should be at home, making boyish mischief. Jesse could almost hear the sheriff yelling at Nate to behave, and he pictured Kate in the kitchen. And sweet Elizabeth was likely chewing on a roll doll right this minute.
Jesse snugged the boy into him. “I’m sorry. I just can’t go no farther.”
They were going to die stuck waist-deep in the damn white mountainside. Jesse didn’t want to die any old way, but certainly not like this. Cold to the bone, exhausted. But something, a flicker of warmth, a spark in his brain, screamed at him to get up, to go on. Forget his pain and numbness. Don’t give up. Beat this for Nate. He had to get the boy home where he belonged, in the loving arms of his mother and watched over by his pa. He couldn’t fail.
Jesse wasn’t dead yet. While there was air in his lungs, he would try. Jesse took a deep breath and pushed up to stand. His knees buckled before he straightened to even half his height. On his hands and knees, that’s where he’d breathe his last. His chest hurt, and his lungs were tired of sucking air. He was done. There was simply no fight left in him, too weak to even crawl.
Jesse took one last look at Nate, then dropped and rolled onto his back. His eyes closed.
“Jesse, look!” Nathanial hit at Jesse’s chest to wake him. That quick, he had slipped into a deep rest and wanted to stay in that warm place. Nate shook him hard. “Am I seein’ things?” The boy tugged at Jesse’s coat until he slowly opened his eyes.
“What is it, partner?”
The boy pointed. Not fifty yards away stood a horse.
“I see it.”
What a glorious sight.
Jesse grinned and gave Nate a big squeeze, eyes teary with excitement. The gray horse gave them a new strength. Jesse stood with Nate next to him. The cold didn’t seem so bitter as they pushed through their exhaustion. The mare lifted her head and blew as they walked closer.
Jesse glanced at Nate, who wore the same shitty grin. That wasn’t just any gray mare. The horse was familiar to both of them. Jesse stepped up next to her and rubbed her nose gently.
The boy began to laugh. “Tipsy don’t know it, but he’s about to save our lives thanks to this skinny nag of his.”
Jesse wasn’t going to celebrate just yet. There were lots of raw, snow-covered miles between them and home. But things were looking up.
The gray seemed glad for the companionship and nuzzled Jesse’s shoulder. The animal’s ribs could be counted, and her hip bones stuck out. Her legs quivered just standing there. Could the poor, starving animal get them to the ranch before she played out? Jesse sure as hell hoped so. Otherwise, finding the horse was a mighty sick joke.
Jesse lifted Nathanial into the saddle, then stepped up and swung a leg over to sit behind him.
The horse was having as much trouble as they’d had walking through the mercilessly deep, rotten-ass shit. Hunched together, he and the boy slumped forward in the saddle, frozen together as one. The north wind roared all around them. The half-pint nestled his head into the gray’s thick mane, blocking some of the raw air. Jesse’s teeth clanked together, his body stiffer than ever. The blood in his veins was no longer chilled but had turned to ice. Maybe if he closed his eyes just for a minute, then he’d feel better.
His chin dipped to his chest. That should have been a signal for him to open his eyes. But the darkness behind his lids was so very nice.
He flinched awake the instant he began to fall off the saddle. He grabbed at the horn, jerking himself up straight. How much time had passed? Were they still headed in the right direction?
Jesse yawned. There was a heavy need to let his eyes drift shut weighing on him. He shook his head and slapped at his numb face. He had to lead the horse away from the mountains, toward the Crosson ranch. Wait a minute. Had they changed their minds and headed toward Shorty’s place? Because those frosty rocks and trees were situated in a way that reminded him of Shorty’s ranch. From the cave, the Short ranch would have been several miles closer. But no, Jesse and the boy had wanted to just go home.
Jesse scratched his head. The pieces that he needed to put together to get them home weren’t fitting just right. Something in his cold, slow mind wasn’t clicking. As much as his tired body wanted to slip into a deep slumber, he just couldn’t allow himself to fall asleep, not again.
Landmarks that should have been familiar to him were strange to his eyes thanks to that thick blanket of white. He blinked a few times, trying to straighten his lazy gaze. He wheeled the mare in circles. What direction was home? Hell, maybe he had been leading them farther away.
The wintry cold had done more than crawl under Jesse’s skin. His keen wits had been devoured. He shook Nathanial. Surely the little boy would know the way home.
Nate didn’t stir. Jesse shook him harder. His and the mare’s breath misted white with each exhale. No white escaped the boy’s blue lips. Oh God, no. Nate was either sleeping too soundly or dead. The little face was pale as the damn snow.
Jesse laid a hand against the boy’s back. There was no rise or fall, or had Jesse’s hand slightly lifted with a shallow breath? His fingers were too numb to tell for sure.
“Partner, wake up!” Jesse thumped on the kid.
Nathanial didn’t bat an eye or stir or groan in the least, arms and legs dangling limp around the mare’s neck. This couldn’t be true. No, Jesse wouldn’t believe it. Nate was a tough little pup. No damn way could he be gone. Jesse wiped at his eyes.
“To hell with everything!” he screamed. Those hateful words echoed through the valley.
The little boy’s life had been cut too damn short. Why was it that men like Tipsy, who did nothing but bad things, seemed to be blessed with long days walking this earth? Nathanial hadn’t deserved to die.
Jesse pictured the long faces of the sheriff and Kate once they saw for themselves. How would he explain all that had come to pass? It had been Jesse’s decision to gamble against their poor chances of making it home. The boy had fallen during the battle, so his death was Jesse’s fault.
A whipped dog, that’s what he was. Not a soldier. Starved, weak, and wounded, he’d been beaten before they’d ever left the cave. If Jesse couldn’t soon find his way, he would be joining Nathanial in that eternal rest, and he didn’t much care.
A faint string of gray smoke in the sky caught hold of Jesse’s watery eyes. Was it the ranch house? The smoke had to be coming from one of the chimneys. Or someone’s chimney at least.
Was he truly that close? He spurred the mare, leaving the hilltop. When he dipped into a valley, he lost sight of the single gray line. Had he honestly seen smoke from a house? His surroundings gave no hint as to where he might be. Every step of the way, mile after mile, all the things around him had appeared to be the same. He hated the color white. Hated it as much as he hated being cold. Hated it as much as being stuck in that cave and being hungry. Blamed it for being disoriented, now lost. Maybe Jesse had just wanted to get himself and the boy home so badly that his mind had tricked him into seeing something that wasn’t there. He just didn’t have the willpower to keep fighting through this hell anymore.
The reins dropped out of Jesse’s hands. Did he smell logs burning in a fireplace? The warmth seemed to touch his skin. His stiff muscles relaxed. He was going to be okay. There was no sense in fighting off what his body wanted to do. Why worry? He and Nate would be together again soon.
Jesse’s eyes fluttered shut. Nothing more could hurt him.