Mary Connealy (64 page)

Belle envied her daughter the nice cabin. Belle planned to spend a piece of what remained of her money hiring her own cabin repaired or maybe a whole new ranch house built, but that would have to wait until spring. She and the girls would need to spend another winter in her rickety cabin, struggling with the bitter cold. She’d chink the cracks with straw as Red Dawson had taught her, but that only slowed the wind. It didn’t stop it.

She spent the whole day setting up a camp and unloading the wagons. She and the girls rode herd on the livestock and helped whenever possible with the house. Belle gave one piece of advice after another to Lindsay, always followed by the thought that maybe Lindsay knew better how to do things than Belle.

Lindsay kept working hard, but her eyes strayed to her new husband every few minutes, and sometimes Roy would be looking back at Lindsay. The two of them would stare at each other as if there were no other people alive in the world. They’d had their wedding night together, and already Belle could see that Lindsay was no longer a girl. She was a woman and might one day soon be a mother.

By nightfall the one-room cabin stood, doorless, windowless, but with a roof atop it and a big stone chimney dry enough to hold a fire. There was also a good start on a stable, enough to keep the pigs, milk cow, and calf from wandering. Lindsay and Roy slept in the house, but the rest of them stayed outside. This would be their last night in the majestic mountain valley that would be her daughter’s home.

The next morning they rolled out of bed to a light sprinkling of snow. With the snow came a renewed urgency for the Tanners and Silas to move on. Belle hugged Lindsay good-bye with tears streaming down her face.

Lindsay had the serene look of a woman in love, and though her good-byes were tearful, she never wavered from her new husband’s side. Silas hugged Lindsay as if she had been his child every minute of her almost sixteen years. Belle saw Silas and Lindsay whispering together and felt strangely left out even though Lindsay’s good-byes to her were fervent and loving.

Just as they were leaving, Lindsay pulled her aside. “I want you to know how much I respect the sacrifices you’ve made for me all my life, Ma. Watching all the menfolk work so hard to build this cabin has made me realize how hard you’ve worked to make a home for us with no help. I’m trying to imagine what I’d do in this lonely valley with a herd of cows and a no-account husband. Building a cabin myself. Tending the herd myself. Doing everything alone with a baby on my back and another on the way.” Lindsay laid her hands on Belle’s arms.

Belle was shocked to realize her daughter felt sorry for her.

“I’m sorry you ended up with the husbands you did, Ma.”

Belle was sorry herself.

“But I’m glad I was born, and I’m glad for my sisters.”

Belle nodded. She’d always known that whatever lousy things her husbands had given her, they’d also given her the loves of her life and a reason to live and be strong.

“I think, Ma, that…things…don’t have to be so hard between a man and a woman as they were for you. Silas knew things that I reckon you don’t know. And he explained things to Roy so…well, Roy was wonderful.”

Belle tried to keep up with what Lindsay was saying. What things could her daughter possibly be referring to?

“I hope someday you’ll know what it’s like to…be with…a man you love. And who loves you enough to be gentle with you.” Lindsay hugged her tight.

Well, Belle knew she was already with a man she loved. And it hurt more than anything she’d ever known, short of saying goodbye to her daughter.

They hugged, and finally Belle let go, swiping at her tears while Lindsay turned to Roy. Belle’s last sight of her daughter was Lindsay crying her eyes out and being held and comforted in the strong arms of the man she loved. Each of their two blond heads rested on the other’s shoulder. Their tall, lithe frames clung to each other. It occurred to Belle that they would have beautiful children. And Lindsay would at least
think
they looked like her.

Belle’s heart threatened to break. There would be other cattle drives, and the rugged mountain passes couldn’t stop a determined woman who wanted to visit her daughter, but the West had a way of swallowing people up. There was a chance she’d never see her daughter again. But she also knew that the girl could have waited a long time and searched the world over and found no better husband.

It was small comfort.

The snow fell more heavily, and the Tanner-Harden party headed up the mountain pass at a sharp trot.

“We’ll be home in four days if I have anything to say about it,” Silas yelled from where he brought up the rear, leading the spare horses. They’d eaten all their supplies on the trip and brought very little home. Belle had put in stores for the winter before the drive started.

Heartbroken at leaving Lindsay, Belle looked back; she had Betsy on her back and trailed Sarah and then Emma, who was in the lead. She decided bickering might be just the ticket to get her gumption back.

“A hundred miles in four days? You’re crazy. It took us a month to come in to Helena.”

Flashing a grin at her, Silas said, “We pushed a thousand head of cattle over this trail. Reckon that slowed us down some.”

“This is a mean trail, with cattle or without.” Belle had made this trip in four days before, but in good weather, and it had been a hard, heartbreaking ride. She’d done it before she’d married Anthony, to find a good lawyer and write a will that favored her children and cut off her husband. It wasn’t easy finding the right man for that will, because most lawyers barely recognized a woman as having legal rights. But she’d done it.

“I think four days in the snow is mighty bold talk, Pa.” Emma could probably stop calling Silas Pa now. Belle didn’t remind her.

“Well, men could do it. But with you womenfolk slowing me down, maybe you’re right.”

Emma flashed him a smile over her shoulder. “We’ll see who has to hustle to keep up.” She leaned low over her horse and pushed to the limit of safety and perhaps a bit beyond.

The race was on. Against men, against time, against nature.

It gave Belle something to focus on, and she needed that bad. All of ’em had their hands full keeping up with Emma.

Late that night, long after the stars were out, Silas finally let up pushing them.

They got a hot fire blazing high, the girls on one side, Silas alone on the other. It hurt Belle to think of how cold he was over there alone. There was no way she could think of to convince him he belonged with her. Remembering his certainty that they weren’t going to get married, she quit her foolish daydreaming and slept.

Come morning, they were up, building the fire and starting coffee. They had a warm meal in their bellies and were on the trail hours before first light.

The next stretch of the trip was a repeat of the harrowing series of passes that had taken them five days coming across. The wind picked up through the day, and snow drifted down occasionally, especially when they’d crest a peak.

They neared the top of one of those dizzying trails, and in a wide spot, Silas rode up beside her, their horses wading in three inches of snow. “We’ve got to get through this whole stretch today, Belle.”

“It was five days coming across.” Belle hated the way she sounded—whiny. But the cold was like taking a beating. She hated that she was putting her girls through this.

“These peaks get higher with each one we cross. Look how deep the snow is already.” Silas looked up at the whirling white that sifted down steadily on the higher elevations. “And this doesn’t come close to a heavy snow.”

Belle stiffened her backbone. “We’ll make it.” She pulled the front of her buckskin jacket tight at the neck to keep out the biting cold.

Nodding, Silas reached over, even as they trotted side by side, and flipped up the collar of her coat. He gave her flat-brimmed Stetson a tug as if to pull it to cover more of her head.

They exchanged a smile, and Belle wondered, maybe, if they weren’t half dead from cold and exhaustion and separated by the space between two horses, with three children looking on, if he might kiss her again.

Smiling, he said, “Sure as certain we’ll make it. I’ve never been with a tougher bunch of cowhands. I’ll go tell your girls to pick up the pace.”

Once they got through that stretch, it was lower, except for that one last sky-high peak they had to climb to get into her valley. The first one they’d driven the cattle up when leaving home.

The day wore on and the peaks rose and fell. The cold wore on her. They ate beef jerky in the saddle, and Belle fed Betsy and changed her diaper with almost no break in the pace. They had to stop, water the horses, and switch saddles to fresh mounts, but it was never for long, and they pushed on hard.

As the sun set, they began the long climb up the last treacherous trail they’d tackle tonight. The snow had stopped, but the wind cut and howled. Belle wanted to beg for mercy, but she clamped her mouth shut.

Silas tied the horses onto Belle’s saddle. “I’m going to spell Emma—take the lead. The snow looks deep ahead. If a trail needs to be broken, especially where there are drop-offs, I want to do it.”

Belle wanted to beg him to be careful, but she didn’t have the energy. He passed Sarah, talked to her, coaxing a smile out of Belle’s little redhead, then rode up, patted Emma on the shoulder, and passed her. Belle brought up the rear carrying Betsy. Belle saw Sarah’s head nodding, but she was too stupid from exhaustion to react. Her mind wanted to yell, her heels wanted to goad her horse, but she had no strength to do it. She just sat her horse and watched in numb horror as Sarah slid sideways, falling, which was unheard of for one of her girls, short of being tossed by a bronco.

Silas glanced back, as he did constantly, and spurred his horse to Sarah’s side. He caught her in time.

Belle breathed a prayer of thanks into the bitter night.

Silas’s gently muttered words blew back to Belle on the cold wind. “Here, ride with me.” Her heart ached as she saw the careful way he lifted the little girl onto his lap and let her sleep in his arms. He strung a rope between himself and Sarah’s horse and pushed past Emma to take the lead again, all without letting up the pace. The rest of the nearly dozen horses were tied onto the back of Belle’s saddle, and they plodded along in a line, one behind the other. The three riders—Silas, Emma, and Belle—struggled on up the last peak they had to face today.

Snow started sifting down when they still had a mile to go up and several miles on the other side to descend before it was safe to camp. With the slippery snow, the downhill side might be more treacherous than the switchbacks they were climbing.

Silas led the way through the deepening snow, breaking the trail. Belle constantly checked Betsy, strapped on her back, to see that she wasn’t being smothered by her blanket and that she hadn’t let so much as a finger slip out from under the covers. Emma rode in the middle, a quiet, intense little girl who hadn’t said much since she’d hugged her big sister good-bye.

Belle sensed a world of sadness in Emma and didn’t know how to get her taciturn daughter to speak of her hurt. Belle wasn’t sure speaking of it was a good idea anyway. And good or bad didn’t matter much, because there was no time now for talking.

Belle couldn’t remember when there’d been time for anything in her life except work and more work with Emma always at her side, doing a man’s share. And Lindsay. And now they’d have to do it all with one less pair of hands.

They reached the peak at last, the horses floundering in knee-deep snow that came light and blew with the sheltered wind into drifts against the side of the trail. A white world against a coal dark sky, filled with blinding snow and whipping wind, surrounded them.

When the trail was wide enough, Silas dropped back to speak a word of encouragement.

As they began the downward slope, the sure-footed horses slid often, sometimes sitting on their haunches to stop. One switchback would lead them so close to a sheer drop, Belle’s legs would dangle out over thin air while the other scraped the mountain. Another would take them into the side of the mountain where the snow was deeper and the winds whipped stronger, sapping their strength with its clawing cold.

They dropped lower and the snow got deeper. For a while, Belle wasn’t aware of anything beyond her horse putting one hoof in front of the other. She knew if they didn’t get below the snow line soon, they’d have to get off and walk the horses, because their mounts were spent.

Then, just when Belle began to think there wasn’t a place in the whole world that wasn’t icy and white, they passed a sheltered spot and the snow wasn’t so deep there. They moved out into a more difficult stretch again, but they could see ahead that the trail was improving. The snow slowed and stopped, and stars shone overhead. The horses seemed to sense relief ahead. Their ears pricked forward and they picked up their pace.

At last, after making more demands on the animals and the people than seemed possible, the trail widened. The going became easy enough for Silas to drop back beside Belle. “The trail clears ahead, and we can camp just as soon as I find a good spot.”

Silas laid his hand on her shoulder, and feeling numb and stupid, Belle looked sideways at him in the moonlight. She realized she hadn’t reacted when he’d spoken to her. Sarah was sleeping on the saddle in front of him, wrapped up as tightly as the baby on Belle’s back. The sight of her daughter in his arms almost shook loose some useless tears, but she held them off.

“Emma’s all in, Belle.”

Their eyes met. Her throat ached from what they’d put her children through today.

“I don’t think she can hang on to her horse much longer.” He leaned closer, and Belle wondered if her eyes were focused, because he seemed unsure if she understood him.

She forced her head up and down. Words were beyond her.

“I can’t handle both of them. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to take Sarah. We can’t stop, not yet. Can you do it? Can you hold her?”

Belle didn’t know where she found the strength, but she checked Betsy quickly, realizing in her exhaustion she’d forgotten she had a baby on her back. Betsy blinked her eyes owlishly up at her, and Belle could see that the little girl had weathered the storm better than the rest of them. Tucking the baby back in quickly so no heat would escape, Belle accepted Sarah into her arms.