The Man from Shenandoah (19 page)

~~~

After several days of logging, enough trees had been cut, and the men raised Rulon’s cabin. When the last shingle was finally bound into place, Rulon took his wife inside, shut the door, and remained there for a long time.

Julia hummed a song as she went about making supper, skinning a squirrel that Albert had brought her. She turned toward the snug little house, nodding approvingly at the smoke that puffed out of the chimney.

“I always thought Rulon would make a good husband, given the proper chance,” she said under her breath.

A long time later, Mary opened the door and stepped over the log doorsill, her eyes bright. She looked back into the cabin with her mouth curved into a smile, carefully shut the door, then hurried over to Julia and hugged her.

“Mis’ Owen, you're a dear sweet lady to let me have the first home.” She laughed, the first time in months. “It really is my first home, and I’m mighty obliged.” Mary shivered in the chill wind that suddenly came through the trees. “Rulon laid a fire. You’d best come inside.”

“Does he know you’re givin’ this invite?”

Mary clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. “No. I’d best warn him you’re coming.”

Julia laid her hand on Mary’s arm. “Never mind, then. I'll have my own hearth in a few days. You run along and get warm.” She shooed her toward the little house, thinking,
You have made a good start, Mary
. She smiled.
It wouldn't be the first time I’ve seen a son of mine unclothed. But it’s been a long time with Rulon. Not since his baby days
.

~~~

When the week was up, Julia had her cabin, larger than Mary’s, with a lean-to kitchen alongside the large fireplace, and a loft divided into two portions.

Marie and Julianna tugged their big feather bed into the smaller of the rooms, spread it with sheets and a quilt, and then snuggled down into its warmth.

“Oh-h-h, that feels so good,” said Julianna, shivering her chills away.

“It’s getting right cold at night,” agreed Marie, pulling the quilt over her head. Then she sat up. “I guess Carl’s going to start on his cabin tomorrow,” she added mournfully.

“Carl’s getting married. Carl’s getting married,” Julianna sang out, then collapsed in giggles.

“Hush you,” came her brother's voice through the wall.

“Save the noise for the shiveree,” called out James.

“Quiet up there!” thundered Rod Owen from below.

~~~

The weather grew steadily colder as the men continued with the logging. James found his creek, and started cutting logs for a cabin for Ellen. Carl chose the wooded bench with a natural clearing in the center for his home site. An artesian spring rose just below the clearing, which became the headwaters of a little stream that ran to join the creek far below his father’s home. Carl had staked out a homestead that took in both sides of the stream and down into the valley. Ida would favor the cabin being surrounded by trees, snugly tucked into the forest.

The walls of both cabins were half way to the top, and the Christmas party was ten days away when the good weather broke in late afternoon. White clouds laden with snow rolled down from the mountain summits. A freezing wind blew from the north, forcing Carl, working alone at the cabin, to pull his gray coat collar up around his chin. He saddled Sherando, headed him south, and told the gray gelding, “Take me to Pa’s, boy.”

The horse started off into the driven needles of snow. Carl hunched his back against the wind, crossed his arms, and stuck his hands beneath them. After a while, the trail lay through the sheltering trees between his cabin site and Rulon’s, but at the end, there was still the meadow to cross.

Carl halted Sherando before he left the trees to let the horse rest. He dismounted and stamped his feet to restore circulation, beating his hands together to warm them.

“Sherando boy, this storm can’t last long. I’ve got to get that cabin built before Christmas.” Climbing into the saddle once more, Carl urged the gray into the biting wind. “It’s only a quarter mile,” he told the animal. “It’s mighty cold, but you’re tough, horse.”

The moaning wind blew his words away as the icy blast hit them. On every side, Carl could see only swirling white ice crystals. He gave the horse its head, trusting its instinct to reach the cabin.

Sherando moved slowly, fighting the cross wind as it headed west up the meadow. The wind increased and tugged at Carl, almost dislodging him from the horse’s back. Ice caked his hair and snow sifted down into his collar. Then they passed the bulk of Rulon’s cabin on the right, and Sherando changed direction to cross the creek.

The horse paused at the log bridge spanning the water, and Carl saw that ice was forming at the sides of the stream. He shivered, and urged the tired horse to step onto the bridge.

“Come on, boy,” he shouted over the keening of the wind. “Them logs are set solid.”

The gray stepped tentatively onto the slippery surface of the logs, then skittered hurriedly across.

“That’s a boy,” Carl shouted triumphantly.

Snatched by the wind, his voice carried to his father’s cabin, and a light shined out into the white yard as the door opened.

James blocked out the light as he came through the door and caught Carl, who was sliding off the gray’s back.

James called out, “Clay, grab them reins and take care of the horse. I’ll get Carl into the house.”

“You’re well nigh froze, son.” His father helped James assist Carl across the doorsill. “That blow came up mighty sudden. It’s a wonder you made it back here.”

Carl shivered, then said, “It’s my fault I got caught. I want that cabin up and finished so bad, I let the storm take me by surprise.”

~~~

Morning came without a change in the weather, and Clay had to lean heavily against the door to crack loose the ice binding it to the jamb.

“Pa, that storm’s still a-blowing, and the snow’s piled up next to the door. How am I going to get out to feed the stock?”

“There’s always a way for a man to feed his animals.” Rod went over to the door. He tugged it open and faced a wall of white. “Fetch me a stick,” he told Clay. “Maybe it ain’t packed down tight.”

Reaching as high as he could through the doorway, he flailed the stick into the snow. “It’s still loose. Get some pails, boys.”

Rod buttoned on his coat while Clay and Carl brought the buckets. “Clay, keep that second pail until I need it. Carl, you empty the full ones into the washtub.”

Rod scooped out a pail full of snow at the top of the doorway and handed it over his shoulder to Clay. Taking the other bucket, he scooped again. Repeating the process until he had a hole big enough to crawl into, Rod then wiggled his way out the door and entered the icy cavern. “Clay, give me that stick again.” His voice boomed in the confined space. “We’ll see how deep this drift is.”

Thrusting the stick into the snow above him, Rod felt a light resistance. He coughed as a load of snow fell into his upturned face. “Get me a longer stick,” he commanded, angry at the elements.

Carl handed him Julia’s broom, and Rod took it with a jerk. He stabbed it upward and broke through into the howling morning. New snow burst into his cavern, blinding him for a moment. Then he broke loose more of the crusty roof, and packed the snow down on one side to make a ramp to exit the hole. Triumphantly, he pulled himself out into the storm, floundering in the cabin-high drift.

“By gum, Colorado does everything in a big way,” he shouted down to his family. “I have never seen a blow like this before.”

Rod slid down the side of the drift and felt his way around the cabin, stomping down a path as he went, and found the horses cold, but snow-free in their shelter. The animals stood nose to tail, huddling together for warmth. Carl soon joined Rod, stamping his own feet as he came.

“Pa, we better run a rope from here to the stock pens, or we’ll never get there and back everyday.”

“Good idea, son.” Rod took down a rope from the side of the shelter. It was stiff in the cold, so he held it under his coat for a moment. Carl did the same with a second coil of rope, then they tied the ends together. Rod fastened one end of his double coil to a pine log that jutted from the side of the shelter and stepped into the storm.

Clay joined Carl as their father disappeared into a white swirl. “I wish we’d built the pens right alongside the house, ‘stead of out in the meadow.” Clay blew on his hands, then pulled gloves from his pocket and worked his hands into them.

“You’ll be glad we did, come summertime and the flies gather. Grab the rope. We’d best follow Pa close.” Carl moved off into the blizzard.

The rope was tight and easy to follow, for Rod was leaning against the wind, fighting to reach the cattle pens. Carl and Clay caught up with him, and presently, Rod stumbled against a pine pole.

“I reckon we’re here,” he shouted into the storm, tying off the rope and climbing into the enclosure.

Carl and Clay followed behind him, spreading out a little to search the inside of the fence for the cattle.

“Shoot, they got to be here somewhere,” Rod growled. “They can’t get out of this pen.” He let go of the fence rail and pushed out into the middle of the pen, and the wind bowled him over.

Carl stooped to help his father to his feet, then Rod continued to fight through the drifts, only to fall again. He got up, brushing the snow from a large black and white object in his path.

“Well, I found the cattle,” he muttered. “Carl, that there Brindle cow won’t be knocking you into the mud ever again.”

Chapter 13

Rod Owen said nothing more once he and his sons checked the carcasses of the cattle for any chance survivors. He returned in silence to the cabin, where Julia read disaster in his face. She glanced questioningly at him, but received only a shake of the head in reply.

Julia turned to Carl, who enlightened her in somber whispers.

“Not one?” she asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not one.”

Julia sat down and rubbed her forehead with one hand, feeling the weight of the news upon her brow. “Lord God, don’t desert us now,” she breathed in prayer.

Marie and Julianna wept openly about the loss of the cattle, while the storm raged on for three days. Finally, the sun came out bright and strong, and melted down a portion of the drift around the cabin.

Rod and Carl stamped down a path to Rulon’s cabin and found his family snug and warm.

“The cattle froze, son,” Rod told Rulon, speaking of it for the first time since leaving the stock pen. “I reckon we’d best make use of this sunshine, and drag them carcasses into the woods. I don’t favor them bringing wolves and such down by the cabins.”

“Can we get the hides off them?” Rulon asked.

“Maybe a few,” Rod answered with a shrug. “It may be too cold to salvage them.”

“Well, what are we standing around here for?” Rulon asked, pulling on his coat. “Let’s get on with it. The day ain’t getting any longer.”

The men found the mules frisky and eager to work after their long and idle confinement. Hitching the animals to one of the dead cows, they hauled the animal into the forest. James and the younger boys joined them, and they worked throughout the morning, dragging the carcasses into the woods. Rulon and Carl skinned a few head of cattle before they found the task too difficult in the cold, but they were able to butcher the remains with axes and the two-man saw.

Returning to the house for dinner at noon, they stood in a bunch before the fireplace, warming their stiff fingers.

“Shore feels good, Ma,” said a shivering James. “You can’t imagine how cold it is out there. We dasn’t stand around, for fear of turning into ice cakes, like Lot’s wife.”

Julia laughed. “That was a pillar of salt, boy. You need some study in the Good Book.”

“I meant shaped like Lot’s wife, Ma.”

Carl looked gravely at James. “I reckon I ain’t going to claim to be shaped like Lot’s wife, little brother. Speak for yourself. Me, I’m a man grown.” He hooted at James’s affronted expression.

James threw up his hands. “Chiggers and fleas! It’s mighty bad times when a body can’t speak his piece around here without a lot of idle comment. You know I mean ice cakes in human form, not female form. I reckon I can tell what you got on your mind. You’re just chafing to get that cabin of yours built, ain’t you?”

Carl’s face flushed red, and his brothers cackled and roared at his discomfort. “Hush,” he drawled, “the only thing keeping me single right now is this dad blamed storm and a half-made house.”

James’s grin was crooked, then his face went somber. “The sooner you marry Miss Ida Hilbrands, the better I’ll like it.”

~~~

That night it froze. The snowmelt at the bottom of the drifts glazed into sheets of ice, and icicles hung from the eaves of the cabins.

Carl lay in his bed and listened to the sounds of the night. The roof boards above him crackled as they shrank in the dropping temperature, and somewhere in the forest, a tree split open with a pop, as ice formed in its heart.

Here in the loft he could see his breath, and when the hairs in his nose stiffened and froze, he knew the fire was out downstairs. He pulled the quilt over his face, and yearned for his own cabin, where he would keep the fire roaring all night, even if he had to chop wood all summer to fuel it.