Blizzard: Colorado, 1886 (11 page)

Laying the stick aside, Hadyn clawed at the snow with desperate fingers. Within seconds, he saw the familiar faded blue of Maggie's coat and the wide strap of her knapsack.

“Maggie!” He freed her hand and arm, digging madly, avoiding her clutching fingers. When he saw her hat, he redoubled his efforts. Seconds later, she was choking, coughing on the fresh air that streamed into the narrow tunnel he had made.

“Maggie?” Hadyn probed carefully with the stick, afraid of hurting her as he widened the opening. “Maggie?” She coughed again, but she did not answer.

Scared that the hole would collapse on her, Hadyn
worked like a demon. He flung snow backward, like a dog digging out a rabbit burrow. Once the opening was four or five feet across, he started downward again. It seemed to take forever.

“Maggie!”

Her eyes fluttered open. Her cheeks were pale. For an instant he could see pure disbelief in her eyes, then she focused on his face.

“Hadyn?”

He rocked back on his heels and let out a howl of joy. He heard Maggie laugh weakly.

“I'm alive?”

It was a serious question, and Hadyn leaned down to answer her. “You are, Maggie. You are!” He touched her cheek, then put on his gloves and started digging again.

It was still snowing. Maggie hunched close to the fire Hadyn had built, warming her hands. Her gloves were propped up on twigs near the fire. They were steaming.

Hadyn had gone back to get the bedroll. As soon as she could stop shaking with cold, she would put on her spare trousers and both her flannel shirts. They were damp, but the clothes she'd been buried in were
wet.

Maggie shuddered, remembering the weight of the snow, the complete darkness beneath it. She owed Hadyn her life. When he got back with the bedroll, they would have to start walking again. Maggie closed her eyes for a second, praying for strength.

When she stood up, she felt the weakness in her legs. Her stomach clenched and she realized how incredibly hungry she was. She wished for hot coffee, or better yet, the sweet apple cider her mother made with cloves on Christmas. And pie. She wanted a piece of apple pie.

Hands shaking, Maggie took out her spare clothes. She shrugged off her coat, then her wet shirt and woolen chemise. Shivering, teeth chattering, she pulled on one flannel shirt, buttoned it, then donned the other. She felt a little sick and sat down again, scooting as close to the fire as she could, spreading her hands out to warm them.

Once her violent shivering had subsided, she took off her shoes and set them next to her gloves. Then she pulled off her socks. She hung them on the stack of broken branches Hadyn had gathered for firewood. Almost immediately, they began to steam. She put her feet close to the fire, resting her heels on a thick pine branch.

Maggie looked upslope for Hadyn. She couldn't see him anywhere. With fingers clumsy and cold, she unbuttoned the flap front of her trousers. She undressed, dancing from one foot to the other.
Hopping, she pulled on her spare trousers, fastening the front as quickly as she could. Then she sat down, leaning close to the fire again.

It was so cold. Maggie longed for the coziness of her family's cabin. She longed to know that her father was going to be all right. And what about Rusty? And the cattle? She shook her head, willing herself not to cry. She spread her coat across the firewood, a little mist rising from the side nearest the heat. She put her socks back on. They were still damp, but the fire had warmed them.

“Maggie?”

She stood up, startled by Hadyn's voice. “Over here!”

Hadyn came through the trees. “I found something.”

Maggie couldn't help but smile at him. He was carrying the bedroll clutched against his chest. His scarf was wound tightly around his neck, covering his chin. The cold of the ground seeped through Maggie's socks. She sat back down and put her feet close to the fire. “I'm trying to dry everything out. What did you find?”

Hadyn got a rock to sit on and arranged himself
on the opposite side of the fire. Then he reached into his pocket. “These. The slide must have killed them. Can we eat them?”

For a few seconds Maggie stared at the two ptarmigan hens he held, then took them from him. “These are good eating, Hadyn.” She looked up at him. “I'm sorry.”

Hadyn shook his head. “For what?”

“For hating you. You saved my life.” Blushing, Maggie turned her head.

“You saved mine.” He was silent for so long that Maggie finally looked up at him. He was staring at her. No. Not at her—at the ptarmigan. “Are we going to cook those now?”

Maggie smiled and began to pluck the small white hens. The feathers stuck to her fingers and she had to keep wiping her hands in the snow. Hadyn hovered, trying to help, mostly getting in the way. When she used her knife to gut the birds, he walked away, holding one hand over his mouth. By the time Maggie had spitted the birds and propped them up over the fire, Hadyn was back.

They kept the fire up, Hadyn bringing more deadwood when the pile was exhausted. They ate fast,
one bird apiece, barely looking up between bites. The snowflakes had thinned for a while, but now came down heavily again, making a hissing sound when they hit the flames.

“Which way do you think we should go?” Hadyn was wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. He tossed the bones from his ptarmigan into the fire. The flames popped and sizzled.

Maggie didn't feel strong, but she knew she could walk—she had to. “I wish I knew,” she said quietly. “Winds this time of year are usually from the east, but it's still now. I have no idea how far south we've come. Or north,” she added, shaking her head.

“It has to be after noon now,” Hadyn said. “I think we have to take a chance. We can't make it through another night.”

Maggie forced herself to put on her shoes. Then she stood up. Hadyn had already pulled on his gloves. For a second, they stood side by side, staring down at their little fire. Maggie didn't want to leave. As dangerous as it was to stay, it seemed more risky to walk away from a warm fire into the swirling snow.

She kicked icy dirt onto the flames, wincing as the smoke roiled upward. She watched it rise straight
up to the tops of the pines. Then it trailed off to one side. Maggie stared at it. “Look at that.”

Hadyn followed her eyes, then narrowed his. “At what?”

“The smoke. There's a breeze up there. That could be west.” She pointed in the direction the smoke was blowing.

“Which would make that east,” Hadyn said, pointing the opposite way.

Maggie nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

Hadyn took her hand. “Maybe is better than nothing.” He gave her the knapsack and picked up the bedroll. Maggie tried to smile at him as they started off.

Hadyn followed Maggie through the trees. She was walking slowly, bent forward at the waist. He moved up beside her when they hit open ground. “I could go first for a while, break the path.”

Maggie looked at him. “Thanks.”

Hadyn took the lead, then looked at her over his shoulder. “You have to tell me which way to go.”

Maggie pointed. “Just keep going straight. See that lightning tree on the ridge over there?”

Hadyn looked. “The big one with the top sheared off?”

Maggie nodded. “It's got a blackened side on the trunk. The smoke was in line with it, more or less.”

Hadyn started walking, shaking his head. She was so smart. With his eyes fastened on the distant tree, he tried to keep up a good pace. The snow got deeper as they went downhill. At the bottom of the little valley, they had to stop and rest three or four times. Then, shouldering his way through the last of the deep drifts, Hadyn started uphill again.

As he neared the top of the next rise, Hadyn was sure they would see the road below them. He hurried past the dark-trunked tree that had been struck by lightning. He ignored his heavy legs and the aching in his lungs. At the top of the ridge, he slowed, scanning the snow-covered landscape below. There was no road, no break in the trees, nothing that distinguished this slope from any of the others they had climbed.

Hadyn swayed on his feet. Maggie came to stand beside him. He watched as she blinked, narrowing her eyes to block out some of the abrasive whiteness.
Her face told him nothing, but a second later she sat down, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“Maggie, we have to keep going.”

There was a long pause, then she looked up at him. “I'm not sure I can.”

Hadyn stared at her. If Maggie gave up, what could he do? He had no idea which way to go.

Maggie slumped forward, and he could hear her crying quietly. Without thinking about what he was doing, he sank to the snow beside her. “I'll build a fire. You could stay here and I'll try to find help.”

“You can't. You'll get lost.”

Hadyn met her eyes. She was right. He would probably just walk in circles. “Get up, Maggie—we have to get going.”

Maggie blinked back tears. “I'm so tired, Hadyn.”

It had been snowing lightly for a while. Now the clouds opened and white curtains of big, swirling flakes fell around them. Without thinking, Hayden gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “You have to keep going. We can't stay here.”

Maggie didn't answer. She shrugged off his hands, stepping back, then turned to face the way they
had come. For a few seconds, Hadyn had no idea what she was doing, then he understood. She was sighting from where they stood now back across the valley, getting her bearings. After a moment, she began walking again. Hadyn followed closely. It was easier to keep up now—Maggie was moving very slowly.

Maggie shuffled along, concentrating on her footing as they started up one more slope. The pines were thick at first, then they thinned a little. She stopped to rest and felt Hadyn bump into her gently. They stood side by side. It was getting dusky.

“We have to stop and build a fire, Hadyn.” Maggie's voice rasped; it hurt to talk.

He shook his head and without saying anything, started upward again. Maggie watched him, then glanced up at the sky. It had stopped snowing. When had it stopped? She shook her head and forced herself to take one step, then another.

She wasn't sure which way they were going now. She thought they had been traveling straight east
most of the afternoon, but she wasn't certain. Now, with the sun setting, the bright clouds on the western horizon were a natural compass—but had they wandered north or south? Had they walked ten miles in a straight line, or two in a circle?

Hadyn stopped. Maggie realized how far she had fallen behind. He stamped his feet in a slow, ponderous rhythm until she caught up, then he turned and went on again.

They were still pretty high, Maggie knew, but that didn't mean anything. The road home went up over three or four little passes that got up to eight or nine thousand feet. Maggie shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had been looking for landmarks all day, but nothing seemed familiar to her.

“Maggie!”

She looked up. How had she fallen so far behind again? She forced herself to hurry a little, tripping once over a half-rotted tree trunk hidden in the deep snow. Hadyn waited for her. She realized she couldn't see the expression on his face until she was close to him. It was almost dark. They walked arm in arm, holding each other up as they came over one more rise.

Maggie let herself stop, Hadyn beside her. They stood again, both swaying, clenching and unclenching their hands, fighting to keep warm.

Maggie looked out over the trees. She could barely see them. A stand of aspens mixed with pines spread out below her in an ashen mass, their trunks and branches indistinguishable in the gathering darkness.

Maggie felt the world turning, the endless sky above her head. The clouds on the eastern horizon were moving, parting like a curtain over the rising moon. Below her, the trees leapt into focus, silvered in the sudden moonlight. Just beyond the lacework of the trees, Maggie could now see a white stripe curving along the base of the mountainside.

“Is that the road?” Hadyn whispered.

Maggie tried to answer but she could only nod, grinning. Hadyn took her hand and pulled her along, breaking the way through the deepest drifts. The aspen trees were thick, but Hadyn barely slowed down. Maggie did her best to keep up, her mind spinning with joy and relief.

Toward the bottom of the slope, the ground was rocky. Hadyn picked his way forward, sliding and stumbling, whooping once or twice when he finally
stepped out onto the road. Maggie followed, smiling, her eyes brimming with tears. There were a few sets of wagon tracks slicing through the deep snow. She could also see hoof tracks. Several people had been up this way since the worst of the storm had passed.

Hadyn was stamping his feet. “Which way?”

Maggie shrugged, looking up the road. The snow looked impossibly beautiful in the moonlight. An outcropping of rock beside the road caught her eye. It was Indian Rock. Without meaning to, she cried out.