Brides of Banff Springs

by Victoria Chatham

  “We’re fine. Thanks for looking after us.”

  Ryan looked over his shoulder. He wore his loopy little grin, the one that did silly things to her heart.

  “If it was just you, I’d say you’re welcome, but that Burma Evans is a pain in the rear end.”

  “Don’t be mad at her.” As annoyed as she was with the New York City girl, Tilly didn’t want Ryan to think badly of her. “She has a lot more to put up with than you may imagine. It’s not entirely her fault and right now I understand why she wanted to be alone. She has a lot to work out.”

  “Sure.” Ryan sounded totally unconvinced. “How to spend Daddy’s money, for one thing.”

  Before Tilly could begin to explain what she knew of Burma’s relationship with her father, Ryan held up his hand. Tilly halted Molly while Ryan peered at the ground.

  Then he looked up and gave Tilly a full grin, the flash of his even, white teeth heartwarming in the gray afternoon. “I don’t think she can be too far ahead. Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  They plodded on, the horses’ hooves almost silent in the snow blanketing the ground. Tilly would have appreciated the sight of it settling on the trees, etching the firs like lace and delicately fringing the river’s edge if their mission had not been so urgent.

  Neither of them spoke as they traveled beside it for awhile. The slow slide of the current caught Tilly’s eye from time to time, but then the trail curved away from the river, cutting deeper between the trees, which seemed to press in on her and deaden all sound.

  By now, snow had settled on Ryan’s hat and shoulders, and dusted Grulla’s rump. Cayuse trudged along beside the big horse, occasionally breaking into a shuffling trot to keep up with him. She had no sense of time passing, nor did she notice the breaks where smaller trails cut off to the left or the right of the trail they were on.

  The silence seemed absolute. Looking ahead and around her, Tilly thought the dark shapes of trees seen through the snowfall looked like sentinels. Snowflakes pattered gently across her cheeks and hung on her eyelashes. She lost track of time but then a new sound tugged on her awareness, the rush and splash of water somewhere to her left. There was urgency to it, as if it had somewhere to go and was in a hurry to get there.

  Ahead, Tuff stood in the middle of the trail, barking and wagging his tail. She pushed Molly to catch up with Grulla, who had lengthened his stride and was surging ahead.

  “We’re close to the canyon,” Ryan called back over his shoulder. “It sounds like Tuff’s picked up on something.”

  The temperature had dropped a few more degrees and Tilly shivered and pulled her collar up to her ears. The trail was easy enough to follow but she wished Molly could stride out as effortlessly as Grulla had done. Tuff barked again and, as she turned a bend in the trail, she saw him and Ryan beside a still, crumpled form.

  They were on the far side of a creek, which fell in cascades between high canyon walls. Rocks and fallen timber littered its course. Tree trunks formed barriers through which the water trickled then gathered volume before plunging to the pool below. Molly splashed through one of the pools and dug her narrow hooves into the bank to scramble up the other side. Tilly flung herself off the mule’s back and ran to crouch beside Ryan who was tying his bandana around Burma’s head.

  “Is she alive?” Her voice cracked with worry as she looked at Burma’s white face.

  “Yes, but unconscious,” Ryan said. “She has a gash on her temple and bruises on the side of her head. Her nose has been bleeding and she’s probably got a concussion. I reckon she slipped in the creek because she’s soaking wet and cold.”

  “What do we have to do?”

  “Get her out of these clothes and get her warm first.” Ryan looked around, squinting at the surrounding rocks and the stands of trees. “We’ll make camp over here.” He pointed to a level patch of ground between the trees.

  “Aren’t we going to take her back to the hotel?” Tilly asked.

  “I’m not moving her anywhere until she’s warm,” Ryan insisted. “Tilly, come and sit with her. Take your gloves off and hold her hands but don’t rub them. Tuff, come here. Lay down, boy. Now, spread your slicker over her and Tuff. I’ll bring another tarp.”

  Tilly did as he asked, fanning the skirt of her slicker over Burma and the dog. Ryan came back with a the tarp, which he spread over them.

  “This should help keep some heat in there.” He tucked the tarp around her. “It won’t be much, but better than nothing and it’ll keep you dry.”

  He went back to Grulla and took his rope off the saddle. This he slung between three of the trees, looping it around the trunks, and then hauling on it to pull it tight.

  “What’s that for?” Tilly asked.

  “I’m fixing the rope so I can throw a tarp over the one line to make a shelter, and tether the horses to the other. We’re close enough to home that they’re just as likely to head that way, whether I hobble them or not.”

  A small, soft moan fluttering between Burma’s lips caught Tilly’s attention. She laid her hand on the girl’s cheek, but Burma showed no signs of regaining consciousness.

  “Is she all right?” Ryan called as he fetched more rope and a handful of spikes from one of the saddlebags.

  “All I can tell is that least she’s still breathing.” Tilly looked up as Ryan unfolded a tarp, hung it over the rope with a short lip at the front and a long, sloping back. He worked fast, tying the front down and then fixing the floor. When he’d finished securing it he came across to her.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “My hands are freezing and Burma is shivering. I can’t believe how cold she is,” Tilly said through chattering teeth.

  “Hang in there, I’m going to collect wood and will soon have a fire going.”

  “What—?” Tilly almost forgot how cold she was. “Ryan, please don’t leave us alone. I couldn’t bear it if Burma died and I was on my own with her.”

  Tears filled her eyes. The last person whose hands she had held like this had been her father. The memory flooded back. She remembered with piercing clarity the sound of his last, rasping breath, the soft slip of his features as they fell into deathly repose, the moment when his body completely stilled.

  “Tilly, we’re going to be here all night and we need heat quickly.” Ryan laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re under cover for now and Tuff won’t leave you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  With her heart hammering in her chest, Tilly watched him lead Grulla off between the trees. Cayuse and Molly objected to being left behind and shuffled around restlessly, lifting their heads and tugging at their tethers. Tilly hoped neither of them broke free. Snow continued to whisper softly to the ground around her. It pitched on the back side of the shelter, then slowly slipped off with a moist sigh.

  After what seemed an age she heard the crash of breaking twigs, the clip of a hoof hitting a rock, and the chink of harness. Grulla appeared and, from the way he leaned into his breastplate and dug his hooves into the ground, she knew he towed something heavy. He snorted and tossed his head when he came to a halt, and she could see the logs hitched to his saddle. Ryan untied the logs, and tethered him alongside Cayuse and Molly and then came across to her.

  “I’m just going to get some firewood now. I won’t be long, so don’t worry,” he said and then set off between the trees again.

  How could she not worry? Every time he left her line of sight, she wanted to shout her fear and frustration. Out here, alone, with Burma unconscious and shivering violently, what could she possibly do but worry?

  She breathed a small sigh of relief when he returned with an armful of firewood, which he dropped close to the logs. She thought he must have enough, but he reached into one of the saddlebags and produced a hatchet. He inspected a nearby sapling, and then another. He cut both of them down, trimmed them, and pounded them at a slight angle into the ground.

  “What’s that for?” she called.


  “It’s for a backplate.” He stacked some of the logs up against it. “Once I have the fire going, this will deflect the heat towards the shelter, and help dry the wood out, too.”

  “How are you going to light wet wood?”

  “I’ve got twigs and Spanish moss from underneath the boughs where it’s dry.”

  He set two of the longer logs across three shorter ones, then packed the top seam with the twigs and moss. He pulled his notebook from his shirt pocket and tore out several pages, which he added to the kindling. When that was done, he angled the third log into place atop the other two. He struck a match and, as it burst into flame, he held it to the paper at several spots along one side of the fire. As the paper caught, he moved around and started on the other side. Thin plumes of smoke spiralled upwards, quickly followed by little licks of flame, which brightened the surrounding gloom.

  “Just a couple more things, then I’ll be ready to move you all.” He gave Tilly an encouraging smile as he passed her on his way to the creek, where he kicked a couple of rocks loose. He considered them carefully before picking them up and carrying them to the fire. He placed them along the side facing the shelter. “This will stop the logs from rolling as they burn down. I think two more will do it.”

  He picked up another two rocks of about the same size, placed them and then came back to her. “How’s Burma doing?”

  “Breathing more steadily I think, but I’m worried,” Tilly said. “She hasn’t come round yet and she’s still shivering.”

  Ryan nodded. “That’s good. It means she’s still alive. I’m just going down the trail to cut some fir boughs. I’ll be right back.”

  Moments later the thunk of a blade biting into solid wood echoed back to her as Ryan hacked off one bough after another. Attacking trees had been the last thing on her mind when they had set out on their search, and Tilly cursed Burma every which way for putting them in the position they were now in.

  Grulla snorted when Ryan returned the camp dragging the boughs behind him. then set them tip to cut end until they formed a thick bed on the floor of the shelter.

  “Nearly done,” he said as he laid them tip to cut end on the floor of the shelter, making a thick bed. He came to her and took the tarp off her, gave it a good shake and laid it wet side down on the fir boughs. “A blanket and a bedroll on top of these will make you and Burma toasty in no time.”

  “What do you mean, me and Burma?” Tilly asked warily. “She’s the one who needs the heat.”

  “Yes, and in her state the best way out here is skin-to-skin.”

  “Nu-uh, not mine.” Tilly shook her head. “No. I can’t. I mean, I’ve never—”

  “There’s no time for modesty,” Ryan snapped. “Burma needs warmth, and quickly. I’ll carry her over and you can help me strip her.”

  Shocked at his abruptness, Tilly bit back a sharp retort as he lifted Burma and carried her to the shelter. He laid her down on the open bedroll, unbuttoned her coat and peeled it off. Her right arm flopped like a dead weight. Taking off her sodden sweater, the reason for it was immediate and shocking.

  Her shoulder was swollen and misshapen.

  “Damnation. That’s all we need,” Ryan muttered. “She must have dislocated it when she fell.”

  “I know what to do, I think.” Tilly knelt down and felt Burma’s shoulder, letting her fingers read the damage beneath the cold skin. “Sometimes calves can dislocate a hip when they’re being born. My dad taught me how fix ‘em.”

  “But Burma’s not a calf,” Ryan’s face screwed into an anxious expression.

  “No, but a shoulder is a ball and socket joint, like a calf’s hip joint. Same principle.” Tilly caught Burma’s wrist in both her hands and angled her arm away from her body. “Ryan, I need you to hold her very tight. I have to pull this arm down until it slips back into place in the socket but it takes traction. Do not on any account let her move.”

  With a grunt of effort, Tilly began to pull the arm. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip as she continued the pressure. She continued to pull and then a dull sucking sound indicated the arm had slipped back into position. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and blew out a sigh of relief.

  “Now I have to strap it. Have you got another bandana?” She shrugged out of her slicker and jacket as she spoke and took off her shirt. Ryan went to his saddle bag and brought her another bandana. “Between these two I can bind her arm to her body. She’ll have to lay on her left side but I think it will be all right. Thank goodness she was unconscious.”

  “God, I hope we haven’t taken too much time.” Worry creased Ryan’s forehead as he looked closely at Burma’s deathly white face. He removed the last of her clothes, and Tilly closed her eyes against Burma’s nakedness. Other than her own, she had never seen so much bare skin before and she blushed. It seemed not to bother Ryan at all.

  He settled Burma on her left side facing the fire and pulled the bedroll around her. ““Now you,” he said. “Strip down to your skivvies and I’ll tuck you in with her.”

  “Why couldn’t it be your skin?” Tilly shivered as she removed her pants and slid into the bedroll. The shock of Burma’s icy skin against her own made her shiver. How could she possibly warm another body when she herself felt so cold?

  “Because,” Ryan explained as he pulled the bedroll over both of them and threw a saddle blanket over the top, “I need to collect more firewood. We’re going to be here all night, Tilly. Now snuggle up close to her, and spoon her.”

  “Spoon her? What are you talking about?” Tilly couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering as she held Burma’s shivering body close.

  “Haven’t you ever spooned anyone?” Ryan asked.

  “No, I’ve never slept with anyone, so why would I?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have siblings.” He lifted the blankets enough to pull Burma’s knees into a right angle. “Put your knees in behind hers, right close.”

  When he’d readjusted the blankets, he whistled softly and Tuff came up, wagging his tail and licking Ryan’s face. “Yep, I know. You’re a good dog. Get in there, boy. Lie down.”

  Despite the snow on his coat, Tilly immediately felt warm from simply having the dog’s bulk behind her.

  “You’ll be all right for a bit,” Ryan said, “but Burma’s body will suck the heat out of yours and you will shiver as much as she does. Don’t worry. It’ll be uncomfortable, but it’s normal.”

  “What’s normal about today?” Tilly asked. She heard his soft chuckle and blinked back her tears as the sound of his muted footfalls faded away.

  Behind her she could feel Tuff’s steady breathing. A lead shank rattled as one of the horses shook its head and their hooves shuffled restlessly in the snow. She lifted her head and noticed that Ryan had thrown slickers over their backs. They must be cold too. As she cuddled Burma’s body closer, she became colder and colder. Her jaws ached from clenching them to stop her teeth clicking together, but she could not control the quaking in her limbs, which became more and more violent as Burma continued to shiver.

  “Burma, please don’t die,” she whispered. “You can be a real pain, but you’re my friend and I need you.”

  She lay still, listening to the quiet hiss of the snow falling between the trees, and the constant splash and babble of the water flowing down the creek. Burma moaned and Tilly snuggled closer to her. She had never been this close to another person. She supposed her mom had cuddled her, but she really couldn’t remember. Her dad had given her an occasional quick, awkward hug. She knew he loved her, and had never looked for more from him, but had gained most of her comfort from being close to the animals on the farm.

  But being this close to another, living being? A smile curved her lips as a thought struck her. What would it be like to have Ryan spoon her? Would she like it? The smile grew wider. Yes, she would. She closed her eyes, but moments later they flew open when she heard the crack of a twig and heavy footfalls.

  “Are you ok
ay in there?” Ryan asked as he stacked another armful of logs.

  She heard the concern in his voice. “Never better,” she lied. Her teeth still chattered and tremors ran down her and Burma’s bodies, gaining in severity until they both shook uncontrollably.

  Ryan ran his hand over her hair. “It won’t be long before you’ll begin to feel warmer.”

  Tilly couldn’t imagine ever being warm again. Ryan lifted the edge of the blanket and heat from the fire blasted over them. Between that, and the dog at her back, the shivering slowly passed and she began to feel drowsy. Ryan stacked another log on the fire and she wrinkled her nose at the smoke’s pungent, woodsy smell.

  “I’ve never seen a camp fire set like that before,” she said.

  “It’s a long fire,” Ryan explained. “The heat radiates outwards rather than up. I learnt how to build it from one of the Norwegian skiers the Paris boys had staying with them a couple of years ago.”

  Tilly stifled a chuckle. “Of course you did. Are those boys anything to do with George and Ida at the tearoom?”

  She felt his grin and then heard his soft laugh. “You’ve got it. Herb and Ted are twins and then there’s Cyril, and they have the right idea.”

  “What’s that?” The logs had caught well and were burning steadily. Heat wafted into the shelter, settling over them like another blanket. Burma had stopped shivering and now Tilly began to relax.

  “Well, in the winter I run a trap line and cut ice. Those boys guide parties of skiers. I don’t see the attraction myself, but if people will pay for it, why not?” Ryan busied himself around the fire, feeding it and keeping the flames steady. “We could keep the guest ranch open year round by offering the same service, even run dog sled teams, too.”

  “This guest ranch idea of yours gets bigger and bigger.” Tilly smiled at his enthusiasm.

  “I told you, you have to dream big.” Ryan leaned into the shelter. “I’m going to put a hot stone by your feet, so don’t kick out. How’s Burma feeling?”