Girl in Falling Snow

by F. M. Parker

  She strained to see through the water that was made murky by being shut off from the daylight by the thick ice. She could only make out the gray up toward the ice and the black of the bottom. She did not know how to swim, but her natural instinct started her to pawing at the water with her gloved hands. She moved slowly for every muscle was stiff from the cold and the heavy boots and clothing were hampering her effort. Gradually she climbed upward toward the pale light above.

  A swirl of the current caught her and carried her down deeper and her feet touched the gravely river bottom. Panicked with fear of drowning, she kicked off stoutly and shot upward. Unable to judge the distance to the surface of the shadow filled water, she came up too swiftly and her head crashed into the ice with a brutal blow. She knew she had a nasty cut. The injury had no importance when death threatened.

  She hammered the underside of the ice with both fists. She must reach the life giving air only inches away. Her blows drove her down in the water and away from the ice. She paddled back up to the ice and beat upon it again. Again she was driven away from the ice, and again she paddled up and hit at it with her fists. Nothing gave to her blows for the ice was stone to her flesh and bone knuckles.

  The shock of the frigid water upon her body slowed her heart beat. Controlled by an ancient instinct, the reduced flow of blood was shunted to her brain and lungs.

  Her body cried out for her to breathe. She fought the desperate urge for her fear of drowning overrode the agony of having no air.

  The current hurried Alice downstream, sliding her along the smooth underside of the ice. Enfeebled by cold and the lack of oxygen, she paddled feebly to keep near the ice and hoping desperately to find a hole through which she could climb from the water and into the air.

  An image of Alice’s mother appeared and she cried out silently, “Oh, Mother, how strange it is that we both die by drowning. I should have died in your arms in the deep ocean instead of here in a river of a strange land. She waited for an answer. Her mother smiled benignly at her and said not a word. Her mother’s silence angered Alice. Why don’t you talk to me? Her mother only smiled with that gentle smile.

  Alice’s felt a powerful urge to breathe. She fought the urge for she must use only logic and it told her not to breathe until she found an opening in the ice. Could a person hold their breath long enough to kill herself?

  Alice’s heart labored and beat ever more slowly. The fires of her mind were surrendering to the lack of oxygen. Her thoughts were fragile and difficult to hold onto. Blackness was closing upon her from all sides. That blackness must be death. The terror of dying left her. Even so she must not surrender while there was still an ounce of strength in her body. Her mother’s figure was fading. Mother, please don’t leave me to die alone. She concentrated intently so as to hold onto the image and reached out toward it. As Alice’s mind went dark, she felt her mother clasped the hand firmly and pull. Yes, dear mother, we shall die together as it should be. Alice breathed where there was not one particle of air.

  *

  In the long shadows of late evening, Will sat on his pack and leaned on the bridge railing and looked down at the slush ice where Alice had vanished into the river. He had cried bitter tears for in the short time he had known Alice, he had become very fond of her, and he had cried at his inability to protect her as he wanted. He hated the river that had killed her. It should be permanently marked, scarred in some manner for it murderous deed.

  Will had been returning to the bridge with an armload of firewood when he had seen Alice fall over the railing and into the river. He had rushed to the spot and stripped off his coat in preparation to jumping in after her. He leaned over the railing and saw where she had vanished beneath the slush ice. He noted the swiftness of the current and knew she was being carried speedily downstream. How far away was she? How could he find her under the thick ice that sheathed the river? Another thought came, the ice would imprison him and only death awaited him beneath it. His death would not bring Alice back to life.

  He had pulled his coat back on and sat down on his pack and cried as he listened to the rasping of the slush ice and the creak and groan of the solid ice. Oh, God, how he missed the strong girl with her rare beauty. He had known her for just these few days during the journey north and that time was much too short. Her death left a great pain and he mourned for her.

  Will heard the crunch of snow close by and hastily started to rise. A hand fell upon his shoulder and bore down with a heavy pressure and held him but half erect. Will hastily looked up. Oscar Taggert stood glaring down at him. He held a pistol pointed into Will’s face.

  “Just stay right there,” Oscar said in a harsh voice. “And don’t do anything that’ll make me shoot you.”

  Will sat down on the pack. The open barrel of the pistol but inches from his face.

  “I’m Oscar Taggert.”

  “I know who you are. You can’t arrest me for I’m on the Canadian end of the bridge.” Will again made to get to his feet.

  “Stay down there damn you,” Oscar growled. He leaned more heavily on Will and dug his bony fingers into the flesh of his shoulder. “I’ve been following you and saw your tracks with the girl’s. Where is she? Where’s Alice Childs?”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything for you don’t have any authority here,” Will said and grimacing with the pain of Oscar’s iron fingers. He slid his hand closer to his pocket with the pistol.

  Oscar studied the young face intently watching him. “You’re right”, he said in an agreeing tone. “This is out of Beltrami County and out of my jurisdiction.”

  Oscar removed his hand from Will’s shoulder and moved back a step. He holstered his pistol.

  “But tell me where the girl is.”

  Will had heard about the sheriff and all of them told him not to trust the man. Still he could see no harm in telling him about Alice. “She’s down there.” Will nodded down at the river.

  Oscar surveyed the frozen river to where it curved out of view and into the forest. He faced back to Will.

  “Why didn’t you go with her?”

  Will realized the lawman had misunderstood and believed Alice had gone off downstream. Well, just let him think that for it would be a worthy trick to play on him.

  “She got mad at me and struck off on her own.”

  “Then why were you sitting here?”

  “Trying to decide whether to go after her,” Will lied.

  “I don’t believe you’d let her go off by herself. There’s more to this than what you’ve said,”

  “Well, that’s what happened. I don’t care if you believe me or not. She’s not here, is she?” Will was glad that his and Taggert’s foot prints had erased Alice’s tracks.

  Oscar again looked down the river channel that was being filled with evening dusk, and then turned his eyes to the dense woods where the dusk was almost darkness.

  “I’m gong north now,” Will said, and anxious to go quickly into the sanctuary of Canada. He made to rise and expecting the sheriff to take some action to stop him.

  “Better take your pack,” said the sheriff.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Will, surprised at the ease of escaping from the sheriff, took up the pack and settled it onto his back.

  The sheriff fell in beside Will. “I’ll walk along with you for a short ways. I want to be sure you leave Beltrami County.”

  Will did not want the sheriff to accompany him, but said nothing. He left the bridge and went into the big woods of Canada. The sheriff matched his stride.

  A short time later, a pistol shot shattered the stillness of the Canadian woods. An equal time later, the sheriff returned to the bridge and crossed over it into Beltrami County. He made his night camp there.

  *

  Paul cut ice at his usual place on Rainy River just upstream from his home. Each of his strokes with the sharp ice saw cut half an inch gash in the ice that was some eight inches thick. In the past hour of work, he had removed ice from an area of river
some thirty feet long and half that distance in width.

  Heather was on the ice near Paul. When he finished cutting one of the blocks of ice and dragged it upon the ice shelf, she snagged it with her ice hook and skidded it to the bank. From time to time, Paul would stop sawing and with his superior strength, lift the blocks and load them onto the farm sled that was close by on the river bank.

  The brown horse, harnessed and hitched to the sled, stood patiently in its long haired winter coat and dozed. Brutus was on his pallet of straw on the front of the sled. He lay on his stomach with head resting on his outstretched front paws. He watched Paul and Heather harvest the blocks of ice from the river and pile them onto the sled. He was alert for his master might call to him at any moment, or signal a command. Brutus must always be ready to obey.

  Paul pulled the saw and severed the last thin neck of ice holding a block fastened to the ice sheet. The block began to float away on the lazy current. He dropped the saw on the ice shelf and took up the ice hook with its long wooden handle. He leaned over the water and reached out to catch the drifting block and draw it to him. The iron hook glanced off the hard, slick surface of the ice and plunged into the water.

  He started to withdraw the ice hook when it caught onto something heavy that was submerged in the water. He pulled stoutly to free the hook and brought a gloved hand to the surface, followed by an arm in a heavy coat, and then by the face of a girl with startlingly white skin and green eyes open wide and staring. Long blond hair trailed out behind. He recognized Alice.

  “Mom, come quick,” Paul shouted out. “There’s a girl in the river.” He braced his feet as best he could on the slippery ice and hauled the ice hook toward him.

  The girl’s body came up against the cut edge of the ice shelf. Paul dropped to his knees and quickly caught hold of the front of the girl’s coat and held the body from sinking back into the depths of the river. Water had splashed upon the ice and increased its slipperiness and he fought to keep from sliding into the river.

  “My God!” Heather cried out as she came up beside Paul. She knelt beside him and took hold of the girl’s hand. “Lift, Paul, lift. Quick get her out of the water.”

  Paul heaved mightily on the body made heavy by the thick, wet clothing. Heather took hold of Alice’s feet and pulled. The body, dripping water, came up over the ledge of ice and onto its flat surface.

  “It’s the girl Alice that I saw at the logging camp and later in the woods.” An ache came alive in Paul’s chest as he stared down at the body. It wasn’t right for someone so young to die.

  “Hurry, open her clothing and let me see if she’s still alive,” Heather directed.

  “Is that possible?” Paul asked as he sprang to the task of prying open the buttons of the coat rapidly stiffening with the cold.

  “Stop fooling with the buttons, Paul, rip them off. Hurry, every second is vital. I’ve heard of people living after being under water for several minutes when water is this cold.”

  Paul grabbed the coat in both hands and yanked and the buttons tore loose and bounced away over the ice. Heather lowered her head and pressed her ear to Alice’s cold chest and listened.

  “Yes! Yes! I hear a beat. It’s weak, but her heart beats. Lift her up with her head down and let’s get the water out of her lungs.”

  Paul encircled Alice’s waist with his arms and raise her midsection with her head down. Heather seized Alice’s chest and back between her hands and squeezed strongly. Half a pint of water poured from Alice’s mouth. Heather squeezed again and less water came, then none at the third attempt. Alice’s lungs began to expand and contract, but feebly

  “She’s breathing on her own.” Heather said. “Hurry now, pick her up and carry her to the house. Run, Paul! Run! We must get her warm as fast as possible. She can still die.”

  Paul scooped Alice’s wet body up in his arms and ran. The water droplets clinging to her hair froze swiftly into crystals in the frigid temperature. Paul heard the ice crystals striking against one another and tinkling and chiming like little bells telling him to hurry! Hurry! She must not die!

  Heather raced ahead of Paul to the house and opened the door for him. He hastened inside and close to the heating stove and there placed Alice on the warm boards of the floor.

  “Build up the fire real hot and then hold blankets close to the stove until they’re real hot to wrap her in,” Heather directed. “We’ve got to get her warm quick.”

  Paul rushed to obey.

  Heather hurriedly began to strip Alice of her clothing. With his eyes turned away from Alice’s nude body, Paul brought the first warm blanket.

  “Don’t be bashful,” Heather said. “Help me get her clothes off and wrapped in the blanket. Then heat another one really warm.”

  Paul untied Alice’s boots and removed them and then helped strip the boys’ pants off her. In but seconds, Alice lay nude before him, skin a pearly white, a blond puff of youthful hair at the Y of her legs, shoulders bony, ribs showing painfully, girlish breast taut from the cold. She’s so fragile and so awfully vulnerable, Paul thought as he stared down at Alice. She must not die.

  They wrapped Alice in hot blankets. When one cooled a little they wrapped her in one freshly heated, and then another, and another. Finally Alice’s flesh felt warm to the touch and her breathing came evenly and her heart beat strongly. They prepared a bed for her on a cot they brought close to the stove and covered her snugly.

  Paul loaded wood in the stove and came and sat down on a chair near Heather. For a time they sat silently together each with their own private thoughts and watching the rise and fall of the blankets as Alice breathed.

  “She hasn’t spoken a word,” Paul said worriedly. “I hope she lives.”

  “I think she’ll be all right since her heart never stopped,” Heather replied. “She’ll regain conscious just as soon as her body can heal itself from the cold and the damage the water did to her lungs.”

  “I sure hope so. I wonder what happened to Will, that boy she was with.”

  “Do you think they were brother and sister?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t look much alike. I think they might be two of the orphans they’ve been bringing from the big cities in the east.”

  “It’s dark now. Tomorrow you should go looking for him.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. I’ll look for tracks. Maybe they tried crossing the river on the ice and it broke through with them.”

  “If you can’t find Will, and she is an orphan, we could ask her to stay with us. Instead of going to Canada like they obviously planned.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Paul replied with a thoughtful expression.

  “Better bring in more wood for we want to keep the fire going all night.”

  Paul rose and put on his coat. “I’ll keep it burning.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Trap

  Alice came awake floating up from the dark pit of unconsciousness where she had lain close to death. She opened her eyes to a brightly sunlit window but a few feet away. A wide, snow covered field was framed by the window, and beyond the field in the far distance, lay a woods.

  She lay quietly observing the view beyond the glass. Then the incongruity of the scene jerked her completely awake and she hastily reached out to gather her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was being beneath the ice of the river and her mother taking her by the hand. Now this. Was she alive? Where was she? What had happened between being in the river and now? She opened her mouth and breathed deeply. She drew in sweet air and not water. She was warm, blessedly warm under several blankets.

  Her spirit soared. I’m alive! By some miracle I’m out of the river and alive! But how could that be?

  She turned her head to look about and her eyes fell at once upon Paul sitting on a chair beside the bed. He appeared very real and he was gazing steadily at her. The big, gray dog lay on the floor by his side. It too watched Alice.

  “You?” Alice said, h
er voice coming weak and scratchy from a raw throat.

  “Yes, me.”

  “And you’re real?” Alice asked wanting assurance that she wasn’t imagining being alive.

  “Sure enough real.”

  “Then I’m really alive?”

  “You’re surely not dead,” Paul replied with a magnificent smile and glorying in the girl’s happiness. Her face was drawn with weakness from her ordeal and still a beauty showed like none Paul had ever seen before. Her nearness caused his heart to throb with pleasure.

  Alice in turn was evaluating Paul. His light brown eyes showed relief and pleasure as he looked at her.

  “But I thought you were when I pulled you from the river,” Paul said.

  “You pulled me from the river?”

  “With help from my mother.”

  “I was one lucky girl for you to be there for I was drowning under the ice.”

  “You almost did.”

  “Where are we?”

  “At our farm. My mom’s and my farm,” Paul replied.

  “I remember you mentioning that you had a farm.”

  “How did you get in the river?”

  “I tripped and fell off the bridge while Will was gathering wood. Have you seen him?”

  “No.”

  “I want to know if he’s all right.”

  “Then soon as you’re taken care of, I’ll go looking for him.” Paul raised his voice and shouted out. “Mom, she’s awake.”

  Alice heard quick footsteps approaching and Heather entered the door at the end of the room. She hastened to the bed and clasped Alice’s hands. “I’m Heather, and I’m so glad to see you’re all right. We were terribly worried about you.”

  Heather examined Alice and was pleased with what she saw. During the long hours of the night, the girl’s body had recovered from the near drowning in the frigid water and her unconsciousness had become sleep. The girl’s gaunt body showed her frailty. She needed days of wholesome food and rest. Heather believed Alice needed something more, the absence of fear.