The Man from Shenandoah

by Marsha Ward

  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.

  He dreamed of a warm, sweet-smelling girl beside him in the bed, but could not see her face, for her back was to him. When
he tried to turn her over, she became a lost cow, frozen in the storm. He cried out, “Ellen!” and awoke.

  Sitting up in his bed, he anxiously looked over at James, and noted with relief that he still slept. He lay down again, chest heaving for a time, but sleep soon took him.

  ~~~

  On the far side of the partition, Marie heard the cry, and bit her knuckle in frustration. He’ll still marry Ida, she thought bitterly. He’s said he will. She closed her eyes, praying for her friend, then fell into a restless sleep.

  ~~~

  Two days were shrouded in cloud and freezing weather, but no more snow fell. Then two days of thaw lifted the hopes of the Owens in anticipation of the Christmas party in Pueblo City. The morning of the twenty-third, however, came without sun. A furious ice storm blew for four days, canceling any thought of leaving the cabin for travel.

  Then Nature turned capricious, and brought along warm, fall-like days, and the men worked fast to finish Carl’s cabin. On the third morning, a messenger rode through, bringing a note from Rand Hilbrands that the party was set for New Year’s Eve, if the weather held. “Even if it snows again, come on in. I’ve got plenty of room, and some wonderful news,” the note concluded.

  “Mary and I ain’t going anywhere,” Rulon announced. “Her time is too near for traveling.”

  “Don’t she lack a month yet, Rule?” asked Julia.

  “That’s right, but she ain’t up to the trip. Go ahead, and I’ll stay here with her.”

  Rod and the family left the next day, except for Carl, who wanted to put some finishing touches on the cabin before he left. “I’ll be through by tomorrow morning,” he said. “Sherando and me’ll get there late tomorrow.”

  “Looks like we’re going to a wedding as well as a dance, Rod,” Julia said as they left in the wagon.

  Yep, I reckon you’ll have new kin before the week’s up.”

  “I wish Ida had some cattle to bring with her,” Julia murmured.

  “Now don’t fret, woman. I’ve been contemplating on what to do about getting us new stock. I’ll take a few of the boys up to Denver City to look up Jonathan. If he can’t put us to work, I’m sure he’ll know of miners we can work for until we have some money. Then I reckon we’ll ride to Texas and pick up some of them long-horned cows. I heard tell at Fort Lyon they’re selling at three dollars a head.”

  “That’s sure a fancy plan, Rod Owen. Don’t forget to tote that strong box back to Jonathan.”

  Rod laughed at her easy acceptance of his scheme. “You’re a surprising woman, Julia Owen.”

  “I reckon. And don’t you forget it.”

  ~~~

  On the morning of December thirty-first, Carl awoke for the first time in his new cabin. He glanced around the dim room, satisfaction stealing over his face. He had built well, and he hoped Ida would appreciate the solidness and hard work that had gone into its creation. Looking up at the loft above him, he thought ahead to the children who would fill it, and smiled as he imagined himself roaring out, “Quiet up there!” echoing his father.

  He sat up in the rope bed he had constructed against the end of the room. Fir boughs beneath him creaked with his shifting weight, and he recalled the comfort of the springy branches during the night.

  Carl bent over and picked up his jean trousers from the stool near the bed. They were the pants he had bought in Kansas town, his newest clothes. They would have to do for the party, and for the wedding, and for many months of hard work to follow. He stooped and pulled them on, then finished dressing and went outside to the washstand.

  The water in the bucket was clear of ice, and Carl felt good about the day. He washed, and shaved carefully with Rulon’s razor, remembering that he must ride back to Rulon’s cabin with it this morning before he left. He would buy a razor and such gear in Pueblo City when he arrived.

  He stepped back into the doorway of the new house, and smelled the pungent odor of the newly cut wood in the box beside the fireplace. Ida would love this place, nestled into the clearing like it had grown there. Everything was ready for her to step into the room and take over the cabin to make it a home.

  Some primitive caution, born of the howling storms he had undergone, made Carl roll a blanket and tie it to his saddle before he left the cabin. Then he tucked a double handful of jerky made from one of the frozen cows into a sack and tied that on the saddle, too. The same feeling urged him to belt on his pistol. He thought twice over that, telling himself a man didn’t go armed to his wedding. He ignored the thought, and slung the gun around his hips. “I got a ways to go before Pueblo City,” he muttered aloud.

  ~~~

  Carl rode into Rulon’s dooryard just as Chester Bates and his family broke into the clearing from the south.

  “Company coming, Rulon,” Carl pointed out as his brother stopped chopping wood to accept the razor. Carl cantered his horse over to meet the new arrivals in front of Rod’s cabin, as Rulon followed on foot. “You all light and set,” he called to the Bates family.

  Chester dismounted from a tall brown horse and helped his wife dismount from her bay. Carl dropped off Sherando and ran to help Ellen swing off her dun mare as Rulon arrived to greet the Bates.

  Carl grinned at the girl and teased, “You go astride now, Miss Ellen?”

  She grinned back. “The wagon broke a wheel, and pa only had one sidesaddle, so Ma got it. I like to ride astride,” she insisted. “I can tell what Dun Baby’s going to do next. She likes to try to throw folks,” she finished in a whisper.

  Carl rubbed the frisky animal’s cheek. “Where’d you get her?”

  “Pa made up some furniture and traded to a Spanish gentleman for a string of horses. I think they’re only half-broke, but I like that.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “There’s just lots of Spanish folks down where we live, and I’m learning some words already.” She turned toward the stock pens. “Like, ‘corral’ means ‘stock pen’.” She paused. “Where’s your cattle?”

  “Up in the woods a piece. We had a little storm up here. Froze ‘em solid as ice cakes, to quote James.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. Her brow furrowed with pain. “That must be a big blow to your pa.”

  “He didn’t say a word about it for three days, but you know Pa, nothing keeps him down for long. By now he’s hatching a plan to get us out of this fix.”

  Chester came over to Carl and Ellen. “I’m sorry to hear about your cattle. And it looks like we missed your folks. Rulon tells me you’re not going in to the party. I reckon we made this detour for nothing.”

  “No, sir. Rulon’s the one not going. I am, and I’d be pleased to ride along with you. How are the rest of the folks? Are any of them coming?”

  “The Campbells and the Morgans are back a ways in a wagon, but Tom O’Connor stayed to tend the stock. He says his kids are too young for a dance, anyhow.”

  Ellen laughed. “Tom O’Connor is courting a pretty little Spanish girl down in Leones. No dance in Pueblo City could drag him away.”

  “You don’t say! I reckon there’s something about this Colorado air.”

  Ellen looked puzzled at his remark. He offered no enlightenment, and she looked away, a little sigh moving her shoulders.

  “Well, we’d better get, if we’re going to make Pueblo by nightfall,” Chester said. He helped his wife into her saddle and swung into his. “Carl, you young people have frisky horses, so why don’t you take the lead for awhile?”

  “Suits me,” Carl said, and locked his fingers to give Ellen a boost onto her dun. Ellen held onto the high horn of the saddle and accepted his help by placing her boot into his hands. Then she was astride the horse, her long skirt flaring out over the cantle and down Dun Baby’s haunches. The dun mare danced around, eager to be off again. Carl laughed in pleasure at the sight, then mounted Sherando.