Bailey didn’t know what to say, which was just as well because the thought of Shannon moving so far away made her throat close up tight.
“Bailey, I—” Shannon stopped as the sound of hooves caught their attention. Kylie, the baby of the family, came riding in on a black mustang. Aaron was at her side on his huge thoroughbred, pulling two packhorses behind him, each loaded as high as Tucker’s.
Bailey and Shannon turned to face their little sister as she rode up. No britches for Kylie, not even a pair made of sturdy doeskin. Kylie had on a dress, very pretty. It was a split skirt, though, so she could ride astride.
Kylie looked at Tucker packing the horses, then rode straight for her sisters. She swung down.
“You’re coming here to say goodbye, too.” Bailey didn’t ask; she stated a fact. It was clear the Mastersons were set for travel.
Kylie nodded. Aaron reined his horse toward Tucker. Bailey thought he was giving them some privacy, and she appreciated that. Bailey and Shannon weren’t real good with sad goodbyes. Kylie, on the other hand, seemed to favor them. She broke down and cried and threw her arms around both of them at once.
Bailey was glad because now she could pretend to cooperate without having to display how upset she was.
“W-we’re riding south today. We were going to stop and say goodbye to each of you.”
Bailey noticed that neither Kylie nor Shannon mentioned riding to Pa’s homestead and saying goodbye to him. It would be a waste of time. Pa had barely spoken to either of them since they’d given up their homesteads and Gage Coulter had bought them.
Just wait till Pa found out Bailey had lost the canyon.
Kylie was crying into Bailey’s neck, getting her shirt all wet, and for just one second, Bailey felt hot tears wash the backs of her eyes. The tears didn’t fall, but her arms tightened on both her sisters.
“I’m going to miss you both so much,” Kylie whispered. “I can’t stand that Shannon and I are both leaving you.”
Bailey laughed raggedly, glad for an excuse to break the hug. She rested one rough hand on Kylie’s cheek. Strange business taking care of her little sisters all these years, protecting them from Pa. Of course, they’d all tried to protect each other from Pa and had precious little success, until maybe now. At least Shannon and Kylie were making the break.
Bailey thought grimly that she considered herself less under Pa’s thumb than either of them. She ran her own ranch and didn’t do anything that didn’t suit her, no matter what Pa said. And yet here she stood in britches, as Pa wanted, living the life he’d set out for her.
Maybe she wasn’t so independent, after all.
“All your life you’ve been fighting for the exact life you’re headed for, Kylie. You know nothing could stop you from going.”
Kylie let the tears flow down her pretty face. Her sweet little sister. Light-brown hair shot through with a dozen shades of blond, with bright hazel eyes a lot like Bailey’s. But on Kylie it was all so pretty, her cheeks dimpled, her streaked-up hair pulled back in a tidy bun with little curls escaping around her forehead and face. To make the picture perfect she pulled a lace hanky out of the sleeve of her pink calico dress and dabbed at her eyes, a vision of feminine grace.
“I’m going, but I want to take you both with me.”
Shannon gave Kylie one more fierce hug. “Can you imagine Tucker taking the train to New York City?”
They all looked at Tucker, as wild a man as ever lived, and broke out laughing.
“Nev and Myra will be over later today.” Kylie looked at the white balls of fluff that grazed in a pen next to Gage Coulter’s cattle. Gage had built a fence to keep the sheep and cattle separate.
Shannon said to Bailey, “They’re going to live here and tend my sheep through the winter.”
A furrow of worry creased Shannon’s smooth brow. “They’ll take good care of them, won’t they?”
“Yes, now stop.” Kylie gave Shannon yet another hug. She turned her sister just enough that she could make eye contact with Bailey and roll her eyes. “You’ve done right to let them have the sheep. Myra seems interested in wool, so they’ll baby them same as you did.”
Bailey suspected that, unlike Shannon, the Bassetts would on occasion eat the sheep, too. No one said that out loud, especially Shannon, but sheep turned into nice lamb chops, and only Shannon was too softhearted to admit that.
Tucker and Aaron came over to where they stood, leading the horses. The men made it clear they were ready to go.
“I’d invite you in for coffee, Bailey, but everything is packed.” Shannon’s eyes filled with tears again. “And we need to get in as many hours as we can while the sun is up.”
The days were short in the Rockies in October, and the cold, buffeting wind threatened more snow. Though Tucker should have headed out weeks ago, he’d stuck around because Shannon hadn’t wanted to leave her sisters. Now with winter ready to slam down on them, they wouldn’t see each other anyway. Tucker insisted they go.
“We’re riding horseback to make the best time,” Kylie said. “We’re hoping to beat the worst of the weather. Aaron has a route planned for us to take us out of the mountains to the south before we ride east. Once we’re out of the Rockies, we hope for much milder weather than this.” Kylie nodded toward the sky, pure white, as if it were loaded with snow.
“You’d both best get on, then. I’m glad you were coming to my place to say goodbye, but this will get you on the trail hours earlier.” Bailey found the inner toughness that had gotten her through so much and didn’t do one thing to slow them down. Neither did she shield herself to the point she couldn’t be kind. That would bother them, as well. She gave them each one last hug. Then she smiled at Aaron and said, “Don’t let Kylie run everything just her way. She’s a tricky one.”
Aaron smiled. He looked like he knew just how badly she felt, but he wasn’t going to make it worse. He pulled her into his arms and yet made it quick. Bailey didn’t like it, and Aaron seemed to understand.
“Nev and Myra have been living in the house I built near Aspen Ridge. But they’re moving into Shannon’s cabin, so remember you have friends close by.”
Friends? With a man who tried to kill Kylie and shot Shannon? With a woman who tried to steal Kylie’s land? Not likely.
Nodding, she didn’t comment on that pair. She’d be switched if she’d ask them for help.
She backed away from Aaron to look at Tucker. “And you, be careful or Shannon will be making pets out of the grizzlies and trying to move them into your cabin.”
Shannon gave Bailey a good-natured slap on the shoulder, and Tucker laughed. “We’ll be back in the spring, Bailey.”
They would, but what was unspoken was that it would be for a visit only. With the homestead signed away to Coulter, they had no home here anymore, nothing holding them here. Coulter would let them live in the cabin, though, with Myra and Nev taking Aaron’s place. Tucker worked for Coulter in the summer, so they’d be around, but never again would Shannon live nearby for any length of time. Her life was taking her away.
“And Sunrise is living in Kylie’s old homestead cabin. She’ll help you if you can get word to her.”
They both knew once winter started dumping snow by the yard, no one could get word to anyone.
Kylie was never one to pass a chance to be affectionate. She hugged Bailey one last time and whispered, “We’re expecting a baby. I’ll write you all about it.” Then Kylie let her go, crying hard.
“I love you, Bailey.” Kylie shoved a package wrapped in brown paper into her hands. “I know how much you’ve done for me. Thank you.” Kylie turned to Shannon and hugged her too, but with no package. “Thank you both. I love you, Shannon.”
Aaron’s arm went around Kylie’s waist. “Let’s move out.” He supported her as they turned to the horses.
Bailey should have moved out too, just mounted up and ridden away, but she couldn’t. She stood there and watched the four of them leave, Shannon headed up
, Kylie headed down, separating from each other just as surely as her. And a baby, a baby Bailey doubted she’d ever meet. It felt as if her heart was being torn out of her chest as both sisters turned back and waved before they curved around their separate trails and vanished from sight.
She stood alone in the blustery wind, as cold in her heart as she was in her fingertips. Finally, moving like an old woman, she got on her mustang and started for home.
A home without enough grass.
A home with cattle so far from her cabin, it would be a life-and-death struggle to get to them through the winter.
A home so lonely that Bailey, a woman who didn’t cry, let the wind cry for her.
She was home before she gave another thought to the present Kylie had tucked into her hands. Setting it aside while she unsaddled her horse, she did her chores, ate a quick noon meal, then rode out in the growing cold to check her cattle.
When she returned, she noticed a pair of riders amongst the cattle in the canyon, neither of them Gage—even from a good distance, she was sure of it. It was only when she saw them that she realized somehow, foolishly, she’d thought he would come.
Despite her rudeness, she thought he’d make it a point to check the cattle himself and then come in to say hello.
The sun was setting. The wind started howling louder, the snow coming down more heavily by the minute.
She watched the riders climb that trail. She should just let them ride through her place. She had a fight on her hands not to run out and yell for them to come on through, cut hours off the ride in the nasty weather and not attempt the treacherous trail Gage had blasted open.
She won the fight to keep her mouth shut as the men skylined themselves in what was left of the setting sun, then dropped over the rim for that rattlesnake of a descent.
The snow kept falling. How long would they take to reach the safer parts of the trail? Their lives might be in danger.
She felt like the worst kind of coyote for not calling out and was determined that tomorrow she’d go out and tell them they could use her property to gain entrance to the canyon. That would make them climb in on that ugly path one more time, but then she’d put a stop to it.
Her quiet prayer followed them while the snow grew heavier and she tried uselessly to guess if they’d made it to safe ground.
9
The snow came and came and came. She never had a chance to make things right with Gage’s men, because they never got back into the canyon.
She battled her way to the cattle about once a week, and by the end of November, she risked her life with each trip wallowing in the deep snow.
She’d look over her shoulder the whole time she made the trek, afraid another snowstorm would start up. It seemed to be a worse winter than the one she’d survived the year before. But she couldn’t quite decide if it was worse or if she just found it harder to endure, knowing how alone she was in the world, with her sisters long gone.
The stream that flowed along the edge of the grassy woods where she’d left her cows kept flowing, though she wondered what would happen when the really brutal cold settled in. Would the water freeze over and leave all her cattle to die of thirst?
Bailey fretted through the long nights as November stretched toward Thanksgiving. Finally, when the weather had cleared a bit, remembering Gage’s offer, Bailey herded her cattle back home and shooed them into the canyon. With the high sheltering walls, the snow didn’t get so deep the cattle couldn’t find food. And the stream in the canyon was much deeper and faster moving and wouldn’t freeze over.
She’d bide her time, and then the first chance she had in the spring, she’d get her cattle moved out and Gage would never have to know she owed him.
Bailey forced herself to make a special dinner for Thanksgiving. And she forced herself to spend time counting her blessings.
She even thought of a few that weren’t pure lies.
As Christmas drew near, she had a few longing thoughts of Pa that told her just how lonely she was. She considered risking the long ride to his cabin just to break up the relentless monotony of winter. Surely by now even grumpy old Pa was lonesome.
If the weather looked good, she decided, she’d ride over on Christmas morning. At least she’d set out. If the travel got too difficult, she’d turn back.
Then, midafternoon on Christmas Eve, the snow started up with a vengeance. Riding to Pa’s was out of the question. She was worried about making it the fifty paces to the barn.
Weeks ago she’d tied a rope between the house and the barn to help her make it there and back in bad weather. She bundled up and stepped outside into a wind so bitter cold it stole her breath. Each step was a fight, but she battled her way onward. The chores wouldn’t do themselves. After what seemed like hours, she knew the barn had to be just ahead, yet she couldn’t see it in the blinding blizzard. Then the rope snapped and tore out of her hand.
Leaping for the rope, clawing the air, she stumbled and fell into a drift. The rope vanished in the white.
All around her was nothingness. She could die out here. Alone. It hit her hard and deep that if she died, no one would even know for months. Wolves might find her and drag her off. Her family wouldn’t miss her until spring, when Shannon came back . . . if Shannon came back. And would they ever grieve? Yes, Kylie and Shannon would feel bad that she’d gone missing, but how much could anyone love you if they got married and rode off with little more than a hug and a backward glance?
For a moment, lying there so utterly alone, it was all too much to bear. She was brutally tired of the fight for this rugged life. But Bailey didn’t know how to quit. Her fighting spirit roared through her harder than the whipping wind.
“I’m close to the barn,” Bailey yelled into the teeth of the storm. She was no more alone right now than she had been a few minutes ago in the house. Bailey stayed on her knees where she was less likely to get blown in the wrong direction.
The wind came from the north, of course, yet it swirled around until it was hard to be sure from which direction it hit her the hardest. She pivoted in the snow until she thought the wind blew hardest against her back. She stared forward, and prayed. She thought she saw a darker patch in this direction.
Inching forward on her hands and knees, she didn’t find the barn where it was supposed to be. It couldn’t be this far ahead, could it? If she kept crawling, she might crawl straight out into the forest where she’d freeze to death for certain.
That’s when she realized she carried her milk pail with her. It was still hooked over her arm. An inspiration that seemed to be whispered in her ear straight from the mouth of God had her grab that pail, face again the direction she thought was right, and throw the bucket forward as hard as she could.
It banged into something solid. The barn was the only solid thing on this side of the house, not counting the canyon walls, but she couldn’t have gotten that far off course. She crawled forward eagerly toward the sound, until the wind mixed her up again.
The bucket landed under her hand, and right ahead was a log. She’d found the barn. Grabbing the bucket, she scrambled to her feet, never losing contact with the building. She edged along in the direction of the door and almost fell into open space.
Shuddering with fear, she realized she’d gotten blown farther to one side of the barn than she’d thought. Rather than being centered with the building, somehow she was far to the left. Only a foot or two more and she’d have missed the barn completely and ended up out in the open where she’d never survive the harsh weather.
She moved back down the wall until she found the door, undid the latch with gloved fingers, clumsy with cold. She stumbled into the barn, then turned to shut the door behind her, struggling against the howling wind.
Once inside, although the cold was still so sharp she felt her eyes and nose freezing up, at least the wind was blocked. With her heavy coat and a scarf wound tight around her neck and over her head, high boots and thick gloves, she soon got her shiver
ing under control.
Panting, she tried to figure out what she was going to do. She couldn’t stay out here overnight. The temperature had to be below zero. She’d never make it through the night. Her eyes then came to rest on her milk cow. Its wide spread of horns seemed to gleam in the dim light.
She’d milked this cow morning and night for almost six months and never worried overly about it. But now she was worried. What if that animal killed her? Or worse, what if it maimed her and she lay on the barn floor slowly freezing to death? Maybe she’d live long enough to die a slow, painful death of thirst and starvation.
Disgusted, Bailey tossed the bucket down, and the cow lashed a hoof at her. The cow just won, because Bailey wasn’t about to milk her. She was close to calving, probably three months away, and Bailey planned to dry her up in about a month’s time. Well, the cow wouldn’t mind a bit more of a break.
She turned to her chickens. Earlier, she’d moved them from the coop into the barn. The chickens she could handle. She gathered eggs and then sat on the floor to figure out how to get back to the house.
There was rope coiled on a nail. She could tie that to the barn door and lash it around her waist. She might fight for her life for a while, but she should find her way to the house eventually.
If the rope was long enough . . . and it didn’t snap.
The soft whicker of her horse drew her attention. The cow was a killer, but she’d kept one of her gentlest horses penned in the barn, with the remaining horses in Gage’s canyon along with the cattle.
Her eyes settled on that friendly horse, and Bailey made a decision. She wasn’t leaving this barn until the blizzard ended. Her horse was warm enough to keep her alive through the night.
She was spending Christmas Eve sleeping with her horse.
Bailey fed her animals and cleaned out the stalls, leaving a pile of old straw by the barn door to be tossed out later. By the time she was done with that hard work, she was comfortably warm. The night would be a hungry one, but she’d missed a meal before. She hunkered down on a pile of hay. While she sat there pondering the mess she was in, the light waning but the blizzard as strong as ever, her eyes landed on a bit of brown shoved under the railing of her cow’s stall and mostly buried in straw. It didn’t match the rest of the barn.
Fire and Ice Page 7