those who had no coat would get through the night. He looked down at the aisle for a second, and his eyes followed it all the way to the back of the car. He smiled. “Luke. I’ve got an idea.”
Luke, who had been sitting with Jenny, came over to him. “I hope it’s a good one.”
Matt chuckled. “Yeah, so do I.” He took out his penknife, opened it, then walked up to the front of the aisle and squatted down. He made a slice across the aisle carpet and pulled up the end.
“Help me pull up this carpet. We can make serapes out of it.”
“Yes!” Luke said. “Yes, that
Bailey saw Matt and Luke pulling up the carpet. “Here! What are you doing? You can’t do that! That carpet belongs to the Denver and Pacific!”
“We’ll give it back when we are through with it,” Matt said as he and Luke continued to pull up the carpet. When it was fully taken up, he cut it into long sections, then cut a hole in the middle of each section for a head to stick through.
The carpet made four serapes. He put his on first to demonstrate how to use it, then he gave one each to Luke, Julius and Troy. After a bit of good-natured teasing about how they looked, Matt walked over to the seat where the little girl was lying with her head on her mother’s lap. “How is Becky doing?”
“Oh, Mr. Jensen,” Millie apologized. “I’m so sorry you have to wear that.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s keeping me warm now. I just hope your daughter doesn’t get too cold.”
“I think that, with your coat, she is warm enough,” Millie said. “In a way, I’m almost thankful she isn’t feeling well. She has no appetite, so she isn’t suffering from hunger the way the rest of us are.”
“I’m sure it won’t be too much longer before they send a relief train after us.” Matt didn’t believe that at all, but he thought it would be better to give her some hope.
“Yes. I’m sure you are right.”
Conductor Bailey was also without an overcoat, so he maintained a position nearest the stove. With what heat the stove was putting out, Matt was reasonably sure he would be able to pass the night in relative comfort.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
That evening, Smoke, Duff, and Sally sat in the keeping room, drinking coffee, looking out at the snow- covered ground, and basking in the warmth of the fireplace.
“Tell me, Duff, how did you fare during the great die-up?” Smoke asked. The question referred to the winter of 1887–88, when an enormous blizzard resulted in the death of almost half the cattle in the Northwest.
“I’ve got a natural shelter on my place, and I had enough hay stored, so for the most part I came through it without too much difficulty. But some of the English ranchers didn’t fare so well. It completely broke Moreton Frewen. How did you do?”
“I had been through a few killing blizzards before, so I was ready for it as well.” Smoke pointed toward the barn. “I’ve got enough hay laid by now that if this condition lasts, I’ll be able to feed my stock.”
“That’s smart of you.” Duff took a swallow of his coffee and was quiet for a moment as he recalled that winter.
“On the day after the storm, I rode out with a neighboring rancher to cut his fences so his cattle could drift on to shelter. We found hundreds of them frozen to death and others whose tails had cracked and broken off like icicles. Och, I don’t think I’d ever seen a sadder sight, or heard a more heartrending sound than the moaning of cattle freezing to death. With the ice and snow so deep, they couldn’t get to food, so many died of starvation. All we could do was to cut the fences and let any still alive drift, for if they stayed in place, they would have died, too. Later, when the snow was gone, you could ride for miles and not get away from the sickening sight of dead cows.”
“Heavens,” Sally said with a shiver. “It’s nearly Christmas. Can’t we talk about something more pleasant? Duff, tell us about Christmas in Scotland.”
“Oh ’twas a fine time we had in Scotland. I remember that m’ mither used to make a Black Bun cake.”
“What is it? Maybe I could make one,” Sally said.
“Na, for you have to prepare for it, gather a lot of fruit. The cake is filled with fruit of all kind, almonds, spices, and”—Duff smiled—“being as we are Scottish, it had to have plenty of whisky.” He gathered the tips of his fingers, then opened them up. “Sure ’n ’twas quite a delight to eat.”
“What other traditions did you have? Other than food,” Sally asked.
“We had the
“Ah, but there was one custom that’s for the rancher,” he added.
“You have a Christmas custom just for the rancher?” Smoke asked.
“Aye. ’Tis called the Christmas Bull. A cloud in the shape of a bull crosses the sky early on Christmas morning. If the bull is going east, ’twill be a good year. If it is going west, ’twill be a bad year.”
“Christmas morning, we’ll have to remember to look for the bull in the sky,” Smoke said.
“If we’ll even be able to see the sky on Christmas morning,” Sally mumbled.
“Aye, that’s the question,” Duff agreed. “For ’tis been an evil sky for some days now.”
“Where will Matt be Christmas morning?” Sally wondered. “With us? Or will he still be on that train?”
“Either way, he will be all right,” Smoke said. “He’s on a train, after all, not stranded in the mountains. It may not be his most pleasant Christmas, but at least he will be warm, and well fed.”
Inside Hannah’s, Bob Ward stood at a window, looking out into the dark. He had been there for one night and two days, virtually the only customer because the weather had kept others away. So far his stay had cost him nine dollars, but he had been provided with food and a warm bed.
The bed had come with companionship, Midge the first day and Dora the first night. At the moment, he was in Annie’s room.
“Honey, if you’re goin’ to be stayin’ tonight, it’s goin’ to cost you another three dollars.”
“All right. But bring me up something to eat, would you?”
Annie smiled. “I will, honey. You can count on me.”
Ward had no intention of spending another night there, but he led Annie to believe that, so he could get another meal. As soon as he ate, he would tell her he was broke, and ask her if she could extend him credit. He knew she wouldn’t, and would kick him out, which was what he wanted.
He drummed his fingers on the windowsill and wondered if the rescue of his brother had gone as planned. They weren’t all that close, but Ward knew without Santelli, he would never be able to find the money.
During the long, dark night, Luke and Jenny found a way to deal with the cold. Jenny took off her coat, and opening it up, spread it across the two of them like a blanket. Luke did the same thing with his “serape,” and the two snuggled together. The arrangement kept them warm, but Jenny knew some of the warmth was coming from within, her reaction to feeling Luke’s body pressed up so closely against her own.
Why was she feeling this way? She had just met him the night before. She knew he had a ranch outside Pueblo, and had heard about his trial from some of the “guests” who had visited the Colorado Social Club. For the most part, people had spoken well of him. And to a man, they said the verdict was a miscarriage of justice.
As she sat there, warm in his arms, she allowed herself the fantasy of thinking what it might have been like if she had met him earlier. Would he have courted her?
She expanded the fantasy, picturing them having dinner together in a fine restaurant, or going to a concert or show together in the Pueblo Theater. They would take walks together in the summertime, and—
Cold reality set in. She had been working at a whorehouse, and though it was the dream of every woman who
