A Rocky Mountain Christmas

light there was.”

“That can’t be it. I mean it was almost like the snow itself was lighting our way for us. I know that sounds strange, but if you will look back at the path you’ll see what I’m talking about. It—” Duff paused in mid-sentence. “Smoke? The path!”

“What about the path? Is it still glowing?”

“There is no path!” Duff’s voice was laced with awe. “Look behind us, Smoke. There is nothing there but rocks and trees and snow. There is no path, lit or unlit. How did we get here? We could not possibly have come up that way.”

“You aren’t making sense, Duff. We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. We are here, which means there had to be a path. We just aren’t standing where we can see it clearly, that’s all. Anyway, what is behind us doesn’t matter. We still have to get down to the train.”

“Aye. ’Twould be a shame to have come this far, and not be able to go the rest of the way. There’s nothing now but the sheer wall of the cut. And even if we could climb down it, how would we get the sled down? If we show up without any food, we’ve just made the situation worse. We have to go on, or our trip has been nothing but a waste of time.”

“I am determined that it not be a waste of time,” Smoke declared. “We will get there, and we will deliver the food.”

“Aye, ’tis my belief as well that we will succeed. I dinnae think the Good Lord would be for bringin’ us this far if we cannae go on.”

“Let’s wait until sunup. I’m sure we’ll find a way. If nothing else, we’ll just push the sled over, then find a way to climb down.”

“I’m putting my trust in you, my friend. You haven’t failed us yet,” Duff avowed.

“I thank you for your vote of confidence, Duff,” Smoke replied. “I just hope I can live up to it. What do you say we take a breather for a while?”

“Good idea,” Duff replied.

The two men sat down in the snow and leaned back against the sled.

“Duff, do you believe in ghosts?”

Duff chuckled. “How can I not believe? I’m from Scotland. Do you not know the story of the Scottish King MacBeth and Banquo’s ghost?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“’Tis a story told by Shakespeare. I’ll quote a bit for you.” Duff extended his arm.

“What are you holding your hand out like that for?”

“Have you never been to a Shakespearian play? “Sure m’lad and ’tis necessary for me to establish the mood, tone, and tint.”

Duff began reciting, as if on stage.

“Avaunt! and quit my sight!

let the earth hide thee!

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;

Thou hast no speculation in those eyes

Which thou dost glare with!”

“Very good,” Smoke said.

“So, why did you ask me about a ghost? Have you seen one?”

“I don’t know exactly what I’ve seen,” Smoke replied. “Let’s nap until daylight.”

“Yes, we seem to have lost our mysterious light, so it probably is smart to wait until daylight before we look for a way down,” Duff agreed.

After a few more minutes, both men had drifted off to sleep.

On board the train

As they had on previous nights, Luke and Jenny were sitting side by side in the very front seat of the car. They were protected against the cold by her coat and the serape, and by their body heat.

She could hear Luke’s deep, measured breathing, and knew he was asleep beside her. She knew also it was more than just the wraps and the shared body heat that warmed her. It was something else, some visceral reaction she was having to his closeness.

As she thought about it, she found the situation a little frightening. When she knew that he was going to be gone for four years, and that she was being forced to leave Pueblo, there was a certain degree of detachment between them. They were like that passage from one of Longfellow’s poems:

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,

Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness.

That very detachment protected her. She could enjoy his company and lose herself in fantasy. As long as she realized that it was but fantasy, she wouldn’t be hurt when it didn’t come to pass.

But everything had changed. Luke wasn’t going to jail, and she wasn’t being banished from Pueblo. What did that mean? Would Luke return to Two Crowns, and she to the Social Club? If they met on the street, would they acknowledge each other’s presence? Or would they look away, and pass each other with no outward sign that they had ever even met?

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair to have met someone she could truly love, only to have that love denied her. And she was certain that once they returned, that love would be denied.

Jenny wept quietly.

On the other side of the car, Herbert Bailey drummed his fingers on the cold window and looked out into the night. It was his fault everyone was stuck on the mountain pass. He was the one who’d insisted the train move on ahead—because he knew the railroad would lose money if the trip wasn’t completed—even though Don had been hesitant about it. And by that foolish insistence, he had put every soul on the train in danger.

He had believed the railroad would recognize his boldness, and as a result, his position and authority, to say nothing of his salary, would be increased, even though he had only been a conductor for a couple months.

Bailey had been a telegrapher, but though the job was interesting and provided a much-needed service to others, he’d wanted the money and prestige that came with being a railroad conductor. Looking into the dark night he remembered his father’s attempt to change his mind.

“You are being foolish, Herbert,” his father said when Bailey told him of his intention. “You are the only telegrapher in this town. If you leave it may be a long time before we can get another to take your place. What if there is an emergency, a need for a message to go forth, and there is no one to send it? It could be a matter of life and death, with no one to turn to, because you are gone.”

“But, Father, don’t I have to think of myself, first?” Bailey had replied. “I will make much more money as a railroad conductor, and people will respect my position.”

“You put money and importance ahead of all else. The mark of a good man is his service to others. Don’t you know that when you die, the only thing you can take with you are the good deeds you have done? When you answer to the Almighty, will He be more pleased that you made money and had prestige by your position? Or would it please Him more if you could bring Him a lifetime of service to others?”

“I must do what I must do,” Bailey said.

Bailey’s father handed him a Bible. “I know you have made your decision, so I will not try to