Chapter 11: Winter

In the time he’d spent at Snedeker’s, Joe had learned a great deal.

Snedeker was a Mountain Man, one of that rare breed who had waded every stream in the west in their search for beaver. They fought every tribe of Indians that showed fight, went without hesitation where they wished to go, and spent incredibly long and dangerous months with only their rifles and their resourcefulness as protection. Then they took their furs to some wild fort, or some wilderness rendezvous, and in a few days spent all the money they had earned in a whole season of perilous living.

The heyday of the Mountain Men spanned only a brief sixteen years when no gentleman was really dressed unless he wore a beaver hat. Silk replaced beaver, and broke the fur market. But though their livelihood was gone, the Mountain Men weren’t. Some returned to the east. Some guided wagon trains across country that they knew as well as the emigrants knew their own back yards. Some simply disappeared, gone in search of what they considered wild and free country. And some, like Snedeker, merely transferred their way of living to other pursuits and lived much as they always had.

At their first meeting, Snedeker had enraged Joe. Now Joe understood him, and with understanding had come both liking and respect. Throughout his adult life Snedeker had bowed to no will except his own, and he saw no reason for changing his ways. But, though his outward air was that of a grizzly bear with a sore paw, inwardly he was soft as a marshmallow. A shrewd bargainer, he seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of how much money emigrants carried and how much they were willing to spend. But no penniless emigrant had ever been turned away, though Snedeker would not outfit them clear to Oregon. Whether they were east- or westbound, he gave them a couple of days’ supplies and sent them to Laramie where, as Snedeker knew, they became the government’s responsibility.

Joe had lost his misgivings about wintering at the post. No war party could take Laramie, but neither could any take Snedeker’s. They’d already tried it and succeeded only in running off a few horses. Taking their trail, Snedeker had brought back the stock he’d lost and a number of the Indian ponies as well. Besides, according to Snedeker, there was small danger of an Indian attack in winter. The tribes that came to Laramie wintered on northern hunting grounds, and their ponies had to exist as best they could. Since no western Indian would think of going into battle without a mount, they made war in the spring after there was sufficient grass to fatten and strengthen their horses. The three the Towers had met must have been strays, or possibly they had to go to Laramie for something they needed.

On a wind-swept hill about a half mile from the post, Joe sank his ax cleanly into a pine. Expertly he measured his next strike, and when the ax sank in, a large chip of wood broke out. Wasting not one blow of his ax or a half ounce of strength, Joe felled the tree cleanly and rested a moment. He glanced over to where Ellis Garner had another pine two-thirds felled. Joe nodded approvingly. There were tricks to handling an ax. When he and Ellis had started felling trees, which Snedeker needed to enlarge his post, Ellis had had a lot to learn. But under Joe’s expert guidance he was learning fast, and, given a year or two of experience, he would be a good ax man himself.

Ellis stopped chopping and grinned across the space that separated them. “You must pick the softest trees.”

“That’s an ax you have in your hand,” Joe gibed. “Not a feather. Don’t use it like one.”

“Yes, teacher.”

Joe grinned and went back to work. He had grown to like this slim and soft-spoken youngster, but at the same time he worried about him. Where Ellis came from Joe didn’t know and he hadn’t asked; one didn’t inquire too deeply into anyone else’s past life. Probably he was from somewhere in the east and he had been to school; that showed in his manner and his choice of words. But there was within him an undercurrent of irritability, and at times he was moody and fretful. Somewhere behind him there seemed to be a memory that hurt. Increasingly, Joe compared him to the suave and polished Percy Pearl, who never farmed, never worked for wages, but who always had everything he needed. Not that there was anything suave or polished about Ellis—on the contrary, he was impulsive, often unpredictable. But he had Percy’s quickness and dry humor and, like Percy, he gave you the feeling he might go after anything he wanted, and get it, without being too critical of ways and means. Percy was an outlaw and Ellis might become one. But that was his business unless Ellis’s affairs should become too closely entwined with the Tower’s.

Joe frowned as he worked. Ellis had taken more than a casual interest in Barbara, which was not unusual because Joe had yet to meet the young man who was not attracted to his daughter. They were together much of the time, and they took long walks. Joe thought of Hugo Gearey, who was at Laramie because of girl trouble in New York. Snedeker had said that Ellis had followed a girl all the way from Maryland, and what sort of trouble was he in? Why was he here at an isolated trading post?

Joe trimmed the branches from his tree, leaving a smooth trunk. He felled and trimmed another pine and looked toward the tethered mules. They were still in harness, but their bridles were slipped and Joe had tied them out of the bitterest wind. He glanced down the slanting, ice-sheathed furrow that led to the post. The day after their arrival, new snow had added six inches to that already on the ground and there had been light falls since. Joe had driven the mules through it to break a track, and had dragged one log down the broken track. Succeeding loads had widened and packed it, so that now the mules were able to pull as many logs as could be hitched on.

The weather had turned cold enough so that Joe’s nostrils pinched when he stood still, and a little rime of frost formed about the muzzles of the tethered mules. That wouldn’t hurt them as long as they didn’t have to stand on a short tether for any great length of time, and if they did not stand at all when they sweated. There was little danger of that in such weather; the team had only to walk to the place where they were cutting pines and the logs were not hard to pull down the icy slide. Joe sank his ax into the felled pine’s stump and walked over to Ellis.

“How are you doing?”

“All right.”

Joe stood, feeling the goodness he usually felt after a day of hard and productive labor. At the same time he felt a swelling relief and a rising little happiness. Tomorrow was a very special day.

Joe said, “Don’t seem like tonight is Christmas Eve, does it?”

Ellis murmured absently, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Let’s go in.”

“Suits me.”

Joe bridled the mules. He drove them to the felled trees and laid his long chain across the slide. His ax swinging from his hand, Ellis joined him. They used peavies to roll logs into a compact pile and bound the chain around them. Knowing that their work would be done as soon as they had dragged these last logs down to Snedeker’s building site, the mules needed no urging or even driving. Joe looped the reins over the mules’ harness and walked companionably beside Ellis. Glad that the day’s work was over, the younger man slashed restlessly at the icy slide with his ax.

Joe said caustically, “Tenderfoot!”

“What’s wrong now, teacher?”

“Axes are for cutting wood, not ice. I’ll bet you nicked it.”

Ellis shrugged. “Live and learn. I won’t do it again.”

He seemed irritable, depressed, and Joe stole a sidewise glance at him. “A penny for your thoughts.”

“You’d be cheated,” Ellis grinned sheepishly.

“Say, what are you so gosh darn low about?”

“I’m not low. Are you coming over tonight?”

“The kids will be over. I have work to do.”

“Don’t you ever think of anything else?”

“Can’t. When you’re an old man like me, with a bunch of youngsters looking to you, you won’t be able to either.”

For a moment they walked in silence while Ellis’s introspective mood enfolded him like an invisible cloak. He said suddenly,

“Joe, what do you think of women?”

For a moment, because he was puzzled, Joe did not answer. It was more than a casual question, and behind it lay something that Joe failed to understand. When he did answer, he said very gently,

“I know about only one woman, son. And I think the world of her.”

“Do you believe in love?”

Joe said firmly, “I most certainly do.”

“Do—do you think it’s right—? Oh, darn it! I’m all at sea!” he steadied. “Joe, I’m giving it to you straight. I’m going to marry Barbara if I can! Do you have any objections?”

Shocked surprise rippled through Joe and his heart turned cold. He felt numb. He had always known that Barbara would marry some day, but that day remained in the distant future and there was no need to worry about it now. Joe thought of the young man who walked beside him, and of how very little he knew about him. Again he thought of Snedeker’s reference to Ellis as a woman chaser and he had a great urge to ask Ellis to tell him so that his own doubts might be cleared. But because he did not know how to ask, Joe said only,

“Have you asked Barbara?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say no.”

Joe pondered, trying to straighten this in his mind. He knew a little more about Ellis than he had known a moment ago. Wherever he had come from, and whatever he might have done, he had not tried to evade this issue. He had given it to Joe straight, as a man should, and that was a large point in his favor.

Ellis repeated, “I asked if you had any objections.”

Joe said quietly, “I’m her father, Ellis, not her master. I’m not going to choose a husband for her.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

There was another silence, and Ellis said thoughtfully, “Joe—”

“Yes?”

“There’s a New Year’s dance at Laramie. Will you let Barbara go with me?”

“Laramie’s a long ways off.”

“We’ll go one day and come back the next. She can stay with Sergeant Driscoll’s wife overnight.”

“Have you asked her?”

“She said she’d like to go.”

“You’ll have to ask her mother.”

“I know. She said I’d have to have your permission and her mother’s.”

Joe hesitated, then thought of Emma’s wisdom. She would know exactly what to do, and Joe said,