The Lost Wagon Part 46

"That's right," Barbara smiled, "and they'll love to see you."

"Can't stop on the way down," he said regretfully, "but we'll surely do it on the way back. How are the youngsters?"

"They've missed you."

A happy smile lighted Dunbar's face and he said to Ellis, "Take good care of this young lady."

"I will," Ellis a.s.sured him. His eyes swept Gearey once more, and again Barbara saw that there was something explosive in Ellis, something a girl ought to worry about.

They went on, walking their horses most of the time but trotting them occasionally. Clouds spanned the sky and the sun disappeared, and when it did the cold seemed more intense. Barbara thought of the lunch that her mother had packed.

"I'm hungry," she said.

Morosely he replied, "It isn't noon yet."

"Let's eat anyway."

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness." There was resentment still in his voice.

Ellis dismounted, helped Barbara dismount, and rein-tied the horses. He made his way to a stand of pine a few feet off the Trail, broke an armful of the brittle lower branches from them, and started a fire beside the packed snow. Barbara moved into its circle of warmth and unpacked the sandwiches. She thought they were roast buffalo, but when she opened them she saw that they contained the last of the Christmas ham. She knew a flush of grat.i.tude toward her mother who, when sending young people out for a royal time, would also provide them with a royal feast.

"This is good!" she called to him, but Ellis was eating silently, scarcely aware of the food at all.

Barbara laughed, took a generous bite, and ate hungrily. Ellis finished his sandwich and took another. He was about to eat it when he straightened and looked down the Trail. When he turned to her, his face was serious.

"I don't like it."

She said airily, "What don't you like?"

He moved away from her studying the sky and the movements of the branches. "The wind's s.h.i.+fted from north to east."

"Can't the wind change its mind?"

"Bobby," he was very earnest, "we're in for a storm. We'd better ride."

She was uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"I'm dead sure!"

He helped her repack the sandwiches and returned them to her saddlebag.

She felt a rising concern and a little fear. But after he helped her mount his horse and she looked down at him, she steadied. There was going to be a storm because he had said so. But he seemed calm, and somehow she felt that he would know what to do about it.

"We're going to make time," he told her. "I've put you on King because he'll follow me and I know he'll keep up. If you need anything, say so."

A cold chill brushed Barbara's spine when they were again moving. The wind, that had fanned their left cheeks since they'd started, was now full in their faces and Barbara bent her head against it. She had an overwhelming sense of something terrible about to be. It was as though a great, grim beast lurked in the overcast sky and was preparing to pounce on them.

Ellis set off at a canter, and Barbara's mount kept close at his heels.

She sensed a difference in the horse. He too knew that a storm was on the way and he feared it. But he had an animal's blind faith in Ellis.

The wind's whine became a savage snarl, and Barbara bent her head further. She looked up when Ellis shouted, and it was terrifying because he had to shout.

"Are you all right?"

She shouted back, "I'm all right."

"Don't worry."

She voiced her fear. "Don't--don't you think we'd better go back?"

"We'll never make it!"

The first snow came, a barrage of wind-driven pellets that stung her face and left her gasping. The day turned to twilight, and when she raised her head she could see only a few feet on either side. Just ahead of her, Ellis was a snow-shrouded figure. Time became meaningless, measureless. They moved on and on for how many minutes or hours she could not tell. The fury of the wind increased and breathing became more difficult. Barbara wanted to cry out and knew that she must not. The cold touched her body and seemed to penetrate her very bones. She was aware of Ellis shouting, and it seemed that he shouted from a very long way off.

"Give me your reins!"

Without question she put the reins in his outstretched hand and clung to the saddle horn. The horses were walking now, fighting the storm.

Barbara knew a stabbing panic. Was this the end? Would this be the end of her life, before she had fully lived? The cold numbed her, so that there was no longer much feeling in her hands and face. She almost slipped from the saddle. Then she was aware of Ellis shouting again, and she saw him standing beside her.

"Get off!" he repeated.

She slipped into his arms and felt them close about her. He carried her.

She still heard the wind but it did not blast her nor was snow falling on her, and she knew they had found shelter. Dimly she saw the doorway through which they had entered, and felt herself being very gently set down. Ellis's shout rang very loudly because he had not remembered that there was no longer need to shout.

"Can you stand up?"

"Yes!"

She stood on shaky knees while Ellis brought both horses in and closed the door. It was very black now, but when Ellis struck a match she saw that they were in some kind of cabin with a big pile of buffalo robes in the center. The match flickered out. She heard him fumbling in the darkness. Then his arms were around her again and his voice was very gentle:

"We're all right now."

"Wh--where are we?"

"In one of Jim's storage shacks. Come on."

She let him guide her, and tried with her numb fingers to help him when he begun removing her snow-crusted outer clothing. He struck another match so he could see her shoes, unlaced them, took them off, and eased her down on a pile of buffalo robes he had arranged. He covered her with more robes, but she lay s.h.i.+vering and it seemed that she would never be warm again. The cabin lighted as he struck still another match, led the horses to the opposite wall and tied them to a pile of buffalo robes.

She s.h.i.+vered and said fretfully, between stiff lips,

"I'm cold."

Then he was beside her under the robes, giving to her chilled body the warmth of his own. Gratefully she snuggled very close, while the horses stamped inside and the wind screamed outside. Ellis put both arms around her. Sleep claimed Barbara.

When she awakened, it was still black night inside the cabin and the wind still screamed outside. Barbara felt warm, snug, comfortable. She put out an exploring hand to touch Ellis, and he responded instantly, taking her whole hand and wrist into his warm, sensitive fingers.

"Are you awake, Barbara?"

"Ellis," she whispered. "You saved our lives."

He pressed her hand gently and held it undemandingly in his own. "I've been lying here thinking," he said. "When we were out in the storm, I wasn't sure we could reach this cabin. Suppose we hadn't come through? I was lying here trying to figure out what was the thing I would most regret. Know what I decided?"