Page 112 of The Veteran

‘You’ll think me crazy, Sheriff.’

‘Indulge me.’

The snow thickened, the stars were gone, a freezing white wilderness was moving towards them.

‘This place is the meeting point of the Crow lands and the Shoshone Nation. Years ago warriors fought and died here, before the white man came. The Indians believe their spirits still walk these mountains; they think it is a magical place.’

‘A charming tradition. But what’s with the damn weather?’

‘I said it sounded crazy. But they say that sometimes the Everywhere Spirit comes here too, and brings the Cold of the Long Sleep, against which no man can stand. Of course, it’s just a weird climatic phenomenon, but I think we should move out. We’ll freeze before sunup if we stay.’

Sheriff Lewis thought and nodded.

‘Saddle up,’ he said. ‘We’re riding out. Go tell Braddock and his men.’

The ranger came back through the blizzard a few minutes later.

‘He says he’s going to pull into the shelter of the creek but no further.’

The sheriff, the rangers and the deputies, shuddering with cold, recrossed the creek and rode back across the Silver Run Plateau to the dense pines of the forest. The temperature inside the trees rose to zero. They built more fires and survived.

At half past four the white mantle on the mountain broke away and swept down to the plain, a quietly seething tidal wave that moved like a wall over the rock, tumbled into the narrow creek and filled it to the brim. Half a mile into the Silver Run it finally stopped. The skies began to clear.

Two hours later Sheriff Paul Lewis stood at the edge of the forest and looked to the south. The mountains were white. The east was pink with the promise of a bright new day and the sky was indigo, turning duck-egg blue. He had kept his radio next to his body all night for warmth and it had worked.

‘Jerry,’ he called, ‘we need you down here, with the Jetranger, and fast. We’ve had a blizzard and things look bad . . . No, we’re back at the edge of the forest, where you evacuated the mercenary yesterday. You’ll find us all there.’

The four-seater came whirling out of the rising sun and settled on the cold but snow-free rock. Lewis put two deputies into the rear and climbed up beside his pilot.

‘Go back to the mountain.’

‘What about the sharpshooter?’

‘I don’t think anyone’s going to be shooting right now. They’ll be lucky if they are alive.’

The helicopter retraced the line the posse had ridden the previous day. Lake Fork Creek was marked only by the tops of some pine and larch. Of the five men inside there was no sign. They flew on towards the mountain. The sheriff was looking for the spot where he had seen the pinprick of a campfire in the sky. The pilot was nervous, staying wide and high; no hovering at 600 feet.

Lewis saw it first. The inky black mark on the face of the mountain, the mouth of a cave, and in front of it a snow-dusted shelf of rock wide enough to take the Jetranger.

‘Take her down, Jerry.’

The pilot came in carefully, scanning for movement among the rocks, a man taking aim, the flash of a gun using out-of-date black powder. Nothing moved. The helo settled on the shelf, blades turning fast, ready for a getaway.

Sheriff Lewis jumped from the door, handgun at the ready. The deputies clambered out with rifles, dropping to the ground to cover the cave mouth. Nothing moved. Lewis called out.

‘Come on out. Hands high. No harm will come to you.’

There was no reply. Nothing stirred. He ran a zigzag course to the side of the cave mouth. Then he peered round.

There was a bundle on the floor and nothing more. Still cautious, he moved in to investigate. Whatever it had once been, probably an animal skin of some kind, it was rotted by age, the fur gone, strands of hide holding it together. He lifted the mouldy skin away.

She lay underneath in her white silk wedding dress, a cascade of frosted black hair about her shoulders, as if asleep in her bridal bed. But when he reached to touch, she was cold as marble.

Holstering his gun and mindless of any crouching gunman, the peace officer scooped her up and ran outside.

‘Get those sheepskins off and wrap her,’ he shouted to his men. ‘Get her into the back and keep her warm with your own bodies.’

The deputies tore off their warm coats and shrouded the body of the girl. One climbed into the rear seats with the young woman in his arms and began to chafe her hands and feet. The sheriff pushed the other man into the spare front seat and shouted at Jerry: ‘Get her to the clinic at Red Lodge. Fast. Warn them you’re coming with a near-death hypothermia. Keep the cabin system at maximum all the way. There may be a tiny chance. Then come back for me.’

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