Lost on the Mountain

CHAPTER 1

It was a winter December morning the year 1890. In the early dawn hours the sun was creeping over the mountain, sending rays of light that glistened on the ice matted grass and trees. Icicles hung from the eve of the house making a winter wonder land. The scene is magnificent, Laya thought. She made a circle on the window pane to get a better view. This is the day, she muttered to herself. She’d gotten up early, tied her auburn hair back with a green ribbon that matched her emerald green eyes. She’d put Cal’s old worn red checkered coat on, tied a wool scarf around her neck and reached to get his hat from the peg in the wall. The memories came flooding back and tears stung her eyes. Why did you have to leave me Cal? she uttered. Did you have to die and leave me to face all these problems alone? A sob caught in her throat.

Cal had died eight years earlier and left her with the Swinging W. Ranch. He’d come down with scarlet fever and passed during the night of August 3rd, 1882. Laya was devastated. She’d set on the side of his bed holding his hands in hers watching his lifeless body as the light faded from his steel blue eyes. Cal was a handsome man she thought. Tall, lanky, medium built with chestnut hair and eyes as blue as the sea. She had prayed so hard for God to let him live but it just wasn’t meant to be.

She could see it all now; he’d opened his eyes and smiled, squeezed her hand and breathed a long sigh. It was his last breath. Laya laid her head on his chest and shook with sobs.

Mr. Thompson’s foreman, Hank, had stayed behind to work for Cal and Laya, was waiting nearby in the next room, Laya remembered. He knew Cal wouldn’t last through the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to Laya. He had been near her all during the time Cal was sick. He loved them as if they were his own. He’d heard Laya’s heart wrenching sobs and knew what had happened. He walked into the room, reached and took her by the shoulders. Come on Laya it’s time to let him go, he spoke gently, pulling her away from Cal. I can’t, she wailed, no, no, no, no.

Yes you can, he soothed. It’ll be hard but there’s nothing you can do for him now. He’s in a better place, he’s not suffering anymore. Hank had his arm around her shoulder, leading her away from Cal. It’ll get better as time move’s on, he said. He walked her down the stairs into the parlor. She’d always be grateful to Hank for being there for her. He was more like a father than a foreman and she’d grown to love him as one.

The wind chimes on the front porch brought her back to the present. She picked up Cal’s picture from the mantle over the fireplace, tears trickling down her cheeks. No one could ever take your place Cal, she said, as she stared at his picture. I will never get married again, she vowed. It hurts too much to lose someone you love. I wouldn’t leave this ranch now Cal Whisten, we’ve put too much into it, our life, body and soul. She sobbed until there were no tears left.

She thought about the day they had left Abilene, Texas to travel to Butte, Montana. They’d packed all their belongings in a covered wagon pulled by a team of mules Cal had bought from old man Tidwell. Mr. Tidwell ran the black smith shop in Abilene, Texas. Laya had found an ad in the news paper concerning a thousand acre ranch for sell in the western part of Butte, Montana. Both she and Cal were excited about moving. They sold their home in Abilene. Now they were ready to leave. They closed the deal with Mr. Thompson on the Swinging W. Ranch in Montana and said goodbye to their friends and neighbors. Laya liked the name of the ranch. She decided she would leave it at that. It reminded her of her aunt Willa, and she was her favorite.

Mrs. Fannie, their nearest neighbor was standing on her front porch waving her hanky and shouting over the screeching wagon wheels. Mrs. Fannie was short and dumpy and had thinning gray hair tied up in a bun on top of her head. She was the kindest person Laya had ever known. She spent most of her time in the kitchen baking sweets. She was always bringing cakes or pies even cookies, to Cal and Laya. She would miss them greatly. Her heart was breaking to see them go. Write me Laya! she yelled, as she waved her hanky and watched the wagon as it was leaving town. I will, Laya yelled back at her. Then they were out of hearing distance and could no longer understand what Mrs. Fannie was saying.

It took Cal and Laya several weeks to cross Texas. They traveled across New Mexico and caught up with a wagon train near the south corner of Colorado. The wagon master, Clim Mason, spoke with them. You know you were lucky you made it this far by yourselves. Some of the Indians here are waging war on white folks. They’re not on friendly terms right now. Can’t say as I blame them, they are being rooted out of their own homes and sent to reservations. It’s a shame what some greedy folks will do to get their hands on money and land. He leaned over in the saddle and spit from a cud of tobacco. Just find yourself a place at the end of the wagon train and we’ll be on our way. Lucky you folks even caught up with us. If we hadn’t of run into trouble, and halted the train, you wouldn’t have.

Cal and Laya fell in behind the last wagon of the train. They heard Clim yell wagons ho, and the train began to move. I’m glad we caught up with them, Laya said. It’s scary to think of what might have happened to us if we had run into those renegade Indians.

They finally crossed the rocky mountains of Wyoming and then into Montana. Their journey had ended. They had endured many trials and errors crossing country they were not familiar with, but they were here now thanks to Clim and his wagon train.

They said goodbye to Clim and the folks they’d met during the trip. If you’re ever in Butte, Montana come by and see us, Cal said. We bought the Thompson ranch. It’ll be easy to find. Clim promised them he would, and shook hands with Cal and Laya. He turned his big gray horse around, tipped his hat, and once again yelled wagons ho." His words trailed into a long drawn out yell, and they were off. They were headed farther North in Montana.

Mr. Thompson was waiting on them when they arrived at the ranch. They could hardly believe their eyes. It was the most beautiful place they had ever seen. As far as you could see, there was a forest of pine trees, and a meadow with the prettiest flowers, Laya thought. A babbling creek ran through the valley, down behind the house and there were snow capped mountains in the back ground. That must be the continental divide, Cal said to Laya. Her eyes were wide with excitement. It’s beautiful, she said to Mr. Thompson as he was showing them the rest of the ranch.

And the house took her breath away. The first thing she noticed was the porch. It was built all around the front and sides of the house. She liked that. Mr. Thompson asked her if she would like to take a tour of the house. Would I, she exclaimed! It’s a big house Laya, he said, as they walked in the front door entering the den. I hope it isn’t too much for you to take on by yourself, he smiled at her. Don’t worry about me Mr. Thompson, I can manage. She was ecstatic; she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hands flew to her mouth. It’s so beautiful, she whispered. The kitchen was off to the right. Laya liked that because it had lots of space and had a huge amount of cabinets. She would have room to put all her things.

Mr. Thompson had built his home from cedar logs. It had a lovely old fashion rock fireplace built in the North, with a mantle she could set her whatnots on. She would set the clock that Cal’s family had given them as a wedding gift in the center of the mantle, she thought.

Mr. Thompson took them on a short tour of the upstairs. There were four bed rooms separated by a long hallway and two water closets at each end of the hall. He told Laya that his wife had passed away during the summer. That’s why I’m selling the place, he said with misty eyes. It’s just not home without Maggie. He asked Laya if she would mind if he gave her the furnishings in the house. I have no use for them, and I know Maggie would have wanted you folks to have it.

She loved the furniture; it was antique, and dated from an early period of time. Are you sure Mr. Thompson? she gasped. I’m sure, he said. Laya took his hands in hers, we’d be honored, Mr. Thompson. I don’t know what to say, tears pooled in her eyes. Your actions speak for themselves, he smiled, I hope you enjoy it. Well you folks look around. I’d better be getting along I must be out of here before sundown. I have other things to attend to."

The bunk houses are out back, he told them as he was getting ready to leave. A few of my hired hand’s are still here. If you want to keep them on, I’ll go by and tell them. They are good men and they need work. If you have other arrangements just go talk to them. They already know you bought the ranch. We will Mr. Thompson, I’m sure we’ll be keeping them on. If they’re good enough for you, then I’m sure, they’ll be good enough for us. We’ll give them a trial run anyway, thanks for everything, Cal said, shaking his hand.

Laya’s thoughts were jarred back into reality when she heard the wind chimes once again on the front porch. She knew the wind was getting stronger, and it was looking like snow outside.

She saddled Nick, her favorite horse, and headed into the timber line. He stood fifteen hands high and weighed sixteen hundred pounds. He was a roan with black mane and tail. He could run as swift as the wind and climb a mountain without any trouble. He was Laya’s pride and joy. She strapped her bed roll on behind the saddle and was riding into the timberlands where she spent most of her time during the winter. The weather was getting worse and Laya was afraid she wouldn’t make it to the cabin before dark.

As she and Nick headed North the temperature was dropping and a light snow began to fall. They were about three miles into the timberland when Nick’s ears pricked back and he shied away from a patch of brush. Laya pulled back on the reins. What is it Nick? She could feel the tension in the horse. She heard a sound coming from the bush nearby. Sounds like a baby puppy whining, she said, as she rubbed behind Nicks ears to sooth him.

She slid from the saddle and walked over to the bush and cautiously peeked inside. Oh Nick! she sucked in her breath, it’s a baby wolf, she cried. She reached to pick him up and he bit her on the hand. Ouch! You little devil, cut that out, she said, yanking her hand back. She eased her hand back toward him and tried to pick him up again. He let her know right quick he wasn’t going for that. And he wasn’t going be her friend anytime soon.

She went to her saddle bags and took out one of her biscuits that she’d packed that morning in case a hunger pang hit before she reached the cabin. She gently laid it down in front of him. He greedily ate it and wanted more. She gave him what biscuits she had left and he easily finished them off. Poor little guy, she crooned.

He was beautiful, she thought. His coat was silver. She had only seen one wolf with a full coat of silver, and that was the one that she and Cal saw long ago sitting on a snow bank near the lake. She gradually placed her hand on his head and scratched behind his ears. This time he didn’t offer to bite her. She picked him up and gently thrust him in her jacket. He snuggled against her and went sound asleep.

Laya climbed back in the saddle and gave Nick a nudge with her knees and he took back to his steady pace. They were a good seven miles from the cabin and the snow was getting heavier and deeper. She could barely see the trail in front of her. It’s a good thing you know where you’re going Nick, or we’d be lost in this blizzard. He moseyed right up to the cabin door, never losing sight of the trail.

Laya was glad she’d come up during the summer and cut enough wood to last through the winter. The cabin was built from cedar mint logs with a fireplace in the center of the North wall. The kitchen adjoined the living room, making it nice and cozy. When Cal was alive, they could talk back and forth to one another as she cooked. She missed that. A small bedroom was connected to the back of the cabin which Laya loved the most. She had good memories of her and Cal spending the winter here. They had spent a great part of their time in this room making love until wee hours in the morning. Those memories she would treasure forever.

Cal built a front porch held up by four cedar post, and bought two rocking chairs for them to set in during the summer when they visited. She remembered the time when they would set on the front porch during the afternoon in their rocking chairs as they watched the evening sun going down behind the blue ridges of the mountains. They would set for hours observing the horses and cattle as they grazed in the valley below.

During the summer, when Laya came alone she could see the wild purple laurel, growing thick on the side of the mountain. Late in the afternoon she would sit on the porch and breathe in their soft sweet scent until she could no longer stand it. She would grab her basket from the porch and walk up the side of the mountain to gather a bouquet of flowers. Later when she returned home, she filled a vase with water and set them in the center of her kitchen table. It filled the room with such a sweet delicate aroma and smelled so good. This is a pretty place, she thought. It had been hers and Cal’s dream. Now part of her dream was gone. Cal, she murmured, tears spilling from her eyes. An icy puff of wind hit her in the face forcing her back to reality.

Enough daydreaming, she sighed, wiping her eyes and trembling with the cold. That’s all in the past I must put that all behind me, she said to herself. She went inside built a fire and put Wolf Pup on the rug near the fireplace so he could stay warm. He was shivering so she wrapped a blanket around him until the cabin warmed up. When she finished with that she went back outside and led Nick to the barn, unsaddled him and brushed him down. She made sure the hay was piled high in the stall. She knew it would be cold that night and Nick would need as much protection from the cold bitter wind as she could give him.

She went back to the cabin, ate a cold snack and checked on the pup. He was sound asleep so she went to bed and soon drifted off to sleep. Sometime during the night the fire died down and the wolf pup had crawled in bed with her and was sleeping soundly. Laya roused and scratched him behind the ears. She knew then, they had become friends and a bond of love would grow between them and last forever. Even though she knew, sometime in her life she’d have to let him go. She would have to send him back into the wilderness from whence he came. But for now she had found him on a cold lonely trail and she was going to keep him as long as she could. She had no family, Nick and the pup was all she had.

Laya drifted back to sleep and woke with a start. The pup was licking her in the face. Yuck, stop that pup. You didn’t think about doing this when I tried to pick you up on the trail. You wanted to eat my hand off. Now you want to slobber all in my face, she laughed. Laya giggled and scuffled with him on the bed. Let’s get up and rustle up some breakfast pup. I’ll have me some hot coffee, and there’ll be a pan of warm milk for you sir, she laughed. He looked at Laya with his little head cocked to one side and wagged his tail.

After they had finished breakfast Laya playfully scuffled with the pup. Let’s go see how Nick faired the night. She slipped into her coat and boots and opened the front door. The wolf pup was right at her feet. He wasn’t about to let her leave him behind. She scratched him behind the ears, come on lets go little fella, she said. The snow was banked so deep Laya had to pick him up and carry him to the barn.

When they reached the barn door and went inside, Nick was standing up grazing on the hay she’d piled in his stall last evening. He was glad to see her. He raised his head, whinnied and sauntered over to stick his nose in her pocket. He knew she always carried a treat for him and he knew right where to look for it. She’d always bring him an apple or a lump of sugar, sometimes both. These were his favorite treats. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. I love you Nick. Stay safe tonight it’s going to be cold, she swooned. She gave him a rub down and put more hay in his stall. See you in the morning, she said, easing one hand under his jaw, tilting his head so she could rub up and down his nose.

She reached down and scooped the wolf into her arms and started back to the cabin. She was half way between the cabin and barn when she heard a low rumbling growl come from wolf pups throat. He had seen something that she hadn’t. What is it pup? she said. She looked in the direction he was staring; the hackles on the back of his neck were standing straight up. She spotted what he was growling at. A grizzly bear was coming out of the timberline headed right straight toward them. Oh my goodness, she squeezed the pup and started running. It was difficult to run in the snow but she knew she had to, or she and the pup would die right here and now and no one would know. They would just be bear bait, she thought. They were a good twenty five yards from the cabin. She had never run so fast in her life. She reached the cabin door, bolted through it and slammed it as hard as she could. If she’d been a fraction late she wouldn’t have made it. The grizzly was rocking back and forth against the door trying to claw his way in. She was so scared. Her legs felt like mush and her lungs felt like they were on fire, making it difficult to breath. Her hands were so cold and numb she couldn’t make them work. The temperature outside was twenty below zero and dropping.

She quickly put the wolf pup down, ran to the fireplace and grabbed the rifle that hung over the mantle. She rushed to the window eased it open just enough to see where the bear was. She was afraid he’d be near the window but she took the chance anyway. He wasn’t. She had to rid them of this predator or they would never be safe. He was sauntering across the yard, mad but headed back into the timberland. Laya raised the rifle, cocked it, took aim and fired. The bullet took two of his toes off his right hind foot. It made the old bear angrier than he already was. She knew she had not seen the last of him. She would have to be on guard all the time now. He would be back, that she was sure of. She had made him mad, he would get his revenge.

My aim is usually better than that pup, she grumbled. I couldn’t steady my hands long enough to hold the gun still, they were too cold. She made a hissing sound and blew her warm breath on her hands. He looked at her and whined. Laya was still upset when she set down at the table. After a short rest, she began to calm down. She got up and put the coffee pot on. A good hot cup of coffee is what I need, she told herself. She mixed brandy with it to help settle her nerves. She didn’t indulge in alcohol, but maybe she would stop trembling. That was a close call pup, she said. We almost didn’t make it.

She picked him up, snuggled him in her arms and laid her head on his. Thanks to you, she said misty eyed. If it hadn’t been for you, I would be dead. She gave him another hug and put him on the pallet near the warm fire in front of the fireplace. She was still tense from the incident she’d just had and too keyed up to lie down. She took a blanket from her bed, snuggled into it and set down in the rocking chair in front of the crackling fire.

The wind outside was howling fiercely and the snow began to fall. Laya dozed in front of the warm fire until a noise from outside startled her. She jumped up, grabbed the rifle from the rack over the fireplace and eased to the door, listening to see if she could figure out what it was. All she could assume was the old grizzly had come down from the mountain to get even with her. She knew once you made a bear angry they would never forget. He would know her scent from now on. She stood at the door for a long time afraid to open it. The thought of the bear being there terrified her. She crept quietly to the window to see if she could see anything. If it was the bear she didn’t want him to hear her.

It was dark in the house, only the glow from the coals in the fireplace gave off a soft light. The moon shining on the snow gave just enough light to see a silhouette of a person sitting astride a horse. He was slumped over in the saddle and looked as if he was about to fall. She laid the rifle down and opened the window. Are you alright? she yelled into the howling wind. There was no answer. She opened the door a tiny crack to peek out. Again she called to the stranger. Still there was no answer. She walked through the deep snow and stood next to the horse, reached and tugged on his arm trying to get a response. He fell from the saddle and landed on top of her. She struggled to get free, digging her heels into the snow shoving him aside; she finally wiggled out from under him. She tried coaxing him to get up but he was unconscious. It would probably be a while before he would regain consciousness. Laya knew if she didn’t get him in the cabin soon he would freeze to death. She had no idea how long he had been subjected to the cold. She slipped her hands underneath his armpits so she could drag him into the cabin. She felt something hot and sticky and didn’t have to be told what it was. She’d been around enough ranch hands when they were wounded and knew the smell of blood. He would bleed to death if she didn’t do something quick. She heaved and tugged on him until she got him inside. The snow made it easier. It had frozen on top which helped her slide him to the door and inside the cabin.

Whew, you are a heavy one, she said aloud. He was still unconscious and couldn’t hear a word she said. She lit the lamp on the mantle and stood looking at his muscular slender body. He was a handsome man with long lean legs. She guessed his height; a little over six foot four and weight somewhere around two hundred and five pounds. His jet black hair was the color of a raven and his skin was a golden tan. You could tell he’d spent most of his time outside. His facial features were handsome, she thought, not one blemish on it.

Laya checked to see where he was wounded. He’d been shot in the upper right shoulder. She could see that the bullet was still lodged in the wound. He moaned and opened his eyes as she bent over him and spoke softly. You have to help me get you in the bed, she coaxed. We need to get that bullet out. I can’t do this by myself, you’re too heavy for me to lift.

He came too long enough to nod his head, letting her know he understood and tried to make an effort to get to his feet. With his arm around her shoulder he finally managed to stand on trembling legs. She struggled to get him across the room, heaving and tugging on him until they finally made it to the edge of the bed. He fell across it, taking her with him, landing on top of him. She struggled to get his arm from around her neck and lift herself up off him. I’m sorry; I hope I didn’t hurt you. He tried to focus on her but the room was spinning and darkness was taking over. He raised his hand toward her and tried to speak. She took it into her own.

Is there something you want to tell me? she asked. She was afraid he might not make it and she wanted to know who he was in case she had to let his next of kin know. He groaned, but didn’t answer her. She filled a pan full of warm water, found some clean white linen in the closet and tore it into strips to clean the wound and use for bandages later. She carried it to the nightstand next to his bed, leaned close to his face and softly spoke. I’ve got to turn you on your stomach so I can get to your wound. It needs to be cleaned before I can dig the bullet out, or gangrene will set in. She heaved and tugged on him until she finally positioned him on his stomach. She gagged at the smell of blood and the gaping hole staring her in the face. She stoked the fire and placed Cal’s hunting knife in the flames to sterilize it. She cleaned the poker that stood next to the fireplace and placed it in the flames so she could cauterize the wound. She knew it had to be done. They were in the mountains snowed in and there wasn’t a Doctor within twenty miles.

She found some rope and tied his hands and feet to the bed so he wouldn’t hit or kick her while she probed for the bullet. Her stomach was feeling queasy, but she braced herself and began to clean the wound. She changed water three times before she felt like it was clean enough to get started. He’d lost a lot of blood and was as pale as a ghost.

Her stomach was churning and bile was rising up in the back of her throat. She took the knife from the flames, let it cool, then rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and found some whiskey. This is going to hurt, she said, quickly pouring it on the wound. He flinched and gritted his teeth. I hope you’re ready for this because I’m not. He slid in and out of consciousness. She didn’t know if he could understand a word she was saying but she felt like she needed to talk him through his ordeal. Here we go she said, and bent closer to him easing the knife deep into the wound. He muffled a yell that made her stiffen and want to stop. She had to get some of the whiskey down him to help ease the pain. This is going to be hard to do with you lying on your stomach but it’s the only alternative I have. She lifted his face up off the pillow, held the whiskey to his mouth and gave him a slug. He swallowed and coughed. After what seemed to be an eternity she retrieved the bullet. Cleaning the wound once more with a fresh pan of warm water she walked to the fireplace and took the hot poker in her hand. With one hand over her mouth and tears flowing down her cheeks, she stepped to the bed and leaned over him.

Oh God, help me, she pleaded, then took both hands and stuck the hot poker to the wound. He was straining against the ropes trying to break the hold they had on him. He clenched his teeth and held the scream at random then fell unconscious. At first she thought he was dead but with further inspection she could see his chest rising and falling. She was glad he was unconscious for his sake.

She could smell the searing skin, it floated through her nostrils and again she felt the bile rising to her throat. I know that had too of been pure torture, she sobbed but she had to do it. She pleaded with him to be still. You will only make the blood flow faster if you don’t. She knew that was impossible but he seemed to get some control of himself. I’m sorry she whispered and ran outside to vomit. Never in her life had she ever done anything like this. She reached for a hand full of snow and bathed her face. It was cold and helped her to revive. She put some on the back of her neck, finally pulled herself together and went back inside.

He was out cold so she bandaged the wound and put cold compresses on his head. All she could do now was pull up a chair and set beside the bed and keep the cold compresses changed. She would have to wait and see what happened but first she had to take care of his horse. She put him in the barn with Nick, took his saddle off, fed and watered him, then brushed him down and went back to the cabin. She stayed awake all night checking on the bandages to see if there was any blood seepage. There wasn’t so she guessed the cauterization had worked. All during the night he tossed and turned calling for Sarah. Laya thought it was probably his wife. She couldn’t keep him still so she woke him long enough to give him a shot of whiskey,