Shelter
“Joe.”
Joe Cartwright lifted his head, realizing he had almost slipped away again into
a world where darkness and light, noise and silence were blurred - a world where
there was no space and no time.
Although he heard but that one simple word – his name – he knew by the tone that
his brother Adam had been calling to him insistently, but only now did the sound
infiltrate the depth of Joe’s consciousness.
Recognizing that his brother had roused himself to some level of awareness, Adam
spoke again: “Keep your head up.”
Joe managed a fleeting smile, acknowledging his brother’s worried instruction,
but their present situation overwhelmed even that meager effort at cheer. The
Cartwright brothers were in trouble, and they knew it.
He was so cold he could barely move. Joe reached up, snugging his hat even lower
on his head even as he made a valiant attempt to follow his brother’s direction
to keep his head up – a reminder Adam had already given several times now.
Squinting against the cold wind and the sleet that cut like razors, Joe peered
out from under the brim of his hat into the yawning expanse of darkness that
stretched before him.
Nothing but snow - in the sky, on the ground, and everywhere in between. White
snow, so much snow that it made the whole world dark …
Adam’s horse stumbled as it struggled through the chest-deep drifts. Lacking any
guidance from the reins, Cochise had been measuring his pace against Sport’s and
also missed a step. The resultant jolt made Joe realize he had already begun
fading again, and this scared him; to fall asleep now, in the middle of this
blizzard, meant certain death.
There was still enough self-awareness in Joe Cartwright for this concept to
spark a flash of anger, and he sat up straighter than he had for miles and
nudged Cochise with his heels, just enough to remind the horse he had a rider.
“Where are we?” Joe called. Even with those few words, his voice was slow and
slurred; he was so cold he could hardly move his jaws to speak.
Adam looked back at his brother, who was beside and slightly behind him, and Joe
saw him shake his head.
“Not sure,” Adam said. “I think … up here …”
Joe ducked his head again. He didn’t know which had faded, Adam’s voice or his
hearing, but he knew they were running out of time. If they didn’t find shelter
soon…
“Here!” Adam’s voice again. How long had he been shouting? Joe had no idea, but
as he lifted his head once again, he could see Adam urging Sport up a slope.
Sport’s great flanks heaved as the horse valiantly plowed through the snow, one
gasping leap after another. Cochise, behind him, had an easier route through the
broken path, but even then, it was all the smaller pinto could do to hurdle the
deep drifts.
Adam kicked at Sport, and Joe followed suit with Cochise as the brothers urged
the horses forward. Gasping and snorting, their mounts responded courageously,
and as Joe lifted his head once more, he saw their salvation materializing
before him.
He didn’t wonder why there was a shack in the middle of nowhere; he didn’t
wonder how his brother had found it. He knew only that they were saved, that
they would live … and that it was not a moment too soon.
The wind had increased in its fury, and Joe could barely catch Adam’s words –
“Horses … here” – before the wind snatched them away.
Adam had already slid down from Sport and was dragging, more than leading, the
horse into a lean-to that thankfully faced away from the wind. Joe tried but
could not move his leg enough to dismount, and so merely laid down against his
horse’s neck as Cochise struggled over the final drift and into the shelter.
“Here,” Adam said, and Joe rolled off the saddle and into his brother’s arms.
Joe staggered and would have fallen if Adam had not kept a tight hold on him.
“Got it?” Adam asked after a moment, and Joe nodded, having regained sufficient
strength and stability to stand.
Some snow had sifted through the cracks in the walls and roof, but in the dim
light, Joe could see hay scattered on the floor. It wasn’t much, but it would be
enough to take care of the horses for one night, anyway, he thought. His arms
ached as he swung them, gathering the hay together and piling it near Sport and
Cochise. Adam was loosening the cinches; they would leave the blankets and
saddles on to provide whatever warmth they might.
Satisfied that the horses were as protected and provided for as possible, the
two brothers shrugged more deeply into their coats and leaned out into the wind
to fight their way toward the door of the shack.
There were a few sticks of firewood in a corner, enough to start a blaze. Joe
left Adam to tend the fire and went outside, scrambling deep into the underbrush
where the wood might not be so wet. He collected an armload of wood, venturing
out three times until they had enough to get them through the night. The wood
was not completely dry, but even a smoky fire is warm, Joe thought.
Adam was rummaging in the saddlebag he’d brought inside with him. Looking up as
Joe brought in the final load of firewood, he managed a tired grin. “How does
beans sound?”
“Sounds good,” Joe said, and he meant it. “Do we have any coffee?”
Adam grinned for real this time. “Yep.” He pointed toward the fire; a pot of
water was already steaming.
Joe looked around the room. The dilapidated shack was surprisingly warm; he
supposed the snow that lay all around and over the small building kept it
insulated, now that the fire was burning. There was no furniture, so he crouched
down on his haunches next to Adam, and stiffly raised his numb hands toward the
fire.
Adam coughed and absently fanned the smoke away from his face. He took two tin
cups from his bag, handing one to Joe and setting the other on the floor between
them. Using a bandanna to protect his hand, he picked up the coffee pot and
poured for them both.
Joe held the cup in his hands, bowing his face into the steam and sighing
appreciatively at its warmth.
He took a sip. Hot … wonderful.
Joe spoke; his voice was raspy and he had to clear his throat and try again.
“Thanks, Adam.”
“Mm. You’re welcome.”
Joe sipped the coffee again. “I mean, thanks for getting us here. I thought …”
He stopped talking and looked at the fire.
Adam smiled. “I thought so too,” he said quietly. “Here, let’s eat and get some
sleep. I know where we are now. We should be home tomorrow.”
Joe nodded and took the plate of beans his brother held toward him. They ate in
silence, the only sounds their forks scraping the metal plates, the fire
crackling in protest on the wet wood, and the howl of the wind against the
walls.
Joe threw more wood onto the fire as Adam spread a blanket on the floor near the
blaze, leaving the place closest to the fire for his brother as he lay down with
a groan. Joe settled next to Adam, pulling his blanket over both of them. The
dirt floor was cold and hard, but Joe sighed in satisfaction.
Once again, Joe felt himself drifting away, but now he was safe ... now he was
warm, the fire in front of him, his brother behind him. But he had to know:
“Adam? How did you …?”
His brother’s rich, deep chuckle was the last thing Joe heard before he yielded
to sleep’s sweet embrace. “I told you, Joe. Keep your head up.”
*****End*****
Our authors appreciate receiving comments on their stories. If you would like to send comments on this story, click on the author's name at the top of this page.