Novel 1978 - The Proving Trail (v5.0) Read Online Free Page A
was a snap of bone, and Wacker screamed. I shoved him hard into Blazer, and both of them tumbled toward the fire. Then I threw myself at the door.
Dick was coming in, had just opened the door when my shoulder hit it, knocking him sprawling in the snow with me almost astride of him. I scrambled to get up, smashing my knee under his chin in the process, and then I was rolling over and over in the snow.
I fought myself to my feet. Instinctively I went for the woods. Behind me I heard a shout, cries of pain, and cursing. I stumbled and fell, crawled madly toward the trees, sprawled again, and got hold of a tree and pushed myself and pulled myself up.
For a moment, groggy and hurt, I leaned against the tree, my breath coming in rasping gasps, each one like a knife grinding against bone.
I tried to look around, but my eyes were swollen almost shut. I made it to another tree, then another. I fell, sliding down the tree into the snow. Yet I knew from a lessening of the wind that I was in the aspens. I struggled on.
My horse! They had not found my horse. If I could only…
I fell again and again. Now the snow was blowing in a howling blizzard. I did not think. I fell, striking my side and sending a spasm of pain through me. I had a broken rib, maybe more than one. From the feel of my nose, that was broken, too.
Scooping up a handful of snow, I wiped it across my battered features. Then grasping the slim trunk of a tree, I pulled myself erect again.
Somehow my sense of direction remained with me. The cabin was on my right rear now. The small shelter where I’d left the roan was ahead of me, lower down…twenty yards?
Fighting to keep my feet, I worked my way across the slope from tree to tree. Suddenly it was there. Then I was inside, and the roan nickered a welcome.
I fell flat, but managed to push the door shut. The room was cold, but secure…secure.
For how long? They would search. They would find me. I had to get away. Could I find my way across the valley? Down its long length? How far? Two miles? Less.
Once in the broken country beyond, there would be some shelter from the wind.
I leaned against the horse and tightened the cinch. Then I opened the door and crawled into the saddle. Ducking my head low, I urged the roan out into the storm.
He must have known I was in a bad way, for surprisingly he did not resist.
Out into the storm, up into the aspens, out between the grove and the house. I could vaguely hear them shouting inside. I walked the horse past and pointed him down the valley, and the poor beast trusted me.
Here where the wind blew, the snow could not drift. Here we could canter, and we did. Out across the empty land, toward a crack in the rock that I only hoped I could find, or he could.
Behind us, death. Before us, freezing cold, miles of hard riding…possibly a chance.
Turning briefly, I looked back. I could see a faint glow in the darkness through the snow. The window.
From my scabbard I fumbled my Winchester. With frozen, numbed fingers I steadied the rifle, and then I fired three fast shots through that window.
Shoving the rifle down into the scabbard, I rode on into the night and the snow. At least I had left them a defiance. I had thrown them a gesture. Whatever else they knew, they knew I was not defeated.
And now, the storm…
Chapter 3
----
I T WAS COLD, bitter, bitter cold. I had to find the opening of that Indian trail, and it was narrow, scarcely to be seen even in the best of weather, but the roan and I had been down that trail several times for short distances. Would he know now where I was going?
The wind was directly in my face, and to catch a breath I had to hold my head down, try to get my mouth and chin behind the edge of my coat. The snow was growing deep, even out here on the flat. Several times the roan stumbled. He was dog-tired, I knew, and in no shape for such a trip as this.
The wind was like a wall of iron, cold, cold iron against which we pushed and pushed.
Dick was coming in, had just opened the door when my shoulder hit it, knocking him sprawling in the snow with me almost astride of him. I scrambled to get up, smashing my knee under his chin in the process, and then I was rolling over and over in the snow.
I fought myself to my feet. Instinctively I went for the woods. Behind me I heard a shout, cries of pain, and cursing. I stumbled and fell, crawled madly toward the trees, sprawled again, and got hold of a tree and pushed myself and pulled myself up.
For a moment, groggy and hurt, I leaned against the tree, my breath coming in rasping gasps, each one like a knife grinding against bone.
I tried to look around, but my eyes were swollen almost shut. I made it to another tree, then another. I fell, sliding down the tree into the snow. Yet I knew from a lessening of the wind that I was in the aspens. I struggled on.
My horse! They had not found my horse. If I could only…
I fell again and again. Now the snow was blowing in a howling blizzard. I did not think. I fell, striking my side and sending a spasm of pain through me. I had a broken rib, maybe more than one. From the feel of my nose, that was broken, too.
Scooping up a handful of snow, I wiped it across my battered features. Then grasping the slim trunk of a tree, I pulled myself erect again.
Somehow my sense of direction remained with me. The cabin was on my right rear now. The small shelter where I’d left the roan was ahead of me, lower down…twenty yards?
Fighting to keep my feet, I worked my way across the slope from tree to tree. Suddenly it was there. Then I was inside, and the roan nickered a welcome.
I fell flat, but managed to push the door shut. The room was cold, but secure…secure.
For how long? They would search. They would find me. I had to get away. Could I find my way across the valley? Down its long length? How far? Two miles? Less.
Once in the broken country beyond, there would be some shelter from the wind.
I leaned against the horse and tightened the cinch. Then I opened the door and crawled into the saddle. Ducking my head low, I urged the roan out into the storm.
He must have known I was in a bad way, for surprisingly he did not resist.
Out into the storm, up into the aspens, out between the grove and the house. I could vaguely hear them shouting inside. I walked the horse past and pointed him down the valley, and the poor beast trusted me.
Here where the wind blew, the snow could not drift. Here we could canter, and we did. Out across the empty land, toward a crack in the rock that I only hoped I could find, or he could.
Behind us, death. Before us, freezing cold, miles of hard riding…possibly a chance.
Turning briefly, I looked back. I could see a faint glow in the darkness through the snow. The window.
From my scabbard I fumbled my Winchester. With frozen, numbed fingers I steadied the rifle, and then I fired three fast shots through that window.
Shoving the rifle down into the scabbard, I rode on into the night and the snow. At least I had left them a defiance. I had thrown them a gesture. Whatever else they knew, they knew I was not defeated.
And now, the storm…
Chapter 3
----
I T WAS COLD, bitter, bitter cold. I had to find the opening of that Indian trail, and it was narrow, scarcely to be seen even in the best of weather, but the roan and I had been down that trail several times for short distances. Would he know now where I was going?
The wind was directly in my face, and to catch a breath I had to hold my head down, try to get my mouth and chin behind the edge of my coat. The snow was growing deep, even out here on the flat. Several times the roan stumbled. He was dog-tired, I knew, and in no shape for such a trip as this.
The wind was like a wall of iron, cold, cold iron against which we pushed and pushed.
Readers choose
Caitlin Rother
Amber L. Johnson
Diana Vreeland
Eve Bunting
Glynn Stewart
J. P. Barnaby
Lily Everett
Nikki Moustaki
Jessica Brown
Cindy Gerard