There was a foot of snow on the ground, but the air was clear, cold and crisp. Grizz accompanied me up to check on the horses. As we entered the barn I could hear sounds of someone pitching hay.
“Lucas! What are you doin’ here today? You need to be in school!” I exclaimed.
“Senor, I very much dislike the school,” he replied meekly, yet emphatically.
“You need to get your book-learnin’. I heard Marta tellin’ you that you had to go to school; that you needed to make your mother proud.”
“I think, I can make my mother proud doin’ other things beside school. I make money to help Marta pay for the house and buy food,” he said proudly.
Letting out a large sigh, I began, “Lucas, did you ever stop to think that the good Lord had a reason for you not to die durin’ the epidemic? Pitchin’ hay will not make a livin’ for you.
“How about you, Senor Miles? I can be a marshal like you.”
“I went to school. And sooner or later crooks will get more sophisticated in their operations,” I said.
“What is this, sopheestikated oprations?” he asked.
“That’s why you need to go to school!” I replied emphatically.
Since Grizz was with me, Lucas pointed at him and said, “I’ll be a hunter like Senor Grizz.”
“Senor Grizz can read and write.”
Grizz decided that he better speak up. He rubbed his fingers through his heavy beard a couple of times then said. “Orginally, I was from New York. Youngsters your age were required to go to school.” Then he looked at me. “I’m goin’ to go up to the trees for a bit. I’ll be back.”
Well, that was just fine. Leave me here to debate.
“Listen, you must go to school. You’ve a strike against you already bein’ half-Mex and half-Indian. Folks out there don’t cotton to people like that so you need an education to overcome. The day is not far off when people won’t want folk like Grizz around, there’ll be no need for hunters.”
Lucas just stared at me, then dropped his head.
“Lucas, here’s what’s goin’ to happen. If you don’t go to school, you’ll no longer be able to work for me or for Molly at the Diner,” then I paused. “Perhaps you could get a job muckin’ stalls at the livery, or maybe cleanin’ spittoons in the back alleys somewhere.”
“Senor Miles,” he said, now almost weeping. “Would you really not let me work for you?”
“Try me,” I said as firmly yet calmly as possible.
He shuffled his feet some in the hay that was laying there, then spoke up. “Okay, I go to school.” Walking down toward the hill, he yelled over his shoulder, “I’ll finish the work after school, Senor.”
Lucas had just walked out of sight down the hill, when Grizz was coming from the tree line. I watched as he walked through the unblemished snow, with only the tracks he made showing. “Miles, you have a problem.”
Looking at me he continued. “Found a torn up doe a few yards back in the timber. Skull, some bones, and fur all that were left–wolves, a pack of them.”
“Wolves!” That brought to mind the other night. As I was laying in the cabin I thought I heard the howl of wolves. “This close to town? The weather hasn’t been that bad to drive them down. Reckon maybe that blizzard a week ago did it.”
“Your horses’ll be next,” said Grizz in an agitated voice.
I was staring up toward the timber thinking of a few winters ago when I faced the wolves. It was a harsh, cold winter and the wolves were at the door constantly that winter I helped Juanita and her mother.
“Miles! Miles! Hey!” His raised voice brought me back to focus on the present.
“Grizz, you want a job through the spring? Help keep the Diner supplied with game and make sure these wolves don’t get my horses or anyone else’s.”
He smiled…

We had just finished eating and were sitting around the table laughing and telling stories. Come to find out that the stranger sitting at my table was a friend from years gone by–Grizz Horton. It had been several years since I had seen the old guy, but we started right where we left off. I met him while he was a wolfer at a ranch up in Wyoming. My job was to tend the cattle; his was to rid the ranch of wolves. He was good at his job.
Grizz heard I was in Durango and was in the area. He brought us a nice Christmas present–a bear. We feasted on bear steaks this Christmas, the bunch of us: Charlie and Marta, Elihu, Lucas, Doc and Edith were all there, along with Grizz. We had a nice, fun time.
“You should’ve asked Billy to eat with us,” chided Molly.
Doc laughed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so pale as Billy. I don’t know if it was from the cold, the loss of blood, or he was just plain fightened.”
“Well, it wasn’t from overwork,” I declared. “And I doubt that it was from loss of blood. Honestly, he screamed like he was gut-shot. I wonder what happens if he gets a splinter?”
“Guess, that depends on where the splinter lodges and how big it is,” joined in Charlie.
“Yuh know,” started in Grizz, “I heard tell that most of those who died in those large sea battles, like Nelson at Trafalgar, died from splinters.”
We all stopped to listen. “‘Course those weren’t jist any kind of splinters; they may be the size of yur hand.”
“Whoooeee!” yelled up Lucas, “That’s some splinter!” Then he looked at all of us and ducked his head. “Sorry.”
All of us looked at him and laughed and Charlie bumped him with his arm. He had been raised that younguns should not speak unless asked.
“That reminds me of the time in the bunkhouse up ’round Chugwater,” he looked at me. “Remember ol’ Ben Walters, Miles? We had all retired for the night; it was cold outside with snow, ’bout like it is outside now. I can see the fire glowing in the ol’ stove for that’s where I bunked ’cause of my rheumatize. We had been asleep for maybe an hour, when a howl, sorta like the one Lucas made came from Ben’s bunk. Yuh remember, Miles?”
“I sure do, he sounded like an Indian was ready to lift his scalp,” I said laughing.
“Mister Grizz,” asked Lucas, “what happened?”
Grizz was smiling, but instead of answering, he ate a bite of Molly’s butterscotch pie, drank a long swig of coffee. Actually, by the time Grizz was through with fixing his coffee it was more like syrup. He laced it with anything that was sweet, honey, sugar, or even syrup if it was handy.
“As I was sayin’, we were all sleepin’, some snorin’ like last year’s tornado when ol’ Ben let out what war whoop. He was a-layin’ on his back, when up across his belly, over his chest, and into his beard ran a mouse.”
“Eeks,” cried Edith.
“No, it was more like ‘Y-I-K-E-S!'” laughed Grizz. “It was a drawn out cacophony! He started slappin’ at his beard, tryin’ to dislodge his new found guest.”
Edith held her hand over her mouth. “I don’t like mice; I wouldn’t have stepped in that bunkhouse again.”
Grizz took another long swig of coffee and handed me his mug for a refill. “Ma’am, what do you think was in that dressin’ Molly made? Giblets?”
With that it was Molly’s turn to hit him with her elbow.
“How’s the wounded man, Doc?” asked Charlie.
“He’ll make it if infection doesn’t set in,” he said shaking his head. “That’s a bad wound; it’ll take some time to heal. This was the man that Miles shot outside the jail. The one you shot died in the cabin,” he stopped and looked at Molly, then at his wife Edith. “Since this is the Christmas season, Molly do you think I could have another piece of pie?”
“Oh, Henry, my goodness!” chided Edith.
“Edith, it’s Christmas, and you have to think the Lord could have taken him from us with that knock on the head,” she turned to Doc Jones. “I have an apple pie I’ve been hidin’ from Miles. Want a piece of it?”
“What!” I exclaimed.
“That would be fine.”
Molly was up and headed for the kitchen. “Grizz, Charlie?”
Charlie said he was fine, but Grizz opted for another piece. “What about me?” I asked, but she was around the corner into the kitchen and I didn’t know if she heard me or not.
“Back to the patient,” started in Doc again. “Miles, that bullet you fired hit him in the hip; broke a piece of his pelvis off the big bone. I don’t have the means to fix it. I probably should cut it out so it won’t be in him loose, but then again, where it’s located it doesn’t pose a threat to cut a vein or artery. It’ll take him a while to heal and he won’t walk the same.”
Molly came back with the pie, and there was a piece for me. We sat there for quite some time, just enjoying each other’s company. I guess you could say this was family. Ain’t that what the holidays are for–friends and family?

I got the fire started, and found a pail laying around that looked clean. Just to be sure I used my bandana to wipe it out then went outside and filled it full of snow. Putting it on the fire I waited to add coffee. There was an old skillet in the shack as well so I filled it with snow and placed it next to the fire as well; I’d need hot water to fix Billy’s wound.
“Do something!” he cried. “I’m bleeding to death!”
“Get your shirt off, unless you want me to cut it off.”
“I can’t; it hurts too much,” he moaned.
Helping him out of his shirt, I didn’t think he was bad off. But then I could be wrong until I was able to check him out. Finally, I grabbed his arm and pulled the shirt off.
I held his arm and wiped it off some of the blood so I could get a good look. “I ought to slap you silly!” I said disgustedly. “You’ve just got a graze. Hold still!”
Using his scarf I dipped it in the now hot water and began to wipe his arm. “Yeoow, that burns; you’re hurting me!”
“If I don’t get this cleaned you’ll end up like the guy with the blackened leg. You want gangrene to set in?”
Finally I was able to get him clean. Now, I needed to check on those men back in the other cabin. Grabbing my coat I went outside. The snow was still falling and it was hard to see the building that was just a few yards away. I walked to the stall to check out the gear of the outlaws. One man had a rope so I tied it to the rail of the corral and extended it as I walked to the shack, where I tied it off. I learned the two times I cowboyed up in Wyoming that a man could get lost in a blizzard and freeze to death while only a few feet from his house.
Upon entering the shack I was staggered. The smell was atrocious! I went over and checked on the man with the gangrene. He was dead. The other man was sleeping but breathing okay. I needed to get him over to our cabin. It entered my mind to just throw the dead men out in the snow. The bodies would keep as they would freeze; then again they might draw wolves. I took a quick inventory of the goods in their cabin. Using it right it would feed us for about a week.
“Walk up!” I said shaking the wounded man. He groaned as he came awake. “I need to get you out of this place and over to our shack. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Going back to the stall I grabbed my rope and made a line from the stall to my shack. Before I walked out I checked the feed for the horses and gave Star some more hay. I think it was snowing even harder, and the wind was starting to blow hard.
“Come on Billy; get your coat on. We’ve got to get that guy moved over here.”
“Can’t, I hurt too much. My arm’s useless!”
I was doing the best I could not to slap him, but he was pushing my limits. “You get up an’ help me or I’ll throw you out in the weather!” I checked the coffee then went started back out. “Just follow the line.”
I was putting the food they had in a blanket that was laying on a chair. Billy finally stumbled through the doorway. “Here, carry this,” I ordered.
Then looking at the wounded man. “Think you can stand?”
He held on to me and grit his teeth as he stood. “It’s not far,” I said.
Nodding to me we started back to our shack. He had to drag his hurt leg and I was afraid it would start to bleed again. After struggling for several minutes we made it. His face was pale as I plopped him down on one of the bunks. Laying there is looked at me, “Don’t let me die like Finnegan.”
“You’re not goin’ to die.” However, I didn’t know. I didn’t even know how long we’d be cooped up in this shack.
Billy came in a few minutes later dragging the blanket. His face was almost as pale as the severely wounded man. I didn’t bother to look at him, instead went to pour a cup of coffee. “Start putting the goods on the table and on the shelves. We’ll eat in the mornin’.”
“I’m hungry now,” he whimpered then he added, “I hurt too much.”
“Billy, if you don’t do what I told you, you’re goin’ to be hurtin’ in other places.” Reluctantly he began to work.
“I’m sleeping on the other bunk,” he said emphatically.
“Be my guest,” and I rolled my bedroll out in front of the fire.
The snow was still coming down the next day and the wind was blowing; we were in a full-fledged blizzard. I couldn’t tell what was falling from the sky and what was being blown. Billy stayed in bed most of the day, except getting up to eat. I wasn’t about to take his food to him. The wounded man, I found out his name was Dell Higgins. He pretty much told me what had happened over the past few weeks.
By Friday, it had stopped snowing. I went outside and we had close to a foot, maybe a foot and a half of snow. There was a huge drift up again the other shack. Upon checking the horses, they were alright, but would need attention soon. I reckoned we would leave early the next morning so we could make it into Durango by the end of the day. It would be slow with the snow covering the road.
It was hard packing the dead bodies on their horses as the bodies had frozen during the storm. Not worrying about their comfort I tied them tight to their horses. I was concerned about Higgins, but he said he could make it. “Hmmm,” I thought to myself, “quite a difference between him and Billy.”
Upon arriving in Durango I went first to the diner. When I entered, I noticed immediately there was someone at my table. I looked his way…

We had checked a few shacks west of town, but they were filled with out-of-work, down-on-luck miners. I don’t know how they make it through the winter. The mines lay off two-thirds of their workers in the winter and just keep on a crew to keep the mine open and running.
I had hoped that we might come upon them. With two severely injured men, I didn’t think they could go far, but again we might be searching in the wrong direction. This was just the easiest way to travel. Most outlaws, in my experience, don’t like the hard way. That’s why they steal the hard-earned money of others; they are too lazy to work for it themselves. Ironic though, they usually end up staying in places of squalor.
We had been out about four hours when the snow started to fall. It was already coming down hard and Billy was whining about being cold.
“We need to turn back to Durango,” he whined.
With the snow falling harder by the minute and the wind blowing it was becoming hard to see. “Too late for that. We need to find a place to hole up until it’s over.”
It was becoming hard to see anything, but finally I spied a couple of shacks together with what looked like a stall. Hopefully, one of the shacks was vacant. Riding toward the shacks, I halted. There were three horses in the stall. Well, they would have to make room for two more.
“Ride easy, Billy,” I said. Looking around I could see firewood cut and in front of one of the shacks. There was some more on the side of the stall.
Dismounting I led Star inside, took off the saddle and rubbed him down. Billy was still sitting in his saddle. “Get down, and take care of your horse!” I ordered.
“Too cold,” he said shivering. I’m freezing.”
Poor boy, I thought sarcastically. With it snowing this hard it wasn’t that cold. As soon as it stopped the temperature
would really drop. “Take care of your horse! He’s been working and needs rubbing down in this cold weather.”
I noticed that one of the other horses in the stall was still saddled. Made me think I should check their gear. The other two saddles were laying on the ground, so I went to look them over. On one of them was a dark blotch of something–blood maybe.
Going back to my saddle I pulled the Greener. “Come on, I think we’ve found our men,” I said in a whisper.
His eyes widened. I walked up to the shack and pounded on the door. “Hello, the shack. We need out of the weather.”
A rough, growly voice answered. “No room, already full.”
I pounded on the door again. “Open up!”
“Go ‘way; try the other shack, it’s empty,” came the growly voice again.
“This is Marshal Forrest along with Marshal Denton, open up or I’ll kick it in.”
I motioned for Billy to move back just as a shot was fired through the door. There was a scream from Billy, “I’m hit!” Two more shots came through the wooden door.
Pointing the shotgun at the door I let go with both barrels. That made mostly splinters of the door. Quickly I turned to the side and reloaded.
I motioned for Billy to move to the left side of the building. “I can’t,” he cried, “I’m shot, I’m bleedin’.”
Sighing I decided I would try once more. “Through your guns out!”
Silence.
Taking off my sheepskin coat so I could get to my pistol easier I dropped it in the snow. With the snow I wouldn’t freeze before I got the job done or took a bullet.
Slowly I moved to the doorway. Peeking through the shattered door I saw a man lying on the floor. He looked at me and tried to bring up his pistol. “Don’t!” I hollered.
He fired but could barely hold the gun and the bullet wasn’t close; as he did there was another shot from the right in the room. I didn’t know what good it would do, but I fired at the shack to my right side, then pulled my pistol and shot the man laying on the floor.
The door was now completely off the shack except for the bottom hinge. Easing up to it I saw a man laying on a bunk, holding a pistol. I could see he was bleeding some. Then I glanced to the other side of the room; there was another man laying on a bunk, either unconscious or dead.
“Put down the gun!” I ordered once more. “I don’t want to make you a present to your Maker for Christmas–put it down. I’m gonna fire both barrels when I come through the door and you’ll not even be good for mincemeat.” I waited a few seconds then heard the gun hit the floor.
“I’m hurt,” he mumbled.
“Billy, follow me,” I said and went in not knowing if he followed or not.
It was our three outlaws. The man who had dropped his gun was laying on the bed. He was the one I shot in the hip at the marshal’s office. The blood I saw was from splinters that were sprayed by the blast of the shotgun.
“Billy hold your gun on him while I check the man on the other bed.”
He started to whine. “Do it!”
Going over to the other man, I noticed that he stunk. He was unconscious and moaning. I pulled the blanket off him and saw his hip and leg–black, with gangrene. What a terrible way to die as there was nothing I could do for him.
“Billy,” I said, “I’m going to check out the other shack. I don’t plan to stay in this one with that stench,” I paused and looked around. “We’re going to be here a few days.”
He looked at me as if he was going to cry. “I’m hurt bad,” was all he said.
“I’ll look at you when I get back from checkin’ that other shack.”
Going to it, I slowly opened the door and… .