There was blood everywhere, and most of the windows of the overturned coach were shattered, allowing the blizzard its deadly entry. Already, some of the bodies were covered with a white shroud of snow. The coach was lying on its side, but badly canted downward. Longarm was sure that their coach would have rolled even farther had it not been caught by an obstruction poking out of the steep mountainside. A sudden gust of wind extinguished Longarm's match and plunged the scene back into darkness.
Longarm lit another match, shielding its flickering light from the hard, blowing wind. He took a longer second look, specifically searching for his prisoner. Eli Wheat was gone. Longarm was sure of it. He was also sure that the approach of night would soon drive the freezing temperatures to a killing low and that, if he did not take measures to save not only himself but the other passengers, they'd all be frozen solid before morning.
"Deputy Long, we've got to help these people!"
Longarm turned and held the dying match up toward Miss Noble. She had been cut up a little by flying glass and appeared badly shaken.
Longarm's match burned out, and he squeezed the woman's arm in a feeble attempt to reassure her that all would be fine. "Miss Noble, it's a wonder that our stove didn't ignite and turn this coach into a funeral pyre. The stove must have been thrown outside and then extinguished."
"I don't know. But it's freezing in here."
"I need some light," Longarm told her. "We have to find a lantern or we'll never be able to help the injured."
"I think a lot of them are dead!" the young woman exclaimed, her voice near the breaking point.
"But we can't worry about that. We have to do what we can for those that can still be saved. Can you move around, Miss Noble? Are your legs..."
"They're fine."
Longarm heard her take a deep, steadying breath. He was encouraged when she said, "What can I do to help?"
"Let's get outside and see what happened to the rest of the train. Perhaps there are other coaches that fared better and that will offer shelter."
"It's a miracle that any of us are alive."
"We need a doctor," Longarm said.
"That would be a second miracle."
Taking the woman's hand and forcing himself to ignore the pleading of injured and confused passengers, Longarm struggled out through a window. The blizzard attacked him with demented vengence. The snow sheeted in horizontally, and visibility was less than ten feet.
"I can't see anything!" Miss Noble cried.
"Me neither," Longarm said, hanging onto the woman's hand. "But we must find out if anyone else survived. We must find help!"
Lowering their heads, Longarm and the woman struggled forward along the overturned train. They passed another coach which had broken apart and was ominously silent. Then a third coach loomed up and Longarm saw what he believed to be a glow of light from its interior. This coach had come to rest in an almost upright position.
"Stay with me!" he hollered into the storm as he fought his way to the rear door of the coach. Doubling up his fists, he pounded on the door over and over until it opened a crack.
"Let us in!" he bellowed.
The door crashed open. Strong hands grabbed Longarm and Miss Noble and hauled them inside. A moment later, the door was jammed shut and Longarm had to wipe ice from his eyelashes in order to see. The survivors of this coach had righted their stove, but not before it had consumed an entire row of seats. Now, they were feeding the life-giving fire scraps from other chairs and trying to close the broken windows with seat cushions and blankets.
Longarm had the impression of being in a cluttered cave. He guessed there were two dozen passengers. Some were in bad shape, but most eyed him with astonishment.
"Who are you?" a man finally asked, breaking the silence.
"I'm Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long. Is anyone here in charge?"
No one stepped forward, but one man did say, "We lost about eight and two among us have internal injuries. We could sure use a doctor."
"I know that. Has anyone gone in search of other survivors? This might be the only real shelter."
"I went up toward the front of the train, but all the coaches were destroyed," a big man in a heavy sheepskin lined coat answered. "And the locomotive wasn't anywhere around. It must have rolled all the way down the mountain."
"Miss Noble and I crawled out of a coach two cars back," Longarm said. "The next one back is demolished. I doubt that anyone survived. Our coach has at least twenty people trapped inside. I need able-bodied volunteers to bring them here."
"Why, here!" a man bellowed in anger. "This is our coach. Why don't they-"
"We need to stay bunched and close together, that's why!" Longarm said angrily. "This coach is still in one piece and you've got a fire. If we can pack a hundred people in here, they'll all likely survive this storm."
"But..."
"What is wrong with you?" Miss Noble cried, stepping in front of Longarm and confronting the man. "There are other people back there dying! Have you no charity in your heart?"
The man tried to match her eyes, but then broke away and turned to the fire.
"Like I said," Longarm repeated, "I need volunteers. If we don't get all the injured into this coach, they'll die of exposure."
"I'm coming," the man who had protested said, whirling around and starting for the door.
"Zeke," a woman said to him, "you take my coat while you're out in that storm. And don't you fall off this mountain."
"I won't, Liz. I swear I won't," Zeke promised as he took his wife's coat.
"I want to come too," Martha Noble said. "I met some wonderful people in that coach. I'm not about to stay here while their lives are in danger."
"All right," Longarm said, proud of the young woman.
Other passengers, perhaps shamed by Martha's courage, were soon following Longarm back out into the storm. The wind was blowing so hard that it knocked them down when they passed the open areas between the overturned cars and were exposed to its full, unopposed force. Three of the rescuers were not strong enough to stand up to the fierce gusts and had to crawl back to safety, but the others, with Longarm in front, struggled on until they arrived at the coach.
"It'll be dark soon!" he yelled, knowing that his words could not be heard by most of the rescuers. "We have to get the survivors to shelter now!"
Longarm had to fight through a blanket of snow in order to crawl back inside. Once inside, he tried to get a match, but his unprotected hands were numb and useless. With no alternative, Longarm began to grope around in the coach for anyone who moved. One delirious passenger screamed and clawed at Longarm's face, but he easily subdued the frightened woman.
"Calm down, ma'am. It's all right!" he yelled. "We're getting you out of here!"
She gradually came to understand. Moments later, the woman was eased out into the storm and Longarm was moving on to another victim. And so it went until time lost all meaning. Longarm did not know how many people he roused and helped guide out of the coach, but it had to be several dozen.
The dead bodies he found were so stiff Longarm reckoned that they were already beginning to freeze solid. He had to work in darkness, so there was no way of recognizing faces. All that Longarm knew for sure was that, every time he guided a survivor back to Martha Noble or one of the others, he was definitely saving a life.
Exhausted, frozen, and working in total darkness, Longarm stayed until he was absolutely certain that there were no other survivors. The last few people that he helped to remove were undoubtedly in critical shape and barely able to respond to his urgings. Not once did Longarm touch a person or a body that wore handcuffs and manacles. Eli Wheat was gone. Longarm couldn't explain how or where the killer could have gone to, but there was little doubt that the man had somehow escaped.
"What about the other coaches?" Martha asked after they had finally returned to warmth and shelter two coaches forward.