Josh nodded and, tucking his hat into the front of his coat, ran for the bunkhouse. He fought the wind, quartering toward his objective as if swimming against a heavy current. The two punchers flipped a hand and followed their foreman.
When Kirby stepped into the force of the gale he knew panic as the icy wind took his breath, felt himself being lifted from the ground. He grabbed for the top fence rail and followed it as far as he could. Gathering all his strength, he dashed for the house. As he ran he remembered the stories, all too true, of men caught within a few feet of their doorsteps, unable to make safety. He hurtled into the side of the house with such force that he was knocked back. Edging along the wall, step by step, he made for the door. He felt panic again as he realized that he should have reached it. I've lost my sense of direction, he thought. Spread-eagled against the house, he retraced his steps and knew sick relief when he caught a glimmer of light from the kitchen door.
It took all his strength to hold the door as he opened it and attempted to slide through as small a crack as possible. Snow flurried into the room, and the cook range roared with the furious draft. Maria threw her vast bulk against the wood, and they got it closed.
"I was gettin' awful worried, boy," she told him anxiously. "If you hadn't come soon, Manuel was going to rope himself to the house and make a run for the bunkhouse to see if you were there. Is everyone in?"
"Reckon all the boys are in, Maria. What's for supper?" He sniffed the steamy fragrance in the big kitchen. "As if I cared, long as you cooked it." He caught her in a big hug just as Manuel came into the room.
"Caught, by golly," he groaned. "Go ahead and shoot, Manuel. I'll admit I was hugging your wife." He bowed his head. "I'll take it like a man."
The old man laughed. "Maria shows good taste, Kirby. First me, then you." They all laughed.
"Manuel, you're the weather oracle. How long is this going to last?"
The reply came grimly. "Only two-three times before have I seen such a blizzard so early. They lasted four days. Muddy lost many cows. This is going to be one bad winter."
"Well, let's die with full stomachs. Hope you have plenty chuck in the pantry, Maria. Hate to have to eat up everything tonight."
Her answer was lost in a blast of wind and snow from the door. They helped Josh free the rope from about his waist and shut the door. His face was red, and snow was frozen in his eyelashes, although the trip from the bunkhouse was but a few paces. With typical understatement he said, "This here's a real norther, and gettin' worse all the time. Wouldn't have tried to make it even with a rope and the boys on the other end, except I got news. One of the boys came in from town before the weather broke with some news I knew you'd want to hear."
Once again Kirby felt the chill fingers of premonition. "Bad news?" he asked.
Josh grimaced. "Reckon so. Bill has sold some more cows. Way I figure, he sold about two hundred head more than he should have left out of the split." He stopped as Kirby made an involuntary movement, then went on, "Our boy talked to the buyer. Said they was all recent re-branded. And they're long gone now, shipped out of Galeyville five days ago. Can't check on 'em now, not in this blizzard."
Kirby stared at Josh with unseeing eyes. "Don't guess it'll be necessary. Reckon we know all we need to know." He took a deep breath.
"Soon as the weather breaks, we ride to Lazy B."
"Yeah. Reckon we have to," growled Josh. He watched with real pain in his eyes as Kirby left the kitchen and walked slowly down the hall toward his room, supper forgotten.
CHAPTER FIVE
They did not make the ride to Lazy B. For the weather did not break. Or rather the break was of such short duration that it was not really a break at all. When the weak sunshine fell it was as if the yellow light was only offered briefly to light up the havoc wreaked upon the country by winter's first angry blasts. Then the dismally familiar gray clouds once again closed down and another blizzard howled across the range.
Every man on Wagon was needed to haul hay to the half-starved cattle. They could no longer paw through the snow to reach the grass beneath, because a few hours' thaw would melt the surface of the snow only to have it freeze into a hard crust by a drop in temperature. This, topped by additional snow, made it virtually impossible for even the wise range cattle to find the forage beneath; the few mouthfuls of dry grass required to sustain life.
Cattle in the breaks fared better than those caught in the open. All were gaunt and tired when and if they managed to drift to the feeding corrals. Josh ordered hay sledded out to the places where it was needed most. This measure saved many, but the draws and cutbacks held many bloated bodies, stiff legs pointing skyward.
Josh was even more anxious than Kirby about the safety of their brand. "This is the first time I can ever remember trying to make an estimate of winter kill before winter is really here," he told his boss. "We ain't nowhere near covered the range, but we've lost five percent of the critters near headquarters." Two additional blizzards followed swiftly on the snowy heels of the first, and it was more than a month before there was any real break.
In a way, Kirby was grateful for the weather. He worked, along with the other hands, from first light to pitch dark. There was so much to be done and so little time. The strange weather had made them afraid that the brief periods when the sun shone would not suffice for all the chores to be accomplished… afraid to get too far from headquarters for fear of being caught by another storm.
There was hay to be hauled, the horses to be cared for. Even the chore of breaking drinking holes in the Clear was a thing to be repeated as soon as the last hole was chopped. The supply of firewood for the cookshed, ranch and bunkhouse needed constant replenishing. Kirby practically lived in the kitchen with Maria and Manuel. This saved the fuel that would have been used to heat the rest of the house. He allowed Manuel to build a fire in his bedroom only late in the afternoon to drive out the damp, and he slept under a mountain of blankets topped by a buffalo robe, too tired to know when he was cold. Temperatures below zero were the rule… the exception came when the reading was above freezing.
Maria constantly doctored frostbite among the bunkhouse gang, and one puncher was hurriedly sledded in to Streeter after his horse fell and he walked five miles in a growing storm.
Kirby thus scarcely had time to think of the problems that would come with spring. Dog tired, his face blistered by cold, aching in every muscle, he would stuff down the hot food Maria always had ready, then fall into bed in a stupor until she roused him to begin another grueling day.
During one of the longer periods of good weather, the crew dared to ride far out on Wagon graze to drive in every animal they could find that hadn't already drifted back to the feeding corrals or had turned his back to the wind and let it carry him to far distant range. For the most part, then, rnuch of Wagon's great herd was fairly close to hay, for which Josh was grateful. "Sure hated to send riders twenty or thirty miles out," he said. "Even with line cabins to fall back on, they were taking a chance. Might not find 'em till spring… if ever."
Once the cows were within working distance, another problem arose: feed. Haystacks that had seemed so ample in the fall diminished alarmingly. Josh began to issue feed almost in starvation rations, and the sound of cattle bellowing in hunger irritated nerves already drawn thin by hard, cold, seemingly unrewarded work. When Kirby asked, Josh told him, "We'll have enough to last till spring provided we get a thaw so they can get at river bottom grass. Otherwise we'll have to haul it in… if we can buy it. But remember, there'll be others in the same fix. By spring there won't be a piece of hay on this entire range."