Novel 1978 - The Proving Trail (v5.0) Read Free Page B

surely didn’t take my meaning, and it didn’t look like he knew what could happen up this high. Down yonder at town it was warm in the daytime, the flowers were out, and the trees budded. I mean, it was sure enough springtime down yonder, but that didn’t hold up here in these hills.
    “Make some coffee,” he said to one of the others. He looked down at me. “Where’s the coffee?”
    “I taken it all down when I quit,” I said. “Wasn’t much left, anyway.”
    “I got some,” this gent said, and he opened the door to go out. A gust of wind and snow come in the door.
    “Would you look at that,” Blazer said. “Snow!”
    I was beginning to really hurt. Felt like I’d got myself a busted rib. I tried to sit up, but it hurt so I lay back down. My head was beginning to clear up, but my face was sore and my head ached. And now I was gettin’ mad. I was feelin’ almighty mean toward those men. I tried again to sit up, and Wacker, he just reached out and kicked me in the face. Lucky I jerked back and he missed my chin, but the rough sole of his boot taken the hide off my cheek.
    “You set still, boy. You tell us an’ we’ll leave you be. You don’t tell us an’ we just keep on beatin’. It’s gonna be a long night for you.”
    “The longest,” I muttered through split lips. “Maybe your longest.”
    The man at the fire turned halfway around and looked at me. “What’s that mean?”
    “Listen to the wind,” I said.
    Blazer glanced at me. “Wind? What about it?”
    “Snow,” I said, “lots of snow. I’ve seen it when these late snows come so’s a man couldn’t get out for six, eight weeks. I hope you boys brought plenty of grub or fat horses. You’ll need it.”
    The man at the fire looked at Blazer. “Is that right?”
    “He’s lyin’. This is springtime.” Nevertheless he looked uneasy. “This is April.”
    “I seen it so’s you couldn’t get in or out before June,” I said. “You boys say good-bye to your womenfolks?”
    He backhanded me across the mouth. “Shut your trap!” he said.
    After a minute I said, “Man a few years ago started across the mountains with some trappers. Come spring he showed up in mighty good shape. They backtracked him and found he’d killed an’ eaten all the others. They call that place Cannibal Plateau now.”
    The coffee was ready. “Heard about that,” Wacker said. “It sure enough happened.”
    “Lucky you boys have Blazer,” I said. “He’s good an’ fat. He’ll—”
    He kicked me. Then he got up on his feet and stomped on my fingers. He kicked me again in the belly, and I felt a stab of pain. He jerked me up by the shirtfront and punched me in the wind again. “Where’s that money?” he said.
    “Stole,” I muttered. “That money was stole. An’ it must’ve been you who murdered pa.”
    He dropped me like I was too hot to hold. Then he stepped back and kicked me in the ribs. I was turned half over, and he kicked me in the kidneys three, four times. I didn’t say anything.
    My face was against the floor, and the cold was coming up through the cracks, but all I could feel was pain. I hurt like I’d never hurt before.
    “I better put the horses up,” one of those men said. “That’s a cold-sounding wind.”
    “Get at it, then,” Blazer said irritably. “Come morning we’ll pull out.”
    I laughed. I didn’t feel much like laughing, but I done it.
    He went out and I lay there. They had two cups and they taken turns at the coffee. All of a sudden the door slammed open with a blast of cold air, and amid considerable cussing they got the door closed.
    “I got the horses in,” the man said. He was a sour-faced man with a scar on his jaw. “Judge? He may be tellin’ the truth. He don’t have no horse.”
    “They taken my horse, too,” I said.
    “Hell, he’s a-lyin’,” Wacker said irritably. “Come morning we’ll find the horse and the money, too.”
    “By morning,” I fumbled at the words with swollen, bloody