Prairie Rose and the Outlaws 

Sara Lynn gathered the picnic things and tracked the advancing storm while he tightened the cinches and bridled their horses. Any time a horse had to stand, where it could graze, CR slipped its bit or removed its bridle. Pa had done that, too. CR tied Diablo's saddlebags in place and she handed him the mare's pack, then the basket to tie on top of it.

"Looks like a snowstorm," she said. "Seems to be coming fast." A white curtain billowed across the meadow, right at them.

"In Arizona I've seen mountain thunderstorms come up pretty quick and that looks like one, only colder," CR said. "It's scary."

As they mounted, swirling snowflakes settled like a blanket. But soft as its approach, this blanket had no warmth. It could smother, or freeze. It was beautiful. It was frightening, too. "We've had snow at the station all three winters." Sara Lynn shivered. "But I've never seen anything come up this fast. I don't like it; this is scary."

The snow got thicker and the air colder. CR picked a route that would drop them to lower elevations quickly, just as he'd made the horses climb fast coming out. She knew he'd ridden these mountains enough to know the general run of the hills, and was glad he could lead. But he didn't risk leaving the well-marked trails--while they could see them. Fast as they moved, the storm moved faster. It wasn't long before they were surrounded by that thick white snow, so they couldn't see far ahead. They felt the chill. The light coats they'd worn when they started weren't enough. When the wind got blustery, it was really cold.

CR headed into the shelter of some rocks. "Git off," he yelled.

"We can't wait it out here, we'll freeze." Still, she didn't argue with him. He seemed to know what he was doing.

"We couldn't," he agreed. "I'm gonna remove the saddle blankets and re-saddle. Being without the blankets a while won't hurt the horses and they'll make a big difference to us." He pulled off Diablo's saddle first, then the mare's.

Wind can spook horses, so Sara Lynn gathered both sets of reins. "I'll hold their heads while you make the switch," she said.

"Both saddles are good underneath," he said. "I'd ride bareback before I'd risk an angry horse, dancing under an uncomfortable saddle."

When Sara Lynn remounted, he tucked one blanket around her, then got on Diablo. The blanket smelled like a sweaty horse, but it was warm. The stallion stood through itl, but when CR hit the saddle, he stepped out. CR pulled his blanket around him and looked at her. "Warmer?"

She nodded.

"Scared?"

She nodded again. "A little, but you'll get us back."

He shook his head. "Wish I had as much faith in me as you do."

The wind whipped the white blanket into small drifts as they came down the grade. On the level, snow wasn't deep yet, but she was glad CR was on that stallion. The storm didn't panic Diablo and he was strong; his legs sprayed snow as he trotted through the rapidly forming drifts. The drifts got deeper and more frequent and soon crashing through them was work even for him.

Diablo slowed to a walk. The mare dropped in behind, willing to follow. They stayed close, because she could hardly see Diablo through the swirling snow. CR dropped back and passed his rope to her. She tied it to her saddle horn. By now, CR had no doubts about her ability to stay in the saddle. She nodded when she'd tested the knot. Now, no matter what, they wouldn't get separated.

The cold, driving snow seemed to go on forever. The world was bitter cold and thick white. She wanted nothing more than to get to the way station, sit in front of a fire, and wrap herself around a cup of hot coffee, or two. They recognized the stage road, when they reached it, but she didn't know where, except it had to be above the station.

Diablo took two steps along it and stopped. CR kicked him, but he wouldn't go on. The stallion swung his head to the left, despite CR's tugging to the right. They were nearly down the grade, but the storm hadn't let up. Shelter maybe? Sometimes horses remembered things like a barn or cave, she'd heard Pa say.

Diablo trumpeted, and another horse answered. CR stopped fighting him. "All right, you big devil horse, you know something I don't. Let's go see." CR glanced at Sara Lynn. Without argument, she turned her mare toward the answering horse and fell in beside CR.

Minutes later they rode up to a scene to make a person's blood run cold anytime; in a storm like this, it was terrifying. Diablo had led them to a wrecked coach. The horses were out of sight, but from the tilt of the coach, the left rear stage wheel was off or broken. When they got closer, the glow of a fire penetrated the gloom of swirling snow and driving wind. The tilted stage and a sheer rock face sheltered the fire from the worst of the wind. Around the fire huddled several people, two down on blankets, others on seats from the coach or on rocks or logs.

Smokey Gunn was tending the blaze and as they rode up. Jay Bradley and a boy about twelve carried in wood from a grove of trees just down slope. Mr. Gunn saw their forms. "Who in tarnation? Chuck? Thet you? Thank the Lord!" He saw Sara Lynn. "Lordy, Miss Sara Lynn, you're out in this, too."

Mr. Bradley dropped his armload by the fire and came to meet them. "You part of a rescue party? We didn't expect one 'fore morning."

"Nope, wayfarers like yourselves. We picked today for a picnic." Stiff from the cold, CR dismounted and tied Diablo's reins to the stage, then turned to help her. Tying him must have been habit. Diablo had led them to this group in trouble, he wouldn't leave.

Sara Lynn was already off when CR reached for her. Hadn't he learned yet? But it was sweet. She tied the mare beside Diablo and headed to see about those beside the fire.

The two older men met CR; it was funny, but it told her even more about her knight--her friend. A rugged mountain man and a wise old stage driver, yet they turned to CR to get them out of this. And he would––well, she and he would.

"We was debating if one of us should try to go to the station fer he'p," the old driver said. He gestured at the group. "Stage skidded an' wrecked on the ice. We got hurted people here."

"Seemed we was between a rock and a hard place," Mr. Bradley said. Like most mountain men, Jay lived off by himself generally. Just came down for a job and a bit of cash when things got tight. "I know the mountains best, and I'm tough. Thet's a good reason fer me to go and a dang good reason fer me to be the one to stay and take keer of things here."

"What's the problem? Wheel broke or just come off?" CR followed Sara Lynn to the fire. It was hot and they were cold; it's warmth felt wonderful.

"Busted," Mr. Bradley said. "We'd of cut a pry pole and got her up enough to slip her back on if she wasn't busted. We cain't move the stage. Someone's gotta go fer help."

Sara Lynn touched CR's arm and told him what she'd found. "There's a man with a broken leg, besides scrapes an' bruises. A woman has some broken ribs and a twisted shoulder. They need shelter and care. We gotta get to the station."

"Right," Mr. Gunn agreed. "'Nother man's got a bad twisted knee, but he's moving around some. I was fixing to take a horse out of harness an' try for the stage station. Not thet I know which way in this storm."

"You can go, Chuck." The mountain man nodded at the stallion, "thet's Diablo the Ontameable. He'll stroll through this storm."

"Maybe," CR said. "Maybe we'll all go in."

The men stared at him. Not even Diablo, big as he was, could drag in a stage with a broken wheel. What miracle did her knight have in mind, now? Mr. Bradley had been feeding the fire with a freshly cut chunk of wood. He glanced at Sara Lynn; they both shrugged and stared at CR. "What you got up yore sleeve, Williams?" He always called CR either that or Chuck.

"You got an axe, haven't you?" CR asked instead of answering.

"Never hit the road without one, that an' a shovel. We got wood enough. What're you up to?"

"Make a skid. Oak's best. Birch will do."

"A skid." Mr. Bradley glanced at the stage. "By damn, I din't think of it."

Mr. Gunn asked, "How you figger to do 'er, boys?" Just like that and the thing was under way; neither older man hesitated at CR's suggestion. Sara Lynn knew it would work, too.

"We'll cut one long enough to run under the rear axle, and lash it to the stage frame by the front wheel. Should keep her just about level."

CR paced off where it would run, out behind the coach far enough to keep it level. He'd do it, too--he'd make it work and take the stage in.

Sara Lynn knew how to keep it warm. She caught the boy who'd been helping Jay Bradley. "Want to help me do something so the stage will be warmer going on in?"

"Sure, Ma'am. What?"

"Collect rocks, scuff around and dig out some the size of a man's foot to the size of a baby's head. We'll roll them into the edge of the fire."

"I make it sixteen paces, Jay," CR called to Mr. Bradley.

The mountain man had squatted to sight along where it should run as CR paced it out. "I'd say so. No oak around. Saw some birch. That should take us in all right."

While CR soaked up some heat, Mr. Bradley took the axe and started cutting. A few minutes later, when CR took Diablo out to tow it back, Mr. Bradley went to work on a second pole. Then both men hustled back to the fire to warm up. Next, they rolled a big rock behind the rear axle and used the second pole as a lever to lift the coach. Mr. Gunn braced and lashed the skid in place. The coach settled a bit when the lever was removed.

The men hustled back to the roaring fire again. "Man, it's cold!" CR said, his hands spread to the warmth.

That was why Sara Lynn had kept the fire roaring, around collecting a couple dozen big rocks. She was only away from the fire moments at a time, but each time she was about frozen. She imagined what the men must feel from working out there in that snow and driving wind.

"Now to load 'er and git." Mr. Bradley squatted beside CR. Among the burning ends of logs they saw her rocks. Jay Bradley pointed and he and CR exchanged glances. Both shook their heads.

"Give them another five minutes while you warm yourselves, then load them into the floor of the stage," Sara Lynn said.

"Load rocks? They're heavy," CR said.

"Hot rocks!" Smokey Gunn got it. "Keep the chill off the inside."

"Well, I've got my shovel, to load 'em with." Mr. Bradley chuckled. "Should've thought of thet. Reckon we can throw some in 'thout overloading her. Maybe some now, and change them for fresh hot ones 'fore we leave."

"The hard part--the cold part--is going to be sitting up there in the blowing snow to drive," CR peered at the roaring storm and shivered.

"Got me a buffaler robe to wrap up in," Smokey Gunn said.

"We'll change off," Mr. Bradley said. "Neither of us needs to be out in this too long. Problem is, watching where we go in this. Be easy to git lost."

"I'll ride out front," CR said. "Diablo knows the way. Sara Lynn, I'll tie your mare behind."

"You sure you don't need me out in front, too? We could make sure the other didn't fall off. After all, I'm your date for this picnic." She was hugging herself from the cold, but she'd ridden out beside him and she'd ride home beside him. The look he gave her, and his smile made her feel ten feet tall.

"If I'd had any doubts about your courage, they're gone now. Anyone who can banter while we fight death from the cold has got what it takes. But I want you inside."

"Girl, you got more guts most men I've ever met," the mountain man said. Smokey Gunn nodded agreement. Sara Lynn didn't feel so cold anymore.

CR added. "Except maybe one man I met. He was a red-head, too. Doc Sean told Rosie and me how to sew him up after a drunk cowboy wounded him, before Doc took his gun away."

"Doc Sean?" Sara Lynn remembered the letter about him. He was a man who wasn't afraid to tell a woman he loved her, no matter what her past.

"Whoever's on the box will be able to see me," CR got back to business. "I'll run my rope back like Sara Lynn and me were doing to keep us together. He'll see if I fall or get hurt. You ride inside. Please. So I don't worry about you."

"Well, all right," she agreed. "I can tend to the injured."

Several lives now depended on a stallion with a bad reputation. It might have been a gamble, but CR didn't look worried, and Sara Lynn realized she wasn't either. She expected the stage horses would follow Diablo--she expected the big stallion would order them to! If anything could beat this storm, Diablo with her knight on him were the team that could do it.

Mr. Bradley and Smokey Gunn shoveled half of those heated rocks onto the floor of the stage. Minutes later, they tossed them out and put in more hot ones, then people got aboard. CR carried Bob Halstead, the man with the broken leg, and propped him on pine bows he hung between the seats. It made things kind of crowded for the others.

"So we'll sit close," Sara Lynn said. "We'll be snuggy-warmer."

While they got settled, CR took his rope and ran it from Diablo to the end of the tongue. A wrap and a knot there, and the rest of the rope to the box for Mr. Gunn. "Just in case," CR said.

She hugged him and kissed his cheek. After all people were watching and they weren't engaged. "You be careful. As exciting as it's been, one picnic is not enough."

"You're something special, too. Anyway, Diablo will take us in," he said.

She believed hm. "Diablo and the man who rides him," she said and he gave her an extra warm squeeze; she felt warm all the way back to the coach.

Inside the coach, she helped people get settled. They were in a raging blizzard and the coach was damaged. Would a skid take them home? It looked solid to her, but what did she know? She put her faith in the man who directed things: He could make it happen.

"Okay, you big Devil-horse," CR told Diablo when he swung into the saddle. "You make a lot of noise, now let's see how good you can deliver.  You're carrying some people I want to see get out of this storm alive." The big horse understood CR, he'd have sworn. Diablo waited until CR settled himself, then stepped out, leading the stage horses.

"You old faker. You like the attention."

When CR mounted, he'd lost his sense of direction, between the storm and the moving around. Panic. He tucked his hands into his armpits for warmth and lowered his head. Where had the wind been hitting his face just before they turned toward the wreck? Just off his left ear? Had it changed while he was on the ground? He didn't think so. Anyway it was their best bet. When Diablo accepted the direction CR pointed him, he felt better.

It was cold. Bone chilling cold. CR didn't think he'd ever known such cold. He lowered his head, taking the icy wind and stinging snow on his hat and the side of his face; his face was numb in a minute. Soon he couldn’’t feel anything; even his feet felt frozen. Before they'd found the wrecked stage, he'd thought the storm was fierce. As they continued, it grew colder and worse––snow thicker and winds stronger--if that was possible. Would this frozen world ever end?

Something changed. Had the wind dropped? Was the snow falling less thickly? He peered up and out through the storm. Impossible to be sure, but he thought it was lighter. He squinted and tried to peer ahead, to find anything he might recognize. Diablo pulled toward the left, right into the wind. Without hesitation, CR let him have his head. In moments they were beside a stand of willows. The wind lessened. Diablo stopped and they caught their breath. The stage horses stood, their heads hanging, beaten.

The only stand of willows CR could remember was a half mile southwest of the stage station--if they weren't completely lost. Anyway, he welcomed the chance to catch his breath. All he could see were the first two of the six horse team. The rest was lost in a world of swirling, driving white.

"Where are we?" Smokey came up, hanging onto the rope. He'd been inside, Jay on the box when they started. "I figger to change drivers, if'n this ain't fur as we're going."

"The stage station should be about over there." CR pointed. "Just catching our breath."

"Hope it ain't much farther. Getting cold inside real fast. If this goes much longer, some people ain't gonna make it." Smokey's face looked frosty; CR thought the gray was exhaustion as much as the cold. Tough as he was, the old driver was about done.

"We'll make it," CR said. Not enough fuel for another fire, if anyone had the strength left to build one. He'd gambled everything on being able to make it in. Now it was up to him––him and a big horse named after the devil. "We'll go on in when you're settled."

CR watched Smokey reel back to the box, hanging onto the rope. Jay's form moved, but he didn't climb down. Smokey stood a moment, then disappeared back. The door opened. Jay had seen what CR saw, and sent the older man to what shelter he could get inside. Moments later Diablo moved out. The stage horses hesitated, but he trumpeted, and leaned into that rope. CR felt it bite into his leg and turned sideways to the coach. The rope felt as tight as a violin string.

It hung like that a moment, then the stage moved. The harnessed team leaned into it, and  lumbered along behind him. CR let his breath out. The team had been finished; Diablo's stubborn determination had moved the stage. CR peered into the swirling storm ahead, seeking another landmark. He saw a bright light. Was he dead?

No! It was the guide lights in the tower. Diablo changed course less than two degrees, leading the way straight toward the light. The stallion had known where the barn was, with its hay and grain, and been heading for it all along. When darkness fell, with a blizzard raging, and stages out, besides Sara Lynn and CR, Ted would have gone into the lookout tower and lit all four lamps. Behind each a large, polished reflector pierced the storm.

When they were a hundred yards out, CR fumbled out his carbine--his fingers so numb he had to look to be sure he held it. He fired three times.

Diablo walked to and through the barn doors as if he were a steam engine on a track; the stage horses followed him into it. The doors were open and two people held lanterns. More lights came toward them from the station. In the barn, CR pried himself out of the saddle, stood a moment, panting, hanging onto the saddle so he didn't fall over. Then he went back to help someone he didn't know shut the big doors against the wind. When he turned for Sara Lynn she was already out of the coach.

She patted Diablo on the nose. "You're a good boy, no matter what anyone says." He snorted and stamped his left front foot for her. A lefty. Sara Lynn gave CR a kiss before she ran inside. "I knew we'd make it. You and Diablo are a team that can't be beat."