Read Online Blizzard: Colorado, 1886 by Kathleen Duey and Karen A. Bale - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen Duey and Karen A. Bale
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shoulders. It took her several tries, but she managed to get him onto the blankets. His scarf had come undone and Maggie rewrapped it, covering his head and neck. She chafed his cheeks and slapped him gently, but he did not respond.
Maggie pulled off Hadynâs boots and rubbed his feet, hard. Once the skin looked pink again, shetucked the blanket around his legs and went to work on his hands. He took in a deep shuddering breath and she paused, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he didnât.
âCome on, Hadyn,â Maggie whispered. âCome on. You have to be all right.â
Maggie rocked back on her heels, reaching to pull the blankets up to Hadynâs chin. Working desperately, she rubbed his shoulders and chest through the quilts, then scooted around to work on his feet again. Switching back and forth, she kept trying to warm Hadyn, to rouse him. Twice she sipped a little of her sweet coffee, but she was conscious now that she should save most of it for Hadyn.
The roar of the wind had been so constant Maggie had stopped noticing it. Now it dropped a little and she looked up, startled. The sky was darkening. It was hard to tell through the thick clouds, but it looked like there was only an hour or so of daylight left.
âOh, please God,â Maggie whispered.
She stood up slowly, cautiously. The wind was still strong, but nothing like it had been. She glanced upward again. As cold as it was now, it would be much worse before morning. They had to have a fire.
Maggie tucked the bedroll closely around Hadyn, then rummaged through her knapsack. The matches were safe in their waxed container and she set them carefully on the ground. She pulled out the flour sack that held the biscuits and venison. The smell of the meat made her mouth water, but she forced herself to put it down beside the matches. Hurrying, Maggie reached into the bottom of her knapsack and took out the two heavy cotton shirts and her spare pair of trousers.
Deciding quickly, Maggie kept out the two shirts and repacked everything else. She checked Hadyn once more, then stood up again. The wind caught at her coat and made her shudder as she clamped her arms against her sides, flattening the cloth close to her body.
As Maggie made her way down the fissure through the maze of low ledges, she stopped twice to build little cairns of stones to mark her way. Looking over the top, she spotted a clump of krummholz trees, the windward side brown and dead. She followed the last ledge and stepped cautiously into the open. The wind was still strong, but she kept her feet easily.
Going as fast as she could, Maggie doubled back,crossing the open ground, following the lowest rock ledge. She found the krummholz easily, but she hadnât seen the sharp incline above it.
She slewed sideways, digging her heels into the frozen soil, and sledded downward. Shielding her face with her arms, she skidded into the sharp-needled boughs and sprawled to a stop. As she sat up, Maggie noticed that the air was still. A boulder as big as the cabin she lived in sheltered the stunted pine thicket on one side, and drifted snow stopped the wind from the other.
Standing up, Maggie pulled her gloves off. She laid the two shirts out on the ground side by side. She took one blue sleeve and one red and tied them together. Then she stepped around the shirts and made her way beneath the dead, brown-needled part of the krummholz closest to the boulder.
Once she had crawled through the lowest of the branches, Maggie found she could stand up. The old twisted limbs had rooted wherever they touched the earth and formed a rounded canopy that made the krummholz look less like a tree and more like a lopsided thicket. Snow had nearly buried the downhill side, the drift forming a wall that had held againstthe worst winter winds. The lowest layer of snow was dirty grayâit had probably been there for several years.
Maggie set to work, half stooped as she made her way to the
Maggie pulled off Hadynâs boots and rubbed his feet, hard. Once the skin looked pink again, shetucked the blanket around his legs and went to work on his hands. He took in a deep shuddering breath and she paused, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he didnât.
âCome on, Hadyn,â Maggie whispered. âCome on. You have to be all right.â
Maggie rocked back on her heels, reaching to pull the blankets up to Hadynâs chin. Working desperately, she rubbed his shoulders and chest through the quilts, then scooted around to work on his feet again. Switching back and forth, she kept trying to warm Hadyn, to rouse him. Twice she sipped a little of her sweet coffee, but she was conscious now that she should save most of it for Hadyn.
The roar of the wind had been so constant Maggie had stopped noticing it. Now it dropped a little and she looked up, startled. The sky was darkening. It was hard to tell through the thick clouds, but it looked like there was only an hour or so of daylight left.
âOh, please God,â Maggie whispered.
She stood up slowly, cautiously. The wind was still strong, but nothing like it had been. She glanced upward again. As cold as it was now, it would be much worse before morning. They had to have a fire.
Maggie tucked the bedroll closely around Hadyn, then rummaged through her knapsack. The matches were safe in their waxed container and she set them carefully on the ground. She pulled out the flour sack that held the biscuits and venison. The smell of the meat made her mouth water, but she forced herself to put it down beside the matches. Hurrying, Maggie reached into the bottom of her knapsack and took out the two heavy cotton shirts and her spare pair of trousers.
Deciding quickly, Maggie kept out the two shirts and repacked everything else. She checked Hadyn once more, then stood up again. The wind caught at her coat and made her shudder as she clamped her arms against her sides, flattening the cloth close to her body.
As Maggie made her way down the fissure through the maze of low ledges, she stopped twice to build little cairns of stones to mark her way. Looking over the top, she spotted a clump of krummholz trees, the windward side brown and dead. She followed the last ledge and stepped cautiously into the open. The wind was still strong, but she kept her feet easily.
Going as fast as she could, Maggie doubled back,crossing the open ground, following the lowest rock ledge. She found the krummholz easily, but she hadnât seen the sharp incline above it.
She slewed sideways, digging her heels into the frozen soil, and sledded downward. Shielding her face with her arms, she skidded into the sharp-needled boughs and sprawled to a stop. As she sat up, Maggie noticed that the air was still. A boulder as big as the cabin she lived in sheltered the stunted pine thicket on one side, and drifted snow stopped the wind from the other.
Standing up, Maggie pulled her gloves off. She laid the two shirts out on the ground side by side. She took one blue sleeve and one red and tied them together. Then she stepped around the shirts and made her way beneath the dead, brown-needled part of the krummholz closest to the boulder.
Once she had crawled through the lowest of the branches, Maggie found she could stand up. The old twisted limbs had rooted wherever they touched the earth and formed a rounded canopy that made the krummholz look less like a tree and more like a lopsided thicket. Snow had nearly buried the downhill side, the drift forming a wall that had held againstthe worst winter winds. The lowest layer of snow was dirty grayâit had probably been there for several years.
Maggie set to work, half stooped as she made her way to the
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