Blood on the snow tells a story most men ignore.
When Gideon Hayes tracked a wounded elk through the jagged peaks of the San Juan Mountains in the bitter winter of 1883 he expected to find a carcass.
Instead he found a footprint a small delicate boot heel.
Someone was surviving the impossible.
Winter in the Colorado territory did not forgive.
It was a brutal howling force that swallowed men whole burying their ambitions under 10 feet of powder.
Gideon Hayes knew this better than anyone.
At 42 he was a man carved from the very granite of the Rockies with a beard thick as a bear’s pelt and eyes the color of a bruised winter sky.
He had retreated to these high altitudes a decade prior leaving behind the bloody memories of the war and the bustling deceitful streets of Denver.
Up here a man’s survival depended entirely on his own two hands.
It was late November when the unnatural scent of green wood smoke drifted across the ridge.
Gideon tightened his grip on his Winchester rifle his breath pluming in the freezing air.
The smoke was rising from the old Cochran claim a dilapidated prospector’s cabin tucked into the crook of a narrow ravine.
Moving with the silent deliberate grace of a predator Gideon navigated the treacherous slope.
What he saw when he parted the heavy boughs of the blue spruce made his calloused hands freeze.
A woman.
She was violently swinging a rusted half-broken axe at a frozen stump.
She wore a man’s heavy wool coat that swallowed her small frame.
Her hands were wrapped in torn strips of burlap and even from 40 yards away Gideon could see the violent shivering racking her body.
She was starving exhausted and wholly out of her depth.
Gideon observed her for a long hour.
But as she dropped the axe and collapsed to her knees in the snow weeping silently into her burlap-wrapped hands a ghost of a conscience stirred within his cheSt. He stepped out from the tree line.
The crunch of his boots on the crusty snow was deafening in the quiet valley.
The woman’s head snapped up.
In a flash of panic desperation she scrambled backward her hands digging frantically into the oversized pockets of her coat.
By the time Gideon took his third step she had produced a heavy rusted Colt Paterson revolver.
She gripped it with both hands the barrel trembling wildly as she aimed it at his cheSt. Stay exactly where you are she screamed her voice hoarse and raw.
I swear to God I will put a hole right through you.
Gideon stopped.
He did not raise his rifle but he did not lower it either.
That hammer is rusted shut ma’am Gideon said his voice a low gravelly rumble that had not been used for conversation in months.
Even if it was not your hands are shaking too hard to hit a barn from the inside.
Who sent you she demanded.
Was it Josiah.
Tell him I will die before I go back.
Nobody sent me Gideon replied.
I live up the ridge.
Saw your smoke.
He slowly unslung a brace of freshly trapped snowshoe hares from his shoulder and tossed them into the snow halfway between them.
You are burning green wood.
It will choke you in your sleep and draw every hungry wolf within 10 miles.
I will leave some dry kindling on the stump.
He did not wait for her permission.
Keeping his eyes on her he backed up to the tree line chopped a deadfall branch into neat dry logs and stacked them on the stump.
Do not come back she yelled though the gun barrel finally dipped a fraction of an inch.
If I do not you will be dead by Tuesday Gideon replied flatly.
Over the next two weeks a strange silent routine formed.
Every morning Abigail would open her door to find provisions left on the stump.
A flank of venison wrapped in clean cloth a pouch of salt a box of dry matches a heavy wool blanket.
In return she began leaving small tokens on the stump a polished river stone a perfectly preserved blue jay feather.
The great storm of 83 hit the San Juans with the fury of a vengeful god.
For three days and three nights the wind screamed through the canyons driving a blinding wall of white powder.
On the morning of the fourth day Gideon strapped on his bear paw snowshoes and began the treacherous descent.
When he reached the crook of the ravine his worst fears were realized.
The Cochran cabin was gone.
In its place was a massive smooth mound of snow.
He threw off his heavy robe and began digging frantically with his hands and a wooden snow shovel.
Hey he roared over the wind.
He hit splintered wood.
Ripping away the rotting cedar shakes he broke through into the dark freezing interior.
He found her wedged in the small triangle of space beneath the collapsed dining table.
She was unconscious her lips blue her skin icy to the touch.
Gideon did not hesitate.
He wrapped her entirely in his buffalo robe hoisted her over his broad shoulder and began the brutal agonizing climb back up the mountain.
By the time he kicked his own door open his vision was tunneling his muscles screaming in agony.
He laid her out on his thick bearskin rug by the roaring fire.
He worked methodically peeling away her frozen wet clothes replacing them with his own dry flannels and wrapping her in thick wool blankets.
He heated stones in the fire and placed them at her feet and beneath her arms trying to force the warmth back into her core.
For two days she hovered between life and death.
The mountain fever took hold and she thrashed wildly in delirium.
Josiah do not she whimpered one night her eyes wide and unseeing.
The ledger.
I saw the ledger.
It was not a train wreck.
You killed them.
Pinkertons will not stop.
Eighty thousand dollars blood money.
I will not let you.
On the third morning the fever finally broke.
Gideon was boiling a pot of black coffee when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him.
He turned to see her sitting up clutching the blankets to her chest her eyes darting around the unfamiliar heavily fortified cabin.
You are in my home Gideon said gently keeping his distance.
Your roof collapsed in the storm.
You have been out for three days.
She stared at him the memory of the freezing darkness slowly washing over her face.
You saved my life she whispered.
Was it much of a life you were living down there Gideon said pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it to her.
My name is Gideon Hayes.
Abigail.
Abigail Trenton.
Well Mrs. Trenton Gideon said pulling up a wooden chair and leaning forward.
You talked quite a bit when you had a fever.
You talked about a man named Josiah.
You talked about a train wreck eighty thousand dollars and a ledger.
Abigail’s eyes widened in sheer terror.
I am not going to hurt you Gideon said his voice dropping an octave carrying an undeniable weight of authority.
But if trouble is coming up my mountain I need to know what kind.
You said Josiah sent men.
Who is he.
Josiah is my husband she answered.
He is the chief enforcer for the Western Pacific Railroad.
Six months ago a payroll train derailed near Durango.
Ten men died.
Everyone thought it was an accident but I found his ledger.
He engineered the crash to steal the payroll.
He did not know I saw it.
She reached over to her wet ruined coat hanging by the fire.
With trembling fingers she ripped open the heavy wool lining and pulled out a small black leather-bound book.
This is the proof.
If this gets to the federal marshals in Denver he hangs.
He put a bounty on my head.
He told his men I stole the money.
He sent two of his worst killers Caleb and Dutch to track me.
They will not stop until I am dead and this ledger is burned.
Before he could answer a sound cut through the crisp morning air outside.
It was the sharp unmistakable snap of a dry branch breaking under a horse’s hoof.
Gideon stood up instantly moving to the window.
Stay low and away from the windows he commanded his voice devoid of panic but laced with a lethal calmness.
He shoved a heavy oak table against the heavy oak door.
He pulled a beautifully maintained Colt Single Action Army from his holster and placed it in her trembling hands.
This one is not rusted.
Pull the hammer back pointed at the door.
If a man steps through that is not me you pull the trigger and you do not stop until it clicks empty.
Understand.
I brought death to your door Mr. Hayes.
I am so sorry.
Death has been knocking on my door since Gettysburg Mrs. Trenton.
I just usually do not invite him inside.
Two men on horseback were struggling through the chest-high drifts.
Ho the cabin a voice boomed.
We know you got the woman in there mountain man.
Hand her over and we ride away.
We only want the thief.
Gideon did not bother shouting back.
Instead he raised the Winchester and fired a warning shot that took the hat clean off Caleb’s head.
The response was instantaneous.
Bullets tore through the thick timber of Gideon’s cabin shattering the frost-covered glass.
Gideon kicked the heavy oak door open just enough to step out into the freezing storm.
He moved like a ghost through the snow using the dense cover of the blue spruce trees.
Dutch had foolishly broken cover.
Gideon leveled the Winchester and fired twice.
Dutch dropped the revolver clutching his shoulder and crumpled into the snow.
Suddenly a searing heat ripped through Gideon’s left side.
Caleb had circled higher up the ridge.
Gideon pitched forward into the snow biting back a groan of agony.
Gideon Abigail screamed from inside the cabin.
Stay inside Gideon roared back.
Caleb was advancing down the ridge racking the lever of his carbine for a finishing shot.
A deafening explosion roared from the doorway of the cabin.
Abigail stood there the heavy Colt bucking violently in her hands.
The shot struck the bark of a pine tree mere inches from Caleb’s face showering him with razor-sharp wooden shrapnel.
Caleb staggered backward clutching his bleeding face and tumbled down into the ravine.
Gideon stumbled back into the cabin collapsing onto the heavy wooden chair by the fire.
You are shot Abigail gasped.
Through and through.
Missed the lung Gideon gritted out.
Get my kit.
Black leather bag under the bed.
Boil some water.
For the next hour the roles were reversed.
Abigail cleaned the wound with whiskey her hand steadying as the gravity of the situation anchored her.
She stitched the torn flesh with needle and thread.
You did not have to step out there Abigail whispered as she finished wrapping his torso in clean white bandages.
You could have handed me over.
A man is only as good as the lines he refuses to cross Abigail.
Sending a woman back to a butcher is a line I will not cross.
Caleb is not dead Gideon said quietly.
He will regroup.
He will go down to Telluride wire Josiah and come back with ten men instead of one.
We can not stay here.
Two days later the blizzard broke.
Gideon heavily bandaged and riding through a haze of pain saddled his two sturdy mountain mules.
They packed light ammunition dried meat and the ledger wrapped in oilcloth.
The descent was a grueling agonizing test of endurance.
It took them seven days to reach the lowlands.
As they approached the outskirts of the railyard the trap sprang.
Three men stepped out from behind the stack of timber.
In the center stood Josiah impeccably dressed in a tailored wool suit.
Abigail my dear Josiah called his voice smooth and terribly calm.
You have caused the company a great deal of expense.
You are a long way from a boardroom Trenton Gideon replied.
Hand over the ledger.
I will let you ride back up to your snowbank.
The woman comes with me.
I would rather burn in hell Josiah Abigail shouted her voice trembling but unbroken.
Kill the mountain man.
Take my wife alive.
Chaos erupted.
Gunfire echoed through the railyard.
Gideon threw himself off his mule pulling Abigail down behind a stack of steel rails.
Suddenly a heavy thud echoed above them.
Caleb had climbed atop the railcar behind them aiming his rifle squarely at Gideon’s back.
Say good night mountain man Caleb sneered.
A single shot rang out.
It was not Gideon’s gun and it was not Caleb’s rifle.
Caleb’s eyes went wide as he pitched forward falling off the railcar.
Abigail was holding a small silver derringer she had hidden in her boot smoke curling from the barrel.
With Caleb down the odds shifted.
Josiah panicked and sprinted toward a waiting carriage.
A squad of heavily armed men on horseback flooded into the loading area wearing the silver stars of the federal government.
Throw down your weapons by order of Marshal David Cook.
Gideon weakly reached into his coat and pulled out the black ledger holding it up toward the marshal.
I believe you will find the devil’s bookkeeping in here David.
Gideon never returned to the lonely cabin in the San Juans.
With Josiah hanged for the payroll massacre the bounty was lifted.
Gideon and Abigail used the railroad reward money to purchase a sprawling horse ranch in the golden valleys of the Front Range.
The mountain man traded his isolation for a fierce enduring love proving that even the coldest winters eventually yield to the warmth of spring.
