Powder Burns 2: The Thundering Hills

By Al Cody

Returning to his home town in Montana, Powder Burns was amazed to learn that the name of the old mining town had been changed from Horse's Neck to Rainbow, and that red-haired Judith Campbell, now the largest rancher in the county, had taken over.
Judith failed to recognize Powder at their first meeting, but learning who he was only one of the surprises in store for Queen Judith; for Powder owned mineral rights in most of the town, and Judith's plans to tear down the old shanties and replace them with modern brick buildings were to receive a setback ...
But only a temporary one, for Judith's chief adviser, the dignified Theophilus Gregory, was in the saddle, and strongly behind headstrong Judith in her determination to make over the town and its people - whether they wanted to be made over or not.
Even the arrival of Powder's gold-dredging equipment failed to stop Judith in her frantic rebuilding ... but Powder had spoken well when he warned that brick buildings were not for Horse's Neck and Rainbow, as well as the old town, was to face destruction before tempestuous Judith finally came to her senses ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piccadilly
• Release date: Feb 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005668938

Al Cody

Born in Great Falls, Montana, on July 25th 1899, “Al Cody” was a pseudonym of Archie Lynn Joscelyn. Joscelyn went on to become an enormously prolific and popular writer, especially in the western field, but also authoring a number of novels in the detective and romance genres along the way. In addition to the books he wrote under his own name and that of Cody, Archie Joscelyn also used the names A A Archer, Tex Holt, Evelyn McKenna and Lynn Westland.

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Returning to his home town in Montana, Powder Burns was amazed to learn that the name of the old mining town had been changed from Horse’s Neck to Rainbow—and that red-haired Judith Campbell, now the largest rancher in the county, had taken over. Judith failed to recognize Powder at their first meeting, but learning who he was only one of the surprises in store for Queen Judith—for Powder owned mineral rights in most of the town, and Judith’s plans to tear down the old shanties and replace them with modern brick buildings were to receive a setback ...

But only a temporary one—for Judith’s chief adviser, the dignified Theophilus Gregory, was in the saddle, and strongly behind headstrong Judith in her determination to make over the town and its people—whether they wanted to be made over or not.

Even the arrival of Powder’s gold-dredging equipment failed to stop Judith in her frantic rebuilding ... but Powder had spoken well when he warned that brick buildings were not for Horse’s Neck—and Rainbow, as well as the old town, was to face destruction before tempestuous Judith finally came to her senses ...

POWDER BURNS 2: THE THUNDERING HILLS

First Published by Frederick Muller in 1954

Copyright © 1953, 2021 by Archie Joscelyn

This electronic edition published March 2021

Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by means (electronic, digital, optical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

Series Editor: Ben Bridges

Text © Piccadilly Publishing

Published by Arrangement with the author’s estate.

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Chapter One

There had been sunshine that morning, its brief brightness soon shouldered aside by wind and cloud. Snow commenced driving by afternoon, and now a wild day was turning into a wilder night. The wind’s wail, shrieking across the troubled flatlands of mid-Montana, was like a squaw mourning for her dead, and the swirling snow held the sting of a porcupine’s slap. The calendar said mid-April, but there was the feel of January in the air.

The landscape was losing substance as the dark came down, and the big horse shivered to the blast, striving to turn tail to the storm. Powder Burns, as deceptively mild in appearance as an unlit firecracker, kept the horse turned resolutely to face the sleet, his own chin deep-sunk in a sheepskin collar, his breath rimming the edges with ice.

This is one time when you’re a long way from usin’ hoss sense, Blue Devil, he complained, as the cayuse tried to pull around. Wantin’ to trade temp’rary discomfort for a feed of oats and a barn around you. Sure, I know this ain’t what you’d call pleasant, he added, as the horse shook its head violently, but it’s plumb necessary, if we’re ever to come up at Horse’s Neck. Short of that, Chouteau off there can’t be more than a few miles more, and we’ll spend the night there. I’ll confess to a hankerin’ for city comforts tonight myself. If we turn and run with the wind, we’d get nowhere fast. As for stoppin’, why, emulatin’ a prairie dog wouldn’t be so bad, providing we had a hole to crawl into—

Powder checked voice and horse abruptly, peering, slit-eyed, against the drive of the storm; then he swore softly, incredulously, under his breath.

Do you see what I figure I do, Blue Devil? he demanded. Or is that a bad dream gettin’ cinched onto the back of a buckin’ nightmare? I thought we was the only fools to be caught out in weather like this. But seein’ as we ain’t, we better have a look.

Blue Devil swung willingly to the side, since that was away from the lashing storm. Here was trouble, camped square in the middle of nowhere, and it needed only a glance as he came up to convince the cowboy that, beside this, his own discomforts were minor. The snow lay a foot deep on the level, at such rare spots as the wind left it unmolested. Otherwise, the storm swirled so thickly that it was impossible to see more than a few yards in any direction. Only by chance had Powder discovered this huddle of humanity.

There appeared to be three people, crowded miserably in a rickety, one-seated buggy. The buggy top was up, but there were no side curtains, and the flopping back, shaking to every blast of the blizzard, offered scant protection. A threadbare blanket was pulled close around the shivering occupants, and snow had piled across it.

For a moment, viewing them, Powder feared that everyone was either dead or at the threshold of the great divide. It was a man, a woman, and a half-grown child who thus drearily awaited the long night.

But at his shout, the blanket moved, and three pairs of eyes looked half-hopefully, half-fearfully up at him. Blue Devil snorted and shied, and Powder saw a heap on the ground nearby, so covered by the snow as to be almost invisible. It was a sprawled horse, dead.

Powder swung to the ground. What’s the trouble? he demanded. If you set there, you’ll freeze long before morning. He had to shout to be heard above the wind. What happened?

They stirred, half-numb with cold, and in the next few minutes he pieced together a disjointed, incoherent story. They had been heading for what sounded like Rainbow. Having never heard of such a place, Powder decided that they meant Chouteau.

Plainly they were strangers in this country, newcomers to the land who had believed that once spring had come the winter was over, and had thus been bitterly tricked. Though such an unseasonable storm happened only once in a blue moon.

During the afternoon, their horse had sickened, then died without a struggle. Fearing to leave the shelter of the buggy in the storm, with night so near, they had broken up the thills and huddled above the meager blaze which the wood afforded while it lasted, then had crept beneath the one thin blanket.

Powder discovered an extra child under the blanket, a tot of three or four. Only the man was warmly dressed, or in anything like adequate shape for travelling in such weather.

But there were no trees here, no wood. To remain would be to die, long before morning. Tonight the weather was taking no account of the calendar.

We’ve got to get to town, Powder said roughly. Stir out of there. A couple of you can ride my horse. Not you, he added with savage disgust, as the man, a tall, shambling figure in the half-light, scrambled quickly down and started to mount. You’ll hoof it, the same as me.

The fellow opened his mouth, obviously in whining protest, but the words were whipped away by the howling wind. Powder saw a scrawny neck beneath a heavy sweep of moustache. His disgust turned to anger as he observed that the man’s overcoat was quite comfortable, while the woman had none. She shivered violently in a thin sweater and almost fell, as she tried uncertainly to descend from the buggy.

Powder caught and steadied her, taking the smaller child from her arms, and observing, as he did so, that the other, a half-grown girl, was encased in a coat much too big for her—the mother’s, he judged. Pulling off his own heavy sheepskin, he was instantly aware of the bitter edge of the wind.

Put this on, he ordered, and, unheeding the woman’s protest, got her into it and then boosted her into the saddle. The girl he lifted in front, so that, huddled together, they would have as much warmth as possible. The woman’s gratefully pathetic smile was his reward for the coat.

But what will you do? she asked. And Johnny—

I’ll carry him, Powder promised, wrapping the blanket about himself, Indian fashion, the boy inside. It was no such protection as the sheepskin, but it was welcome after that taste of the cold. You follow at my heels, he instructed them, then abruptly changed the order. I’ll lead Blue Devil. That way, we won’t get separated in the dark.

What about me? the man asked, his voice a reedy whine. I’m about played out.

Hang on to the horse’s tail, if you like. But you’d better keep coming. If you fall behind, it’ll be just too bad.

Perhaps he was being unduly rough on this pilgrim, but Powder felt a growing sense of disgust. A grown man should at least make the attempt to help his family, and he could share his heavy coat. Not waiting for protests, Powder set out. Blue Devil was a dependable cayuse in such a crisis, making no fuss about carrying double, leading without holding back. Those were small things to balance against the situation confronting them, for the woman and children were frail and half-frozen. He’d have to get them to warmth and shelter within a few hours if they were to survive.

Ordinarily, Powder had an excellent sense of direction, but it was too dark to see his hands before his face, and with the wind constantly changing, there was nothing to go by.

He’d been heading out from Fort Benton since the previous afternoon, holding straight west, with Chouteau in mind for tonight’s stop and the Rockies his ultimate objective. Chouteau, he’d estimated before night came on, must be five or six miles ahead. If they reached it, they’d be all right. But if he missed it in this blizzard, a night of wandering could easily finish them.

Alone, and warm, he hadn’t been worried by the freakish turn of the weather. But, this way, it was hard to keep warm even by walking, and though little Johnny was only a mite, he’d grow heavy with miles of plodding.

The woman spoke, timidly. I don’t know what we’d have done, if you hadn’t come along, I was trying to pray—

I reckon that was a mighty good idea, ma’am, Powder agreed. It was outside the scope of his experience, but he was sincere in his answer.

You came like an answer to prayer, just as I was on the point of despair, she added, and he could tell that her teeth were chattering, despite his heavy coat. I suppose you know your way around this country quite well?

There was a half-voiced doubt in the question, and a desperate need for reassurance. Powder made his voice hearty.

Sure, just like my own backyard, he agreed, reflecting that his backyard, in which he’d done considerable playing, had ranged from the Milk to the Rio Grande, with excursions beyond both, and from the Mississippi to the shores of the western sea. Sure, he knew his own backyard—though in a rather general sort of way.

I’m so glad! He sensed the relief in her. This seems like such a terrible storm. I—I suppose it’s what you call a blizzard, isn’t it?

A blizzard? Powder’s voice was doubtful. We-el, you might call it that, I guess—in a mild sort of fashion. It’s a mite late in the season for it to get very cold or stormy, of course. They passed a law ag’in that, over to Helena—or leastways, there was a bill to regulate the weather. No, you couldn’t rightly call this a blizzard—not compared to some I’ve seen.

You’ve had a lot of experience with blizzards?

You could call it that, Powder agreed complacently. She was lonely, frightened, and a human voice was reassuring. Well, he’d always liked to talk.

One I remember was quite a storm, he went on. It came in December, and it got really cold. Mebby sixty below. And talk about wind and snow—that snow came down so fast that the flakes got stuck together. Yes, ma’am. I was out in it, lookin’ for some cattle that had wandered off. I was plumb scared they’d get stuck in a drift, or mebby just plain freeze to death. The farther I rode, without findin’ ary sign of them, the more worried I got. Likewise, I was gettin’ a mite chilled, the weather being like it was.

I’d have thought you’d have frozen!

It was cold, and freakish, that weather. The strangest thing happened I ever knew, and I’ve run across some funny experiences, one time an’ another. The wind blew hard an’ straight, kind of shuttlin’ right off the top of a range of mountains. I was ridin’ along, not able to see much, and I’d figured I was in among the hills, but all at once it was as though I was on a level plain, one almost flat. What really happened, that wind held the snow all together in a kind of sheet, and it just froze solid that way—a sheet of snow and ice, all of six inches thick, up fifty feet above the ground. Fact. And I was ridin’ along on that and never knowin’ it.

That would be a strange experience. Her voice sounded doubtful.

Sure was, Powder agreed cheerfully. Then all at once I reached the edge of the hill, where the wind blew off, and there was a protected spot where it hadn’t hit, and a big hole in the ice. I fell into it, horse and all, which made it easy to get down, but scary. Ended up all right, though. We dropped into a deep drift, where snow had funneled through, and it broke our fall. Sure lucky it was there.

What happened then, Mister? It was the girl, piping up unexpectedly.

"Why, nothin’ much. Everything was fine as silk after that. I’d been considerable puzzled about what was happening but I got the idea through my head. That sheet of ice was overhead, and down in that coulee where I’d tumbled it was protected, warm an’ pleasant. Just like it’ll be when we get to town. And I found the cattle in there, too,