Chapter 45 Section IX

They began to canter.Braddock, his son and the three remaining gunmen followed the officers with empty holsters. "Keep your distance," the sheriff warned again. "If you get too close, he can still shoot from the woods. He did that to Jerry." "Jerry's hovering at six hundred feet," the pilot's voice crackled through the air, "but I'm flying at three thousand feet at one hundred and twenty knots. Oh, He seems to have found his way ashore, and is climbing the plateau of Hel Rollin." The sheriff looked at the ranger and snorted. "You think he's been here before," said the puzzled ranger.

"Maybe it was," Lewis snapped. "Impossible. We know who has been here." The group reached the edge of the canyon, but the pine forest blocked their view, and they could not see the exhausted man pulling the burdened horse up to the opposite bank. The rangers knew the only trail to ford the stream, but Rothbard's hoofprints showed that they knew this one too.When they reached the second plateau, the fugitives were again a speck in the distance. "It's getting dark and the fuel is running out," the pilot said. "I'm going back." "One last circle," urged the Sheriff. "Where is he now?"

"He's reached the hill, dismounted to lead the way, and is climbing the north slope. However, it looks like his horse is about to give up, and he's staggering along the way. I guess you can catch him at sunrise .May you show your talents, Sheriff." The Piper turned a corner in the growing twilight and buzzed back to Billings. "Shall we move on, Sheriff?" one officer asked.Sheriff Lewis shook his head.The air here is thin, they are all panting, and the night is falling fast. "Can't travel at night. We'll camp here till daylight." They camped in the last woods above the stream bank.Compared with the southern mountains in the dim twilight, the people and horses on the rocks are like fine dust.

They took out thick and warm sheepskin jackets and put them on, and found some dead branches under the trees.Soon, a bright and warm bonfire was lit.At the sheriff's suggestion, Braddock, his son, and three others camped a hundred yards away. They never expected to spend the night in such a high mountain without bringing bedding or food.They sat on blankets around the campfire, leaning against the unsaddled horses, and ate sweets.Sheriff Lewis stared into the flames. "What are you going to do tomorrow, Paul?" asked his deputy, Tom Barrow. "I want to go into the mountain alone. Without a gun. I want to raise the truce flag and bring a megaphone. I want to try to convince him to come down the mountain with that girl."

"That's dangerous. He's a wild boy, maybe he wants to kill you," said the ranger. "He could have killed those three today," said the Sheriff thoughtfully. "He could have done it, but he didn't. He must have understood that there was no way to protect that girl under siege. I guess he wouldn't have shot at a A law enforcement officer with a white flag shoots. He'll listen to what people say first. It's worth a try." A cold night enveloped the mountains.Ben Craig pushed, pulled, urged and coaxed Rothbard to climb the last section of the mountain path and onto the large stone slab outside the cave.Rothbard stood trembling, his eyes dull and numb, while his master lifted the girl off his back.

Craig gestured for Breeze to go to the ancient bear cave, and he took off the buffalo robe himself and spread it on the ground for her.He took off the quiver, which had two arrows left, and the bow from his back, and put them together.Finally, he let go of the reins and unloaded the saddle and the two packbags. Unburdened, the sorrel mare took a few steps towards the bushes and the dry leaves beneath.It bent its hind legs and sat down on the ground, then curled up its front legs and lay on its side on the ground. Craig knelt beside Rothbard, cupped its head in his lap, and stroked its nose.At his caress the mare neighed softly, and then her brave heart stopped beating.

The young man was also exhausted.He hadn't slept for two days and nights, had barely eaten, and had cycled and walked nearly a hundred miles.There was still something to do now, so he dragged his pace and walked forward for a certain distance. He looked down from the edge of the big stone slab, and from a distance he saw two piles of bonfires with the hunting team facing north.He cut some twigs and saplings where the old man had sat, and lit a fire.The firelight illuminated the ledge and the cave, and the white silk figure of the girl he loved so much. He opened the pannacle, and drew out some food which he had brought from the castle.They sat side by side on the buffalo hide and ate their first meal together.

He knew that when his horse fell the hunt would soon be over.But the old man who could see the future promised that this girl would be his wife, and so did the ubiquitous gods. On the plain below, the chatter of the exhausted pursuers faded away.The flames lit up their faces.They sat in silence, staring at the flames in a trance. The air on the high mountain is thin and silent.A slight breeze blew from the peak, but it did not break the silence.Then, a voice sounded. The voice came to their ears across the night sky, and it was brought down from the mountain.It was a cry, long and clear, the voice of a young woman.

It is not a cry of pain or grief, but a cry of relaxation after pleasure, indescribable and unrepeatable. The officers looked at each other, then looked down at the ground.The sheriff saw their shoulders twitch and tremble. A hundred yards away Bill Braddock stood up from the fire, and his men dared not look him in the eye.He stared at the mountain, his face contorted with rage and loathing. In the middle of the night, the temperature began to drop.At first, these people thought it was the night cold caused by the high mountains and thin air.They shivered and wrapped their sheepskin jackets tightly around them.But jeans couldn't resist the cold wind, so they curled up and leaned against the campfire.

After the temperature dropped to zero degrees Celsius, it continued to drop.The officers looked up at the sky, where thick clouds covered the peaks.They saw a tiny flare of fire flanking the towering Rear Defender, and then it faded from view. These were all Montana natives, accustomed to harsh winters, but late October shouldn't be this cold.At one o'clock in the middle of the night, the two forest rangers estimated that the temperature had dropped to minus twenty degrees and was still falling.By two o'clock they were all on their feet, drowsiness gone, stamping their feet to keep the blood circulating, blowing hot air into their palms, adding more sticks to the fire, but to no avail .Heavy snowflakes began to fall and hiss into the fire.The fire of the bonfire also became smaller.

The senior ranger, teeth chattering from the cold, walked over to Sergeant Lewis. "Carl and I think we should go back to Custer Forest to escape the cold," he suggested. "Isn't it warmer there?" asked the sheriff. "maybe." "What the hell is going on here?" "You'll think I'm talking nonsense, Sheriff." "I'd like to hear it." The snow was falling more densely, the stars had disappeared, and a curtain of bitter white was falling toward them. "This place used to be the meeting point of the land of the Crow and the land of the Crow. Years ago, before the arrival of the white men, warriors fought and died here. The Indians believe that their spirits still walk on these hills. They believe that here is A magical place." "It's a charming tale. But what's the matter with the weather?" "I said it sounded like nonsense. But sometimes, they say, the ubiquitous gods also come here and bring the 'chill of eternal sleep,' and no one can bear it. Of course, it's just a quirk. weather phenomenon, but I think we should get out of here. If we stay, we will be frozen until sunrise." Sheriff Lewis thought for a moment, then nodded. "Saddle up," he said. "Let's ride out and speak to Braddock and the others." After a while, the ranger came back through the snowstorm. "Braddock said he was going to retreat to the shelter by the creek, but would not be retreating any further." The sheriff, the two rangers, and the constables shuddered to cross the stream again and mount their horses across the Silver Trail and back into the dense pine woods.The temperature in the forest rose back to zero degrees Celsius.They lit another bonfire and came alive. At 4:30 in the morning, a layer of white snow on the mountain broke apart and swept down towards the plain.A silent rush of dense snow covered the rocks like a wall, tumbled and tumbled into the stream, filled up and overflowed, and rushed up the Silver Trail Plateau for another half mile before finally coming to a halt.The dark clouds in the sky began to dissipate. Two hours later, Sheriff Paul Lewis stood on the edge of the forest looking south.The mountains are covered with silver.The morning glow in the east dyed the sky red, indicating that this day will be a sunny day.The indigo sky turned egg blue.The radio communicator, which he had kept close to him all night, was still working. "Jerry," he called, "we need you to come here in the Bell Helicopter, hurry up. We've had a snowstorm here, and it's not looking good... No, we're back at the edge of the forest, it was yesterday Where you took the major back. You'll find us here." Four helicopters flew over from the rising sun and landed on the cold but snow-free rock.Lewis put the two officers in the back seat and climbed up to sit next to the pilot. "Go back to the mountain." "What about the shooter?" "I don't think anyone will shoot now. They'll be lucky if they survive." The helicopter flew along the same route as the pursuit team had traveled the previous day.Lake Fork Creek was visible only from the tops of some pine trees along the banks.There was no sign of the five people in the forest.They continued to fly towards the hill.The sheriff was looking for the faint campfire he'd seen in the air.The pilot was nervous, staying high in the air, circling six hundred feet above the ground. Lewis saw it first.On the high mountain, there is a black stain at the entrance of the cave, and in front of it is a large stone slab covered with ice and snow but wide enough for the Bell helicopter to land. "Go down, Jerry." The pilot steers the plane carefully, watching the rocks for movement, looking for the glint of a man raising a gun or an old-fashioned black-powder rifle.Nothing happened.The helicopter landed on the big stone slab, the blades were still spinning rapidly, ready to escape at any time. Sheriff Lewis jumped out of the hatch, pistol in hand.The officers, armed with rifles, climbed out of the cabin, jumped to the ground, and ran to the hole for cover.Nothing happened.Lewis started shouting. "Come out, hands up. We won't hurt you." No answer, no movement.He followed a zigzag route to the entrance of the cave, and then looked around. Nothing but a pile of things on the ground.Curiously, he went into the cave to have a look.On the ground was a mass of what appeared to be animal fur.Whatever the thing was, it's all rotten with age.The fur has faded and only the fibers are left to hold it together.He uncovered the animal hide. There lay the girl in a white silk wedding dress, her black hair cascading in frost over her shoulders, and she looked as if she had fallen asleep on the wedding bed.But when he reached out to touch her body, it felt as cold as stone. Regardless of whether the gunman was still ambushing nearby, the sheriff put the pistol in the holster, picked up the girl, and ran outside the cave. "Take off your leather jacket and wrap it around her," he called to his men. "Put her in the backseat and keep her warm with your bodies." The police officers took off their warm leather jackets and wrapped them around the girl.An officer hugged the young woman and climbed into the back of the helicopter and began rubbing her hands and feet.The sheriff pushed another officer into the empty front seat and yelled at Jerry, "Take her to the Red Lodge Clinic. Quickly. Inform them that you'll be taking a man who's freezing to death." Turn up the heat in the cabin on the way. She may have a glimmer of hope of being rescued. Come back and pick me up later." He watched the Bell helicopter rumble up into the sky, fly over the plateau and the forest that stretched to the wasteland, and flew into the distance.He then went to explore the cave and the stone slabs ahead.When he was done, he found a rock and sat on it, looking out over the incredible view to the north. In Red Lodge's clinic, doctors and nurses began resuscitating the girl.They peeled off the cold wedding dress and rubbed her hands, arms, legs and chest.Her body temperature was below the threshold for frostbite, and her internal temperature was in the dangerous range. Twenty minutes later, the doctor detected a weak heartbeat deep inside the body, a young heart struggling for life.The heartbeat stopped twice; doctors administered two electric shocks until the heartbeat resumed.The temperature of the body begins to rise. Her breathing stopped briefly, and doctors gave her mouth-to-mouth mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to restore her lungs to their normal function.The temperature in the rescue room was like a sauna, and the electric blanket wrapping her lower limbs had been turned up to the highest level. An hour later, the eyelids fluttered and the bruise on the lips began to fade.The nurse took the temperature: it was above the danger limit and still rising.The heartbeat stabilized and increased in intensity. After another half an hour, Qingfeng opened her big dark eyes, opened her mouth and called softly: "Ben?" The doctor prayed a little to express his gratitude to him and to all the pioneers who came before him. "I'm Luke, but it doesn't matter. I thought we couldn't save you, boy." The sheriff watched from the rock as the Bell helicopter returned to fetch him.He could see it appearing in the still mid-air miles away, and he could hear the roar of its rotor blades racing through the air.The mountains are so quiet.After Jerry landed, Sergeant Lewis greeted the officer in the front seat. "Take two blankets and come here," he called as the paddles went into a slow idle.When the officer walked up to him, he pointed again and said, "Take him too." The young police officer wrinkled his nose: "This...sheriff..." "Go ahead. He was human and deserves a Christian funeral." The skeleton of the horse lay on its side.Every fragment of fur or muscle had been pecked clean.The tail hair and mane are also gone, and it is likely to be picked up as a bird's nest material.However, the teeth that have chewed the plain roughage remain in the mouth.The bridle was almost reduced to ashes, but the iron bit still gleamed between his teeth. The brown hooves were intact, with four horseshoes put on long ago by a cavalry blacksmith. The man's skeleton lay on his back a few yards apart, as if he had died in his sleep.Not much of his clothing remained, only a few tattered buckskins clinging to his ribs.The officer spread out a blanket and put all the remains in it.The sheriff ran back and collected everything the rider had ever owned. Countless seasons of wind and rain have reduced the saddle, girth, and pannier to a heap of rotten leather.But amidst the rubbish, a few brass bullets gleamed.Sheriff Lewis took the bullets. There was also a rusty hunting knife in a beaded leather sheath, but the scabbard turned to ashes as soon as the hand touched it.The sheepskin sleeve of the rifle that was once used by the frontier people has been taken away by the birds. The firearm lay in the frost and was covered with a layer of old rust, but it was still a rifle. What puzzled the sheriff were two arrows and an ax in the quiver.They look almost brand new.There was still a belt buckle on it, and an old piece of leather belt still attached to it. The sheriff took them both and wrapped them in a second blanket.He took one last look around to make sure he wasn't missing anything before boarding the helicopter.The officer with another bag sat in the back seat. The Bell helicopter finally got out of there in mid-air, and flew back in the morning sun over the two plateaus and the great green groves of the National Forest. Sheriff Lewis looked down at Lake Fork Creek, which was covered in ice and snow.He's going to send a rescue team out there and bring back the bodies, and he knows no one will survive.He gazed down at the rocks and woods below, bewildered by the young man he had hunted across this unforgiving land. At 5,000 feet, he could see Rock Creek down to his right, and he could see that the fallen pine tree and the wreckage of the car had been cleared from the Interstate and that traffic was moving again.They flew over Red Lodge, and Jerry spoke to an officer who remained there.The officer reported that the girl was being cared for and her heart was still beating. They flew back down the road, and four miles north of Brigill he could see a hundred acres of fire-scorched prairie.Flying another twenty miles, he saw the manicured lawns and beef cattle in T-Bar Ranch. The helicopter began to descend after skimming the Yellowstone River and the road westbound to Bozeman.In this way, they returned to Billings Airport. "'Life is impermanent, the world is unpredictable'." It was surprisingly cold in a small cemetery in Red Lodge in late February.In the far corner was a freshly dug tomb, with a cheap thin-bark pine coffin resting on two cross-rails above it. The pastor wrapped his clothes tightly against the cold wind, and the two sextons waited with clenched fists in gloves.A mourner in snowshoes and a padded overcoat stood by the grave. She was hatless, her long black hair falling over her shoulders. On the far edge of the cemetery, a heavyset man stood under a berry yew tree and watched without coming forward.He wears a fur coat against the cold, his police rank identified on the chest. It's been a strange winter, the man under the tree mused.Mrs Braddock, widowed, appears more relaxed than sad.She has emerged from solitude to take over as chairman of Braddock Beef.She has her hair done, makeup on her face, beautiful clothes, and parties. She visited the girl in the hospital, liked her, offered her a cottage on the ranch and a job as a private secretary for free.Both proposals have been accepted.She also signed a deed of gift, transferring a controlling interest in the bank to Mr Pickett. "'Ashes to ashes, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,'" the priest intoned in a drawn out voice.Under the blowing of the cold wind, two snowflakes fell on the black hair, like two white wild roses blooming. Two sextons lifted the rope, kicked the crossbar, and hoisted the coffin into the vault.Then they stood back and waited again, eyeing the shovel in the freshly dug mound. Bozeman's forensic pathologists did their best.They determined that the remains belonged to a man who stood a little under six feet and was almost certainly of great physical strength. There were no cracks on the bones, nor any marks that might have killed him, so it is speculated that he may have frozen to death. The dentist became interested in the set of teeth: neat, white, flat, without a cavity.They calculated that the young man's age should be between twenty-five and twenty-nine years of age. Scientists examine the objects outside the body.Carbon-14 assays showed that the organic matter—deerskin, belts, fur hats—dated to the 1870s. Quivers, arrows, bows and axes are still mysteries.The same assays showed that the items were the closest things.The scientists concluded that a group of Native Americans had recently visited the cave and left their loot with people who died there many years ago. The hunting knife had been re-polished and restored, dated from the bone hilt, and presented to Professor Ingalls.He hung the hunting knife in his office.The sheriff claimed the rifle.He also painstakingly restored it to its original appearance and hung it on the wall behind his desk.He intends to take it with him when he retires. "'Give peace to the dead, and liberation to the living. Amen.'" After waiting, the two sextons swung their shovels again and shoveled the dirt into the tomb.The vicar said a few words to the sole mourner, patted her on the arm, and hurried off to take shelter from the cold in the nave.She didn't move. The chase petered out after the girl made a one-sided statement of facts in the hospital.The news media speculated that the man must have ridden overnight over the mountains and disappeared into the wilds of Wyoming, leaving her to die in a cave. The sexton filled the tomb, and soon set up a boundary with rocks on the ground, and poured four bags of gravel into the boundary. Then they lifted their leather hats to the girl, took their spades and went away.The tall man came up quietly and stood on the side behind her.She still didn't move.She knew he was behind her, and she knew who he was.He took off his hat and held it in his hand. "We were unable to find your friend, Miss Pickett," he said. "No." She held a flower, a single long-stemmed red rose. "I'm afraid we'll never find him." "yes." He took the rose from her fingers, stepped forward, stooped, and placed the flower on the grave.The base is topped by a wooden cross, donated by the well-wishers of Red Lodge.Before the varnish was applied, a local craftsman had branded a few lines on the wood with a soldering iron: The man straightened up. "Is there anything else I can do to help? Do you want a ride home?" "No. Thank you. I have my own car." He put his hat back on, tilting the brim towards her. "Good luck, Miss Pickett." He walks away.His car, the one with the county police logo, was parked outside the cemetery.He looked up to the southwest peaks of the Beartooth Mountains gleaming in the sun. The girl lingered a little longer, then turned and walked towards the door. A breeze from the mountain blew her away, blowing away her long cotton coat, revealing her four-month-pregnant belly.

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