Once Open a Blizzard's Tale

 by Christiana Thomas

Historical Note: The Marshall Hirtzell in the story was a real horse ridin’, gun totin’ marshal in the late 1800s and early 1900s. His name was feared by lawbreakers in the counties of California.. The story of “White Mist is,” however, is pure imagination. Hirtzell is one of this author’s favorite great, great uncles!

“Elizabeth!” James Carter slammed the front door behind him and hollered up the stairs.

“What is it, Jim?” Elizabeth Carter came running out and leaned over the railing, looking down into her new husband’s face as he stood in the magnificent entrance hall. She still couldn’t get used to the huge entryway. The rest of their home was minuscule in comparison, but James had future dreams for a grand, hacienda style ranch house, and insisted stubbornly he had no wishes to redo a front entrance.

James grinned at her as she descended the stairs, hair slipping from its place, the hem of her skirt soaked and her arms sudsy up to her elbows. “You’re beautiful,” he said as he pulled his hat from his head.

“I look despicable!” Elizabeth couldn’t keep the despair out of her voice. “I knocked the scrub bucket over, ruined your Sunday shirt, and I haven’t even thought about dinner. If I ever have daughters, this is not the example I want to set for them! How did my mother do it?”

“She had a housekeeper. Like you should. Why won’t you let me hire one?”

“We don’t have the money, Jim, so that’s that. Why were you yelling for me?”

James sobered instantly. “It’s late October, and I just realized it. Hal Thomson is here; he asked me how our cattle roundup went. Bess, our herd is still up in the Sierras! Hal says herds need to be down long before now.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “We can’t afford to lose even one cow, Jim! When should we leave? And what about the snow on the mountains?”

“First of all, we live in California. It’s the land of the sun! There’s no worries about the weather. Second, we are not going,” James said firmly. “I’ll take Sam and Walt and hire Jerry Grass. You’re going to stay here and stop worrying. You know Hal is a bit of a pessimist. Things will be fine!”

“That’s all the more reason to save money and take me instead of Jerry.” Elizabeth set her chin and looked confidently into his eyes. “I can ride and rope better than him any day.”

James chuckled and relented. “Fine. We’ll leave day after tomorrow. Now since you got your way, do you still like me?”

Elizabeth cocked her head at the strange question. “Yes, why?”

“I invited Hal to stay for dinner.”

“Jim!!”

---

The Carters and their two ranch hands started off in search of their cattle in a crisp, rose-colored dawn, the grand Sierras rising majestically before them. The four, mounted on cow ponies, traveled swiftly. The few flat pastures of their own land were quickly replaced by the rolling foothills of the peaks.

As the day wore on, the group climbed high into the mountains, moving past the forested lower slopes, and reaching the grazing meadows in mid-afternoon. In the dips and crevices of the mountain’s surface, snow covered the grass, and high above, the rocky crags were coated completely in white. But other than this, the meadows were a paradise. Summer flowers still held on to their blossoms, the long grass blew in the winds, and the sun beamed on the slopes as it descended.

They made camp by a stand of firs and spent the remainder of daylight hours searching the mountain side for signs of the herd. At nightfall they regrouped and fried a delicious supper. After he said grace, James stacked a bite on his fork. “See anything?”   

Sam looked up. “I found where they’ve been. Higher up on the north slopes.”

“You’re sure?” James asked.

Sam grinned. “It’s pretty hard to miss the tracks of 600 head.”

James set down his plate. “I didn’t see any cattle, but directly up the slope there were tracks of a horse herd. They’re fresh, but I didn’t follow because of the loss of light. I don’t think they’ll go farther than these meadows.”

“Horses!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Do you think it’s the herd?”

“Could be,” James grinned.

“Hold on there,” Walt held up his hand. “I’m lost.”

“You haven’t been in California long enough to hear the legend of the greatest stallion in the state, I reckon.” As Walt shook his head, James continued. “Twenty-two years ago, a man by the name of Marshall Hirtzell, one of the most famous lawmen of the west, was also the undisputed authority on good horse flesh. After many years of careful breeding, a mare gave birth to the culmination of his work. The fastest, sleekest, strongest, and most spirited horse he had seen in the west. The stallion was sure footed and steady and would’ve made the best trail horse in intelligence and stamina, but for one problem. He was too spirited for anyone to handle. When he was three years old, he jumped his fences and escaped in the night.

“Since then, he’s been roaming the range, stealing countless mares from ranches all over the Sierras. Roundups have been made to catch him, but all have failed. Most say it’s because the mountains are too chancy and easy to disappear in. In nineteen years, folks have only gotten a glimpse of him. People call him the White Mist, mysterious and elusive.”

“It’s a neat story, but what’s the good of him being around here if his herd is so uncatchable?”

James drained his cup and set it down. “His herd is not uncatchable, Sam. Nobody’s caught him, nor likely ever will, but stragglers are picked up every so often. What I’m after is a colt. With one of the White Mist’s colts and that young filly of mine, I’d be able to create an excellent bloodline. Those two together have the best qualities a man would want in a horse, producing unmatched intelligence, endurance, and beauty this side of the Rockies.”

“Since Marshall Hirtszell, no one has been cultivating these horses.” Elizabeth’s voice was contagious in its excitement. “We would improve the breed and also be able to sell them all over the valley.”

“Well, I’m hooked.” Sam nudged Walt. “What’d ya say about helping these dreamers catch themselves a colt tomorrow?”

Walt grinned. “More interestin’ than smelly old cows!”

---

At dawn they woke to frost-covered landscape. The group quickly left camp, Sam to verify the position of the cattle, and the others to hunt down the horse herd. Soon they were following the trail that James had spotted under the rising sun. The tracks were as clear as daylight, having frozen during the night. From there they followed the trail down, tracing the herd through the meadow grass and patches of snow.

By midmorning, Elizabeth topped a small rise and reined in her horse. Just five hundred yards below a beautiful sight met her eyes. The ground dropped steeply away from where she stood, sheltering roughly forty mares and foals grazing in a lower meadow. The warm rays of the sun accentuated the yellows and browns of October, giving the hollow a calm and peaceful appearance. On the opposite knoll a great white stallion stood with his back to her; grazing, yet still alert.

Elizabeth backed her horse down the incline. The breeze was blowing toward her, but there was no reason to risk detection. The men were not far behind, and it didn’t take long for her to relay the exciting information. The three quietly devised a plan to separate a foal from the herd.

“What if we get a filly?” Walt questioned.

“If we catch any, it’ll be reason to praise the Lord,” James answered. “We’ll just have to be content with that. You two wait here while I look.”

James dismounted and ran up the hill, crouching low as he neared the top. After a few minutes he slid back down, a grin stretching across his face. “They’re out there, all right!” He almost skipped up to his horse in excitement.

Elizabeth shook her head with a smile. Her husband was acting more like a schoolboy than a 29-year-old man.

James remounted his horse. “There’s a chestnut with a white diamond on his forehead. He’s the one I’m aiming for. Go take a look at him, Walt, and then circle around to your spot.”

“My pleasure,” Walt dropped softly from his horse and started up the slope.

Meanwhile James and Elizabeth began walking their ponies downhill to come upon the herd from behind and slightly below. In a few minutes, both were in position, southwest of the sheltered dip on the mountain side. James had ridden on ahead a few hundred feet, stopping behind a thick shelter of trees.

He couldn’t see the White Mist now, but a few minutes earlier a glimpse of the tiny valley had revealed the guardian of the herd. Mane blowing in the wind, the majestic stallion’s head was raised and his ears twitching apprehensively.

Praying briefly for the Lord’s blessing, James took a few calming breaths and put his hands to his mouth. Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!

James knew the call, realistic as it sounded, would alert White Mist, but it didn’t matter. They were not prepared or planning to catch the elusive stallion, but instead wanted him out of the way. 

At the signal, Elizabeth rode over the western edge of the dell and trotted toward the herd, circling her hat over her head and whistling loudly.

White Mist spun around and cantered down the hill, neighing loud commands to his herd. The mares immediately began to run away from Elizabeth, the foals moving to their mother’s sides. Moving quickly, White Mist and half his herd disappeared out the east end of the valley. The two colts who had been sparring were at the tail end of the group, just as hoped. When only a dozen horses were still in the dip, Walt rode out from where he had hidden, watching the herd pass in front of him at the east end. He cut the dozen off from the rest of the horses, and the mares frantically turned downhill to the right, running straight toward James.

Now James clicked to his horse and rode forward, his lasso hanging in readiness from his hand. The cornered horses hesitated for a moment, indecisive. They had few options, with humans on three sides and the mountain rising behind them. The mares without foals spun and began to clamber up the slope. The two mother mares danced uneasily at the base of the hill.

Walt took advantage of the delay and rode at the huddle, separating the chestnut foal and mother from the other pair. The two dashed away, leaving the chestnut and mare surrounded. The mare tried to break past Elizabeth, but she maneuvered her horse to block her.

James swung his lasso in an easy circle, waiting for the right moment to catch the foal. The mare frantically turned the other direction, exposing her foal to James’s view. He released his lasso, and the loop settled easily around the chestnut’s neck. The foal bolted at the touch of the rope, but James had wound the slack around his saddle horn and brought the foal up short. Walt moved out of the way, and the mother mare cantered to the edge of the meadow.

The foal bucked and kicked and ran in rapidly decreasing circles as James shortened the rope. Walt and Elizabeth dismounted and carefully approached.

“It’s a colt,” Walt called to James.

“Praise the Lord!” exclaimed James exuberantly.

Elizabeth stepped closer and began talking to it in soft tones. “Easy boy, you’re all right, easy…”

The colt calmed and stood still, its eyes fixed on Elizabeth. The taut rope relaxed, and the colt relaxed with it.

“That’s it.” James dismounted and moved up to the colt’s head. It startled when he brought his hand up to its nose, but curiosity quickly replaced fear. It sniffed James’s hand and attempted to nibble it.

“Well, Jim, you got your horse!” Elizabeth said over the colt’s head.

James grinned. “One of the best days of my life!”

Leading the colt behind James’s horse, they headed back up the mountain to where they had camped. They reached it in the early afternoon to find Sam napping by the fire pit, his hat over his face.

“And here I thought he would be worried ‘bout us,” Walt snorted. “We’re a good two hours late.”

The three of them packed up the remainder of camp and woke Sam, teasing him for dozing while they worked.

In a few hours, with Sam’s information, they had located most of their cattle and began the process of pushing them down the mountain. After they reached the foothills, they split up, Sam and Walt to keep prodding the herd toward home and James and Elizabeth to find the missing fifty head. They expected to spend one more night on the mountain.

The colt had spent the day between moods of agitation and curiosity. He trotted steadily behind James’s horse and was surprisingly tolerant of their touching him. They were quickly growing fond of him.

Just before dusk, they stumbled across the rest of their herd. Elizabeth was elated and ready to prod the cattle farther homeward before nightfall, but James was worried. After leaving the main herd, a cold wind had begun blowing from the north. The temperature dropped quickly, and though the sun still shone, it made James uneasy.

They decided to descend as far as they could, but in another hour, their trouble was evident. The air was dry, and the wind bitingly cold. The mountain had blocked their view of the north-eastern skies until ominous grey clouds were nearly above them.

One look sufficed to know that snow was coming.

A few minutes later, the sun disappeared below the horizon, and whiteness began to block their sight as the first snowflakes fell. They left the cattle to fend for themselves and searched for some sort of shelter. Elizabeth could hardly feel the reins between her hands, and she clenched her teeth hard to keep them still.

James looked at her, worried. Snow clung to her hair and caught in her eyelashes. Neither of them had dressed for freezing temperatures, and they couldn’t safely spend a night in the open. They needed to find shelter soon, for themselves and the young colt trailing behind them.

---

Elizabeth felt like it had been snowing for years. It seemed there was nothing on earth but stinging snow, burning eyes and numbing cold. She followed the silhouette in front of her dazedly, not caring where it went.

Ccrraacckk! The sound broke through the wind like a gunshot. Elizabeth jerked to attention. Ahead of her, James’s horse reared suddenly as a giant branch broke from a tree and plummeted to the ground in front of him, just missing the horse’s head.

James managed to keep his seat and tried to calm the animal, finally dismounting and trudging back to Elizabeth.

“Jim!” Elizabeth’s voice was caught away by the wind. She stiffly dropped off her horse, the shock of the impact sending pain through her legs as she landed. “What happened?” she yelled to James.

“Nothing worth thinking about,” he said with a shudder. He placed an arm over her shoulder. “We need to ask the Lord for His protection right now.”

The two horses and the colt, nearly unable to move from the cold, surrounded the couple as they cried out to the master of the storm.

When they finished praying, James lifted his head. “Beth!” he cried. “Do you see that? Over to your left.”

Elizabeth squinted in the direction he had indicated. A dark structure stood there, steady and silent. James and Elizabeth stumbled toward it, urging their horses to follow. It was an old prospector’s cabin. Encircled by a thick grove of hemlock, it was protected from much of the wind and snow.

Fumbling with the handle, James pushed open the door and guided Elizabeth and the colt inside. As fast as he could, he led the horses around to the back of the building and tied them as best he could to a tree. The wind was far less, and he left them saddled, grabbing a saddlebag and staggering back to the door.

Stepping inside and shoving the door shut, he lit a match with great effort. There was a fireplace, and beside it a stack of kindling and wood. In a few minutes a flame had been coaxed to life, enough to see around the inside.

The colt lay down next to Elizabeth, silent and shivering. Elizabeth had a dazed look in her eyes and didn’t respond to a question from James. “Beth!” James scooted to her and began rubbing her arms and legs. “Start talking, girl!”

She blinked her eyes and shuddered. “I-I’ll, try,” she said with effort. “What is this?” she glanced slowly around the room.

“Nothing more than a cabin, but today it’s our refuge!” James said in wonder. “The Lord answered our prayer!” He sighed in relief as she looked into his eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Lord!”

As the blaze grew brighter and began to thaw the frozen travelers, the colt stirred and edged nearer the warmth. Elizabeth placed her hand on his coppery forelock. “What will you call him?”

“I was thinking Robin,” James smiled. “Robin Hood was my favorite hero as a boy.”

“And he’s as red as a robin’s redbreast,” Elizabeth agreed. “Robin.”

After a silence, James shook his head in amazement. “What a day,” he exclaimed, “A colt, a cattle roundup, and a blizzard.” He turned to his wife. “Won’t this be a story to tell our children!”