The Bridge

36

Virgil and I mounted up in the silvery cold morning and left the bridge camp slightly before daylight. The snow had let up, but there was a good foot packed on the ground and it was slow going as we rode.

There was not the slightest breeze. We traveled for eight solid hours in the silence of the snow-covered country. The woods were soundless and everything was still as we moved. We came to a wide-open section without trees and Virgil stopped.

“This must be the meadow Gains was talking about,” Virgil said.

I looked around.

“And that there must be the incline he was talking about,” I said.

Virgil nodded and we moved off the main road and started up the incline. It wasn’t a steep rise, and when we topped the ridge it was clear we were on another road. We continued on riding for about two hours when Virgil stopped again. He turned in his saddle and waited until I was close before he spoke.

“Smell that?” he said quietly.

I looked around.

“Do,” I said.

From somewhere in the woods in front of us we smelled smoke. We rode on for a bit more, then we caught a glimpse of smoke drifting through the trees off to our left. Virgil stopped and I sidled up next to him.

He pointed to the opposite side of the road to the right and we moved off the road and distanced ourselves from the origin of the fire. We stopped under some tall oaks, dismounted, and snugged our horses and the mule to a twisted old oak tree.

Virgil pulled his Winchester from his scabbard and I got my eight-gauge. We circled off the road so as to come upon the fire at a distance from the path.

We made it a step at a time, moving through the deep snow. It took us some time of slow moving before we were close enough to see the source of the smoke.

There was a small fire burning behind an outcropping of rocks next to a steamy creek.

We moved up ever so slowly, and when we were close Virgil signaled me to come in from one direction while he moved off to the other side so he’d come in from the opposite angle.

We kept each other in sight as we approached the camp.

I saw Virgil squat down and I did the same. After a moment Virgil brought the Winchester to his shoulder and pointed it in the direction of the fire.

“Don’t move,” Virgil called out. “I got you in my sights.”

“I ain’t armed,” a voice called back.

“How many are you?” Virgil said.

“Just me,” the voice said.

“Step out,” Virgil said.

Just then I saw the backside of a figure rise up from the rocks. He held his left arm up facing Virgil’s direction.

“I don’t got no gun,” the man said. “I’m friendly, by myself, and hungry. I don’t want no harm to me or no one else.”

“Who are you?” Virgil called.

“Name’s Lonnie,” the man said. “Lonnie Carman.”

Virgil lowered his Winchester some and looked over to me.

“I’m just a worker from the bridge camp,” Lonnie said, “and I need help.”

“Lonnie,” Virgil said. “If you are lying to me, you will die.”

“Oh, hell,” Lonnie said. “I ain’t lying. I’ve been shot. I’m alone, cold, and real near dead like it is.”

“Step out more,” Virgil said. “Keep your hands away from yourself.”

“Okay,” he said. “I can barely move.”

Lonnie stepped out slowly from the outcropping with one of his hands in the air.

“I can only lift my one arm,” he said. “Barely.”

Virgil nodded over to me and we moved slowly toward Lonnie.

When we got closer, I could see Lonnie clearly. He had his one hand on top of his head and he appeared to be in bad shape, facing Virgil as he approached.

“Lonnie,” I said.

Lonnie turned, looking back to me. He squinted in my direction. He kept looking at me, as I got closer to him.

“Oh, sweet Jesus. Deputy Hitch?” Lonnie said with a tremble in his voice. “That you, Deputy Marshal Hitch?”

“It is.”

Lonnie looked back to Virgil, as he got closer.

“And Marshal Cole?” Lonnie said.

“It is,” Virgil said.

“Oh my Lord. My prayers have been answered. Oh, my. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.”

Lonnie looked back to me.

“Thank you, Jesus.”

Lonnie started crying.

“It’s okay, Lonnie,” I said.

“Deputy Marshal Hitch,” he said, then looked to Virgil. “And Marshal Cole. Oh, Jesus. Thank you, sweet Jesus. You fellas have no idea how goddamn glad I am to see the likes of you two. No idea.”