Louis LAmour - Beyond the Great Snow Mountains

The Will to Survive

S HE LAUGHED AT the picture of herself, stark-naked and freezing in a primitive forest, clutching a rifle and daring a man like Pete Kubelik to come and get her. What made it funny was the thought of her husband, champion of the working class, seeing her now. That her often drunk, ineffective coffeehouse Bolshevik could never even imagine this.

Come on, damn you.

From somewhere inside her there came a deep swell of emotion. Some of it was the loss of her father. Some of it was fear of this terrible man. Some of it was anger, finally, not with herself, but with her no-good husband.

But most of it was an emotion that had no name, something ancient and primal, the feeling that a tiny animal might have when, after being pursued to the end of its endurance, it turns and bares its teeth. Not only does it have to fight, but something inside has changednow it wants to fight.

Contents

To John Veitch and Louis LAmour together again

BY THE WATERS OF SAN TADEO

T HE DOZEN SHACKS that made up the village of San Esteban huddled, dwarfed and miserable, below the craggy ramparts that walled them away from the world. The lofty circle of mountains, with their ice-choked ravines and thick tangles of beech forest, formed an enclosing wall as impassable as the mountains of the moon. Only in one direction was escape from the village possiblethrough the narrow mouth of the inlet, eight miles from the village.

Julie Marrat had thought of all that many times in the last few weeks, and each time she had come to the same conclusion, and each time that conclusion was just as hopeless. There was but one way of escapeby boat.

There were three boats at the inlet, and all of these belonged to Pete Kubelik. One was the schooner that he used for infrequent trips up the coast and to bring in supplies. There were also two fishing boats, not much more than dinghies, far too small in which to brave the sea that lay outside. Yet escape she must, and immediately.

Returning to the bedside, she looked down at the dying man who was her father. Lovable, impractical, and a dreamer with an always restless heart, George Marrat had never been able to remain still. Now, this lonely inlet far south on the coast of Chile had trapped him, and once there he could not leave.

Two things ensured that. One was his own health, which failed rapidly in the cold, dreary world of San Esteban, where the sun rarely shone and the sky was overcast nearly three hundred days of the year. Yet had it been his health alone, Julie could have managed. The other element was Pete Kubelik.

From the moment they drew their ketch up to the jetty and Julie turned to look into the piglike eyes of the big trader, she had been frightened. Right then she asked her father to leave, knowing that this was not a place they should stay.

He was amazed. Why, Julie? Weve only just come! We can at least look around, cant we?

No, Father, please! Lets go find somewhere else.

Her father had turned to face Kubelik, and the big mans brown face wrinkled in a smile. Im afraid my daughter doesnt like it here, he confessed.

Well, Kubelik had replied, it aint much of a place for women, thats true, but theres gold here, plenty of it!

Gold? Her heart sank at the eagerness in her fathers voice. What would he do if he found it? she wondered. No man ever cared less for money, but in her fathers mind the concept of gold was so much more than money. It was the reward that he was searching for, the last reward that would somehow repair the life that luck had deserted. But, ironically, that life without luck was not hisit was hers. Theres gold here?

Yes, sir! Kubelik had turned and waved a hand at the long spit of black sand that pointed into the inlet from a nearby island. Weve washed many a good stake out of that beach! Best beach placer I ever saw! Was that why you came here?

Had there been anxiety in the big mans voice? Julie had looked at him again, and felt such revulsion that she could scarcely stand to be near him.

Plodding along beside her father, Kubelik had dwarfed him with his huge body. His face was round and moonlike under the thick black beard. Wrinkles ran out in a network of tiny lines from the corners of both eyes, eyes that were small and cruel. His hands were dirty, the fingernails black and broken. And then, for the first time, shed seen the gun. It was in a holster under his sheepskin coat.

Not until later did Julie wonder that none of the others came near them. An Indian woman standing in the door of a driftwood cabin hurriedly stepped back and closed the door when Julie started toward her. Despite the inhospitable gesture, Julie had not been alarmed, taking it for granted that the woman was naturally shy.

By midnight, when they moved into the inner room at Kubeliks station and to bed, they had met only one other man. He was a pasty Austrian named Rudy, and seemed to be Kubeliks shadow. He rarely spoke, but whenever Kubelik and Rudy shared a look, Julie realized there was some silent communication. She saw other people moving among the shacks, but they did not come near the store.

That inner room had been Pete Kubeliks suggestion. She had wanted to return to the boat, hoping that her father could be talked into leaving, but Kubelik laughed at her and waved her objections away with an impatient hand. He would take it as an insult, he said. By all means, they should stay. Entranced by his stories of the coast, her father listened, and they remained. And in the morning, their boat was gone.

She had just gotten out of bed when she saw through the small window the empty pier where the ketch had been left. Fear gripping her heart, she awakened her father. George Marrats face went pale, and for the first time, he was afraid.

They rushed down to the beach, but the ketch was nowhere to be seen.

Kubelik had come from the house, rubbing his eyes. Whats the matter. Something wrong?

Our boats gone! Marrat exclaimed. Lord, man! What will we do? What could have happened to it?

Wind, maybe, Kubelik suggested, or some thief. No use standing here. Come in an lets fix breakfast. Then we can take one of my boats an look around.

Yet when her eyes happened to meet those of Kubelik, his had been triumphant.

Her father, despite his interest in the gold, was genuinely worried. He knew the mountains were impassable, that the forests were undergrown with thick moss, laden with moisture, and a man could sink to his waist in trying to struggle through. And by the end of the day, they realized that the boat was gone and they knew they would not find it.

How about taking us to Puerto Montt? Marrat had suggested. You have the schooner, and we cant stay here. I have money in the bank back in Santiago. Take us out, and Ill pay your price.

All right, Kubelik had said thoughtfully. But youll have to wait until Im ready to go for supplies. A week or so, maybe.

Yet when the week had passed, he said nothing about leaving. Her father had been placer mining on the beach and caught a severe cold. By that time, they had moved to a small shack, refusing to accept more of Kubeliks hospitality.