Benteen swore again, tugging the scarf down to his chin. His lips were blue. “Damn you, Dollarhide. One more word and, so help me, I’ll draw my pistol and shoot you dead. I know what you’re thinking. When you’re done tormenting me, you’ll drive off and leave me to freeze to death, just like I left you to die in that wash on the cattle drive. It’s been twelve years, and you’ve still got that damned burr under your saddle.” He cleared his throat and spat in the snow. “I heard about the offer you made on the Ransom place.”
Joe didn’t ask him how he knew. “I offered ten percent more than you did,” he said. “Florence deserves as much as she can get for that ranch. And when I get to the bank, that’s what she’ll be getting.”
“But I offered first, and I’ll beat your price if I have to double it! I want that land, and damn it, you’re not going to steal it from me.” Tugging off a glove, he reached under his coat for the pistol he wore at his hip. But it was frozen in its holster.
Joe watched as Benteen struggled to free the weapon. He had his rifle under the seat of the sleigh, but he left it in place, acting on the hunch that he wouldn’t need it.
After a moment of trying, Benteen wrenched the pistol out of the holster and leveled it at Joe. “I’m taking that sleigh,” he said. “You can walk. Get down.”
Joe could see that the pistol was clogged with ice. The hammer was frozen in place, and Benteen’s cold, numbed hand was too weak to aim and fire. Now Benteen could see it, too. With a curse, he flung the useless pistol into the snow.
“All right, you bastard!” he snarled. “Go on then. Get out of here. But I won’t forget this. I’ll see that you pay, even if it’s in hell.”
Joe looked at his rival, standing knee-deep in snow, shaking with cold and fury. Benteen’s skin was colorless. His clothes were coated with snow. Left to walk the rest of the way to town, a distance of several miles, he could die of exposure. Even if Benteen lived to reach Miles City, he could still perish from pneumonia. Joe thought of Lorna. He thought of Benteen’s young son, Webb, and how much they needed him. This wasn’t what he wanted. Beating Benteen Calder at fair play was one thing. But Joe had never meant to cause his death.
“Well,” Benteen’s voice quivered with false bravado, “what are you waiting for? Get going.”
Joe shook his head. “Benteen Calder, I swear you are the stubbornest sonofabitch on God’s green earth! Just climb in the damned sleigh, before I lose my patience and leave you here to freeze.”
This time Benteen didn’t argue. He slogged through the snow and, with the last of his strength, hauled himself onto the back seat of the sleigh. Joe handed him the buffalo robe. He wrapped himself in it and sat in silence, a shivering bundle of rage and wounded pride, as the sleigh began to move.
By the time they reached Miles City, Benteen was doing better. He’d stopped shivering and could find no frostbite damage to his hands, face, or ears. As they passed the bank, they saw that it was open, but there was no reason to hurry now.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” Joe asked as they pulled the sleigh up on a side street. “It might be a good idea to have him check your feet.”
“What are you now, my mother?” Benteen groused. “All I need is a hot cup of coffee and I’ll be fine.”
After giving the horses some oats and water, they walked around the corner to the hotel and ordered coffee in big, steaming mugs. They drank in silence, letting the hot, black liquid warm their bodies. Benteen was being civil enough, but the question of who had the right to buy the Ransom ranch hung between them like an unspoken threat. Now that they were here, and the bank was open, Joe knew that it would have to be settled.
It stood to reason that Joe had won the race to buy the property. After all, he’d gotten here on his own power, with Benteen as his rescued passenger.
But Benteen had left earlier. If he hadn’t lost his horse, he would’ve