Phantoms in the Snow (6 page)

T
hat night, Noah ate dinner with Wiley, Cam, Roger, and Bill. He played cards with them, and even went ten rounds in the Ping-Pong tournament, almost making it to the finals, which endeared him to his bunkmates, who now saw him as the “barracks hero.” The best part of the evening had been the boys cheering him on, while over in a corner, Daniel Stultz sat alone, reading a book, not a friend in sight.

The next morning, Noah woke weary, but less sore than he had been the morning before. He showered and dressed, his muscles loosening quickly.

When Daniel came into the barracks, Wiley gave a “
heil
Hitler” sign behind his back. Noah had to try hard not to laugh.

“Today’s our last day together,” Daniel said, plopping a rucksack down next to Noah. “Olaf will be taking over your training tomorrow.”

Noah kept his eyes on the floor, knowing a look of relief was crossing his face.

“So, today we conquer the hard part,” Daniel said. “And you’ll be out there until you’ve mastered it.”

The hard part?
Noah thought, raising his head in alarm.

“It’s one thing to ski, Garrett,” Daniel Stultz said. “It’s another to ski with eighty pounds strapped to your back.”

Noah glanced at the empty rucksack. “That hardly looks like eighty pounds.”

“Of course it’s not eighty pounds yet,” Daniel snapped. “But believe me, Garrett, it will be by the time you finish packing it up.”

Daniel wasn’t joking. He had Noah fill that rucksack until it was bulging, stuffing in a tent, a sleeping bag, clothes, ammunition, some food, and a real stove with the gas to light it. By the time they were finished, Noah couldn’t even lift the thing.

“How am I supposed to get this up and onto my back?” Noah asked.

Daniel shrugged. “Your problem, Garrett. But I don’t think the Germans will come over and help you out.”

“My fellow soldiers might,” Noah pointed out testily.

“Not if you’re on patrol by yourself,” said Daniel.

Noah looked at the rucksack, lying there on the floor. An idea came to him. He lay down on his back and slipped his arms through the pack straps. He tried to sit, but quickly fell over.
Finally, he rolled over on his stomach and pushed himself up to standing.

He looked over triumphantly at Daniel.

“Clever,” Daniel muttered. “All right. Let’s go.”

Noah’s heart sank. Yes, he had stood up, but how the heck was he supposed to ski with this thing weighing him down?

It wasn’t easy. Noah spent hours that day riding up the T-bar, only to fall trying to parallel ski with eighty pounds on his back. By mid-afternoon, welts had formed on his shoulders that split open and bled by evening. Snow began to come down, blurring Noah’s vision and making it twice as hard to see.

Still, Daniel didn’t let up.

Over and over again, he made Noah ride up the mountain and ski back down. All the progress Noah had made the day before slipped away with the extra weight on his back. Noah just wanted to sit down in the snow and quit, but with Daniel’s keen eye on him every time he fell, he gritted his teeth, hoisted the bag back up, and tried again.

The snow stopped falling and the moon rose, light spilling in soft folds across the mountain. Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled. Still, there was no letup.

“It’s getting dark,” Noah pointed out.

Daniel nodded. “So it is.”

“Shouldn’t we be heading back?” Noah suggested.

“Not until you master this,” Daniel told him.

“I can try again tomorrow,” Noah said, trying to keep the pleading from his voice. He was exhausted.

Daniel shook his head. “There is no tomorrow in war. There is only the moment. I know you don’t like me much, Garrett, and that’s fine. But I want you to understand that I wouldn’t push you any harder than I push myself. Now go back up and ski down again.”

Noah’s mind grew numb. He couldn’t feel his fingers or his cheeks. He didn’t think about anything. He just skied up and down, up and down, until Daniel’s voice was all he heard.

And then, suddenly, he did it. He skied the entire way down and didn’t fall or stumble. He skied an almost perfect parallel. He came to a dead stop right in front of Daniel Stultz, spraying him with a shower of snow from his turning skis. The sight of the snow dusting Daniel’s immaculate uniform gave Noah a great deal of satisfaction. He waited for Daniel’s praise.

“You’ll have to move faster than that to evade the Germans,” Daniel said.

Noah closed his eyes. Was this man never satisfied?

“Still,” Daniel continued, “you did all right today, considering you’re not a natural athlete.”

“Who said I’m not much of an athlete?” Noah snapped.

Daniel sighed. “Don’t get so bent out of shape, Garrett. I just told you the truth, that’s all. I believe in always being truthful. And I didn’t say you weren’t much of an athlete. I said you weren’t a natural. Not everyone’s a natural.”

“Fine,” Noah said, throwing down his poles. “Maybe I’m not a natural. I didn’t grow up skiing. I grew up in Texas. But I worked hard on my farm, really hard.”

Daniel shrugged. “Working hard on a farm and being a
natural athlete are two different things. What do you care anyway? Your whole attitude reeks of not wanting any of this, and I hate training anyone who doesn’t truly believe in fighting this war. So, why
are
you here, Garrett?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Noah shot back. “My parents died. My uncle is my only living relative. So unlike you, signing up was not my choice. When things get tough, at least you’ve got someone to write home and whine about it to. I’m all alone.”

Daniel’s eyes hardened. “What do you want? Sympathy from me? I haven’t got any for you.”

“No surprise there,” Noah snapped. “I’m not sure you’ve got any feelings at all.”

Daniel bent over to pick up Noah’s poles. “We’re done, Garrett. But I’ll give you one last piece of advice, and for free, too.”

His brown eyes bored into Noah’s as he handed him his poles. “Assumptions can get you killed.”

Then he turned his back on Noah and skied away, back toward the camp.

“I’M NOT GOING TO WAR, ANYWAY!” Noah wanted to shout after him, but he knew those words just might land his uncle in hot water. And even though Noah wanted to thrash his uncle for sticking him with Daniel Stultz these past two days, he knew he needed James Shelley — at least until he worked out a way to leave this camp for good.

Still, Noah felt relief. He was done with Daniel Stultz. The worst was over.

T
he mess hall was noisy that night, filled with boys who had sweated out another day of training in the mountains. The aroma of food and body odor mingled with the humidity of pants and boots drying after a day in knee-deep snow. Noah found a place next to his uncle and set his tray down.

“So, you’ve learned to ski,” his uncle said, as he swiped a glob of gravy up with a piece of bread. “Somewhat, anyway.”

“Daniel Stultz tell you that?” Noah asked, hating the “somewhat” he was sure Daniel had added.

His uncle shook his head. “Didn’t have to. I was watching you at the end.”

Noah felt himself redden.

“Not bad, boy,” his uncle said, tossing the gravy-soaked bread into his mouth, “not bad at all for three days.” He chewed the food and swallowed. “Looks like you inherited some skiing skills somewhere along the line.”

At least his
uncle
had complimented his abilities. “Do you think my mother would have been a good skier?” Noah asked, wondering if his mother would have ever tried the sport had she lived a little longer.

His uncle was quiet for a moment. “I think your mother would have been good at anything she undertook, Noah.”

Noah looked at James Shelley, but his uncle’s face remained bland.

Roger tossed a tray of food down and slid onto the bench across from Noah and his uncle. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?” Noah asked.

Wiley, Cam, and Bill came sidling up and sat down.

“Come on, Shelley,” Roger said. “Let’s hear the story.”

“What story?” James Shelley asked, looking at the boys with wide-eyed innocence, but Noah could see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“The one Skeeter keeps telling everybody to ask you about,” Roger said impatiently. “Something funny, he says. Come on. Tell us all what happened.”

And as he had the night Noah arrived, Roger began to chant, “Tell it! Tell it! Tell it!” Soon the whole mess hall had joined in, pleading to hear the funny thing that had happened on the mountain. Somebody poked Noah in the ribs, and Noah joined in with the crowd.

James Shelley finally shook his head. “All right. All right. I’ll tell it.”

A sigh could have been heard in the room then, as the entire camp leaned forward expectantly.

“Well,” Noah’s uncle began, “I was out all day yesterday, experimenting with some new wool blankets Uncle Sam sent us that they think may hold up better under the unique conditions we find ourselves in when skiing at altitudes such as we do and with the temperatures dropping as we know they do at night around here and —”

“Get on with it, Shelley,” Roger interrupted.

James Shelley grinned. “Patience, boy, patience.”

Someone sent a Ping-Pong ball soaring into the air, landing it on the table with a loud
thwap.
“Patience is for Germans!”

“Okay,” Noah’s uncle laughed, holding his hands up in mock resignation. “Okay. I’ll get to the good part.

“So, anyway,” James Shelley continued, leaning forward, as if to tell a secret, though his voice grew loud enough to carry clearly across the large room. “I’m up on Homestake Peak, skiing the ridge. It’s about ten below, and my hands and feet are numb, but I don’t care. It’s beautiful up there.”

The boys nodded. Even Noah could imagine how it might look, high on the mountains that surrounded them, looking down upon the world in all its glory, the whitewashed camp buildings gleaming in all that snow and light.

“Then suddenly, over my two-way radio,” his uncle continued, “I hear this pilot flying somewhere in the distance and sending back a signal to his base. And he’s shouting, ‘I’m at eight thousand feet and gliding, gliding!’”

James Shelley grinned. “I couldn’t resist. I get on my radio and send this message back: ‘And I’m at twelve thousand feet and walking, walking!’”

His uncle let out a loud guffaw, and the rest of the mess hall joined in. Noah burst out laughing, too. He could just imagine that pilot’s surprise at hearing that someone was walking at an altitude higher than his.

Outside the mess hall, there was the sound of a jeep shifting gears and screeching to a halt.

A short while later, Skeeter came into the mess hall. “Shelley, someone’s here to see you.”

A woman barged in behind Skeeter, tottering on high-heeled shoes, her heavy winter coat just covering a flimsy skirt. Her cheeks, flushed from the cold, matched her heavily painted red lips. Several of the boys whistled.

“Hey, I told you to wait in the car! You’re not allowed in here,” Skeeter said, as he reached out and tried unsuccessfully to grab the woman, who ignored him and marched farther into the hall.

“Dana, darling!” Noah’s uncle said, standing.

“Don’t give me none of your sweet talk now, James Shelley,” admonished the woman. “You leave me in Denver on a corner and say you’ll be back, and then you don’t show up ever. And I don’t hear from you for weeks and weeks until you need —”

By this time, Noah’s uncle had reached Dana, and he quickly slapped his hand over her mouth. The boys in the mess tent were roaring with laughter.

“Dana, honey,” James Shelley said, “why don’t we just go on outside and talk about this?”

He took her by the elbow and started steering her to the door. His hand was still over her mouth when suddenly he let out a
yelp and jumped back from her, shaking a palm that was now red with teeth marks and lipstick.

“Shelley,” the woman began again, “I ain’t your woman after that night, so don’t go getting your hopes up or anything. I’m only here ’cause Skeeter told me about —”

That was the last any of them heard. Skeeter had come up behind Dana and whisked her out the door.

“Hey, boys,” James Shelley said, turning once before disappearing after Skeeter and the woman, “don’t wait up for me tonight.”

He winked, and the boys all cheered and clapped.

Noah pushed his food away and stared down at the table. He had just started to kind of like his uncle, with his jokes and his love of skiing and even the rough way he had about him. He had just started to see him as family. Now this woman had turned up, reminding Noah just what kind of man his uncle really was, probably why his parents had never acknowledged James Shelley’s existence.

Noah stood.

“Where you going, Noah?” Wiley called after him, as Noah emptied his tray.

Noah didn’t answer. He made his way outside, shrugging on his heavy coat. The night was cloudy and dark. A wind had picked up, probably meaning there would be snow again tomorrow. He looked at the mountains, rising dark against the horizon. Tonight, they seemed forbidding.

Noah’s footsteps sounded hollow and lonely in the night air as he crunched along in the snow. He walked without thinking
, listening to the wind, and, from somewhere behind him, radio music and laughter from the mess hall.

As he approached the end of the line of barracks, a soft braying floated through the air. Noah turned toward the sound, locating a building from which emanated the rustle of hooves and the smell of hay. He slid the doors of the barn open.

Noah had to strain to see as he made his way into the near-darkness. He stopped by the first stall and peered inside. There was the soft plod of mule feet and then a wet nose was exploring Noah’s outstretched hands. Noah rubbed the soft coat of the mule and breathed in the animal’s scent, a reminder of home and his old life.

A light flared within the dark of the barn. Noah jumped back, startled. Daniel Stultz stood there, cupping a match in his hand. He brought the flame to a cigarette in his mouth. There was a soft sizzle, and the scent of smoke filled the air. Daniel shook the match out and took a deep puff, flicking on a flashlight that was hanging from his belt as he did so and lighting up the corner of the barn in which they stood.

“Didn’t know you were an animal lover, Garrett,” Daniel said shortly, exhaling smoke from his mouth.

“I told you,” Noah said, annoyed that this man, like a bad penny, had suddenly turned up once again, “I grew up on a farm.”

“So, you’re a mule expert?” Daniel asked.

“And you’re a skiing expert,” Noah shot back. “So what? What brings
you
here? Please don’t tell me that
you’re
some kind of animal lover!”

Daniel took another puff of his cigarette. “Hardly. But this old barn seems to be the only place to get a little peace and quiet around here.” He looked Noah up and down. “But even that’s ruined now.” He inhaled one more time, then dropped the cigarette to the floor and stepped on it until the ember went out. “Good night, Garrett.”

He turned and walked away.

Noah bent down to pick up the remnants of the cigarette and match, knowing that fire was one of the most feared dangers in a barn, but as he did so, he saw something hanging from the back of Daniel Stultz’s pants pocket that gave him pause.

In the retreating light of Daniel’s flashlight, Noah could just make out slender orange stalks and leafy green tops peeking out from Daniel’s pockets. Daniel Stultz had brought more than a desire for peace and quiet to the barn. He’d brought a mule’s favorite snack — carrots!