The Land of Lure: A Story of the Columbia River Basin

by Elliott Smith

Exhausted by the loss of sleep and the excitement, Minnie Gully had sunk into a chair near the stove. Her husband, noticing her tired look, tried to persuade her to lie down and rest for a while, but this she refused to do, so throwing an old coat over her shoulders to keep out the chill, he left her and went out to investigate the condition of his horses. These he found had fared much better than he had hoped. The drifting snow had been blown into the sagebrush windbreak and formed a solid and almost impenetrable mass, behind which the horses, protected by their blankets, stood in comparative comfort.

The task of digging from his meager supply of hay, now almost covered by a huge snowdrift, a sufficient amount for their morning feed was a hard one, but upon its completion he felt fully repaid by the hearty manner in which it was eaten. Upon his returning to the house he found that his wife and daughters were up and busily engaged preparing breakfast. They asked eagerly as to the condition of the horses, and upon being assured that they had fared splendidly, they laughed and joked over their wild night's experience.

All through that day and the day following the blizzard raged without any appreciable lull in its terrific force. No effort was made to repair the torn paper on the outer wall. The cracks that had been hastily filled with paper and rags were gone over and made more secure, the blankets that had been used as a shield in their emergency were taken down and dried, and the crude bed that had been so ruthlessly torn away from the north wall was temporarily reconstructed on the opposite side of the room and held out inviting prospects to Gully, who was now beginning to feel more keenly the effect of his long vigil of the night before.

All efforts at accomplishing anything on the outside were abandoned, and meals were prepared and served at irregular hours. The chickens had taken kindly to their new quarters, and becoming quite tame, were a source of amusement to the children. Travis Gully devoted his time to the care of his horses and providing fuel, the latter occupation requiring most of his time, as the enormous quantity consumed soon exhausted the supply near the house, and as more could not be gotten while the storm raged he was forced to dig out the old railroad ties from the wind break at the barn and to use them for fuel.

The storm spent its fury on the desert dwellers sometime during the third night. The lull came while Gully and his family, now inured to its sound, were soundly sleeping, and when they awoke the following morning they lay for several moments listening for the roar of the wind; not hearing it, Gully knew that the long wished for calm had come. Dressing himself, he kindled the fire, and calling to his wife that the storm had ceased, he went out to view its work.

The sun had risen, but was unable to penetrate the haze of thin clouds and snow left floating along the horizon, and looked down on the desolate scene without warmth. The air was cold and penetrating, huge piles of snow had drifted behind every stationery object, and in places where the ground had been cleared of brush and grass the snow was swept entirely away and the wind had eaten its way into the sandy soil and scattered it over the adjoining snowdrifts, giving them a yellow, dingy appearance. Loose sagebrush that had been left piled and ready to burn had been taken up and blown before the wind until finding lodgement against some object, had become the base for the formation of additional snowdrifts that extended in long mounds in the direction the wind had blown. The whole landscape had a changed and unnatural appearance.

Gully could see the homes of some of his neighbors, but they seemed far off, and no signs of life were visible except in one or two instances where streams of thin, blue smoke was issuing from their stove pipes. Not a horse nor cow could be seen upon the range, and the ever present hawks that were wont to soar at dizzy heights above the plain were missing. Noting these changes in detail, Gully wondered if these same conditions existed throughout the vast area. After feeding his horses, he returned to the house, where his breakfast awaited him.

A few days after the passing of the storm the sun resumed its brilliancy, but with little increased warmth; the days were clear and the nights frosty. No effort was made by Gully toward venturing away from home. He replenished his supply of fuel and covered the exposed cracks in the wall of his shack by nailing over them laths. The space between the cracks where the tar paper had been torn away was left bare, and the new boards thus exposed glared in the bright sunlight.

During the time they had been forced by the storm to remain in the house many letters had been written to the home folks, in which a description of the Christmas tree and the blizzard had been given. These Gully was anxious to get to the post office, as well as to receive the mail that he felt sure was awaiting his coming.

Deciding one morning that he would try to reach the village, he set about arranging his plans to go the following day. To undertake to drive through he knew would be useless, as the snow was drifted so badly he could not follow the road. As the village could be plainly seen from his house and there were no fences to obstruct his way, he thought it best to take one of his horses on which to pack out some provisions, and go straight across the wide snow covered plain.