Late February, 1923

 

It was just such a winter. Yevgeny was ranging far north of his normal trapping territory. Maya needed some costly medicine and he had to find good, quality furs. His cache of furs was nearly large enough. He judged he had a 40-kilo pack. Today he had added five very nice fox pelts. A few more runs and he would start for home. Yevgeny had noticed the tracks of other trappers the last several days and didn’t want to run into any other hunters or trappers. No wonder though, he thought. This is a great area to trap. He might have to come back next year.

As he pulled up his last trap, three fur-clad men stepped out from behind a growth of scrub fir trees along the game trail. One of them pointed a rifle at Yevgeny and in a dialect he could barely understand, told him to hand over his pelts and rifle.

“Who are you?” Yevgeny asked in Russian.

“Never mind,” said the man who was pointing the rifle at Yevgeny. “Just do as you’re told.”

The other men had knives out but were not acting like they knew the difference between killing an animal or an armed warrior. Yevgeny knew after killing him they would search for his hide and the rest of the pelts.

Yevgeny dropped his pelts and began to hand over his rifle, which had a round chambered and the safety off, as he always carried it when he sensed danger. The increasing appearance of tracks along his route had raised his preparedness.

As the armed trapper smiled and reached for the rifle, Yevgeny flipped the Krag up under his right arm and shot him in the chest. Two more quick moves with the bolt action and all three were down and dying. He knew there wasn’t enough time to hide the bodies. The men weren’t carrying packs. They must live close and people would be looking for them. People who knew this country better than he did. He decided his best option was to travel fast, pick up his furs, and put as much distance between himself and any pursuers. He was twelve days’ travel from the safety of his village. He had 15 rounds of ammunition left. Not enough to keep several armed men at bay.

On the morning of the third day, he was beginning to believe he had escaped. Then he faintly heard dogs howling. Yevgeny picked up his pace, still carrying his pelts. Maya needed the medicine so he needed the pelts. With the rifle, traps, supplies, food, and pack of pelts, he was carrying more than 100 pounds. There was no way he could keep ahead of the dogs carrying that much weight. By the sound, he figured his pursuers were three or four miles back. He was within an hour of the next river crossing.

There was sure to be some open water along the riverbank, Yevgeny thought, planning. A good place to hide the traps and maybe find a way to separate the men from the dogs. Dogs would go out on the ice. Men would not. Too much risk. When Yevgeny made his way down the ridge and got to the river, there were several places he could leave his traps.

Picking a spot marked by a light-colored boulder, he dropped his traps in the water. No one would find them under the shallow, murky water along the riverbank. The pursuers were now above him on the ridge. He couldn’t go back up. The only option was to continue southeast along the bank and find a place to cross the river.

The ice hadn’t broken into fast-moving floes yet but it looked weak. He knew ice from years of ice fishing in Minnesota lakes and the Mississippi River. With his pelts and gear, he still weighed nearly 300 pounds, even without the traps. He traveled due south down the river until he found a wide sweep where the current eased off. Without wasting any time, he struck out across the ice. He avoided snow-covered portions and dragged his pack and pelts behind him to spread out the weight. The river was a good 75 yards across and the ice was mostly firm. As soon as he detected any sponginess, he moved laterally until the ice felt firm again.

Yevgeny breathed easier when he reached solid land. This was a good place to make a stand. He dropped his load of pelts and gear behind a large, fallen log on the edge of the tree line, checked his rifle, the light, and wind. By now, his hunters would only be minutes from reaching the place where he crossed the river.

The dogs appeared first. The men came out of the forest, held the dogs in check near the bank while they discussed their next move. Yevgeny’s tracks were in plain view.

From his hidden position he could clearly see his hunters. They were all dressed the same. They gathered around the man Yevgeny assumed was in charge. The men were all carrying rifles and packs. Must be army or police. This is getting more and more serious, Yevgeny thought as he lined up his sights. That’s why the pursuit was so swift and well organized. These are experienced trackers. They may even have others coming behind them.

While he watched, the men leashed the dogs and started across the ice at intervals of 15 feet. When his hunters were all out on the river and the lead man was, he judged, more than halfway across, he fired, aiming at the ice in front of the lead pursuer. The man immediately stretched out on the ice and began to fire at the edge of the tree line. As Yevgeny had hoped, the others closed up with the dogs until the whole group was within a fifty-foot circle.

Leaving his heavy packs, Yevgeny moved down the river while staying within the edge of the forest. The men on the upper part of the group no longer had a good line of fire and moved down to form a new firing position. Now the men, dogs, and packs were all concentrated in a much smaller area.

Yevgeny picked a good line of fire with protection and fired his five-round magazine within 20 seconds. Now he was shooting to kill. He hit one man and caused the whole group to move and shift. Yevgeny dumped five more rounds into the magazine and fired one more round, hitting a second man, who had been moving and now fell to the ice. He went through the ice and the entire section of river ice began to break up.

The three uninjured men tried to run back across the river, but it was too late. With their heavy clothing, boots, weapons, and packs, all sunk under the surface after a brief struggle. One of the dogs made it to the riverbank but couldn’t get up the bank. Yevgeny ran up and reached down the bank and grabbed the leash to haul the heavy husky up on the bank.

The dog was exhausted after his time in the freezing river water and lay panting. Yevgeny rubbed him down with dry, powdery snow and wrapped the shivering dog in a blanket. “We both need to warm up and get some food,” he said aloud to the dog. The dog perked his ears and lifted his head up to look at Yevgeny. The dog watched as he built a hot but nearly smokeless fire and warmed some smoked meat.

“You know, maybe we can be good friends. Let’s call you Smoke,” Yevgeny said, offering the dog some meat. Smoke licked his hand then gently took the meat. “Someone has taken good care of you. You’re some version of a husky. Before your coat freezes, I’ll get you a bit drier. We have to move out, but not too fast. I’m tired, too.”

During the nine-day trip back to his home village, Yevgeny and Smoke bonded. It was almost as if the big husky mix constantly understood what his new partner wanted and tried his best to give it to him. He and Smoke avoided any trails that looked like they may lead to inhabited areas. At night, Yevgeny was able to relax and sleep for he trusted Smoke to watch over the campsite. In the morning at first light they were under way, leaving the campsite looking like no one had been there.

Yevgeny thought they would reach his village shortly before they had to camp again. The ground was still snow-covered and three light snows had fallen that covered any trail they left. Yevgeny was sure no one would be able to follow his trail. He had slowed the pace since his race against the men hunting him, and he no longer was carrying his load of steel traps. He knew he had to be careful. The word would be out. You don’t kill five government law enforcement officers and three trappers without expecting the search to continue.

All of Barry Kelly’s novels are available in print in digital formats from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or your local bookstore. Visit www.factsandfictions.com for more by the author.