Free Phantoms in the Snow by Kathleen Benner Duble

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 ayelp 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