She lifted her skirts, ran, and plowed right into him. They went tumbling.
He must not’ve run after all.
Landing hard on top of him, she rolled on over and slid along the snowy ground on her back, then her belly, finally slamming against a snowdrift, which was frozen hard.
Trace crawled to her side on his hands and knees. “Are you all right, Deb? Speak to me.”
He shook her by the shoulders. That made her aware a bit. She lay still, her eyes closed, stunned. “I’m fine.” Not strictly the truth. “Just . . . the w-wind knocked out . . . of me. Give me a moment to catch my breath.”
He didn’t give her a moment. “I walked out, Deb, because I didn’t want to hear what you must be thinking, not after I confessed my evil. But I was a coward to walk out. I’ll give you your say. Then I’ll leave and stay far away. The men can eat your food and bring you supplies and firewood. I’ll stay away from you. I deserve to be cast out.”
She heard such despair and such loneliness. Gathering her wits, she rested a hand on his forearm. “Trace, you’re not going anywhere.”
“I have to. I’m not fit company for you, Gwen, and the children. There were no more trains the fall my pa was killed, but the next spring I finally found my way back to that trail and came upon another burned-out wagon train. Those men had struck again. Instead of following the trail to a town, I picked a lookout and waited. When the next train came, I was ready. I slipped through the woods, finding men waiting to dry-gulch the travelers. I killed any man I could find. Where your train spent the night, and mine, that’s the only stopping place for miles. Those men had plans to kill the pioneers in their sleep.”
“You said you killed every one of them you could draw a bead on. But what you really did was guard the passage along that trail. You watched for the outlaws, and when you found them waiting to attack another train, you stopped them.”
“I was full of anger and vengeance. ‘Vengeance is mine saith the Lord.’ Well, I hadn’t given any thought to that verse, though I read the Bible through the first winter. And I might not have stopped even if I had understood it. I wanted the men who killed my pa to suffer, to die for their crimes. I’m a top marksman, Deb. I aimed to kill.”
“Help me up.”
Trace’s hands were like velvet iron, the strength, the gentleness as he helped her sit upright. Then after a few moments, he lifted her to her feet. He held on until he was sure her knees wouldn’t wobble, then stepped respectfully back.
“Now, Trace Riley—”
“You’ve called me by my first and last name two times. It don’t seem like a good sign.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I can understand the anger you carried around, but I can’t judge as evil a man who protected innocent people from killers.”
Trace shrugged one shoulder. “I reckon I enjoyed it too much.”
She slapped him on the shoulder. “And when the attacks broke off, did you go around killing other people and enjoy that?”
Trace’s dark brows slammed down. “Of course not.”
“And why is that? Why do you say, ‘of course not’?”
“I’m not a cold-blooded killer, Deb.”
“I thought you just said you were.”
Trace glared, then finally dropped his eyes to the ground, and kicked at the snow. “Don’t make light of what I did. I found a Bible in one of the burned-out wagon trains—most of the books came from there, or I found them tossed alongside the trail when folks were lightening their loads. Lately I’ve bought a few. But that Bible survived the fire when my pa was killed.”
“That explains its battered cover.”
“Yep, I figured maybe God had spared it just to give me a chance to read His Word. I could only read mighty slow at first, but I kept getting faster. I had four other books, so I spent the first winter reading them all through before spring came. I’ve read it through every winter since, and I’d catch a little more each time until I thought I started understanding all of it, which I see now is so foolish. I finally felt like ‘vengeance is mine’ was written with me in mind, or for men like me, but I was so angry and didn’t let it stop me.”
“And if you had understood those words, Trace? Would you have left the wagon trains unguarded? Is that what you think God would have wanted you to do?”
That was met with a long stretch of silence. “When I finally got to a town I heard rumors that the trail was haunted. That a ghost they’d named The Guardian stood watch over it. I didn’t tell anyone it was me.”
Finally, because she was getting purely cold, Deb said, “I don’t hate you for what you did, Trace. If hate drove you and you feel it was an awful sin, then pray for forgiveness. Ask God to forgive you and learn to forgive yourself. And do it knowing that I hold no sin against you. That’s not really what I came out here for.”
“It’s not?” Trace found his hat where it’d fallen off his head, put it back on, put his hand on her back and urged her back toward the cabin.
“No, I came out because I am going with you tomorrow. You need me. I’d hoped after today you’d know that. You’d realize that—”
“All right, you can come.”
Deb stopped and whirled around to face him. “All right?” She was as stunned now as she’d been after the fall.
“Yes, after today I saw you were right. It made me wary not knowing who the men around me were. I wished you were there to tell me if you recognized voices. I would appreciate it if you’d come. I plan to ride straight to Carson City. Dismal is on south of us, and those men wouldn’t have gone there, not without me knowing. The trail goes too close to my place. And besides they were headed north. You can help me talk to the sheriff. You can describe the man you saw and the voices you heard—it’d be better coming straight from the witness and not passed through me.”
Deb stood speechless. She’d expected to have the fight of her life over this. And she hadn’t intended to take no for an answer. Although she’d have to steal a horse from Trace, and she didn’t know how to saddle one, and she’d have to get past Utah and Adam. Still, she’d planned to go.
This sort of added to having her breath knocked out. “Well, umm . . . good. I’m glad we agree.”
“Gwen will be all right, won’t she?” A furrow formed between Trace’s brows. “She’ll have to care for the children and feed the men on her own. You both work mighty hard to get a meal on for us.”
It was all Deb could do not to throw her arms around his neck. Honestly, he was just the sweetest man. Then she remembered his confession about killing and thought maybe sweet wasn’t the exact right term.
“Gwen will be fine.”
“We’ll have to stay out overnight. I think we can get to Carson City and find rooms there. If we make good time, do our searching there, and move on past it we’ll have to find some proper place for you to sleep.”
“What time do we leave?”
“Before sunup. I’ll knock on your door to wake you, then go saddle the horses while you dress. I’ve got food for the saddlebags.”
“I’ll bring along some more.”
Nodding, Trace said, “That’ll be fine, but we should be able to eat in Carson City so we don’t need too much.”
Deb determined she would be up and ready long before Trace. She wasn’t going to do a single thing that slowed him down.
CHAPTER
18
Trace knocked quietly on the door in the darkness. Deb swung it open, dressed, a bag over her shoulder that Trace recognized from when he’d first come upon her. She carried a canteen in her other hand.
“I haven’t saddled the horses yet.”
“I won’t get in your way, but Trace, when you ever get a spare moment, I’d like to learn to saddle a horse.”
He wondered how long that’d take. She was a greenhorn. “Let’s go. We’ll save saddling lessons for another day.”
They reached the barn, and Utah had both horses ready.
“I’d’ve done i
t, Utah.”
“I know you would have, Trace. You’re a man who tends his own horse. But this gives me a jump on the day’s building.”
He spoke as if Trace had done him a favor.
Trace boosted Deb up onto the saddle, then swung up on his own mount. Utah had picked well. Deb’s horse was a gentle mare but no slacker. Trace wanted to make good time, and unless Deb wasn’t up to the ride—hard to judge by the ride she’d taken on a horse with four riders—they’d make a fast trip of it.
Heading out an hour before first light, they hit the trail galloping. He glanced at Deb, who never claimed any top riding skills. “Let me know if you’re having any troubles. We don’t need to go at this pace.”
“I’ll let you know.” Her determined expression and her firm jaw told Trace she’d die before she complained. He sure hoped it didn’t come to that!
She had a viselike grip on the saddle horn, which was how greenhorns rode, but she was balanced well.
Trace planned to ride all the way to Carson City and to the north shore of Tahoe. He’d have slept on the trail, but with Deb along, they’d need a hotel. There was a decent little town at the north point.
Surely there’d be no more wagon trains. Even the latest travelers heading for the California Trail to Sacramento had come through by now. Only a fool would try to cross any later. But Trace had learned the hard way there were fools aplenty in the world. If he came across a wagon train, he’d warn them of the danger from the outlaws. He’d also warn them of the danger of rough weather. But he knew they’d press on regardless. By this point in the journey, they were low on supplies and money. They couldn’t afford to lay up over the winter. He’d also make sure to check if a small group was splitting off from the bigger trains.
No one was reckless enough to attack a big wagon train—and the same thought of fools ran through Trace’s head. Some of the trains stretched to a hundred covered wagons, and that meant lots of men and guns.
Reading tracks had told Trace it was three outlaws. But maybe there were others. Maybe only a few went for such a small train. He’d never seen an attack on a full-sized train—and he’d watched the trail for years, so he’d’ve seen it. Besides the sheer number of people, many of the men heading west were Civil War veterans and a tough salty lot who were ready, even eager, to aim and fire. Add to that the kind of men who’d attack and kill sleeping settlers were the worst kind of cowards. They’d never take on a big train.
Unless maybe they were desperate for money with winter coming on. Trace didn’t put anything past such low-down skunks.
He’d leave word in Carson City so any late trains would be on alert. He’d see if anyone was traveling to Reno so they could pass the word, and he’d hope for someone heading for Virginia City. But a train this late, he doubted it.
Reno was the most common path. The California Trail, though there were several versions of it, split from the Oregon Trail and often passed right through Reno. Virginia City was a hard old ride west.
They settled into a steady gallop. These two horses were both strong, and neither Trace nor Deb carried much with them. They couldn’t ride all the way to Carson City at this pace but they’d make good time.
“Let’s give ’em a breather, Deb.” Trace laughed as they slowed to a walk.
“What’s funny?”
“I just realized those are the first words spoken between us in over an hour.”
“Tell me what you’ve got planned for today, Trace.”
“The first stop is Carson City. On the west side of Lake Tahoe there are several small settlements, but on the east side I’m mainly looking to spread the word about the massacre, make sure any lawmen know the Paiutes weren’t involved, and warn any wagon trains.”
“You’ve mentioned Lake Tahoe a number of times, but where is it?”
Trace’s eyes flashed with pleasure. “I can show you. Not today, because the trail swings wide of it, but tomorrow I can pick a trail that’ll put us in sight of it. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. A huge lake surrounded by mountains and trees. We rode along the west side on our way to my place. There’s a lot of forest between us and that beautiful blue water. I’d love to be with you when you see it for the first time. The most beautiful thing in the world, I reckon, though I’ve heard tell that there’s a canyon in Arizona Territory that’s a wonder.”
“The Grand Canyon. I’ve seen pictures but I haven’t traveled much.”
“The books I’ve read don’t talk of such discoveries as the Grand Canyon. I’ve only heard stories. Anyhow, I can get you a look at Tahoe tomorrow. I want to ask around in Carson City, see if there’ve been attacks like this with similarities between the attack on the Scotts and the attack so many years ago on my own wagon train. Doing all that, well, it’ll take most of the day, but I hope there’s time to ride on. Tomorrow we’ll round the lake and talk to any settlements I didn’t get to on my ride yesterday. We’ll be able to push on tomorrow night and sleep at home.”
“Maybe they’ll have the roof on the bunkhouse done by then and you and your men can sleep in a warm house for the first time since I arrived and stole your home from you.”
Trace grinned. “It ain’t stealin’ if I give it to you, woman.”
Deb laughed quietly.
“Pushing hard to get the new cabin and the bunkhouse up is the best thing about you coming. I built that old cabin alone and I’ve kept it standing more with prayer than with any building skills. And so far my prayers haven’t stopped the cold wind from blowing through the cracks.”
“Well then, I’m very glad I could help by making all this backbreaking work for you.” She sounded on the verge of laughing.
With a wide grin, he said, “I think we’d better get on. The horses are rested and the miles are long.”
Deb kicked her horse into a gallop alongside Trace’s. They rode through narrow trails and wide ones, trees thick around them and then openings into meadows. The ground was rugged, with mountains climbing up on their left and down on their right, with bare trees knocking in the cold breeze and stones scattered far and near, like giant rocks thrown about by the Lord himself.
They galloped on toward Carson City, and Trace realized he was in an overly good mood for a man searching for murdering thieves. The thought sobered him. How long was it going to take him to find the killers and bring them to justice?
Raddo strode down the streets of Carson City. There was a wagon train that’d pulled through right before he came to town. The folks would take at least five days to get to that deadly pass, so there was no use riding after them yet.
Instead, Raddo and his men would rest here two days, enjoy all the favors a bigger town offered, and then they’d ride hard.
This group was going on the main trail to Sacramento too, not turning off to head south. That Sacramento Trail had grown into the road with all the travel since they’d found the Comstock Lode. Raddo had pulled his own share of silver out of the ground before his mine played out.
So a busier trail increased the danger. But all Raddo could see was the cold winter ahead and the money to be had. If a man was going to strike it rich without digging in the ground, he had to take chances sometimes.
The wagon train was too large, he knew that, but he was desperate. Besides, it wasn’t the biggest train he’d ever heard of at twenty-five wagons. He’d thought about finding a few more men, but he wanted all the money for himself. Well, himself and his saddle partners, if he ended up having to share.
He shrugged off his worries. There would be no travelers in the predawn hours. And Raddo and his men had scouted the trail; they’d picked out several prime spots where they could hide and wait for the train—getting in place ahead of time so they could be on hand for the raid. Meanwhile, they’d be on the lookout for sentries. And when they attacked, they’d work silently for as long as they could.
He nodded to himself. They were ready. Besides, it was so late in the season that these folks qualified as fools, so
he, Meeks, and Dalt oughta be able to take ’em without much fuss.
CHAPTER
19
Deb and Trace reached Carson City by midafternoon.
Trace rode up to a livery stable. He stripped the leather, and Deb tried to help but was slowing him down. Once he’d seen to hay and a bait of oats, he said, “Now it’s our turn to eat.”
“We’re in a hurry, Trace.” Deb did her best not to limp. She didn’t want to admit how painful dismounting was. She’d never ridden this long and hard before. The ride to Trace’s place from the massacre didn’t count because she’d gotten off and walked several times.
She wondered if he would’ve taken time to eat if she wasn’t with him. “Let’s just eat the jerky and biscuits I brought.”
“Nope. We’ve got to talk to the sheriff and ask some questions of others. And the horses need a rest. We pushed them getting here.”
“Are you all right?” He stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of the diner, then turned with worried eyes toward her.
She must’ve limped after all. “I’m fine.” She forced her knees to lock while she nodded cheerfully. She hoped he didn’t notice her clenched jaw.
He looked doubtful but swung the diner door open and let her go in ahead of him. “We ate a light breakfast on the trail. Now my belly’s so empty it thinks my throat’s been cut. We’ll eat fast.”
After a meal that was touched by hunger’s magic seasoning, they went hunting the sheriff. They found his office, but he wasn’t in. Carson City was the territorial capital and flush with money from the Comstock Lode, so it had a good-sized number of deputies. One of them knew where the sheriff was and pointed the way. After being questioned, the deputy also told them that a wagon train had just passed through town.
Leaving the jail, Trace said quietly to Deb, “We’ll ride after them. We have time before they reach the dangerous mountain passes.”
“You sound calm, but your eyes are dancing around like you’re panicking.”
“Well, I feel an almost frantic need to ride after those folks and warn them they might be in danger. But I’ve got a few things to finish here first.”
The Accidental Guardian Page 14
