Trace figured Deb’s willingness to walk was the difference between their making it or not. It also explained her deeper exhaustion than Gwen’s.
Trace was about used up, but he dug deep and found the strength to pick Deb up, with Maddie Sue asleep in her lap. He adjusted the load to keep from dropping the child and headed for the house with both of them.
“No,” Deb muttered, her words slurred, her voice groggy with sleep. “Give me a few minutes to gather my wits and I’ll walk.”
Since Trace sincerely hoped to be asleep in a few minutes, he just carried her on in. And tired as he was, he enjoyed every second of it. In fact, it struck him that if he hadn’t been quite so close to insensible with exhaustion, he might’ve had a little more self-control and not enjoyed a woman in his arms nearly so much.
He came inside to see Gwen collapse on one of the bunks. Adam handed Ronnie to her, and she wrapped up in the blanket and was asleep instantly.
There were three hard little beds. One brand-new, probably built for Utah. It had an old blanket sewn up and stuffed with what smelled like dry meadow grass. That’s the bed Adam had picked for Gwen, and Trace was glad there was clean straw for her.
Adam built up the fire.
Trace lay Deb down on his bed, and Maddie Sue just snuggled up right in her arms. He paused a second at the wonder of having a woman in his bed. It wasn’t quite how it sounded, but that didn’t keep the thought from bouncing around in his head like some kind of mountain echo.
Trace covered Deb and Maddie Sue with his only blanket, then forced himself to look away from her.
He said to Adam, “We’re evicted from the house, I reckon.”
“I reckon.” Adam plucked his blanket off his own bed. Beyond that he didn’t speak as he headed outside. Trace wore his heavy coat, and it looked like that was all he was getting.
He left, pulling the door shut behind him and saw Adam give Utah the news.
“They took all the blankets, too?”
“Nope, we got one, but they took yours and mine,” Trace said. “There was one in my bedroll on Black—did you get that?”
“Yep. We’ve got two, one short.”
“You take it. My coat is plenty warm.”
“They get the fire and the blankets?” Utah sounded resigned, and why not? No one was going back in there to tear a blanket off those women and children.
“It don’t seem right, does it?” Trace chuckled, surprised he had the strength.
The other two added their own quiet mirth.
Utah spoke with laughter in his voice. “I been around women some. It’s probably right.” He turned and headed for the stable with the rest of them.
“Where’d you find two women and two little’uns?” Adam was close enough that, as he held the door for Trace to go into the stable, he could see the man’s brow, furrowed with confusion.
“It’s a family? Did you bring them from Sacramento? Why did you have only one horse?”
The stable was no great structure. Trace had hoped he could keep Utah on for a long time, as he seemed like a man looking for home. If he’d stay until they’d built a new house and stable, Trace would finally have a real ranch going.
But even if he could see stars through the gaps in the roof, and snow silted down here and there, Trace had straw aplenty, just dried meadow grass but as soft as the beds in the house. The wind was cut by the walls, mostly, and with Trace’s good coat and complete exhaustion helping him along, he was asleep before he could relax into the straw.
If the men asked any more questions, Trace was beyond answering.
CHAPTER
8
A scream jerked Trace awake.
He charged out the door, glad he’d slept in his boots and coat.
The scream echoed again, shrill and terrible. He sprinted toward the house and heard feet pounding behind him.
Had the outlaws come for the women? Had they found out someone from the wagon train survived? Had they—?
“Potty!” The scream was a word this time.
Trace skidded to a halt, and Utah slammed into him and sent him staggering forward. Adam ran on past, then stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.
From behind him, Trace heard Utah mutter, “Potty?”
Adam leapt to his feet and charged right straight back to the stable as fast as he’d run out. Adam was young, but he’d been with Trace four years and was already a tough, seasoned cowhand when Trace hired him. Mr. Tough Man Adam had finally heard something that scared him.
“I gotta go potty!” Maddie Sue was up.
The sun was just showing itself over the snowcapped mountains to the east. Trace pivoted and headed straight back to the stable. He didn’t see getting any more sleep, but he wasn’t going in that house for nuthin’. He finally had time to notice that every bone and muscle in his body burned like he was on fire. He’d taken a beating yesterday with the long, hard run carrying that heavy pack.
As he headed for the stable, Utah fell in beside him and started chuckling, Adam laughing out loud.
Trace felt his cheeks heating up. “This is the strangest situation of my life.” Well, no. Not in his life. Being stranded on the frontier, completely alone with winter coming on, was stranger.
“Potty!” This time little Maddie Sue just plain yowled like a wounded raccoon. What was going on in there? Trace hadn’t thought to point to the outhouse last night. But it was right out back, and the women struck him as bright little things. Maybe . . . he shook his head and refused to think about going in there now and pointing. Instead, he started
