There was a stunned silence, until Adam asked hesitantly, “You’re fixin’ to keep ’em on the HS through the winter, boss?”
Trace hadn’t really put it into words; he’d only thought of all they couldn’t do. “What choice do we have?”
The men were silent.
“I need to talk to them. They weren’t headed toward Sacramento. They’d taken the south fork of the California Trail that stays up in the high country. The baby boy had folks killed in the massacre. The girl is his cousin, and she’s got a father building a house and getting ready for them. We need to find out who that is and get a letter to him. We can make a run to Dismal to send a letter, but it might not get out till spring. Nothing gets through once the passes close up for the winter. The Donner Party cured most folks of trying to make a late-season passage. There are always a few, though.”
“I can make a run to Dismal,” Adam offered. “I ride a fast critter. I can go out and back today. I’ll leave as soon as we fetch a letter around and find out where to send it.”
Nodding, Trace admitted Adam’s horse could beat every other animal on the place and it had endurance, too. Adam could get to the rugged frontier town and back in half a day if he pushed hard. “I appreciate that. No matter where our company ends up traveling on to, they look to be spending the winter in my house.”
“Which means we get to spend the winter in the stable, Trace?” Utah looked straight up.
Trace’s gaze followed. Snow was sifting in through the roof. And this light snow was nothing to what was coming.
“Truth is,” Adam added, “the house lets the snow in almost as bad as the stable.”
Utah sounded glum. “Cabin’s got a fireplace, though.”
“So . . . Utah, I said I’d like you to build a house come spring.” Trace crossed his arms, knowing he was asking a lot. “And I wanted to take our time so I could learn some building skills from you.”
Utah nodded. “We’re going to start building right now, today, aren’t we? And build as fast as we know how. And it’d better be two houses if we can find the time. Because I’ve stayed a few days in that cabin of yours and I don’t know how you’ve survived all these years. We’ll build a cabin for the winter, and a bunkhouse for us to sleep in for now, and then next spring you can have your own house.”
“And I’m not going to be all that much help to you building it.”
“Why not?” Utah asked. “I can teach you some of the ways of building.”
“I’ll learn all I can, but I’m going to be busy on something else.”
There was a stretch of silence that Trace hated to break.
“Something else?” Finally Adam couldn’t control his curiosity. “Like what?”
Trace felt that grim rage take hold of his heart again. “I’m going to be hunting the men who massacred the folks on that wagon train. And I’ll ride as far and as hard and as often as I need to. Those men are vicious killers. They’re going to pay for their crimes. It rained on the trail behind us, on the north side of the peak. So the tracks will be washed away. But I’ll find them. I’m planning to ride out every morning, ride to the north and find the men selling stolen cattle and horses. I’m going to see them hanged. I’ll try and help with the building, and I’ll stay and see things settled in for today, but starting tomorrow, I’m going hunting.”
That caused another uncomfortable silence, broken when Utah said, “If they stole cattle and horses, they’d lay up a while and work over the brands. Some animals coming from the east aren’t branded, so they’ll be easier than altering brands. New brands take time to heal. They might hide out for a while until the brands look right.”
“I can wait a few days maybe, figuring they’re not moving and their tracks are gone.” Trace considered this for a moment. “But bad weather is coming. If it settles down on us, I won’t be going anywhere. By spring these men will be long gone.”
Adam shrugged. “They think they got away clean, killed every witness, so why would they be long gone?”
That pulled Trace up short. “They might haunt the trails awhile longer. There are usually a few late trains going through.”
“Maybe instead of hunting the men,” Adam said, “you hunt the next wagon train. Nothing much easier to find than a whole great big string of wagons.”
Adam had known him longest and had some idea of Trace’s past, though none of his time spent guarding travelers. He’d told no one about that.
“And then I am there to protect the train the next time there’s an attack.” Trace knew how to do that. He’d been that trail’s guardian for years. It was the same men. Or remnants of that old gang. The predawn attack, the falsely laid Indian signs, the same mistakes made copying the Paiute arrows, the fire, and the mutilated bodies done in just the way Trace remembered. That thirst for revenge woke up hard and vicious, and he fought it down and thought of his Bible reading.
“Go when you’ve a need of going. While you’re here, help build the cabin.” Utah grunted as if things were settled, then headed for a big wooden tool bin in the corner of the stable. He swung the lid open on squeaking hinges and pulled an ax out of the box. “This is mine. Do you have another?”
“Yep.” Trace followed Utah and dug through the tools until he found his pa’s heavy
