“Good. We can have three men felling trees.” Utah reached for Trace’s ax. “Give it here. I can get an edge on all these that’ll whistle through those trees like wind through their branches. I can probably fell a tree or two before breakfast. You men do the morning chores, rustle up some grub, and get those women to writing a letter. We can chop while Adam rides to Dismal. Before you leave to hunt down those yellowbelly varmints, you can help frame up the house.”
Adam said with an odd, nervous note in his voice, “Maybe the women will cook.”
All three of them pivoted to look in the direction of the cabin.
Adam smiled like a sunny day. Utah quit talking about building and just stared through the barn wall as if he could see right into the cabin to the women cooking up a storm.
Trace said, “I don’t see how it can hurt to ask.” He started for the house, and the men fell in behind him.
“Turn ’em east, Meeks!” Raddo Landauer hollered to Bud Meeks, his saddle partner who rode out front leading this small herd.
Meeks reined in his horse to block the trail and turn the oxen and cattle, ten critters in all, off the main trail. They’d hold ’em until Raddo found a buyer, then turn this lot into cash.
It was a poor return on their work. A few dollars taken out of pockets, nothing much else except the cattle and horses, and a few of the herd had been lost in the attack.
They had no choice but to strike somewhere again soon. Times were bad and money was tight. But this had been a wasted effort. An early morning, a long ride, a lot of hot lead. And all for this sad lot.
He’d hoped this hit would set him up for the winter at least.
Raddo had done honest work for a stretch of years. He’d never struck it big like his outlaw pard, Luth, but he’d seen enough color to keep himself fed and warm . . . and then his mine played out.
Didn’t matter. Honest work hadn’t paid as well as thieving, anyway. And it hadn’t been a fraction of the fun.
The cattle turned. There just weren’t enough of ’em, blast it. He and Dalt Callow brought up the rear, then Dalt pushed through the herd to lead and Meeks fell in beside Raddo.
“See if you can conceal the tracks from where we turned, Meeks.”
“Why? No one alive to tell the tale of what we done.”
Raddo glared at Meeks, who shrugged. “Fine, I’ll do it, but it looks like rain’s a-comin’. That’s gonna do my work for me.”
“The trees are so tight.” Raddo looked overhead and saw that the trees spread across the faint trail. No sky visible. “I can’t get a look at the sky.”
“But listen.” A rumble of distant thunder sounded.
“It could come as snow. We’ll watch, and if the sky opens up on this stretch, then hunt around for any sign you don’t think’ll wash away and deal with that first. Then leave the rest to the rain.”
Meeks nodded. “I’ll go back where I can get a clear look at the clouds.” He reined his horse and headed for the turnoff.
Raddo spent long minutes riding, listening. Finally a low, distant rumble told him rain was on the way for sure. The storms here most often came from the west, heading east, and when they hit the peaks, it was like the clouds couldn’t climb with the weight of the water and they emptied out. Happened a lot up here.
With grim satisfaction, Raddo knew his tracks would be covered and there’d be no need for anyone to bother with ’em. He turned around to tell Meeks to put aside cleaning up. No sign of him.
Well, Raddo wouldn’t go hunt him down. Meeks was a lazy lout. He wouldn’t mind staying back when there was work to be done. And with this narrow trail and the cattle and horses following placidly after Dalt, there was no need for a third man to handle the drive.
He’d let Meeks have a break.
They’d lay low awhile. Rework the brands. Then Raddo would ride out and find a cattle buyer who didn’t ask a lot of fool questions. They’d get rid of the herd and decide where their next money would be coming from.
Wherever that was, it had to be soon.
The thunder rumbled, louder this time. Almost sure to hit them, though it’d be a while. The distant storm echoed in Raddo’s chest like the rumble of wagon wheels coming down the trail, bringing him his next big strike.
Gold found the easy way, with a six-gun instead of a pickax.
Raddo was already looking forward to it.
CHAPTER
9
A knock on the door made Gwen jump. Then she looked over at Deb and shrugged sheepishly at her own taut nerves.
Deb shook her head, rushed to the door, and swung it open to the chilly October morning.
Trace stood there, tall and strong and heroic. It did something to her heart. She wanted to thank him again, for the one hundredth time.
“Come in.”
Trace looked over his shoulder.
Deb looked past him and saw the other men who’d been here last night.
“All of you, please, come in.”
Trace looked at Gwen, who had Ronnie on one of the beds, changing his wet britches. Maddie Sue lay across Ronnie’s wriggling body to hold him down. Gwen had made it seem like a game, but that was the way they tended the little cyclone most of the time. The boy didn’t seem to mind and was kicking for all he was worth while Gwen tried to wrestle him into a diaper without sticking him with a pin.
Maddie Sue looked over her shoulder at Trace. “Where’s Wolf?”
The dog barked and dashed past Trace’s legs to rush to the bedside.
“Wolf never comes inside.” Trace sounded baffled. “Not even on bitter cold nights.
