“Being the only living witness sets you in the path of danger, miss.” The sheriff tugged on the corner of his mustache and frowned.
“I know it.” Trace looked annoyed. “That’s why I didn’t want her to identify herself. I just hoped she could look around and see if she recognized anyone.”
“Can you describe them to me, miss?”
Deb did so to the best of her ability.
The sheriff said, “I’ve heard of attacks on wagon trains, but not for a long time. There were rumors that someone, or something, was a guardian of that trail. A few bodies were found and that fed the rumors and the attacks ended. This is a bad business, and I don’t like to see it starting up again.”
Deb held her breath and did her best to keep a blank expression on her face. A guardian of the trail? That’s what Trace had done. Could a man be wanted for murder when he stopped a murder?
“I’ve heard of such things, too,” Trace said. “If those outlaws are taking back up an old profession, then where have they been all this time? Did they move on and set up their ambushes somewhere else? They haven’t paid for their crimes yet, and now they’ve taken up their ugly ways again.”
The sheriff turned thoughtful. After a moment, he said, “I am sheriff of Carson City and I really don’t go looking for trouble far and wide. I can be on the lookout here in town and these parts, but following the trail and protecting wagon trains that pass through here . . . well, once they’re out of town, that’s way outside my job.”
Trace nodded. “I understand, Sheriff. I appreciate you doing all you can. We’ll be on our way now. I’m going to ride on hard tonight and catch the wagon train that just rolled through Carson City.”
They all stood to go, and the sheriff said something Deb didn’t hear because she was a few paces ahead of Trace. She stepped outside, where a large rough-looking man knocked into her hard enough she’d’ve fallen if she didn’t still have a firm hold of the door.
“You’d do well to look where you’re going next time.” The gruff man shouldered past her and hurried on.
She watched him walk away, a big man with a rude attitude. Sometimes big men, she knew, pushed those smaller around—it made them feel strong to barrel through any barriers with little care about what or who those barriers were. Something about him bothered Deb. Her eyes were drawn to him for some reason she couldn’t quite understand. He glanced back at her, almost as if he could feel her stare. His cold eyes narrowed, but he turned forward again and forged on and around the corner of the building and out of sight.
She decided it was probably just his ill manners. It was such a contrast to the men at Trace’s ranch who were so kind and generous to her and Gwen. Studying on it a bit, she realized he reminded her in some ways of some of the men back east who took advantage of her hard work and gave her father all the credit.
Trace stepped out of the diner and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”
With a shake of her head, Deb said, “No, just almost ran into a man. So I stopped to let him pass. I’m looking at everyone with suspicious eyes, wondering if he might be the one I saw attack our wagon train. But that man’s too tall, too heavy. The man I saw had a narrow face; he was skinny.”
“You want to go after him, take another look?” Trace looked at her too long, as if he saw something in her expression that worried him. Then his eyes followed the boardwalk. “Where’d he go?”
“Around the corner of this building. No, it’s not the man I saw. And we need to ride, don’t we? The weather could go from chilly and light snow to a blizzard with snow a yard deep.”
Finally, his hand on her lower back, he urged her forward. “We need to catch that wagon train and warn them, hopefully before we lose the light.”
She shoved aside the strange feeling the big man had given her and shifted her attention to the ride ahead.
They were on horseback and galloping out of town within minutes.
Raddo clenched his fist in fury. He leaned against the corner of the building listening to the woman who had been watching him and realized someone had survived their attack. Not just survived, she’d seen Dalt. And now that wagon train they needed so bad was going to be warned and on edge.
Twenty-five wagons. It’d be the biggest group they’d ever tackled, more than double the next largest one. If he told Dalt and Meeks about the witness, they’d get stubborn and refuse to attack the train. Dalt out of a ruthless desire not to take too big a chance, and Meeks because he loved the killing but was a coward at heart. He liked to see men die under his guns, but he didn’t want them to be awake for it.
And now here they’d planned on attacking in silence. Slitting as many throats as they could before anyone knew they were even there. Meeks had agreed, but if the train was warned and on edge, both men would refuse to do it.
Raddo considered for a long moment if they would be right. He should probably listen to them and call everything off. But a stubbornness welled up inside him. He didn’t want to admit he couldn’t handle bigger trains. He also knew he couldn’t let that woman live. He’d never left a witness alive before.
The wind whistled through the narrow alley between the two buildings, and
