“Killed—are you sure? Or wounded?”
Shaking his head, Trace let go of her and headed on down. “I need to think.”
“All right, but you never really told me about God speaking to you.”
“Well, Deb, He didn’t speak out loud or nuthin’. He didn’t sound like thunder comin’ out of a cloud. What happened was, I remembered that verse we talked about.”
“You mean ‘the voice of one crying in the wilderness’?”
“Yep, that’s been a verse I’ve loved for a long time. It’s made me feel less alone from the first time I read it. And that popped into my head. It just reminded me I’m a God-fearing man. A Bible-believing man. I ain’t never quite gotten to where I can turn the other cheek. I especially can’t turn it when I see someone else being hurt. I think God wants the strong to protect the weak, doesn’t He?”
Deb didn’t answer. She’d read her Bible well, but maybe not quite as well as Trace.
“Anyway, that verse went through my head, and I couldn’t pull the trigger. Then I didn’t really have to choose because those men never came into my view. Almost like the hand of God blocked their way or entered their thoughts to make them fear heading into unknown country with someone maybe waiting for them.
“I might’ve gone ahead and done something terrible, shot them from cover. Just mowed them down, like the worst, most sinful part of myself.”
“And put an end to their murderous attacks?”
Trace said, “Yep, that was riding me hard. But I didn’t do it. I did go after them, though. Like I said, I hoped I could’ve seen their faces or maybe even captured one or more of them. The grizzly was just there, right in front of me. I stopped. The outlaws heard the roar and took to runnin’. If that wasn’t a sign from God to stop being so angry, I don’t know what was.”
Deb wondered if, instead, it was God saving his life because he’d have been in terrible danger if he’d caught up with the three evil men.
But whether that bear was a sign or not, she was glad Trace seemed to have let loose of his fury.
“There’s the trail we ran off of. Those men were heading away from us, but let’s still take care.” Trace’s voice dropped to a whisper. He stepped out only a few inches into the trail when she heard him laugh quietly and a whistle broke the air.
“Our horses, both of them, about a hundred yards away and coming fast.” He stayed at the edge of the woods and held Deb back, no doubt worried the outlaws might be coming.
Then she saw past the thin layer of trees and Trace’s wide shoulders, and his black mustang trotted up to him. Trace wasted no time plunking her on her own saddle. “Get going.” He slapped her mare, and they were gone. The mare seemed eager to move fast.
His horse galloped right behind her. She pushed her horse as best she could. Trace should’ve had the lead, but she could sense he was holding back, setting himself in place to shield her if anyone closed from behind and opened fire. And unlike that game trail, Deb could see this one well enough. It was a road cut into a level strip surrounded by trees and mountains sloping up on both sides. No way to get lost here.
Deb didn’t say anything. Instead, she bent low and urged every bit of speed she could out of the willing horse. Trace would never let her shield him, so all she could do was put as much space as possible between herself and the threat of those men.
They rode to Glenbrook, where Trace asked his questions and learned nothing more, and then they rode north to Ringo. It wasn’t late enough to stop. Trace chafed because he could ride no farther for the day.
Yes, he needed to ask questions. It wouldn’t take the rest of the day, but it wouldn’t be proper to ride on out of town with the next boardinghouse or hotel too far for them to reach until long after dark—especially because he needed to stop in several small settlements along the way—and none of those settlements had places in which to sleep over.
He eyed Bolling’s Boardinghouse in the midafternoon sun. It looked tidy, with two full stories. The second floor had a row of six windows. A line of horses was tied out front. “We need to get rooms.”
“It’s quite early to stop, isn’t it?”
Trace didn’t want to go into proper and sleeping and how late was too late. Desperation gave him an idea. “Remember how I said I’d show you Lake Tahoe?”
“Do we have time for that?” Deb rode up to the boardinghouse and swung down as Trace tied his horse to the hitching post.
The way Trace saw it, they had nothing but time. “Let’s see about rooms and then ride up the trail. There’s a great view at the top of a trail just west of town. We won’t ride all the way down to the shore, but there’s a beautiful overlook close by.”
Deb arched a brow at him. “You’ve seemed to be in a great hurry, Trace. Suddenly we have time for sight-seeing?”
He didn’t mind a smart, logical-thinking woman, but right now it was a nuisance. “Yep, we do.”
An explanation only gave her more ideas for questions. He headed inside, and she came along quietly.
The boardinghouse had two rooms available. “You’ll need to pay now,” said the innkeeper. “I’ve had folks such as yourselves passing through change their minds and ride on without paying. Then I miss out on rent because I refuse other travelers.”
After paying Mr. Bolling, Trace said, “We’re riding up to look at Lake Tahoe.”
The innkeeper’s face lightened. “I’ve
