After they’d told him the whole story, Bates said, “I know at least Dalt, that’s Dalton Callow. Last I heard he was in prison in California. I was working California then, so we knew he was an outlaw. He’s a mean one. I always knew he could’ve been a murderer. Must’ve served his time and got out. I don’t know any of his saddle partners. I’ll start hunting and see if anyone around here’s seen him, and who Callow runs with.”
Trace thanked the marshal for his help, then added, “We heard the name Luth, too. Anyone around here answer to that name?”
“I’ll have to think on that. If the real name’s Luther, is it the man’s first or last name?” He shook his head. “I can’t think of anyone named that right off. But I’ve got your description, and I’ll be digging around.”
“We’ll go back to that wagon train now, warn them. They can get some men together and scout the hills. These outlaws are there, waiting and watching.”
“You know how late it is in the season. And they’re fully warned. Better for them to head on through and keep moving. When they get to that stretch over the Sierra Nevadas, that’s when they need to be scouting the hills. Those three men after them may not even stay nearby. If I were them I’d push on to the trail and find overlooks and well-placed cover and get ready. I will make sure and talk to them and warn them they need to move on through on that trail, not lay up for the night. But you’re not going back. With yourself on edge and all those pioneers out there, there’s bound to be shooting trouble and the wrong folks are gonna get killed.”
Trace’s jaw tightened at the lawman’s words. “Fine, Marshal. Then we’ll go on as we planned, and on our way along the west side of Tahoe I’ll check in at all the settlements. My ranch is on past the end of South Tahoe so it’s right on our way.”
Marshal Bates huffed. “Best you just leave it be, kid.”
Trace’s eyes narrowed, and Deb held her breath. She didn’t know if the marshal was a good lawman or not, and as much as chasing bad men wasn’t her preferred activity, it chafed her to leave this to the gruff, bad-tempered old coot.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some help?” Trace asked. “You’re going after those Holsteins. You’re going out to the wagon train. You’re going to check in at the settlements. And it’s all gonna be in the next few days because this is all going to happen fast.”
“You let me worry about how I do my job.” The marshal looked mad enough to start arresting anyone in his sight.
“All right. We’ll leave it, Marshal, for now. But we’re not going to forget these men. See that you don’t, either.”
The man’s black eyes went cold as death, but he gave a hard, fast nod of his head. “You can be sure I won’t. I’ll go talk to Candle now, and I’ll warn the wagon train. Then I’m going to ride out to that wagon train massacre site, and I’ll spread the word at those settlements.”
“And it wasn’t the Paiutes.” Trace clearly didn’t like leaving the hunt to someone else, not one bit. But Deb could see he was looking at trouble if he got crossways of the marshal. “It’s not their crime, but there are a few things staged to look like it is.”
Nodding, Bates got up and headed out.
Trace said to Deb, “Let’s go home.”
She wished that meant they could be done with all this forever and ride home for the whole winter. But she sincerely doubted it was going to be that easy.
CHAPTER
25
Trace felt a twist of both relief and frustration when they rode into his ranch yard late that night in the cold and dark.
The frustration was easy to explain. He should’ve stayed on the trail of those men. They were dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed to run around loose. He’d come close to turning around a dozen times. This felt like that first day when he’d taken Deb and Gwen and the children home instead of going after those vermin.
But how could he keep hunting after what the marshal had said? He had no choice now, just as he hadn’t then. Even so, those men were still roaming free.
He should’ve stood and fought the day before he met the marshal. He should have dodged that grizzly and gone on after them.
No, he didn’t think it was wise to take on three full-grown men without any help except a woman. Granted, a tough woman—or at least a spunky one—yet he didn’t think she had any real skill with that gun. But by the great horn spoon, she had it with her.
So maybe better to say a woman willing to try and be tough.
Still, he could’ve gone after them in the woods, or gone back to the wagon train instead of coming home. He should have demanded the marshal get a posse together. He should have set out hunting. He’d gotten so close when he might’ve attacked just hard enough to break up their gang, drive them away, and maybe leave their herd a whole lot thinner. Instead he’d turned aside from the chase.
As stubborn as the marshal was about doing his job himself, and taking offense at Trace’s offer to help, he doubted the man would form a posse. And the outlaws were mighty good at sneaking, not a bit afraid to back-shoot a man. In fact, they seemed to like it.
So it was easy to understand his being frustrated.
The relief, however, surprised him. He hadn’t known he liked his home quite this much. He suspected he liked it a whole lot more now that he was married to Deb.
“There’s smoke coming out of the bunkhouse chimney, Trace.” Deb sounded deeply impressed, also very tired. “They got
