Trace brought out a blanket that he’d bought special and sewed into shape some years ago. White. He pulled it on, knowing he’d be nearly invisible against the snow, then emerged cautiously from his cave.
The cold stirred Gwen. She’d hoped to doze off with the children; she’d put in some long days while Deb had been off getting married.
But why was it so chilly in here?
Slipping as gracefully and silently as possible out of the bed where she was resting, nearly pinned between two sleeping children, she got to her feet, held her breath that neither would wake up, and went out into the kitchen. She closed the door with painstaking silence as she left the bedroom. One step and she saw the door wide open.
Rushing to close it, she nearly skidded to a stop before she got there. A Bible lay open, facedown on the floor. Pages were bent, folded, and maybe torn.
“Deb!” Dashing to the front door, Gwen shouted, “Deb, where are you?”
She ran out without a coat or, she realized, shoes, toward where the barn was going up. Hammers pounded. An ax rang out in the woods. The new barn was out of sight, nearer the canyon where Trace penned his cattle.
“Help me! Something’s happened to Deb!”
The noise ended instantly. Feet moving fast. Gwen was terrified, but she nearly wept to think these men were here and coming to help.
Utah appeared first. “What happened?”
Adam was only seconds behind.
“Deb’s gone.” Gwen’s feet went out from under her as she tried to stop.
Utah caught her and kept her upright. He set her on her feet again. “Gone? Did she go after Trace?”
“She’d have told me. Did she take a horse?”
Adam ran for the barn to check.
“She didn’t go anywhere willingly. Not with the door left open.”
Adam was back in seconds. “She didn’t ride out of here.”
“I came out from putting the little ones down for their nap and the door was standing wide open. A Bible was on the floor, all askew. My sister would never treat a Bible like that. Someone must’ve taken her.”
Utah asked no more questions. He hurried for the front door of the house. “Stay back.”
Gwen was only vaguely aware of how cold her stockinged feet were.
Utah crouched but not for long. “Someone, a man, carried her out of here, not long ago. He headed into those trees over there.”
Rushing for the spot he’d pointed out, he pushed into the woods. “A horse was standing here. Whoever had her let her stand for just a second because her prints are here in only one spot.”
Spinning to face Adam, Utah barked, “Saddle two horses!”
Adam headed for the barn at a sprint.
Utah turned to Gwen. “We shouldn’t leave you, but we have to go after her.” He looked almost torn in half. “Get inside. Lock the door and keep a gun close to hand. Be on guard.” He paced after the tracks.
Adam returned leading the horses, each with a bedroll tied behind the saddle.
Gwen swallowed a sob as she dashed into the house. She noticed one of the firmly closed shutters was broken. There was a little corner cracked off. She bent to study it. The man who’d taken Deb had been watching them. Waiting for his chance.
And he’d found it.
Once outside, Trace made every move in silence. He hoped he’d beat everyone here, the outlaws and the wagon train, but he’d work as if he were surrounded by enemies.
He quietly stacked stones over the cave entrance so that a hard-to-get-into cave became impossible to get into. His horse wouldn’t be able to get out, either.
Then he started along a path parallel to the trail the wagon train would travel on, Wolf at his side, except when he trotted off to sniff around. Shrouded in the white cloak, Trace studied the position he was in, eyed the trail below, considered and discarded many places where a bushwhacker might hide and fire from cover.
It was done a step at a time, sometimes an inch at a time, heading up and down slopes, looking for the perfect nest for a viper to hide in.
Careful to conceal every footprint he left behind, he inched along, picking several prime spots where a coward might wait to attack.
The white of the snow, even in the heavy woods, made it possible to work as the sun lowered and the shadows deepened. And through all his work the pressure built to pray for Deb. Trace couldn’t figure out why it rode him so hard, but when the good Lord put a burden on his heart, he listened.
The long, cold day and constant climbing wore him down, yet worry for the wagon train drove him onward. And his constant urge to pray for Deb kept his mind sharp. He wasn’t going to quit until he’d seen all he needed to. There’d be time for a few hours of sleep, because he probably had at least another full day before the wagon train passed this stretch. And common sense told Trace he should go back to the cave and get that sleep.
Those varmints can’t attack a wagon train that isn’t here.
Night caught up to him, but Trace didn’t stop.
“Bring her over here.” Raddo looked up from where he sat by a fire, behind a near mountain of fallen trees left from years of avalanches and rockslides that must’ve leveled the whole mountainside above it.
The sheltering stack of fallen logs was solid, with an overhang so extended it dipped until it nearly closed into a room. Raddo had used this as a hideout back in the days when he rode with Luth’s gang. He could’ve lived here too, if he wasn’t figurin’ another avalanche might come along sooner or
