CHAPTER
22

Deb knew the sound of those feet.

She’d been on edge, paying attention to every sound, every bird tweet, listening for crackling twigs, branches rustling against each other. Praying with all her might.

But she didn’t even hesitate to lower her gun, uncock it, tuck it into her bag, and start climbing.

“You all right, Deb?”

And he was warning her that he was coming, so there’d be no accidental shooting. Also letting her know he was out of earshot of the outlaws.

“I’m fine.” Her head popped up at the top of the pile of trees. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw him. “I didn’t hear any gunfire.”

“I heard them, but I never got close enough to even take a shot.” He cleared his throat, “Not that I was going to take a shot anyway . . . if I didn’t have to.”

Deb climbed down so fast, Trace didn’t have a chance to come up and help her. She wanted to show him she was no burden. Also, she was glad not to be alone anymore.

“When you left you were furious, Trace. You look better now.”

“I am. God had a little talk with me about hate and revenge.”

Startled, Deb looked at him as he caught her arm and started them walking along the white stone. “The men aren’t following us. I overheard them say they were going to stake out the wagon train but not attack until the trail that goes over the Sierra Nevadas, so we have a few days to plan. Let’s get down there and search for our horses. Oh, and I tangled with a grizzly, just a little.”

“Tangled with a grizzly?” Deb had heard of the giant bears but she’d yet to see one. They were known for their ferocious temper. “Just a little?”

“Yep, the bear got in between us just enough to get the outlaws moving back toward the wagon train and me heading back to you. They never knew I was there—the men. The bear spotted me sure enough.” With a disgusted tone, Trace added, “I wanted to at least get a look at them. I hoped to maybe get the drop on them, or separate them somehow and take a prisoner.”

“You against three men?”

Trace was leading her, and for a second he glanced back and gave her a shrug. “I’d’ve been careful. I’d’ve waited until I could do it without gettin’ myself killed.” He pointed ahead. “There’s a fork in this game trail that’ll take us downhill.”

Deb couldn’t make out the trail they were on, let alone notice a fork in it.

“We’ll hopefully pick up our horses and ride on to Ringo. We’ll get a meal there and ask around if anyone’s seen those men. Ringo hasn’t got a sheriff last I was there.”

Trace veered off downhill. “I got a look at one of the outlaws. I think he’s the same one you saw.” He told Deb everything the men had said. “I also heard two names. The one we both saw was called Dalt. They also mentioned someone named Luth, but it was someone they were talking about, not one of the three. Lawmen travel the area. Lots of lawlessness due to silver. Maybe we’ll see a marshal along the trail, and we can ask him if Dalt and Luth are wanted men. We’ve got time because those varmints are hanging back for now.”

Deb could see a trail, sort of, if she used her imagination. The evergreen branches still scratched at her, and the bare branches reached out and clawed like skeletal fingers. The scrub brush and young trees caught at her ankles. Yet she wore a heavy coat and warm wool stockings, so mostly she hurried along unharmed.

Feeling a little giddy from having Trace come back, and knowing those men were far away, Deb said, “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“How did God talk to you?”

That earned her a look back and a big smile. “I left here killing mad, Deb.”

“I noticed,” she said dryly.

That got another smile out of him, but he didn’t slow his pace. “I told you I went hunting men like this, those who massacred my own wagon train, and I kept at it for a couple of years. I thought I’d either driven them off or killed them all. But these men are working so much like the others did, they have to be the same men.”

“When did you come out here exactly?”

Trace shrugged without missing a step on the steep downward slope. “It’s been ten years.”

“It’s 1867, Trace. Two years after you got here is when the Comstock Lode really went wild. Are you sure you killed so many men you drove them off, or did they just go to mining or start doing silver heists and robbing miners instead of pioneers?”

Trace stopped so suddenly she stumbled into him, and only his steady strength kept them from tumbling to the ground.

“I’ve never thought of that.” He caught both her upper arms and looked into her eyes with what seemed to her like hope.

“Do you really know how many men you killed? Did you see their bodies?”

“Uh . . .” He looked through her, into the past. “I-I remember I was frustrated how few bodies there were.”

Deb hugged him, imagining how angry he was, how vengeful, how scared and sad.

He caught her close and held tight. “There were some, Deb. Don’t go thinking this was all just me shooting wild. Sometimes when I knew I’d hit something, I’d get there and find blood, but I’m a crack shot. I hit what I aim at. I could tell they’d been killed and carried off. They’d want to carry off their dead to keep anyone from recognizing a body and connecting him to a gang of outlaws.”

“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 traveled far and away, youngsters, but I will tell you, short of that huge canyon down in Arizona Territory, I’ve never seen a prettier sight than Lake Tahoe. And there’s no nicer view than the one right up the trail. Have a good ride. It’s getting late in the season for it, but you should make it there with no trouble.” The man gave them directions. “Above the tree line it gets a little steep. The horses can manage if they’re mountain-bred stock, but I usually tie mine off and walk the rest of the way to the top. There’s a second trail that leads to a big old mansion on the lake, but the owner’s unfriendly. Don’t go that way.”

He took what little they had packed that Trace didn’t insist on keeping with him and waved them off with a smile.

Outside, Deb muttered, “No trouble? Hah, spoken like a man who isn’t going himself and already has his money.”

Trace chuckled and would’ve boosted Deb onto her horse, but she swung up before he could get to her.