CHAPTER
16

Well, Trace would surely prefer talking about his dog to whatever else Deb had on her mind.

“His mama was a dog. No doubt about it. I—” he broke off. Why in tarnation had he thought this was a good idea? “I k-killed her.”

Deb’s head whipped around. “I suppose she was dangerous.”

He could tell she didn’t mean it. She’d just decided he was a low-down, mother-killing sidewinder. It was nice of her to pretend she wasn’t horrified.

“It was late in the spring, winter still hard upon me, and I found a pack of six wolves pulling down a wild mustang mare. She was standing in front of a spring colt that was maybe a couple months old, not a newborn thing. The mare was fighting for her baby’s life, but she was losing. She looked like an old one, tough but at the end of her years. At least I like to hope so.”

They walked past the barn. The trail here led all the way to Dismal, but they sure enough weren’t going that far.

“I jumped into the fight with a pistol and a rifle.” Trace was silent a moment, remembering the terrible sight.

Deb nodded. “And you saved the mare?”

“Nope. Each of my guns was a one-shot. I managed to finish four of the wolves, because twice I was able to put a bullet through one and it passed through and killed the wolf behind it. I had my knife in hand, ready to wade in and fight the last two, but they ran off yelping. The mare was bleeding bad from her throat. She was barely on her feet. She turned, saw me, and tried to charge, still fighting for her baby. But she was used up, and I got far enough away she didn’t have the strength to catch me. She circled back to her baby, and just as she reached him, she stumbled to her knees and then rolled to her side. She just lay there, breathing hard. I reloaded my guns, thinking of the wolves and wondering if I oughta put the horse out of its misery. I hated the idea of shooting the old girl. Before I’d worked up the nerve to do what I knew was the right thing, she died. Her poor baby just lay down beside her, shivering, as if it had no plans to go anywhere.”

Deb’s hand reached for Trace’s arm. “That’s so sad.”

Fine snow drifted down on their heads. The wind was quiet tonight, and Trace heard an owl hoot in the woods that grew out of the mountain that rose up on the west side of the trail to Dismal.

“I saw that colt planning to stay put, probably until more wolves came, maybe until it just starved to death. I pulled a lasso off my waist and roped him. I didn’t try to move him or lead him anywhere. I just secured him to a tree. Then a glint of light from one of the wolves drew my eye. I realized as I looked at her that she was no wolf. Some wolves can be black, but she had a white stripe down the middle of her face and the glint of light was an old collar. She was someone’s dog, gone back to being a wild critter. I was curious so I went to look closer at the collar, and when I did, I realized she was a nursing mother. She had pups somewhere. Pups I’d just consigned to a slow death from starvation.”

Her hand tightened on his arm. She was trying to comfort him. He was supposed to be a tough man, but he’d been touched so little for so long that he couldn’t help but enjoy it. Then he thought of how she’d react if he told her of the three years he’d been The Guardian of that trail, how he’d killed and done it so well that after a couple of years the outlaws—those who were still alive—went on their way out of fear. But the killing had stained his soul to the point that when he looked down on people in that first wagon train he’d guarded—the only people he’d seen for a year, people whose lives he’d just saved—he hadn’t gone down to talk to them. He’d done his work from the hilltop, then kept away from the wagon train and the decent folks riding in it. And because he’d kept to himself, he’d become a mystery, a ghost, a legend. He’d become The Guardian, when all he really was, was a half-rabid fool driven by vengeance and hate.

“The strangeness of me saving a baby who’d just lost its mother, by killing another mother and leaving another baby to die, was a weight on me that I didn’t want to bear. So I started back tracking the wolves. I led the foal along. That little colt didn’t like leaving its mama, but he was too little to resist and before long he’d started following willingly. He was old enough to graze on winter grass and drink from a stream. I was afraid the colt was too young to survive without its mother’s milk.

“I’d already caught my first few cows and managed to gentle three of them to be milkers, so there was cow’s milk once I got Black home. I was relieved when he ate and seemed to befriend me. I was three days hunting when finally I found the den. In it was one surly little pup that looked half-starved, his legs weak and wobbly. He still wanted to chew me up when he saw me. But he was still just a baby, so I handled him.” Trace nodded toward Wolf. “I wrapped him up in the blanket from my bedroll to keep him from biting me, and we set out for home.”

Deb smiled. “So Wolf is that pup, and the horse you ride is the colt?”

“Yep. And Wolf and I and Black lived alone out here for another two years.” Trace thought of it and how much more bearable the loneliness had been with his two new companions with him. God had truly been looking out for him, because he wasn’t sure he’d’ve been able to hold on to his senses if he’d been completely alone all that time. “It was two years before the colt was tall enough to ride. Heaven knows he ain’t well trained because I knew nothing of properly training a horse. But these two and me got to be mighty good friends.”

He led her along, her hand settled into the crook of his elbow, the moon peeking between fast-moving clouds. A gap in the mountain ahead was his destination. He turned off the trail and led her to a gate built of lodgepole pine that closed the gap in the canyon.

“My herd is in there.” He pointed through the heavy gate. “Mostly all longhorns I caught wild in these mountains, though there are a few other breeds too—five years’ worth of young stuff mostly all born on my property. I had near two hundred cows and sold off one hundred of them on the drive. I think I’m finally established enough I can live on the cows I raise, hold a cattle drive every year, and make enough money to support myself and maybe buy a few nicer cattle. Herefords, I reckon. They’re gentler and gain weight faster.”

Her breath caught. “I can see them. They’re mostly white against the brown grass. With the snow drifted around, I couldn’t tell the cows from the snow at first.”

“Once the snow covers the ground they almost vanish, even though they’re speckled. But the snow doesn’t get too deep because it’s really protected, so the grass stays uncovered for a long time, and these are mountain-bred cattle that know how to dig for food. I came upon this canyon while I was scouting the first summer, and there was a small herd of longhorns grazing in there.”

Trace smiled. “It’s got one other way out. I tossed up a gate right quick, here and on the other end, and slick as that I had started in the ranching business.”

He leaned his arms across the top railing and enjoyed the clouds skimming by overhead, hiding and revealing the moon. Then he asked the question he really didn’t want to know the answer to. “What made you ask me to come out here?”

Deb rested her arms on the gate and, because she was shorter, it was the perfect height for her to rest her chin. “What made you say ‘if’?”

“If? What?” He couldn’t remember.

“You said, ‘If Deb, Gwen, and the youngsters leave, I’m not going to want to live in this house by myself.’ Are you thinking we might stay?” She turned to face him. “Is it something that’s . . . well, you didn’t say it as if you were dreading it.”

Oh, yep, he remembered that. Trace looked down at her. “I reckon it was my own hope talking when I said if. We had a moment together when I was giving you the tour of the new house. A moment when I came close to . . . to kissing you.”

Deb’s eyes dropped, and even in the dark he saw a blush on her cheeks. She remembered that just fine.

“Yes, you did,” she said.

“And since then I’ve had it in my head more than once.” He reached out for her hands. She took them and held on tight. “That we might . . . might spend this winter seeing if we suit each other. What I said to my men about living alone, I’ve been mighty lonely for a long old time. Adam’s who I hired first, and I’d been here alone for years. I hired Utah just a couple of months ago for the cattle drive. My hired men have made my life better. And then you came along. Are you helping because of the simple knowledge that we need help, or is there more? Could there be more?”

Deb’s heart pounded until she felt it in her ears. She certainly hoped he couldn’t hear it!

She swallowed. Then, because her throat was still bone-dry, she swallowed again. He looked at their clasped hands, very bold. She’d never held a man’s hand before, not really, and certainly never kissed one. Truth be told, it wasn’t that she was so upright and moral—something she might have believed once. Now she knew she’d never wanted to do such a thing. No man had ever compelled her this way.

“I’ve given very little time to thinking about marriage. For the last few years, since my mother died, I’ve been running the newspaper, and that’s long hours that never let up. As soon as one newspaper gets printed and spread around, I’m right back to work on the next edition.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “A hard job for a woman.”

That irked her a little. “It’s a hard job for anyone.”

“It sure as certain is.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “I haven’t been around women much, so if I say something that hurts you, I swear it’s out of clumsiness. I might be saying rude things to everyone I meet, my hired men, the folks in the general store in Dismal. I had a . . . a rough spell when I was left out here, and whatever civilized manners I had, and living mostly alone with Pa, I’m sure they were mighty scarce . . . well, I lost them.”

“It’s not you, Trace. Not exactly, anyway. I’m just so tired of working so hard for my pa and for the men of businesses who bought ads from my paper, and getting no respect from them. I’m a little sensitive on the subject.”

“Sensitive?”

“Okay, I want to crack someone over the head.”

Trace laughed. “That’s a little more than sensitive.”

She scowled at him, but there was a twinkle in his eye and it lifted her spirits. “I’ll try to be less sensitive—also less furious—at least to you.”

“I hope you can, because I have nothing but respect for the strong and steady hand it took to run that newspaper every day. And I’m so blessed by all the help you’ve given me, all while caring for two children. I can see how you try to lift burdens off Gwen’s shoulders.”

“She does the same for me.”

“You are wonderful, loyal sisters. You’re never alone so long as you have her.”

It was almost impossible to resist Trace’s kindness; she’d had so little of it from a man. But how did she dare go from service to her father to another man who, she sadly feared, was interested in her mainly because she could cook and he was lonely?

“Trace, thank you so much for saying such kind things to me. I am sure we will spend the winter getting to know each other better, but I want you to think about a question I have. Are you really interested in me? Or are you interested in any woman’s company?”

Frowning, Trace said, “I’m not planning to wait until you say no and then toss the idea at Gwen, if that’s what you mean. I never gave a moment’s thought to a woman before I met you.” A light blush appeared on Trace’s cheeks. “Well, I mean, sure I’ve given women a few thoughts, but never a specific woman—not until you. Gwen is a wonderful woman, but something in you . . .” His blush deepened and he shrugged.

For a time Deb didn’t think he’d go on. “Something in you draws me. I suppose that sounds stupid, but it’s true. It’s you I want to take walks with. It’s you I want to talk to. I know we’ll get to know each other over the winter, so you can just forget what I said about thinking of me in a special way.”

She seriously doubted she could.

“We’ll just let things—” he stopped, swallowed hard—“go along however they will.”

For a moment, something flared in his eyes. He was going to kiss her, and Deb wasn’t sure if she wanted that or not. But then he let go of one of her hands and turned her so they were walking back toward the cabin.

“Anytime you want to go out and have a private talk with me, just know that I will for sure say yes.”

“I enjoyed our walk, Trace. I would like to take another one sometime.”

“That would be my pleasure.” Trace smiled so wide his teeth gleamed in the dark.

She liked the warmth and strength of his hand. As they walked, the only noise that broke the silence was the whack of a hammer near the bunkhouse. It was full dark, but the moon and stars above the scudding clouds lit the yard up almost as bright as day.

More building. More planning. Deb knew now that some of this planning had to do with her. She tightened her grip on his hand.

Wolf growled low in his throat. He whirled to face the woods and raced away.

Trace took two running steps, then turned back to Deb. “We’ve come too far from the house. I can’t leave you alone here and I left my gun behind.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s get you back and I’ll alert my men.”

“What is it, Trace?”

“I have a notion, including why Wolf broke off the chase last time—when we were walking home. Let’s hurry.”

They ran toward the ranch yard. As they came close enough, Trace yelled, “Someone come and get Deb! Wolf smelled trouble.”

The hammering stopped. Boiling motion in the night made Deb feel safer, even safer than she’d felt with Trace.

Adam appeared out of the dark. Armed. “Which way?”

Trace pointed and said a few quick, harsh words.

Adam vanished in the direction Wolf had run. Trace kept her moving. Utah was a few paces behind. He’d probably been on the roof.

Trace shouted, “Take her and guard the women.”

Deb saw Trace run off toward the old cabin where he’d been staying since the new cabin was done. Utah hustled her toward the new one. An instant later, Trace was outside, gun in hand, sprinting after Wolf, hard on Adam’s heels.

Utah escorted her inside. He must have thought of the sleeping children in the back room because he didn’t speak, and he shut the door quietly and threw a heavy beam across it to bar the entrance.

Gwen shot up from her rocking chair. She looked from Deb to Utah and whispered urgently, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Utah spoke quietly, but he managed to scare Deb to the bone. “The boss said I’m to guard you.”

“Wolf growled and ran into the woods,” Deb said. “Just like what happened on the trail home. Trace and Adam went after him.”