CHAPTER
18

Trace knocked quietly on the door in the darkness. Deb swung it open, dressed, a bag over her shoulder that Trace recognized from when he’d first come upon her. She carried a canteen in her other hand.

“I haven’t saddled the horses yet.”

“I won’t get in your way, but Trace, when you ever get a spare moment, I’d like to learn to saddle a horse.”

He wondered how long that’d take. She was a greenhorn. “Let’s go. We’ll save saddling lessons for another day.”

They reached the barn, and Utah had both horses ready.

“I’d’ve done it, Utah.”

“I know you would have, Trace. You’re a man who tends his own horse. But this gives me a jump on the day’s building.”

He spoke as if Trace had done him a favor.

Trace boosted Deb up onto the saddle, then swung up on his own mount. Utah had picked well. Deb’s horse was a gentle mare but no slacker. Trace wanted to make good time, and unless Deb wasn’t up to the ride—hard to judge by the ride she’d taken on a horse with four riders—they’d make a fast trip of it.

Heading out an hour before first light, they hit the trail galloping. He glanced at Deb, who never claimed any top riding skills. “Let me know if you’re having any troubles. We don’t need to go at this pace.”

“I’ll let you know.” Her determined expression and her firm jaw told Trace she’d die before she complained. He sure hoped it didn’t come to that!

She had a viselike grip on the saddle horn, which was how greenhorns rode, but she was balanced well.

Trace planned to ride all the way to Carson City and to the north shore of Tahoe. He’d have slept on the trail, but with Deb along, they’d need a hotel. There was a decent little town at the north point.

Surely there’d be no more wagon trains. Even the latest travelers heading for the California Trail to Sacramento had come through by now. Only a fool would try to cross any later. But Trace had learned the hard way there were fools aplenty in the world. If he came across a wagon train, he’d warn them of the danger from the outlaws. He’d also warn them of the danger of rough weather. But he knew they’d press on regardless. By this point in the journey, they were low on supplies and money. They couldn’t afford to lay up over the winter. He’d also make sure to check if a small group was splitting off from the bigger trains.

No one was reckless enough to attack a big wagon train—and the same thought of fools ran through Trace’s head. Some of the trains stretched to a hundred covered wagons, and that meant lots of men and guns.

Reading tracks had told Trace it was three outlaws. But maybe there were others. Maybe only a few went for such a small train. He’d never seen an attack on a full-sized train—and he’d watched the trail for years, so he’d’ve seen it. Besides the sheer number of people, many of the men heading west were Civil War veterans and a tough salty lot who were ready, even eager, to aim and fire. Add to that the kind of men who’d attack and kill sleeping settlers were the worst kind of cowards. They’d never take on a big train.

Unless maybe they were desperate for money with winter coming on. Trace didn’t put anything past such low-down skunks.

He’d leave word in Carson City so any late trains would be on alert. He’d see if anyone was traveling to Reno so they could pass the word, and he’d hope for someone heading for Virginia City. But a train this late, he doubted it.

Reno was the most common path. The California Trail, though there were several versions of it, split from the Oregon Trail and often passed right through Reno. Virginia City was a hard old ride west.

They settled into a steady gallop. These two horses were both strong, and neither Trace nor Deb carried much with them. They couldn’t ride all the way to Carson City at this pace but they’d make good time.

“Let’s give ’em a breather, Deb.” Trace laughed as they slowed to a walk.

“What’s funny?”

“I just realized those are the first words spoken between us in over an hour.”

“Tell me what you’ve got planned for today, Trace.”

“The first stop is Carson City. On the west side of Lake Tahoe there are several small settlements, but on the east side I’m mainly looking to spread the word about the massacre, make sure any lawmen know the Paiutes weren’t involved, and warn any wagon trains.”

“You’ve mentioned Lake Tahoe a number of times, but where is it?”

Trace’s eyes flashed with pleasure. “I can show you. Not today, because the trail swings wide of it, but tomorrow I can pick a trail that’ll put us in sight of it. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. A huge lake surrounded by mountains and trees. We rode along the west side on our way to my place. There’s a lot of forest between us and that beautiful blue water. I’d love to be with you when you see it for the first time. The most beautiful thing in the world, I reckon, though I’ve heard tell that there’s a canyon in Arizona Territory that’s a wonder.”

“The Grand Canyon. I’ve seen pictures but I haven’t traveled much.”

“The books I’ve read don’t talk of such discoveries as the Grand Canyon. I’ve only heard stories. Anyhow, I can get you a look at Tahoe tomorrow. I want to ask around in Carson City, see if there’ve been attacks like this with similarities between the attack on the Scotts and the attack so many years ago on my own wagon train. Doing all that, well, it’ll take most of the day, but I hope there’s time to ride on. Tomorrow we’ll round the lake and talk to any settlements I didn’t get to on my ride yesterday. We’ll be able to push on tomorrow night and sleep at home.”

“Maybe they’ll have the roof on the bunkhouse done by then and you and your men can sleep in a warm house for the first time since I arrived and stole your home from you.”

Trace grinned. “It ain’t stealin’ if I give it to you, woman.”

Deb laughed quietly.

“Pushing hard to get the new cabin and the bunkhouse up is the best thing about you coming. I built that old cabin alone and I’ve kept it standing more with prayer than with any building skills. And so far my prayers haven’t stopped the cold wind from blowing through the cracks.”

“Well then, I’m very glad I could help by making all this backbreaking work for you.” She sounded on the verge of laughing.

With a wide grin, he said, “I think we’d better get on. The horses are rested and the miles are long.”

Deb kicked her horse into a gallop alongside Trace’s. They rode through narrow trails and wide ones, trees thick around them and then openings into meadows. The ground was rugged, with mountains climbing up on their left and down on their right, with bare trees knocking in the cold breeze and stones scattered far and near, like giant rocks thrown about by the Lord himself.

They galloped on toward Carson City, and Trace realized he was in an overly good mood for a man searching for murdering thieves. The thought sobered him. How long was it going to take him to find the killers and bring them to justice?

Raddo strode down the streets of Carson City. There was a wagon train that’d pulled through right before he came to town. The folks would take at least five days to get to that deadly pass, so there was no use riding after them yet.

Instead, Raddo and his men would rest here two days, enjoy all the favors a bigger town offered, and then they’d ride hard.

This group was going on the main trail to Sacramento too, not turning off to head south. That Sacramento Trail had grown into the road with all the travel since they’d found the Comstock Lode. Raddo had pulled his own share of silver out of the ground before his mine played out.

So a busier trail increased the danger. But all Raddo could see was the cold winter ahead and the money to be had. If a man was going to strike it rich without digging in the ground, he had to take chances sometimes.

The wagon train was too large, he knew that, but he was desperate. Besides, it wasn’t the biggest train he’d ever heard of at twenty-five wagons. He’d thought about finding a few more men, but he wanted all the money for himself. Well, himself and his saddle partners, if he ended up having to share.

He shrugged off his worries. There would be no travelers in the predawn hours. And Raddo and his men had scouted the trail; they’d picked out several prime spots where they could hide and wait for the train—getting in place ahead of time so they could be on hand for the raid. Meanwhile, they’d be on the lookout for sentries. And when they attacked, they’d work silently for as long as they could.

He nodded to himself. They were ready. Besides, it was so late in the season that these folks qualified as fools, so he, Meeks, and Dalt oughta be able to take ’em without much fuss.