The Accidental Guardian

by Mary Connealy

  “I can make a run to Dismal,” Adam offered. “I ride a fast critter. I can go out and back today. I’ll leave as soon as we fetch a letter around and find out where to send it.”

  Nodding, Trace admitted Adam’s horse could beat every other animal on the place and it had endurance, too. Adam could get to the rugged frontier town and back in half a day if he pushed hard. “I appreciate that. No matter where our company ends up traveling on to, they look to be spending the winter in my house.”

  “Which means we get to spend the winter in the stable, Trace?” Utah looked straight up.

  Trace’s gaze followed. Snow was sifting in through the roof. And this light snow was nothing to what was coming.

  “Truth is,” Adam added, “the house lets the snow in almost as bad as the stable.”

  Utah sounded glum. “Cabin’s got a fireplace, though.”

  “So . . . Utah, I said I’d like you to build a house come spring.” Trace crossed his arms, knowing he was asking a lot. “And I wanted to take our time so I could learn some building skills from you.”

  Utah nodded. “We’re going to start building right now, today, aren’t we? And build as fast as we know how. And it’d better be two houses if we can find the time. Because I’ve stayed a few days in that cabin of yours and I don’t know how you’ve survived all these years. We’ll build a cabin for the winter, and a bunkhouse for us to sleep in for now, and then next spring you can have your own house.”

  “And I’m not going to be all that much help to you building it.”

  “Why not?” Utah asked. “I can teach you some of the ways of building.”

  “I’ll learn all I can, but I’m going to be busy on something else.”

  There was a stretch of silence that Trace hated to break.

  “Something else?” Finally Adam couldn’t control his curiosity. “Like what?”

  Trace felt that grim rage take hold of his heart again. “I’m going to be hunting the men who massacred the folks on that wagon train. And I’ll ride as far and as hard and as often as I need to. Those men are vicious killers. They’re going to pay for their crimes. It rained on the trail behind us, on the north side of the peak. So the tracks will be washed away. But I’ll find them. I’m planning to ride out every morning, ride to the north and find the men selling stolen cattle and horses. I’m going to see them hanged. I’ll try and help with the building, and I’ll stay and see things settled in for today, but starting tomorrow, I’m going hunting.”

  That caused another uncomfortable silence, broken when Utah said, “If they stole cattle and horses, they’d lay up a while and work over the brands. Some animals coming from the east aren’t branded, so they’ll be easier than altering brands. New brands take time to heal. They might hide out for a while until the brands look right.”

  “I can wait a few days maybe, figuring they’re not moving and their tracks are gone.” Trace considered this for a moment. “But bad weather is coming. If it settles down on us, I won’t be going anywhere. By spring these men will be long gone.”

  Adam shrugged. “They think they got away clean, killed every witness, so why would they be long gone?”

  That pulled Trace up short. “They might haunt the trails awhile longer. There are usually a few late trains going through.”

  “Maybe instead of hunting the men,” Adam said, “you hunt the next wagon train. Nothing much easier to find than a whole great big string of wagons.”

  Adam had known him longest and had some idea of Trace’s past, though none of his time spent guarding travelers. He’d told no one about that.

  “And then I am there to protect the train the next time there’s an attack.” Trace knew how to do that. He’d been that trail’s guardian for years. It was the same men. Or remnants of that old gang. The predawn attack, the falsely laid Indian signs, the same mistakes made copying the Paiute arrows, the fire, and the mutilated bodies done in just the way Trace remembered. That thirst for revenge woke up hard and vicious, and he fought it down and thought of his Bible reading.

  “Go when you’ve a need of going. While you’re here, help build the cabin.” Utah grunted as if things were settled, then headed for a big wooden tool bin in the corner of the stable. He swung the lid open on squeaking hinges and pulled an ax out of the box. “This is mine. Do you have another?”

  “Yep.” Trace followed Utah and dug through the tools until he found his pa’s heavy old ax. He had a newer one, too. “Adam, fetch the one by the chopping block.”

  “Good. We can have three men felling trees.” Utah reached for Trace’s ax. “Give it here. I can get an edge on all these that’ll whistle through those trees like wind through their branches. I can probably fell a tree or two before breakfast. You men do the morning chores, rustle up some grub, and get those women to writing a letter. We can chop while Adam rides to Dismal. Before you leave to hunt down those yellowbelly varmints, you can help frame up the house.”

  Adam said with an odd, nervous note in his voice, “Maybe the women will cook.”

  All three of them pivoted to look in the direction of the cabin.

  Adam smiled like a sunny day. Utah quit talking about building and just stared through the barn wall as if he could see right into the cabin to the women cooking up a storm.

  Trace said, “I don’t see how it can hurt to ask.” He started for the house, and the men fell in behind him.

  “Turn ’em east, Meeks!” Raddo Landauer hollered to Bud Meeks, his saddle partner who rode out front leading this small herd.

  Meeks reined in his horse to block the trail and turn the oxen and cattle, ten critters in all, off the main trail. They’d hold ’em until Raddo found a buyer, then turn this lot into cash.

  It was a poor return on their work. A few dollars taken out of pockets, nothing much else except the cattle and horses, and a few of the herd had been lost in the attack.

  They had no choice but to strike somewhere again soon. Times were bad and money was tight. But this had been a wasted effort. An early morning, a long ride, a lot of hot lead. And all for this sad lot.

  He’d hoped this hit would set him up for the winter at least.

  Raddo had done honest work for a stretch of years. He’d never struck it big like his outlaw pard, Luth, but he’d seen enough color to keep himself fed and warm . . . and then his mine played out.

  Didn’t matter. Honest work hadn’t paid as well as thieving, anyway. And it hadn’t been a fraction of the fun.

  The cattle turned. There just weren’t enough of ’em, blast it. He and Dalt Callow brought up the rear, then Dalt pushed through the herd to lead and Meeks fell in beside Raddo.

  “See if you can conceal the tracks from where we turned, Meeks.”

  “Why? No one alive to tell the tale of what we done.”

  Raddo glared at Meeks, who shrugged. “Fine, I’ll do it, but it looks like rain’s a-comin’. That’s gonna do my work for me.”

  “The trees are so tight.” Raddo looked overhead and saw that the trees spread across the faint trail. No sky visible. “I can’t get a look at the sky.”

  “But listen.” A rumble of distant thunder sounded.

  “It could come as snow. We’ll watch, and if the sky opens up on this stretch, then hunt around for any sign you don’t think’ll wash away and deal with that first. Then leave the rest to the rain.”

  Meeks nodded. “I’ll go back where I can get a clear look at the clouds.” He reined his horse and headed for the turnoff.

  Raddo spent long minutes riding, listening. Finally a low, distant rumble told him rain was on the way for sure. The storms here most often came from the west, heading east, and when they hit the peaks, it was like the clouds couldn’t climb with the weight of the water and they emptied out. Happened a lot up here.

  With grim satisfaction, Raddo knew his tracks would be covered and there’d be no need for anyone to bother with ’em. He turned around to tell Meeks to put aside cleaning up. No sign of him.
r />   Well, Raddo wouldn’t go hunt him down. Meeks was a lazy lout. He wouldn’t mind staying back when there was work to be done. And with this narrow trail and the cattle and horses following placidly after Dalt, there was no need for a third man to handle the drive.

  He’d let Meeks have a break.

  They’d lay low awhile. Rework the brands. Then Raddo would ride out and find a cattle buyer who didn’t ask a lot of fool questions. They’d get rid of the herd and decide where their next money would be coming from.

  Wherever that was, it had to be soon.

  The thunder rumbled, louder this time. Almost sure to hit them, though it’d be a while. The distant storm echoed in Raddo’s chest like the rumble of wagon wheels coming down the trail, bringing him his next big strike.

  Gold found the easy way, with a six-gun instead of a pickax.

  Raddo was already looking forward to it.

  CHAPTER

  9

  A knock on the door made Gwen jump. Then she looked over at Deb and shrugged sheepishly at her own taut nerves.

  Deb shook her head, rushed to the door, and swung it open to the chilly October morning.

  Trace stood there, tall and strong and heroic. It did something to her heart. She wanted to thank him again, for the one hundredth time.

  “Come in.”

  Trace looked over his shoulder.

  Deb looked past him and saw the other men who’d been here last night.

  “All of you, please, come in.”

  Trace looked at Gwen, who had Ronnie on one of the beds, changing his wet britches. Maddie Sue lay across Ronnie’s wriggling body to hold him down. Gwen had made it seem like a game, but that was the way they tended the little cyclone most of the time. The boy didn’t seem to mind and was kicking for all he was worth while Gwen tried to wrestle him into a diaper without sticking him with a pin.

  Maddie Sue looked over her shoulder at Trace. “Where’s Wolf?”

  The dog barked and dashed past Trace’s legs to rush to the bedside.

  “Wolf never comes inside.” Trace sounded baffled. “Not even on bitter cold nights. Not since he was a pup. I used to drag him in when it was so cold that the inside of the cabin was almost too harsh to stand. He ran back outside. Once, I managed to keep him in for almost an hour, though he howled at the door the whole time. When I finally opened the door, he threw himself into a snowdrift as if he was burning up.”

  With a shrug, Trace added, “I’ve decided his fur is made to withstand winter. But it looks like he can’t withstand not being with Maddie Sue.”

  Deb thought Trace looked a little . . . betrayed. Like a kid who found out his best friend was playing with someone else.

  Then she remembered her manners. “Thank you all for giving up your beds last night.” She looked back at Trace. “Would you like me to get a meal on for all of you?”

  Trace froze for a minute, as if her words had overwhelmed him, then perked up at the offer. And what man didn’t perk up for food? “None of us is a hand at cooking, Deb. We get by eatin’ mighty plain. You cooking would be a fine thing.”

  The men all crowded in and pushed Trace over the doorstep. “I’d be pleased to get a meal on if you’ll tell me what food supplies you have and where I can get wood to build up the fire.”

  There had been a small stack of wood by the fireplace, but she’d used it up trying to keep the little cabin warm. It was impossible with the wind whistling straight through the many cracks in the walls.

  One of the men stepped back so fast he bumped into someone else, then almost shouted, “I’ll get wood.” He then vanished around the side of the cabin.

  Well, she couldn’t really say he vanished because she saw him through the wall. The logs were so uneven, and so poorly chinked, she could see right through.

  “We have chickens, ma’am. I’ll fetch eggs,” a gray-haired man offered with a grin. “The cow needs milking before we can eat.” The man was far enough inside he caught sight of a bucket sitting by the wall near the front door. He grabbed it and rushed off.

  Gwen finished. Maddie Sue hopped off Ronnie and dove at the dog.

  Ronnie burst into loud wailing tears and cried, “Want my mama!”

  Cooing and whispering, Gwen picked up Ronnie, who kicked and thrashed in her arms. Gwen held him close, trying to comfort him.

  “Mama, Mama.”

  Maddie Sue had heard the little one cry plenty of times, it seemed, because she ignored him and tugged on the dog’s ears.

  Ronnie’s crying got even louder. “Mama!”

  “Poor little guy.” Trace brushed past Deb.

  She’d expected him to run off with the other men. But now that the diapering was finished, he might stay. She swung the door shut.

  “Mama!”

  Trace reached for the toddler and pulled him into his arms.

  “Papa?” Ronnie broke off the crying.

  “Hush, little one, don’t cry. I lost my papa and mama, too.” Trace held him and, for no reason Deb could understand, the struggling and kicking stopped. The boy wrapped his chubby arms around Trace’s neck and cried softly now. Trace held him and patted him, murmuring things she couldn’t quite make out. Deb did hear Trace say, “The voice of one crying in the wilderness.”

  He’d said that yesterday, and she’d been amused by it because it really fit Ronnie, and yet it missed the meaning of the Bible verse completely. As she was sure Trace knew.

  Anything else Trace said was too softly spoken and meant only for Ronnie’s ears. The two swayed slowly, gently side to side.

  Maddie Sue happily tormented the poor, patient wolf-dog. While the dog seemed to be content, Deb intervened to protect the poor critter and sat on the floor with Maddie Sue on her lap.

  “Gentle touches, Maddie Sue. Be gentle with the nice dog.” She tried to teach the girl.

  The crying eased until finally Ronnie lifted his face from Trace’s chest and looked down at the floor. Ronnie pointed down and said, “Dog.”

  The storm had passed.

  Trace lowered him to where Maddie Sue sat on the floor. Ronnie dropped down beside her, and Maddie Sue made a very precious effort to teach Ronnie how to be gentle with a wolf.

  Gwen moved to block the fireplace. The boy tended to toddle straight toward whatever was most dangerous.

  “I’ll go get some bacon and flour,” Trace said. “There are plenty of supplies in the root cellar. If one of you comes along, I can show you the place so you can help yourselves. I really appreciate that you’re cooking for us.”

  Deb took a second to try to remember her pa ever once thanking her for anything.

  “Deb, you go. I’ll watch the youngsters.”

  Deb wondered at Trace’s courage when the others had run. She didn’t really blame them—they weren’t used to children, but neither was Trace as far as she knew.

  As they walked outside, the sun was just barely easing the sky from black to gray. Deb looked around. Neither of the hired hands was in sight, although she did hear wood being chopped. She was tempted to shout that Ronnie was all done being diapered. But she figured the men would risk returning eventually. In the meantime, she followed Trace to a door covering a hole in the ground.

  Trace held open the door and let Deb walk down the stone steps to his cellar. At the bottom he lit a lantern that he kept down here.

  “There’s milk and eggs. The men could’ve waited until after breakfast to do chores.” She gave Trace a grin.

  “That diaperin’ is enough to run off a man.” Trace smiled back. “What all do you need? I’ve got flour and a side of bacon. Sourdough starter that Adam knew how to make.”

  He started picking up whatever he thought they’d need. “Utah and Adam haven’t been around little ones much. Sorry they ran off. But I don’t blame them one speck.”

  “Let me help.” Deb reached out, and Trace handed her some of the supplies he carried. “I don’t blame them, either. But you’re made of sterner stuff, aren’t you?”
r />   “Yesterday helped break me in.” Trace shrugged, not mentioning how it affected him to hear that little boy cry for his mama. No sense going over all of his own history, being stranded, losing his pa. That terrible loneliness. It’d all happened a long time ago.

  “What makes you say ‘A voice of one crying in the wilderness’? That’s a Bible verse about John the Baptist.”

  “Yep, and little Ronnie’s no preacher, least ways he’s not shown signs of it yet.” Trace finished gathering and walked to the stairs. “Go on up ahead. The steps are steep, and I can stop you if you start tumbling.”

  “I appreciate that.” She passed him and headed up, not a bit unsteady.

  “My men brought supplies of all kinds back from Sacramento, on a string of packhorses. I made good money on my beeves and had it to spend and paid them their time, so they added a few things they wanted. We’ve plenty to get through winter.”

  “Even with four extra mouths to feed?” Deb asked.

  He hesitated. Not so sure. “I’ll do some hunting. I’ve got a herd . . . so we’ve got food on the hoof. There are some chickens. I’ll keep us fed.”

  Utah was visible by the chopping block, nearly behind the cabin, stacking wood at the speed of molasses in January. The sky was lighter from the approaching dawn.

  Trace called to him. “Hurry up, the baby is dressed again.”

  Utah shuddered, grabbed the wood, and followed Trace in. He seemed to be using Trace to block his view of the cabin until he was sure it was safe.

  “Wolf’s gonna chew one of those kids up,” Utah muttered from behind Trace.

  “He seems to love them. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m pretty sure I saw a Ts’emekwe when I lived with the Cayuse Indians, so I’m not saying this is the strangest, but it’s strange all right.”

  Trace turned to look at Utah. “A what?”