The Accidental Guardian

by Mary Connealy

  The big Holsteins disappeared down a trail into the forest.

  Trace was gone, dragging on his clothes. Deb did the same, then pulled on her boots and laced them up quick as chain lightning. She left the room only a few steps behind him.

  He didn’t tell her to stay behind and it was just as well, because she wasn’t letting him go after those oxen alone.

  Sprinting out the front door of the hotel, she charged after Trace, dashing as only he could toward the livery. A man stepped out of the stable as Trace ran in, and they crashed into each other hard enough they both ended up on the ground. By the time Deb got there, Trace was on his feet again, the other man standing before him, gun drawn.

  Had he run into a man quick to draw and shoot? Deb got to Trace’s side, but before she could say a word, she saw the silver star on the man’s vest. A lawman. Heaving a sigh of relief, she opened her mouth to talk, but Trace beat her to it.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m running because I just saw a man driving a pair of oxen I know are stolen. Those cattle came from the wagon train my wife rode west on. The men who attacked them left a lot of folks dead. If we can catch him, we—”

  “Hold up there.” The snap in the lawman’s voice brought complete silence. He still had his gun out too, though it was pointed at the ground now. “Are you talkin’ about those black-and-white oxen that just left town?”

  “You saw them? Good. Do you know—?”

  “Quiet!” The lawman had black eyes and looked to be in a mood to match them. “I know the man who just left town. I passed him as I rode in. Name of Paddy Candle. I’ve known him for years. He just bought those oxen. They’re an unusual team, huge critters and a matching pair. I asked him about ’em and have no reason to believe Paddy would lie to me. I’d put his word above a stranger’s any day.”

  “Well, we don’t mean to accuse an old friend of yours of nuthin’, Sheriff,” Trace said.

  “I’m a US Marshal. Marshal Bates.”

  “Trace Riley. And this is my wife, Deb. If he lives around here and has for years, then finding him will be easy. If you trust him, that’s good enough for me. But he had to buy that team somewhere, and like you said, they’re an unusual pair. We need to talk to him. We need to—”

  This time Marshal Bates cut Trace off with a single hand gesture and a cold glare.

  Trace glanced at Deb, and she could see he wasn’t going to just quit talking.

  “I know Candle well. He’s an honest man, but he’s not a man who suffers fools. I agree that team is odd enough we need to find out where he bought ’em. He’ll talk to me alone, but he’s a man who won’t be pushed and is spoiling for a fight. If you show up, all upset, he’ll never tell you nuthin’ and enjoy watching you work yourselves up. You tell me what’s going on. I’ll handle Paddy alone. Then I’ll bring back any information I get from him.”

  Trace pulled in a slow deep breath. Deb saw him fight his need to hurry. He said, “We ran out of our boardinghouse without breakfast when we saw that team. Come on back with us and share a meal, and we’ll tell you everything. We’ve got a story of a massacre, robbery, and it looks like there are plans for more of it. We’d appreciate your help, Marshal.”

  Bates nodded in terse agreement.

  Trace gestured for Deb to go ahead back to the boardinghouse. They weren’t really being slowed down much. They’d left what supplies they had in the room, and they normally would have eaten anyway. Those oxen had just sped their morning up. But now Marshal Bates would handle that, and they’d have a second lawman helping them find the killers.

  After they’d told him the whole story, Bates said, “I know at least Dalt, that’s Dalton Callow. Last I heard he was in prison in California. I was working California then, so we knew he was an outlaw. He’s a mean one. I always knew he could’ve been a murderer. Must’ve served his time and got out. I don’t know any of his saddle partners. I’ll start hunting and see if anyone around here’s seen him, and who Callow runs with.”

  Trace thanked the marshal for his help, then added, “We heard the name Luth, too. Anyone around here answer to that name?”

  “I’ll have to think on that. If the real name’s Luther, is it the man’s first or last name?” He shook his head. “I can’t think of anyone named that right off. But I’ve got your description, and I’ll be digging around.”

  “We’ll go back to that wagon train now, warn them. They can get some men together and scout the hills. These outlaws are there, waiting and watching.”

  “You know how late it is in the season. And they’re fully warned. Better for them to head on through and keep moving. When they get to that stretch over the Sierra Nevadas, that’s when they need to be scouting the hills. Those three men after them may not even stay nearby. If I were them I’d push on to the trail and find overlooks and well-placed cover and get ready. I will make sure and talk to them and warn them they need to move on through on that trail, not lay up for the night. But you’re not going back. With yourself on edge and all those pioneers out there, there’s bound to be shooting trouble and the wrong folks are gonna get killed.”

  Trace’s jaw tightened at the lawman’s words. “Fine, Marshal. Then we’ll go on as we planned, and on our way along the west side of Tahoe I’ll check in at all the settlements. My ranch is on past the end of South Tahoe so it’s right on our way.”

  Marshal Bates huffed. “Best you just leave it be, kid.”

  Trace’s eyes narrowed, and Deb held her breath. She didn’t know if the marshal was a good lawman or not, and as much as chasing bad men wasn’t her preferred activity, it chafed her to leave this to the gruff, bad-tempered old coot.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some help?” Trace asked. “You’re going after those Holsteins. You’re going out to the wagon train. You’re going to check in at the settlements. And it’s all gonna be in the next few days because this is all going to happen fast.”

  “You let me worry about how I do my job.” The marshal looked mad enough to start arresting anyone in his sight.

  “All right. We’ll leave it, Marshal, for now. But we’re not going to forget these men. See that you don’t, either.”

  The man’s black eyes went cold as death, but he gave a hard, fast nod of his head. “You can be sure I won’t. I’ll go talk to Candle now, and I’ll warn the wagon train. Then I’m going to ride out to that wagon train massacre site, and I’ll spread the word at those settlements.”

  “And it wasn’t the Paiutes.” Trace clearly didn’t like leaving the hunt to someone else, not one bit. But Deb could see he was looking at trouble if he got crossways of the marshal. “It’s not their crime, but there are a few things staged to look like it is.”

  Nodding, Bates got up and headed out.

  Trace said to Deb, “Let’s go home.”

  She wished that meant they could be done with all this forever and ride home for the whole winter. But she sincerely doubted it was going to be that easy.

  CHAPTER

  25

  Trace felt a twist of both relief and frustration when they rode into his ranch yard late that night in the cold and dark.

  The frustration was easy to explain. He should’ve stayed on the trail of those men. They were dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed to run around loose. He’d come close to turning around a dozen times. This felt like that first day when he’d taken Deb and Gwen and the children home instead of going after those vermin.

  But how could he keep hunting after what the marshal had said? He had no choice now, just as he hadn’t then. Even so, those men were still roaming free.

  He should’ve stood and fought the day before he met the marshal. He should have dodged that grizzly and gone on after them.

  No, he didn’t think it was wise to take on three full-grown men without any help except a woman. Granted, a tough woman—or at least a spunky one—yet he didn’t think she had any real skill with that gun. But by the great horn spoon, she had it with her.

  S
o maybe better to say a woman willing to try and be tough.

  Still, he could’ve gone after them in the woods, or gone back to the wagon train instead of coming home. He should have demanded the marshal get a posse together. He should have set out hunting. He’d gotten so close when he might’ve attacked just hard enough to break up their gang, drive them away, and maybe leave their herd a whole lot thinner. Instead he’d turned aside from the chase.

  As stubborn as the marshal was about doing his job himself, and taking offense at Trace’s offer to help, he doubted the man would form a posse. And the outlaws were mighty good at sneaking, not a bit afraid to back-shoot a man. In fact, they seemed to like it.

  So it was easy to understand his being frustrated.

  The relief, however, surprised him. He hadn’t known he liked his home quite this much. He suspected he liked it a whole lot more now that he was married to Deb.

  “There’s smoke coming out of the bunkhouse chimney, Trace.” Deb sounded deeply impressed, also very tired. “They got it done, and they’ve moved in.”

  “I’m glad. Everyone’s got solid walls and a tight roof against the winter.” Trace chuckled for a moment.

  “So much work and done so fast and with such a good spirit.” Deb rode for the barn, Trace right on her heels.

  “You go on in, Deb. I’ll put your horse up.”

  “As if I’m one speck more weary than you.”

  Trace figured it to be well past midnight. He had no pocket watch, and he could’ve judged decent by the moon, only the night was overcast, with snow coming down and whipping wind in his face and down the back of his neck.

  Stripping leather off his horse, he found fresh hay already pitched into Black’s manger. His men had planned for him. So he went to help Deb and met her emerging from her horse’s stall.

  “I got the saddle and bridle off.” She sounded prouder than a mama cougar dragging supper home for her cubs.

  Trace went in quick to make sure it was all done, then came right back out, leaving her mare happily munching hay. “We made it home.” He was so tired, his mind wasn’t thinking much past the present moment. He just walked right up to his wife and pulled her into a hug.

  With a mild huff of amusement, Deb said, “It’s so nice to know a warm bed is waiting for us.”

  The way she said it gave him a little more energy to get on with settling in for the night. He rested one palm gently on her face and, touching irresistibly silky skin, leaned down to kiss her. “You are the finest kind of woman, Deb. I am so blessed to have you for my wife.”

  Her light blue eyes, washed gray in the darkness, shimmered. She looked at him so close he felt like she was peering right into his soul.

  “I’d have to say the same about you, Trace. The finest man I’ve ever known.” She gave him her warmest smile. “Let’s go in. Gwen will be in a room with both youngsters, so we can go right to bed.”

  Deb was turning to walk out of the barn when Trace caught her arm. He had a strange expression on his face. Worry maybe? Nervousness? Or he might just be overly tired.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Do you think . . . that is, will Gwen . . . should we—?” He cleared his throat. “I should probably sleep in the bunkhouse this first night.”

  The jolt in her heart surprised her. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

  Trace drew her into his arms again and kissed her. When he eased back this time, he said, “I can hardly stand the thought of being away from you. Last night, just having someone to hold . . . I have always been a lonely man, Deb. Less so in recent years, but having you for my wife has made me realize just how much I’ve missed in not knowing the presence of a woman in my life. Being close to you, I feel like a hole in my heart is healing, a hole I didn’t even know was there.”

  “I don’t want to be away from you either, Trace. I think it will do no harm for you to stay with me. We’ll make sure and explain things to Gwen right away. I’m usually up early with the children and see her for a bit. I’ll have time then to keep her from being overly surprised. Come on in with me.”

  “I would like that very much.” He took her hand, not even trying to keep the smile off his face, and walked with her toward the house. The night full of wind and snow, his lips still warm from their kiss, his heart full to overflowing.

  She gave him a sideways glance and a quick smile.

  He was so dazed about getting to join her, he only noticed Wolf when the dog caught him around the pant leg. Almost like Wolf was trying to guide him to the correct place to sleep.

  Well, Wolf didn’t know what was what.

  Trace followed Deb right into the house. Wolf disappeared into the night before Trace could try to coax him inside. For the first time ever, Trace was warm enough he could almost understand how the critter felt about sleeping on a snowdrift.

  Deb considered waking Gwen to tell her the big news. But once in the warm cabin, she was so tired and so deeply chilled, the thought of a celebration was overwhelming.

  And there probably would be a celebration. Gwen would be excited for her older sister. There might be some jumping and squealing and giggling—not just by Gwen, either. And that might wake the children up.

  And then . . . well, all in all, Deb decided it was best just to sneak in and go to sleep and put all that off until morning. So she didn’t make a sound when she led Trace to the bedroom.

  Trace.

  Her husband.

  Straight to the bedroom!

  God bless us all, how drastically things have changed.

  A glance inside told her the room was empty. Deb had been sharing with Ronnie. But she’d expected Gwen to take the little guy with her to the bedroom she shared with Maddie Sue while Deb was gone.

  The young’uns had slept with them since the wagon train had set out. Between the limited space and the cold in Trace’s old cabin, it’d seemed wise to continue the arrangement.

  This cabin was very well built. Utah had laid split-log floors in the room while she was away. Not a single one of them squeaked, but that might be because Deb was floating a few inches off the floor.

  She was tired enough and cold enough and feeling blessed enough that she expected to fall asleep fast and deep in her husband’s arms.

  She was right about the deep part, but wrong about fast. Trace had other ideas.

  Gwen’s scream sent Trace stumbling backward into the bedroom. Looking for protection, he glanced back to see Deb spring up from the covers, get twisted in them, fall off the bed, kick the blankets away and dash forward until she slammed right into his back.

  “What are you doing in that bedroom with my . . . my . . . my . . . ?” Gwen ran away.

  Maddie Sue cried from the bedroom, and seconds later Ronnie chimed in.

  Deb ducked around him and headed for the crying little ones, but Gwen blocked her way. Trace was glad Deb was between him and Gwen because she came charging into the room holding a huge knife, one Trace didn’t remember owning.

  “Gwen, what’s wrong?” Deb stepped forward. Trace caught her and held her right in front of him.

  “I think she’s noticed there’s a man in her house,” Trace said, firmly behind his bodyguard of a wife.

  A moment of dead silence reigned. Well, dead silence except for the howling children and Gwen’s heaving breath.

  Throwing her hands wide, Deb laughed. “We got married. Trace and I got married while we were in town.”

  “M-m-married?” Gwen’s eyes went from Deb to Trace to the butcher knife. She whisked it behind her back as if afraid he might get the wrong idea.

  Or rather get the right idea.

  “It’s all right, Gwen. I’m proud to have a sister that’d stab a man to protect Deb.” He leaned sideways and forward to catch Deb’s eye. “We’d be mighty glad to stab someone for you, wouldn’t we?”

  Deb narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s try to stab as few people as humanly possible.”

  “Agreed.”


  The front door slammed open, and Utah charged in, gun drawn. His eyes zipped from one person to the next. “Who screamed?”

  Adam was a pace behind him, still tugging on his coat.

  Deb spoke up again. “Trace and I got married. We just told Gwen, and she’s happy for us.”

  Utah arched a brow. “That big old knife doesn’t say happy, not to me.”

  Gwen marched over to the kitchen table and slapped the knife down with a clatter. Her cheeks pinked up as she said crisply, “I saw a man in the house. I thought it best to arm myself first and talk later.”

  “Wise thinkin’, Miss Gwen.” Adam tipped his hat.

  Deb rushed into the bedroom and brought out the two sobbing children, one on each hip. Trace took the little boy. Maddie Sue wrapped her arms around Deb’s neck, her legs tight on her waist.

  Utah grinned. “Congratulations, you two youngsters. I’m glad we got the house done in time for you to have a decent place for yourselves. I plan to start on the barn today. I keep thinking the snow will stop us, but until it does, I’m gonna keep at it.”

  Trace nodded and said, “Thanks. Sorry to cause such a ruckus.” He looked at Deb, who smiled back at him. “And the house looks real nice, Utah.” He stopped and let out a sigh. “I haven’t seen my cattle for days—I’d better ride out and be a rancher for once.”

  “The barn’s the largest building we’ll put up,” Utah went on. “So we’ll be at chopping trees for a while. A couple of days, probably. Honestly I’m figuring we’ll be lucky if we get this one up before the weather hits in earnest. I want to be ready so we can put it up fast. A half-standing building would knock over too easy if the winter shuts us down.”

  Gwen broke an egg into a bowl with a rather violent crack. Trace exchanged another look with Deb.

  “Give me Ronnie and finish getting yourself dressed, Trace. I’ll get to work on breakfast, and Gwen and I can take turns dressing for the day.”

  Gwen gasped, looked down at her nightgown, then swiveled to look in horror at the men. She dropped the second egg, shell and all, into the bowl and ran into her room. She slammed the door much too hard.