The Accidental Guardian

by Mary Connealy

  This cave was the very dickens to get into. Trace had to move several heavy stones, which he’d added to over the years to help keep it blocked. But he’d found a bear in here a couple of times.

  The cave was unoccupied, so he led his horse in, stripped the leather off him, and gave him some oats. Wolf dashed away, and Trace figured he was hunting his own meal. Trace ate a quick meal himself, no fire. The smoke would probably disperse, and it was windy enough the smell of cooking food wouldn’t be noticeable, but Trace was in no mood to be careless.

  When he was ready to go on, he regretted leaving Black. That animal was a lot of help. But the tracks of a shod horse would be so much harder to hide than Trace’s own. And Wolf, well, those were wolf tracks. A wolf out here was no big surprise.

  Trace brought out a blanket that he’d bought special and sewed into shape some years ago. White. He pulled it on, knowing he’d be nearly invisible against the snow, then emerged cautiously from his cave.

  The cold stirred Gwen. She’d hoped to doze off with the children; she’d put in some long days while Deb had been off getting married.

  But why was it so chilly in here?

  Slipping as gracefully and silently as possible out of the bed where she was resting, nearly pinned between two sleeping children, she got to her feet, held her breath that neither would wake up, and went out into the kitchen. She closed the door with painstaking silence as she left the bedroom. One step and she saw the door wide open.

  Rushing to close it, she nearly skidded to a stop before she got there. A Bible lay open, facedown on the floor. Pages were bent, folded, and maybe torn.

  “Deb!” Dashing to the front door, Gwen shouted, “Deb, where are you?”

  She ran out without a coat or, she realized, shoes, toward where the barn was going up. Hammers pounded. An ax rang out in the woods. The new barn was out of sight, nearer the canyon where Trace penned his cattle.

  “Help me! Something’s happened to Deb!”

  The noise ended instantly. Feet moving fast. Gwen was terrified, but she nearly wept to think these men were here and coming to help.

  Utah appeared first. “What happened?”

  Adam was only seconds behind.

  “Deb’s gone.” Gwen’s feet went out from under her as she tried to stop.

  Utah caught her and kept her upright. He set her on her feet again. “Gone? Did she go after Trace?”

  “She’d have told me. Did she take a horse?”

  Adam ran for the barn to check.

  “She didn’t go anywhere willingly. Not with the door left open.”

  Adam was back in seconds. “She didn’t ride out of here.”

  “I came out from putting the little ones down for their nap and the door was standing wide open. A Bible was on the floor, all askew. My sister would never treat a Bible like that. Someone must’ve taken her.”

  Utah asked no more questions. He hurried for the front door of the house. “Stay back.”

  Gwen was only vaguely aware of how cold her stockinged feet were.

  Utah crouched but not for long. “Someone, a man, carried her out of here, not long ago. He headed into those trees over there.”

  Rushing for the spot he’d pointed out, he pushed into the woods. “A horse was standing here. Whoever had her let her stand for just a second because her prints are here in only one spot.”

  Spinning to face Adam, Utah barked, “Saddle two horses!”

  Adam headed for the barn at a sprint.

  Utah turned to Gwen. “We shouldn’t leave you, but we have to go after her.” He looked almost torn in half. “Get inside. Lock the door and keep a gun close to hand. Be on guard.” He paced after the tracks.

  Adam returned leading the horses, each with a bedroll tied behind the saddle.

  Gwen swallowed a sob as she dashed into the house. She noticed one of the firmly closed shutters was broken. There was a little corner cracked off. She bent to study it. The man who’d taken Deb had been watching them. Waiting for his chance.

  And he’d found it.

  Once outside, Trace made every move in silence. He hoped he’d beat everyone here, the outlaws and the wagon train, but he’d work as if he were surrounded by enemies.

  He quietly stacked stones over the cave entrance so that a hard-to-get-into cave became impossible to get into. His horse wouldn’t be able to get out, either.

  Then he started along a path parallel to the trail the wagon train would travel on, Wolf at his side, except when he trotted off to sniff around. Shrouded in the white cloak, Trace studied the position he was in, eyed the trail below, considered and discarded many places where a bushwhacker might hide and fire from cover.

  It was done a step at a time, sometimes an inch at a time, heading up and down slopes, looking for the perfect nest for a viper to hide in.

  Careful to conceal every footprint he left behind, he inched along, picking several prime spots where a coward might wait to attack.

  The white of the snow, even in the heavy woods, made it possible to work as the sun lowered and the shadows deepened. And through all his work the pressure built to pray for Deb. Trace couldn’t figure out why it rode him so hard, but when the good Lord put a burden on his heart, he listened.

  The long, cold day and constant climbing wore him down, yet worry for the wagon train drove him onward. And his constant urge to pray for Deb kept his mind sharp. He wasn’t going to quit until he’d seen all he needed to. There’d be time for a few hours of sleep, because he probably had at least another full day before the wagon train passed this stretch. And common sense told Trace he should go back to the cave and get that sleep.

  Those varmints can’t attack a wagon train that isn’t here.

  Night caught up to him, but Trace didn’t stop.

  “Bring her over here.” Raddo looked up from where he sat by a fire, behind a near mountain of fallen trees left from years of avalanches and rockslides that must’ve leveled the whole mountainside above it.

  The sheltering stack of fallen logs was solid, with an overhang so extended it dipped until it nearly closed into a room. Raddo had used this as a hideout back in the days when he rode with Luth’s gang. He could’ve lived here too, if he wasn’t figurin’ another avalanche might come along sooner or later.

  He watched with grim satisfaction as Dalt lowered the woman off his horse. She was gagged and bound tight, both hands and feet. She must’ve made a nuisance of herself, and Dalt wasn’t one to put up with undue noise or fighting.

  She was limp when he dismounted, but her head shook and she struggled against her bonds, so maybe Dalt had put her to sleep, or maybe she’d fallen asleep herself.

  Dalt shoved her under the sagging trees and let her drop to the ground.

  “Untie her.” Raddo noticed a line of claw marks on Dalt’s cheek. Yep, she’d been trouble.

  Since Dalt was already leading his horse away, Meeks came up to obey the order. Raddo saw the deep creases in her arms and legs and his mood turned sour. “We need this woman in one piece. We need her to stand and walk and talk.”

  Meeks paused in loosening the ropes to look over his shoulder to where Dalt had been. He was out of sight, picketing the horse in a hidden notch in the mountain. “Dalt has a mean streak.”

  Nodding, Raddo said, “That suits me just fine most times. I got one myself and so do you. But if this woman’s ropes cut off her circulation too long, we might have a real hard time getting out of her what we need.”

  Meeks had her untied now, and because they were a long way from any help and facing a bitter cold night, he had no doubt he could keep her under control without much trouble. Besides, where was she gonna run to?

  “Take the gag off, too. Let her scream if she’s of a mind to. If her man is out huntin’ us near the trail that wagon train’ll go, then he’s far enough off he can’t hear her.”

  “Gotta figure there are men back at the ranch Dalt stole her from who are huntin’,” Meeks said, loosening the gag.


  The woman moaned. Her arms flopped to her sides as if they were numb and nearly dead. She gasped in pain as she forced her hands to rub her wrists. Her legs twitched enough that Raddo figured she still had some blood flowing. She’d be fine.

  Dalt came back into the shelter in time to hear Meeks talking of being pursued. “The men from the ranch’ll come a-runnin’. There’s another woman and two little ones in the house. But I set a false trail. They’ll be riding the wrong way. She can scream all she wants.”

  He went to his bedroll and dug out a tin cup and helped himself to the pot of coffee nestled at the edge of the fire.

  A cruel smile curled Dalt’s lips. “She was a whole lotta trouble for me.” He rubbed the raw scratches on his face. “I let her get a hand loose when I was adjusting her ropes, and she took her shot. And then I took one. I’d as soon make her scream a little.”

  Raddo watched as the woman sat up slowly. She studied each of their faces. Maybe checking to see if any of them had the look a merciful man might. Raddo knew his men. A more merciless lot had never gathered.

  “We’re moving quiet from this step on,” Utah said to Adam.

  With a nod, Adam slowed his horse.

  Everything in him was driving him to hurry, but instead Utah was even more mindful of where his horse stepped so as not to crack more twigs than was necessary.

  Then he came to an area blown clear along a long, flat stretch of rock. Not a track to be seen for a dozen yards. He knew which way he’d’ve gone just by common sense, in the direction of the trail that wagon train’d be on. But that was a careless way to track. This trail had been hidden by a knowing man, and after tracks left by a fast getaway, Utah had been slow in picking out the direction he’d ridden. There’d been more than one false trail left, too.

  He held up a hand to stop Adam, then dismounted and tied his horse to a low branch. There was even a hardy clump or two of tall dried grass showing, so the horse could eat for a minute. Adam alit and did the same thing.

  “Have a care on this trail.”

  “How far ahead are they with her?” Adam’s voice had a note of panic to it, and Utah didn’t blame him—she’d been in those men’s clutches for a long time now. Too long. No woman would be safe under their power.

  “The time is driving me loco too, Adam, but we’ve gotta be sure we’re going the right way.” Utah set to work. Adam watched for a long minute, then studied the trail on another side of the flat stretch of stone.

  He should rest. Trace had tomorrow to hunt if his figuring was right. And it’d be better to study the trail in the full light.

  The moon was about to rise when he finished one side of the trail. But instead of heading back, he slipped across the trail and climbed up to the other side of it. Wolf sniffed along with him and sometimes the critter vanished. Trace knew the dog could take better care of himself than Trace could, so he didn’t worry much. If there was any movement to be seen, Wolf would be back fast to warn him and fight beside him if need be.

  Another stretch of hours passed, and Trace had a good picture in his head. In fact, if these outlaws were half smart—and he suspected they were more than half—then Trace knew of about ten places that were perfect for what they had in mind. The only ten places.

  He looked down on the trail. He stood right above a wide grassy stretch. Along its whole length, there was no more likely spot for the wagon train to circle for the night. It was so obvious that he hoped the wagon master would be too savvy to pick it. But if Trace was right, the spot where he stood would be the prime place for an outlaw bent on a dawn ambush to lie in wait.

  He darted across the trail and felt an itch on his neck with every stride.

  He reached the cave and climbed in to see how Black was doing. There was feed and shelter and water. The horse had it easier than Trace.

  Wolf leapt through the small opening in the cave. He skidded onto his haunches to stop in front of Trace, then barked and clamped his mouth over Trace’s wrist. He didn’t bite, but he held on and pulled.

  Trace followed along. “What’s the matter, boy? I’m ready to sleep.”

  Wolf dragged him a few more paces before letting go. He then turned, barked, and dove out of the cave opening with one leap. He barked and growled and leapt back in again.

  Trace had known Wolf for a long time. He kicked the rocks away from the cave’s entrance and saddled Black in record time. Wolf dashed out. Trace pushed Black as hard as he dared down the side of the rugged mountain slope. Wolf slowed from time to time so that Trace could keep him in sight. All thoughts of sleep were quickly forgotten.

  Deb wished she could sleep so she could maybe forget what had happened for a few merciful hours. But she didn’t dare. She’d need to be alert, because she had a plan, and the timing of it could very likely be the difference between life and death. For too long she’d been waiting for her moment, but it just would not come.

  Every time she closed her eyes, her mind was flooded with images of what could happen to her while these men held her captive. She was scared to death. She hurt something awful, especially her wrists and ankles. She’d been dragged around, hit a couple of times, and was so terrified she could barely breathe in and out.

  Sleep would be a welcome escape.

  The men were all in bed, not worried enough to even tie her up or post a guard for the night. And they’d used their names and made no effort to hide their faces. Deb had no doubt that their plans did not include her surviving whatever it was they were up to.

  That made it worth her effort to try to run, even if at the risk of her own life.

  Deb needed to slip away, but she’d heard these men plotting. Raddo seemed to be the leader—and he was the man she’d almost run into in Carson City. Meeks was the one with the high-pitched voice. Dalt was the one who’d grabbed her and treated her so roughly.

  They’d laughed about what would happen to her if she tried to escape, and they’d said things that made her think they knew exactly where Trace was. They were a long distance from him, and if she ran off, they’d just track her down and drag her back. They’d made that threat several times.

  But she would go despite that. Her wrists and ankles were feeling like they would work if she tried to use them.

  Listening, she heard snoring. All three of them. There was no sign they were just pretending. She’d slip out quietly, but instead of running for her life, she would hide. She’d be careful of leaving tracks, find a place to hole up for a while. They couldn’t track her if she wasn’t moving—she hoped, anyway. She’d find a place fast and then wait in silence until help came.

  She flexed her legs and her ankles to test the pain. It was bad, but not so much she couldn’t work through it.

  Looking around at the strange overhang, she could be outside through a gap right behind her with only a few steps. She’d need to place her feet carefully. The moon was near full.

  She’d seen Trace brush out tracks and step on rocks and logs when possible. Instead of running, she’d pick a deep shadow, stay still in utter silence. They’d have to trip over her to find her.

  It was time. The snoring might not remain so deep for much longer. Their noise would cover hers. Gathering herself, she said a quick prayer, then was up and out in three soundless steps.

  She listened again, heard no shouts or sounds of pursuit. A glance around showed a thick log. She hopped up, realizing she was fortunate to have boots on but sorry they made a tiny scraping sound against the log. Fighting each sound and hurrying each step, she walked the length of the log and saw where it crossed another one. She set out in a new direction.

  A stone, swept clean by the wind, made a perfect next step. She finally saw what she wanted. A massive tree lying on its side, its roots forming a small cave. Almost too small. No one who wasn’t desperate would consider it a hiding place. She thought the men might just rush right past it.

  With a prayer for protection, for God to close the eyes of her pursuers, and for help
to come soon, she silently slipped into the cave made of roots.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Utah held up his hand. Adam halted.

  The kid was the perfect partner in this search. They were almost reading each other’s minds, communicating in utter silence.

  They were on foot, leading their horses. It felt as if they were crawling along while fear for Deb ate a hole in Utah’s belly and drove him to hurry. But he fought down the urge. If he’d been hurrying, he’d have missed the turnoff and followed the false trail.

  He turned from the obvious direction and followed well-hidden tracks. Well hidden, but not quite enough.

  Picking out each step for as much as a hundred yards in the dark, twisting forest, finally he saw it. Utah smiled and held up a hand again. He tied his horse to a tree and stepped close enough to Adam so they could speak. Utah’s voice was quiet as a breath of wind.

  “He quit hiding his tracks. Movin’ fast. Thinks he’s fooled us, lost us. I’m bettin’ he’s close to his camp. Leave the horse.”

  A nod of agreement and Adam tied off his horse, then pulled his rifle from the scabbard on his saddle.

  Utah moved slowly and quietly, gun in his holster, rifle strapped on his back. The search was over.

  “She’s gone!” Raddo thrashed to his feet.

  Deb heard every step as he charged out from the overhang. One man laughed; both were right behind him.

  “Love chasin’ down a woman.” Meeks was the lowest of them all in Deb’s judgment. And that made him mighty low.

  Deb breathed slowly through her mouth. They’d have to hear her heart beating if listening was how they found her.

  “Split up!” Raddo’s shout sent the men running away. While he came directly toward her. Not trying, not for a second, to cover the noise. He was so confident he could find her, he wouldn’t even sneak.