manner. Yet no sign of the woman.
Backing around the edge of the wagon, he began to search in a widening circle. The prints where ponies, both shod and unshod, had milled around, tearing up the ground before heading out, were obvious. Trace followed the direction of the tracks toward the desert, noting one wagon burned and one missing. Why? What were they carrying?
Rumors Rand had told him about the renegades moving along the border seemed to be true. If these were Mescalero raiders, he knew the price they took on their captives. He’d hate to think they’d taken the woman with them.
He stubbed his toe and looked down to see a broken piece of crate. The numbers burned into the wood leaped out at him: 4506, followed by the letter U and a partial letter he quickly assumed would be an S. He bent down and rescued it from the dirt. His gaze moved from the ground to a break between the trees, the footpath down to the spring. Something fluttered. Laying down the piece of wood, he rose carefully and walked toward the small cottonwood at the top of the path. A strip of white cloth fluttered in the breeze. His mouth ran dry.
She was in trouble. He knew it. As he moved to the path, he paused to remove the scrap from the snag, fingering the material. The soft cotton glided along his fingers. Material this delicate was something that wouldn’t chafe a woman’s skin. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled the scent of fresh flowers and store-bought soap. Trace’s worry increased. Thornton was a damn fool to bring that type of woman along, the type a man couldn’t keep his eyes off no matter how much he tried.
Keeping to the south side of the embankment, he stopped to examine the scuff marks in the soft dirt, marks as if someone had fallen. Beyond him, the gurgle of the water filled the echoing silence. At the turn in the path, booted footprints and the smudge from a hand marked the trail. Taking a deep breath, not knowing what to expect, he rounded the corner—but found no one.
Trace glanced back. It was easy to see the prints led in but not out. His gaze rolled over the shallow canyon. There was no way out. His brow furrowed as he thought of the places they might have hidden her body. A thicket of scrub bushes near the north end of the spring caught his attention. Praying he wouldn’t have to see that cream-colored skin beneath the clear water, he moved with slow, deliberate steps, looking for any sign of life.
A discarded canteen lay near the water’s edge. Crouching down, he picked it up by the strap and shook it. Still full. Over the sound of the gurgling water, he heard a boot scuff against a rock. Alert to someone’s presence, Trace felt a rush of adrenalin roar through his veins. He turned, gun leveled, ready for a fight. Instead of the dark menace of the Apache, a wounded pair of blue eyes stared back. He had found her.
Trace tried to relax, but the rush of air from his lungs burst across his lips in a startled gasp. Frightened by the sound, she faded back, the branches rattling as they closed around her. A sense of urgency nearly overwhelmed him. He needed to take it easy. Licking his dry lips, he slid his gun back into its holster.
“Ma’am.” He spoke in an even tone so as not to frighten her. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes, illuminated with fear, stared back. Yet she did not speak.
Smile, he told himself and pulled his lips back over his teeth in an easy manner. “You remember me? We met yesterday.” He paused, waiting for her to remember. “At Cobb’s Crossing.”
She stilled, her brow wrinkled in thought.
Trace moved closer. The jangle of his spurs drew her attention, and he watched her eyes widen. Stopping, he crouched down so they were at eye level, close enough for him to see the bruise at her chin and the dirt ground into the sleeve of her right shoulder.
“You are hurt.” He held out his hand. “Please, let me help you.”
He studied her face and watched those eyes contort in pain. The hurt cut at his heart. “Come.”
She pushed her way through the tangle of branches clumped together.
“That’s it.” He relaxed. “Come out—” Trace’s encouragement died upon his lips. As the shadows fell away from her, he glimpsed the