of trees.
“They aren’t your children. Why do you care?”
The trail was covered in leaves, which made it hard to see the tracks of the horses. But where else would they go? There. A track. He continued onward.
“I once had a little girl. She’d be close to Sally’s age now.”
“Mr. Remington, I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s dispense with the formality. My name is Ryder.”
“Ryder is a nice name.”
“Thanks.”
“Please call me Delcie.”
“Unusual name.”
“It’s a long-standing family name.” She chuckled. “Means ‘delightful.’”
He grinned. “I like that.” The trail seemed to vanish. He reined in. “Where did they go?”
She leaned to the right and the left. “They have to be somewhere.”
“Listen. Maybe they’re real close.”
They both grew still, but the only sound was the rustle of leaves and the chatter of birds. If the pair were riding nearby the birds would be erupting in noisy protest. Had they stopped riding and waited for him and Delcie to pass? Or were they that far ahead?
“I’m going to have a closer look.” He swung from the saddle and squatted to study the trail.
She jumped down. Grunted.
He studied her. Saw her grimace. “You hurt your ankle again?”
“That man wasn’t exactly gentle.” She rubbed her wrists. “But none of that matters.” She squatted down beside him. “What are we looking for?”
“Horse hoof tracks.”
“I see nothing but leaves.”
“There’s an indent from our horse.” He pointed.
“I see.” She glanced down the trail. “How do we know if the tracks we see are from us or them?”
“We don’t.” He began to back track. But it was almost impossible to see even the tracks their horse made. “They sure picked a good trail.”
He stood and stared down the way they had come. He was missing something, but what? He left off studying the trail to study the trees. There must be a place where they turned off. Did that bush look unnatural? Slowly, carefully, guardedly, he inched closer, Delcie at his heels, until he reached the bush. The leaves had wilted. As if someone had cut it down then placed it here to hide an opening.
He kept his eyes on the trail as he thought how to proceed. He caught Delcie’s hand and drew her to his side to whisper, “I think I’ve found where they went, but I don’t want to alert them.” It could be a trap. “So be very quiet and keep looking at the trail as if you’re still searching for tracks.”
She squeezed his hand to indicate she understood and even leaned over as if intent on what was before her feet.
Why didn’t they hear the children? Had the four of them ridden on at a fast pace? He had to think that was the explanation for the eerie quiet.
He tugged on Delcie’s hand and tipped his head slightly toward the bush.
She looked at him, trust and caution warring in her eyes. Then she nodded. As if she had chosen trust. It made his chest feel two sizes larger, and he promised himself she’d never regret it.
He reached for the bush when a hand holding a gun appeared. The gun was aimed straight at his chest.
“Don’t make a sound or I’ll shoot you both on the spot.”
“Go ahead. That would alert those who are looking for us.”
The dark-haired man—Sam—stepped from behind the bush. “They’ll never find you.”
Ryder hoped that meant he would be reluctant to shoot them. He squeezed Delcie’s hand to encourage her. He was unprepared for her response.
She jerked her hand free and stepped in front of him. “Where are my children? If you’ve hurt so much as one hair on their heads, you will regret it.”
The man’s laugh was nasty enough for Ryder to shudder. He grabbed Delcie’s hand and drew her back. “I think we better do what he says.” He hoped she would understand that he didn’t mean they would passively do whatever this evil man said. “I’m sure you’re finding the children quite a lot of work. Why not take us along to help with them?”
Sam snorted. “A cuff to his head convinced the boy to be quiet.”
Ryder held Delcie back even though she fought him. She’d likely try and scratch the man eyes out if she got free. Not that anger didn’t burn through his veins. But they had to be very careful not to rile this man.
“Sure had you fooled on the trail,” the man chortled. “It’s a trick my Indian pa taught me.”
“He’d be proud of you, I’m sure.” Ryder managed to keep sarcasm from his voice.
“Get in