A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,42

here.” Sam waved his hand to shepherd them past the bush then repositioned it. He stepped out of arm’s reach and kept his gun trained on them.

Ryder held Delcie’s hand and led the horse after them. He whispered, “Don’t anger him. We need to find the children.” Though the man might well tie them up off the trail and leave them there. Please God, make him think it is a good thing to take us with him.

“I’ll do my best,” Delcie whispered. “But it’s going to be hard.”

“Stop yakking and get moving.” Sam slapped the horse, making him lurch and knock Ryder and Delcie forward. The man followed behind Ezra’s horse, leading his own.

They were on a very narrow trail. Barely wide enough for the horse. Delcie and Ryder walked side by side, pressed together. He found it strangely comforting. To feel that they were together in this. Though perhaps not by choice. Still two were better than one.

They hurried onward.

Ryder kept his face toward the trail as he whispered, “We will keep our wits about us so we can rescue the children.”

“If he’s hurt them…” She jerked at his hand, but he held on and they kept marching. “I hope you are praying for their safety.”

“I am. I will. Dear Father God, You love little children and don’t like to see them hurt. So protect Sally and Kent from these men. Help us get to them and show us a way to escape with them. I know it’s a big order but then, You are a big God. Amen.”

Delcie squeezed his hand. “God is big and strong and holy. I trust Him.”

“You might have to trust others before we get out of this mess.”

“I might.”

They fell silent as the trail narrowed and the afternoon shadows darkened the path. They walked on, and on.

“Stop,” Sam finally called.

They stopped.

Sam reached past the horse and pulled aside a tree to reveal another path. Hidden trails. Seemed he’d learned well the lessons his Indian father had taught him.

Ryder tried to reason how far they had come. They must have ridden two miles or more before they turned into this trail. They’d walked a goodly length of time. Maybe three miles of walking and now another hidden trail.

Sam indicated they should turn into the new path. He carefully closed the tree after them. They continued on. This trail climbed. In places the trees thinned enough Ryder glimpsed the hills—they were still in the Porcupine Hills area, but in some sort of draw filled with trees. He didn’t know the countryside well enough to have any idea where they were or where they might be going.

The path grew steeper and rocky. A few times Delcie gasped as her foot slid off a rock. He caught her and steadied her. She leaned on him.

“Get moving,” Sam growled.

They eased forward. The pathway narrowed even more. He let her go first and followed with the horse at his back. It would be a good time to try and escape, except there was no place to go and running away would not get them to the children.

She stopped. He pressed to her back and saw why she didn’t go onward.

The ground fell before them. There was no way down.

Had their kidnapper brought them here to push them to their death?

9

Delcie wanted to scream with fear and frustration. What kind of game was this kidnapper playing? She blinked back tears. She’d failed the children. She’d failed Sophie.

But she wasn’t done yet.

She turned around, pushed past Ryder, and stared hard enough at their captor that he should have shriveled like a dried-out old rag. “Why did you make us come this way? There is no place to go.”

He grinned, revealing a rotting tooth. “Tha’s what e’reyone thinks. Tha’s why they won’t never find youse.” He eased forward, his gun trained on Ryder. If she grabbed the horse and ran, would she be able to escape while he shot Ryder? But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. First, because she was no closer to finding the children. But also because she couldn’t be the cause of Ryder’s death.

“Lookee close and ya’ll see the trail.” He indicated they should move forward.

Delcie shivered. Forward would mean a plunge over the edge.

“Hold the horse,” Ryder said, and eased ahead. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Tole ya. Now git goin’. And no funny bus’ness or ya’ll end up in a heap at the bottom.”

Ryder stepped to the right and descended eight inches. “Come on.” He held out his