As he knelt beside White Horse, the man held the open bag toward him. Grant had been the one to pack these supplies away last night. He riffled through the contents on top. “Where’s the flour? And the buffalo meat?” They were the last containers he’d put away.
White Horse stood, then moved outside the camp and peered at the ground. There should be tracks in the muddyground, though they might be hard to spot with trees casting shadows on the ground.
A twig snapped behind him, and Grant whirled, his hand reaching for the gun at his waist.
It was only Faith, sitting up in her blankets.
He eased out a breath, releasing his hand from the pistol. He might have shot her if he was faster with his draw. Her sleepy look tugged at him, tightening his chest.
She rubbed an eye with one hand, the other going up to adjust the leather tie around her neck. He’d seen her do that a few times on this journey. She looked from him to White Horse. “What’s going on?”
His belly tightened even more. She was so special, so delicate despite her strength and courage. He had to do a better job protecting her. Not allow something or someone to steal their food right under his nose.
He swallowed. “Some of our food is missing.” He turned back to White Horse. “Find anything?”
The brave shook his head. “No tracks. Maybe see when light comes.”
He frowned. “You don’t know if it’s animal or man?”
White Horse straightened and stared into the darkness beyond them. Then he turned and moved back to the packs, crouching to examine them. “No mark of claw. No bite.”
Faith had woken fully, her eyes rounding. “You think it was a person?”
Grant scrambled for any other possibility. “Could it have been a coon? Are there other animals that use their paws like hands around here?” He’d seen more than one such creature in St. Louis extract food under the cover of darkness without leaving a sign.
For a long moment, White Horse frowned at the ground in front of the pack. Then he lifted his focus to Faith, though he was quiet for another moment. Something shifted in his eyes, a faint softening. He stood. “I will watch until light.”
Grant glanced at the eastern horizon, though trees concealed the sky. He couldn’t tell for sure, but the night probably had only another hour or two until dawn.
He nodded and turned back toward his bedding. He might not sleep, but hopefully him lying down would encourage Faith to do the same.
In the morning, they could determine exactly what had stolen their food. And if itwasa man, he and White Horse wouldn’t rest until they found the scoundrel. They couldn’t let this threat come any closer to Faith than it already had.
From her saddle, Faith gazed out over the lush valley, her eyes tracing the path of the stream that meandered like a ribbon through the sea of grass. The rich blue of the sky stretched so vast and open it made her heart ache with longing. Grant sat on her left and White Horse on her right, all three of them pausing on this mountain pass to take in the view.
She eased out a breath as the beauty seeped into her soul, loosening the tension that had coiled within her all day. They’d found no sign of tracks around their campsite that morning, except for their own prints. No sign of what had stolen their food. Maybe it had been only a raccoon, like Grant said, creeping away silently with the food grasped in its tiny paws. Believing that eased the worry knotted inside her.
This view soothed her even more.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Grant’s voice rumbled beside her.
She smiled. “It reminds me of the valley where our ranch is.” How were her sisters faring in her absence? Juniper and Lorelei were both in the family way. Was Lorelei sick with the stomach illness like June? And was June faring better this time than she had when she carried little Bertie?
And oh, precious Bertie. A fresh yearning surged within her to curl her sweet niece in her arms, squeezing her pudgy rolls and breathing in her little-girl scent.
“Creator Father gives many good things.” White Horse’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Before she could glance at him, something like a snort sounded from Grant. She raised her brows at him, but he kept his focus ahead.
White Horse must have heard it too, for he said, “You do not believe Creator Father gives all this from love?” He motioned toward the bounty before them.
She looked back to Grant to catch his expression. His eyes had narrowed a little, sealing away his thoughts so she couldn’t read them.
He gave a small shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”
That seemed to be all he would say, and it certainly left questions swirling in her mind. Had he not been taught about God? Or did he choose not to believe? Or maybe he was angry at the Almighty for some pain in his past.
Her own chest ached with that thought. She didn’t let herself think much about God. Contemplating His actions only raised painful queries about His actions in her own life. Why had He allowed her mother to fade away so quickly? That had been the starting point of every painful changein the past six years. If God simply would have healed her, Papa never would have sold the ranch and moved them to Richmond. Then he wouldn’t have been out on the street that awful night when he was struck by the carriage. He would still be alive. They would all be together still, living that wonderful life on the ranch.
