TWENTY
Grant wanted to shout his frustration as he stared at the ground in front of them. He didn’t yell, of course, only allowed himself a low growl. How could the tracks simply fade away?
He and White Horse had been searching for hours today, in addition to what they’d been able to accomplish last night before darkness fell. They’d had to move ridiculously slow with every step, since the men had taken such care to conceal signs of their passing.
The prints had disappeared several times along the way, but White Horse always picked them up a little farther ahead. The two who’d taken Faith and Steps Right hadn’t kept a perfectly straight path—few could with all these trees—but they’d kept moving in the same general direction.
Just before they lost the trail, the route had seemed to curve a little. Was it because the captors were preparing to circle back to their camp, somewhere much closer to the waterfall? Or had they simply been riding with the lay of the land?
This time, though, no matter how much farther he and White Horse rode, they couldn’t find the tracks again.
“There is a ridge ahead.” White Horse pointed to the left where a rocky spire rose slightly higher than the trees. “Maybe we see from above.”
That might be their best option. Grant sighed and nudged his gelding forward. “Let’s try it.”
As they rode up the hill, the horse’s hooves clattered on loose rocks. The slope steepened, with boulders perched too close together for their animals to pass, so he and White Horse dismounted and climbed higher on foot. At the top of the ridge, Grant stood beside White Horse as they both stared out over the terrain.
Treetops spread out before them, a mass of lodgepole pine branches covering the gentle slope down. The green stopped as the land flattened into a wide valley. That might be a stream winding through the middle. Beyond the grassland rose a mountain with trees dotting its base. The cliffs climbed steeply into a peak far higher than the one on which they stood.
He shifted his focus back to the trees in front of them, searching for any sign of movement or presence of a person. He strained, tracking his gaze out over the valley, then scanned as far as he could up the far slope.
“Look.” White Horse pointed to a place just below their vantage point. Through the branches, a spot of brown moved.
Grant held his breath as he focused on the motion, working to make out shapes. That looked like the brown of a horse, but ... where was the rider?
The animal below shifted, revealing a flash of tan at oneend. A set of ... antlers? Near the animal, another spot of brown appeared.
Grant’s heart sank. “I think they’re deer. Two of them. Maybe more.”
White Horse nodded, and Grant started his visual search over again, this time moving from his left all the way to his far right. He’d just about scanned the entire area when White Horse straightened beside him. He must be ready to go back for the horses and search again.
But instead he turned to Grant. “We need to pray.”
Those weren’t at all the words he’d expected.
White Horse closed his eyes without hesitation. Was he going to pray aloud? Should Grant bow his head too? Headmaster Lawton had always required it as a sign of respect.
A tiny part of him wondered if White Horse would be praying to the same God the headmaster had. They were such different men. And didn’t the Natives worship things like the sun and moon? Even though White Horse had learned to pray to God Almighty, he might still cling to his old religion too.
White Horse spoke in a voice that held quiet strength. “Creator God. Our Father. Give us vision. Protect this sister. Protect my mother. Take us to them. I pray through Jesus, the Son who did no bad thing.”
The words were different from the long-winded petitions Headmaster Lawton had spoken, but every bit as earnest.
Grant desperately wanted these same things White Horse had asked, so he added his own “Amen.”
White Horse lifted his head and met Grant’s gaze. “The great God knows where they are. We ask Him to show us. We ask Him to fight this battle for us and bring victory.”
He held Grant’s focus for a long minute—a minute in which he seemed to be trying to infuse his solid faith into Grant.
Part of him wished that could happen. That he could find the certainty this man possessed that God would answer. That the Almighty would make the way plain and bring them success.God, how do I find that?
There was no answer. He shouldn’t have expected a voice to boom from heaven.
But still, an ache rose up in his throat.God, if you’re up there. Keep Faith and Steps Right safe. Help us find them. Let them know we’re coming.
Helplessness hung heavy around him like a smothering blanket. What more could they do?
“The great God knows where they are. We ask Him to show us.”
