Chapter 17

Faith stood with White Horse at the river's edge as the final flash of Grant's horse disappeared through the trees lining the bank.

Her heart ached to go with him. Not to let him leave by himself. She and White Horse had drawn a map for him to the ranch, and she'd encouraged him to bring Will too. He said he would try. But what if Will wouldn't come and Grant decided to stay with his brother? The loss of Grant Allen in her life felt too hard to face.

She drew in a steadying breath. She had to stay the course. Had to focus on Steps Right. Had to trust that Grant would come back to her.

Did she dare ask God for His hand to ensure that happened? She couldn't bring herself to. It seemed a selfish prayer, bothering God with a matter of the heart when He should be focused on much greater things.

"Your heart pulls two ways like river divided by stone." White Horse's deep voice spoke quietly beside her.

Faith nodded, blinking back silly tears. She couldn't let herself be so emotional about this.

"Place him in God's hands. Creator Father will work all for good if you ask Him to."

Faith managed a small smile. "I was just thinking of that." Though her thoughts hadn't been so righteous. God, if it's not too much to ask, bring Grant to us. To me.

She sighed, her hand lifting to the cord at her neck as a reminder of her mission. But her fingers didn't feel the rough rawhide of the string holding the pouch of beads. Only the cotton of her dress. She reached higher, then casually slid her hand under the fabric, reaching all the way to her arm as her heart hammered.

She couldn't have lost it.

She tried not to show the panic welling through her as she brushed her hand over the fabric at her waist. Maybe the cord had come untied, and the pouch slipped down in the layers of cloth.

She could feel no bulge under the material, though. White Horse didn't show that he noticed her odd movements, but he probably saw them anyway. She had to get by herself so she could search thoroughly.

She turned back toward the waterfall. "I'm going to check on your mother."

He didn't answer and didn't follow. As she prepared to step onto the first of the rocks that led to the ledge behind the falls, she glanced back to make sure she was alone.

Her pulse hammered as she paused in the cave opening where she would have enough light and room to move around, as well as protection from White Horse's view by the falling water.

She patted the layers of her shirt but could feel nothing out of place. No bulge of leather or line of a rawhide string. It felt like a weight pressed on her chest, and her fingers trembled as she unfastened buttons. If she'd lost the beads ... what would her sisters say? What would Papa have said? He would be so disappointed.

She couldn't fail him. Not like this.

But after she'd unfastened, searched, and refastened every piece of clothing, no sign of the pouch or the blue bead necklace had revealed itself.

Tears pressed hard against her eyes, but she couldn't let them fall. She forced herself to breathe, to take in air and think through where she might have lost it.

She'd not removed the pouch from her neck at any point since tying it there before she left the ranch. In fact, she'd made a habit of feeling for the security of the cord each morning when she arose. Had she done so that morning?

Yes. It had definitely been there when she stood to follow Grant out to hunt. And when she'd settled in her saddle on Two Bit, she'd reached to make sure it was secure then also. She couldn't remember feeling for it any time after that.

Had she lost it during the hunt? If not, it would be in the cave. She should check there first, then if she had to, she would retrace every step she'd walked or ridden that day. She had to find the beads. If she'd ruined her chance to accomplish her father's dying wish, she might never find the peace she craved so deeply.

Steps Right was sitting in her usual place, and it looked like she'd been dozing. Faith gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if I woke you." Then she refocused her gaze on the cave floor where she'd been sitting to make the pemmican.

"What seek?" Steps Right's voice held the quaver of sleep.

Faith swallowed. "A pouch I was wearing around my neck. I think the cord broke." She certainly couldn't tell her what was inside.

There was no sign of the necklace here, so she turned back toward the entrance. "I'm going to look outside." As she maneuvered the dark corridor, she scuffled her feet along the stone floor, feeling for the bag.

Still nothing.

When she reached the grassy bank, she studied the ground as she strode up the hill toward the horses. White Horse must have gone up to the animals already. He'd said he was planning to check their hooves this afternoon.

As she crested the hill, he was just lowering Two Bit's left hind leg. He straightened and turned to watch her, but she kept her focus on the ground, though she could feel his gaze.

She would have to tell him. What would he do? If he told his mother she'd lost the beads ... the heirloom that so many generations of her family had treasured and worked so hard to protect ... She couldn't breathe, so she pushed that thought aside.

He wouldn't show his anger. He would be fair. And he would help look. They had to find it before they left this place tomorrow morning.

She made herself walk toward him, though she scanned the ground with each step. At last, she halted at Two Bit's head and stroked the gelding's face as she gathered her courage.

"I ... I've lost the blue bead necklace." She swallowed down the lump that blocked more words. "Your mother's necklace. I had it in a pouch tied around my neck. It was still there when I left the cave this morning to hunt with Grant." She bit the inside of her lip to keep from looking at his face. "I've searched everywhere around here. I'm going to ride the trail we took."

She finally had to meet his gaze, to see how much pain she'd brought to him. But no hint of anguish or worry or anger marked his expression. In fact, his eyes had softened.

"It is only a possession. It carries memories, yet if it is lost, we have not lost the memories. We carry them within ourselves." His voice was as steady as his gaze.

Then he nodded, as though deciding something in his mind. "Go to my mother. I will ride the trail to search for your pouch."

He turned toward his horse, but she stopped him. "You don't know where we went."

He glanced over his shoulder, turning just enough for her to catch the twinkle in his eye and the curve of his mouth. "I needed a walk this morning too."

Surprise flared through her. "You followed us?"

He turned away from her, striding toward his horse. "Stay with my mother. She will have work for you. I do not doubt this."

She waited until he swung up on his mount, then turned down the hill toward the base of the falls.

In another hour or so, the sun would begin to dip in the evening sky, and her mind drifted to the thought that hadn't gone far since Grant left. Would he reach his brother's cabin before full dark? Would Will be excited to see him? She could imagine a joyous reunion. Two brothers separated for far too many years.

When she reached the bottom of the hill, she paused before the thundering waterfall, a few drops of spray misting her face. She took in a deep breath, then released it. God, please bring Grant back to me. Let him accomplish this search that means so much to him, then bring him back to me at the ranch.

The prayer came easier this second time. She added another. And help White Horse find the pouch with Steps Right's necklace. Please don't let me have lost it.

Another surge of unruly tears rose up, but she swallowed them down and started along the rocks toward the back of the falls. As she reached the ledge and stepped behind the falling water, her heart began to pound, and she couldn't shake the unnerving sensation that someone was watching her.

That couldn't be the case, unless White Horse had paused to make sure she went to his mother as he'd asked. She glanced back around the curtain of water to scan the tree line. That would be just like him. So much like an older brother that his actions teetered on the edge of overbearing at times. Especially if he thought her safety was at risk. Maybe this time it was his mother's comfort he was concerned about. Faith should have the same focus.

Turning back toward the cave, she navigated the ledge and slipped into the darkness. "It's me," she called ahead. She might wake the woman again, but alerting her presence felt like the best thing to do.

When she stepped into the dim light of the cavern, Steps Right was standing, one hand braced against the wall. "I wash." She motioned toward the water Faith had just come from.

Faith's heartbeat picked up speed, and she strode toward the woman. "Are you sure you can walk there? I'll help you." The last thing she needed was for Steps Right to injure herself more. Especially when Faith was the only one here to help.

She tucked her shoulder under Steps Right's arm on the side of her injured ankle. Together, they hobbled toward the dark corridor and the sound of the pounding waterfall.

Hopefully the woman would be able to sit and wash herself on the ledge behind the cascade. That way they wouldn't have to try to maneuver the narrow path of wet stone.

When they emerged into the light and the thundering sound of the water, Steps Right pointed to the closest part of the ledge. Faith helped her ease down to sit on the stone, then settle both feet into the water. The injured ankle was still more swollen than the other.

As she started to rise, a movement at the edge of her gaze made her jerk her focus upward, toward the path they usually walked from the bank.

Two braves stood on the ledge. Barely an arm's length away, on the other side of Steps Right. Dark paint marked their faces, making their expressions even fiercer than they might have been.

Her breath caught as panic flared through her. She might have screamed, except her throat wouldn't work. Her mind raced, scrambling to figure out who they were.

Reality slammed through her like a shove. Flies Ahead.

Except ... neither of these men looked like those she had met. Maybe the paint disguised them. And she hadn't seen him in three years.

Did she have anything she could use as a weapon? Her pistol was in the cave. She had nothing at all. The only rocks in this area were tiny pebbles. If she threw a handful at these men, it would only anger them more. Did Steps Right have a weapon hidden in her clothing?

The man in front dropped his gaze to the older woman, whose eyes were also fixed on him. His gaze turned even harder, if that were possible, and he bit out a few sounds she couldn't decipher.

Steps Right understood them, for she responded in the same language. Her tone stayed calm, in stark contrast to his angry bark.

Faith's stomach churned as she focused on the men. Maybe she could run into the darkness of the cave and grab her gun. They would have trouble following in the thick black of the corridor. Would they hurt Steps Right while she was gone? This might be their only chance for escape.

Steps Right's words seemed to anger the men, for the one in front responded with two enraged syllables. Then he charged, lunging for Steps Right.

This time Faith did scream, even as she spun to sprint into the cave.

Something caught her dress, stopping her forward movement. Then a hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her backward. She twisted, trying to scramble away from the vise. But another arm wrapped around her middle, dragging her toward the water.

She screamed, but the sound only lasted a second as the hand on her shoulder released, only to close over her mouth like a smothering blanket. A foul stench filled her nostrils, and she could taste the grit on his skin. She couldn't breathe. Panic surged through her as she clawed at the hands, trying to escape their grip.

He was carrying her forward, along the ledge. Away from the cave.

Where was Steps Right? What was the other man doing to her?

The older woman was shorter than Faith, but likely heavier. And her bones would be far more fragile. If that other brave hoisted her like this, would he break a bone?

Faith fought harder, twisting and kicking and clawing. The arm around her waist cinched so tight, tears sprang to her eyes. If he'd grabbed any higher, he would have broken her ribs.

As he carried her around the edge of the falling water, she craned her neck to find Steps Right. She caught only a flash of movement—the other brave jerking the elderly woman up from where she sat at the water's edge.

Her ankle. Faith couldn't let anything happen to the woman who'd saved her father's life so many years ago. White Horse's mother.

She fought harder, desperation fueling every movement.

A force struck her head, slamming pain and flashes of light through her vision.

Then blackness closed in.