A message.
Use them carefully.
They traveled north toward the clearing where the bear trap had been found.
Fresh snow covered much of the previous day's evidence.
The daughter dismounted.
She crouched beside the tree where the chain had been secured.
The frontiersman joined her.
“Boot tracks were there.”
“Where?”
He pointed.
“Facing downhill.”
She brushed snow aside.
Nothing remained.
“Convenient.”
“You think I'm lying.”
“Yes.”
“Good to know we're communicating.”
She ignored him.
The trap still lay where he had left it.
The frontiersman turned it over.
Near the bottom plate was a stamped mark.
Two letters.
A manufacturer from St. Louis.
Nothing unusual.
Then he found a strand of red wool caught around the chain.
He held it up.
The daughter examined it.
“Clothing?”
“Could be blanket.”
“Army?”
“Could be.”
Her eyes moved toward him.
“You know Army blankets.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He did not answer immediately.
She noticed.
“What did you do before wandering into these mountains?”
“A lot of things.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
She stood.
“You speak when it benefits you.”
“Most people do.”
“My brother says you talked all night while carrying him.”
The frontiersman looked surprised.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you complain about snow, horses, mountains, traps, his weight, his knife, and once about a woman in Tucson who stole fourteen dollars from you.”
“She stole sixteen.”
For the first time, the daughter laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
She looked annoyed with herself.
The frontiersman smiled.
“That's better.”
Her expression turned cold again.
“Do not become comfortable.”
“Too late.”
She walked away.
They searched the surrounding woods.
An hour later one of the warriors called out.
Another trap.
Hidden beneath snow twenty yards from a game trail.
The daughter stared at it.
The trap was baited.
Not for bear.
A strip of dried meat had been tied low enough to attract dogs.
The frontiersman crouched.
“This wasn't meant for game.”
“No.”
He pointed at the surrounding snow.
“Someone checked it after the last storm.”
She came closer.
“Can you follow the tracks?”
“Maybe.”
They found a partial heel print beneath an overhanging rock.
Then another.
Two men.
Possibly three.
The trail led east.
The frontiersman followed slowly.
By afternoon they reached a narrow canyon.
The daughter suddenly raised her hand.
Everyone stopped.
Smoke.
Very faint.
They dismounted.
The two warriors moved left.
The frontiersman and the daughter moved right.
They climbed toward a rocky shelf.
Voices drifted from below.
English.
The frontiersman crawled to the edge.
Three men sat beside a small fire.
Trappers by appearance.
One wore a red wool scarf.
Several iron traps lay beside their packs.