With a new sense of urgency, Greta shouted Astrid’s name, hoping the little girl would hear her and come running. But the rushing of the river drowned out her voice.
As they rounded a particularly large boulder, Mr. McQuaid halted and motioned her to stop with one hand while with his other, he removed his revolver and aimed it at something along the bank.
“What—?”
He pressed a finger against his lips, urging her to silence.
Finally, she saw what he did, and the air squeezed from her lungs. Crouched on a rock overlooking the river was a mountain lion—its yellow eyes fixed with unswerving intensity upon a little girl panning for gold in the river.
Chapter 5
Greta tried to pray, but she couldn’t push the words past the fear clogging her throat.
With ears flat against its head, the lion swished its tail back and forth. It was on the opposite side of Astrid, a dozen paces away. If only the girl would turn around, see the danger, and run toward them. Instead, she’d waded into the river up to her knees and was bent over pouring a handful of muck into a rusted mining pan.
Mr. McQuaid cocked the hammer on his gun.
Greta braced herself for the shot and tried not to think about what would happen if he missed.
Before he could release a bullet, the mountain lion leapt to the ground.
“No!” The cry slipped out instinctively.
At the sound, Astrid straightened and turned in their direction. “Hi there, Greta.” The girl held up the pan, water pouring out the bottom holes. Her discarded boots and socks sat in a dry heap near the shore, but her skirt was soaked past her knees. “I’m searching for gold.”
“I can see that.” Greta worked at keeping her voice calm even though her pulse was about to pound out of her body.
“I think I found some.” Wading out of the river, she dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of stones.
Greta pushed past Mr. McQuaid, heedless of his arm blocking her way. She had to direct the mountain lion’s attention away from Astrid to herself. That was the only thing left to do.
He fumbled after her, but she dodged away from his grasp.
The cat’s attention shifted from Astrid and onto Greta. She had to keep it that way until she positioned herself between Astrid and the creature.
“Who’s that?” Astrid stared past Greta, noticing Mr. McQuaid. “And why does he have a gun? Are we getting robbed again?”
Greta picked up her pace as the large cat crouched closer to the ground, preparing to leap. “No. He’s not robbing us. He’s a new friend, Mr. McQuaid, and he brought me out here so I could find you.” She was surprised at how natural her voice sounded when her insides were twisting with the ferocity of a funnel cloud.
She reached Astrid just as the mountain lion released a long, low growl. After grabbing Astrid’s arm, she jerked the girl behind her, putting her sister out of harm’s way.
Only then did Astrid see the danger. “What’s that, Greta? I’ve never seen a kitty so big.”
Before Greta could answer, the mountain lion bared its teeth and released a cry that sounded more like a scream, making the hair on Greta’s arms stand on end.
“Drop to the ground,” Mr. McQuaid ordered from behind her. “Now.”
All Greta wanted to do was pick up Astrid and run. But she dropped down and threw herself over Astrid, figuring Mr. McQuaid knew how to outsmart a mountain lion better than she did.
As the creature released another scream, a shot rang out. Greta hugged Astrid closer and watched the bullet ping against a boulder near the cat’s head, startling it and causing it to bolt. With silent, graceful strides, it bounded up the riverbank and disappeared.
Greta pushed up and ran her hands over Astrid’s frail body. “Are you alright?”
The little girl was shaking. Her eyes fixed upon Mr. McQuaid, who had his revolver still aimed at the riverbank.
“What was it?” Astrid’s voice was small and trembling.
“A mountain lion.” Greta pulled her sister into a tight hug. “It could have hurt you.”
Astrid sank into Greta’s embrace, burying her face and letting Greta hold her, which she didn’t allow as often now that she was getting older. Greta kissed the girl’s silky, soft hair and offered silent prayers of thankfulness for God’s protection. She’d brought the child west with the hope of bringing her healing. But so far, all she’d done was put Astrid into one dangerous situation after another. Had this trip been a big mistake? The question rose to taunt her again.
A sizzle and flash of light was followed by a crack of thunder.
Mr. McQuaid glanced up at the sky in time to get hit in the face by several drops of rain.
As large plops landed on Greta, she hovered over Astrid more protectively. At another dangerous bolt and resounding boom, she shuddered and peered back the way they’d come. She had to get Astrid out of the storm.
She stood and pulled the girl to her feet. Just then, the sky opened, the wind roared against them, and rain fell in a deluge.
“This way!” Mr. McQuaid shouted above the stormy clamor. “We’ll take shelter in that rocky cleft until the storm blows over.”
He was pointing toward the embankment farther down. But the rain and increasing darkness obscured her vision. “I’ll follow you!”
He nodded and started forward.
Greta took a step but then remembered Astrid wasn’t wearing shoes or socks. Greta tried hefting the girl, but the rain made everything too slick.
“Here.” Mr. McQuaid returned to her side and lifted Astrid into his arms as though she weighed nothing more than a doll. Before Greta could say anything, he strode off, and she practically had to run to keep up with him. He disappeared up a rocky embankment but several moments later was back, grasping her arm and hefting her up.
Within seconds, she found herself scrambling into a low cavern out of the rain. Another flash of lightning revealed Astrid huddled underneath the overhang and shaking.
“I’m sorry, Greta,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Greta crawled toward her sister. “It’s okay.” She drew the girl into her arms. “We’ll be okay.”
“I was just trying to make things better. That’s all.”
“I know you were.” She swallowed her need to scold Astrid. Sometimes it seemed scolding was all she ever did.
Mr. McQuaid had crept under the cleft with them. The space was tight, and as he sat next to her, his shoulder brushed hers. With water dripping from the brim of his hat, he smelled distinctly of wet leather and hay. He settled his back against the wall and stretched his legs out, crossing them at his boots.
The rain poured off the ledge above and ran in rivulets underneath them, and the wind gusted every few seconds, blowing a mist of rain inside. But at least they were out of the worst of the storm and away from the danger of lightning.
The steady pounding of the rain drowned out all other sounds except for the occasional boom of thunder. The temperature had dropped significantly, and now that they were nearly drenched, a chill permeated Greta’s wet layers to her skin.
She rubbed Astrid’s arms to warm her. After a couple of minutes, the girl stopped shaking and scooted forward, attempting to take stock of their shelter. Though it was dark, the evening sky along with the lightning kept them from utter blackness. Greta could see the rain descending like a waterfall over the opening of the cavern. And she could see Astrid’s outline as she inched closer to the edge.