Free The River Girl's Christmas (Texas Women of Spirit Book 4) by Angela Castillo

which had been draped over a chair. “We have some old blankets in the poor barrel. Let’s gather those and see if we can find the doctor. If he’s not there, we’ll try to get a few other men to follow on horseback. The buggy only seats five, three if someone has to lie down in the back.”
    “And we must send someone to tell Grandma Louise. She’s been worried sick.”
    Pastor Fowler’s forehead creased. “I’ll send my grandson. He’s thirteen and can ride like the wind. He knows where the Eckharts live.”
    Zillia ran back out to Soonie. “Come on, we’ll get the buggy hitched up, and Mr. Fowler’s going over to the clinic to find the doctor.”
    Hope sprang into Soonie’s eyes. “We have a clinic here now?”
    “Yes, when old Doctor Peterson retired last year, we got a younger doctor from Pennsylvania. He tore down the old office and built a new clinic. He stitched up Wylder last year when he cut his hand on a fence.”
    Soonie closed her eyes. “Wylder . . . I wish he was here. Hopefully he will find us.”

10
Reunion
     
    W ylder pulled his coat closer and rubbed his hands together before gathering the reins again. Each breath sent a small cloud into the air. The rain had passed, thank goodness for that, but a thick fog wafted through the trees like clumps of cotton.
    “It’s going to be tough to search for anything in this,” said the sheriff.
    Grandpa Walt took a swig from his canteen. “Yup. But we know God Almighty loves Soonie more than Wylder and I do. He’s got her in His hands, and He will lead us to her. I feel, right here,” he thumped his chest with a gloved hand, “That we’ll find her today. I just feel it.”
    “I hope you’re right,” murmured Wylder. And I hope she’s safe. He wouldn’t even allow himself to think the words “not dead.”
    They passed through Del Valle, scouring the sides of the road and knocking on the doors of the few homes they encountered.
    One door was answered by a burly man who wore nothing but long john underwear. “Howdy?”
    “Hello.” Wylder held out a family photograph taken when Soonie was thirteen, the one where she’d insisted, as usual, on wearing her buckskin skirt. “Have you seen this girl? She’s older now, and she was traveling with her husband.”
    The man squinted at the photograph. “Looks like an Injun to me. What’d she do? She wanted by the law?” He nodded over Wylder’s shoulder at the sheriff.
    Wylder worked to steady his breathing. I will not hurt this man over words. It’s not worth it.
    The sheriff cleared his throat. “No sir, the woman in the picture is a beloved family member of these folks and we believe she’s in danger. We’re trying to find her.”
    The man spat on the ground. “One less Injun makes the world a better place, if ya ask me. Now if that’s all you’re after, I’m going back to bed. This weather’s foul.”
    He slammed the door in their faces.
    A muscle twitched in the sheriff’s cheek. “So much hate in folks’ hearts.”
    “He doesn’t even know Soonie. Doesn’t know the good she’s done or the love she has for people.” Wylder shook his head. “Makes no sense.”
    “We should have sent someone to fetch them from Austin,” said Grandpa Walt. “But your Uncle Isak always came by himself, and he never mentioned any dangerous encounters.”
    “Maybe he didn’t want to worry us,” said Wylder.
    The party of three rode on in silence for several miles, with only the calls of the cardinals to keep up their spirits. The fog lifted in bits, and they were soon able to carry on their search in better visibility.
    But we might have already missed them. Wylder tried to keep his hands from trembling. He ached to reach out, to tear something to pieces. The closer they came to Bastrop, the more this anger built in his heart. Finally, he halted. “Grandpa, I have to stop for a moment. I’ll catch up to you.”
    Grandpa Walt’s eyebrows drew together. He sighed. “I understand, Boy.