“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.