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know, but it’s my responsibility, not His. The men won’t see God giving the orders; they’ll see me. It’s not like I can turn it over to Him and sit back.”
    Martha reached out a gnarled hand and stroked Alex’s hair, running her fingers through the tangles teased by the wind. “No. You shouldn’t sit back, but you do need to trust Him. There’s a difference, and it’s one you’ll have to figure out if this ranch is to succeed—and if you’re to have peace.”
    “I know, but I’m not sure how to get from where I am to what you’re suggesting. It sounds easy to trust God, but it’s hard when the person you always leaned on is suddenly gone.” She ducked her head and whispered to herself in a low voice, “And God’s the one who took him.”
    Joe cleared his throat and tapped his cane on the floor. “Reckon I’ll go sit for a spell, if you ladies don’t need me?”
    Alex gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you both. I’d better check Papa’s office and see if I can find any sign of that gold.” She walked out of the roomy kitchen and across the small foyer into her father’s pine-paneled office to the left of the front door. She paused and drew a deep breath, taking in the sparse masculine aspects of the room and inhaling the scent of his leather chaps still hanging on a hook nearby.
    This had been his sanctuary and work space, all in one. It was the place where the young Alex had run for comfort with her bumps and bruises or when her heart was sore from the teasing at school. Papa had always made time for her, always put aside his work and taken her on his lap.
    The large oak rolltop desk sat under the window overlooking the front yard. Alex squatted down and raised the hinged section, which was inset into the wooden floor next to the desk. The lid of a safe lay beneath the surface. She spun the dial one direction, then rotated it back the other, repeating the process again. She grasped the handle, pulled up the lid, and reached into the vault. A few envelopes and a small number of bills. She set them aside and then thrust her hand back into the dark hole. Empty.
    “Find anything, hon?” Martha’s worried voice coming from the foyer preceded her into the room.
    Alex stood and placed her hand on her hip. “Not yet, but I haven’t checked the desk, the bookshelves, or the closet.” Alex rolled up the top of the desk and rummaged in each cubbyhole then directed her search to the drawers beneath.
    Martha bustled over to the closet and threw the door open wide. Guns, ammunition, old hats, coats, and boots stood in a jumble. “I’ll help. Your father never let me organize this mess, so it might take awhile to wade through it.”
    They worked in silence for the next thirty minutes. The search yielded childhood drawings of hers, which Papa had kept, and storybooks they’d shared—items that brought a sting to her eyes. Alex squashed her emotions and kept searching.
    Finally, she sank back into her father’s swivel chair. “I can’t imagine anywhere else he’d have kept ore samples or a bag of gold, but they don’t seem to be here.”
    Martha’s forehead furrowed and she shook her head, worry clouding her normally calm face. “Maybe he took it to the bank?”
    “No. Mr. Elton didn’t see him again. Rob said Papa sent a wire to the seller saying he’d pay for the horses later.”
    “You don’t suppose…” Martha stopped.
    Alex tipped her head to the side and thought for a moment. “That maybe someone discovered the gold after he fell from his horse? I’ve been wondering the same.”
    “But Doc said he hadn’t been dead long when John Sellers found him.”
    “I know. Besides, I can’t imagine anyone robbing Papa and leaving him. Not in our little community. Most of the miners stay at their claims, but if one found him, they’d have stayed till help came.”
    Martha nodded and sighed. “We may never know. Send a wire to that breeder and see if your father paid him. And