At Love's Command

by Karen Witemeyer

  “Her cooperation wasn’t enough.” Matt frowned. This part of the tale still chapped his hide. “Taggart advanced under a flag of truce, and while our attention was fixed on the outlaws, Charlie held a gun on Josie and dragged her into the line of fire, using her as a shield to keep either side from firing.”

  Darla let out a whimper, and Burkett’s expression closed down completely.

  “Taggart acted as if taking Josie hostage had been part of the plan from the start. Probably figured they could get more ransom for her than for Charlie.”

  Burkett grimaced. “Five thousand dollars.”

  Preach let out a low whistle.

  “I don’t know how they expect me to pull that kind of money together on such short notice. I only keep about five hundred dollars in the safe here at the ranch. I planned to drag Dorchester out of church this mornin’ to withdraw the rest. It’ll come near to bankrupting me, but I can’t risk Jo’s safety. I’ll sell off some of my breeding stock if need be. I’ve got some mares that will fetch a good price at auction. I might lose my army contracts for the next few years while we rebuild, but Gringolet’s reputation will survive.”

  Matt didn’t doubt that, nor Burkett’s ability to rebuild, but it would take more than a few years if he lost his best mares. Matt shifted in his seat, his stitches pulling tight and making him check his movement. The doc they’d pulled out of bed last night hadn’t been too happy about the interruption, but with Preach’s encouragement, he had cleaned and closed the wound.

  “I can’t guarantee to get your money back,” Matt said, his voice hardening, “but you should know that as soon as Josie is safe, the Horsemen will be running Taggart to ground.”

  Burkett raised a brow. “What percentage you askin’?”

  Matt shook his head. “No finder’s fee.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “This is personal.”

  Flashes of his last encounter with Taggart rose to torment him. The outlaw’s blade against Josie’s face. His arm around her waist. His taunting smirk. For a moment, the rage inside Matt ran so hot, he didn’t trust himself to speak.

  Preach took over the tale. “Using the lady doc as leverage, Taggart stole our horses, our weapons, and even our boots. Tied us up and left us stranded in the middle of nowhere. Then, as he rode off with your daughter in hand, he shot the captain and left him for dead.”

  Matt worked his jaw and forced air into his lungs, cooling the rage into ice-cold determination.

  “He took the woman I love.” Matt claimed Josie with a voice that brooked no argument. It was truth. One he wouldn’t dance around any longer. One no one in this room could change. He glanced up at Burkett. Not even her father. “He has to pay.”

  Burkett met his stare, his face hard, his gaze assessing. Then he released his grip on the back of his chair, straightened, and gave a slow nod. “Eddie,” he said without turning his focus away from Matt, “get these men some weapons. We’ve got an outlaw to hunt.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  By the time Wallace and Brooks made it to Gringolet via the main road, the Spafford boys had four new mounts saddled and ready to ride. Matt met his men by the paddock and sent them inside to collect rifles and ammunition. Then, while Preach caught them up on what had transpired with Burkett, Matt took a few minutes alone with the horses to steady his mind.

  The instant he’d walked down those back porch steps and seen the four mounts standing at the ready, he’d known which horse he’d select. The dark bay he’d spotted from atop the hill. The one who’d run with such abandon. Proud. Strong. A big heart. There’d be no quit in that one.

  Matt approached the gelding slowly, his hand extended, admiring how the sun caught the horse’s coat, bringing out the deep gold tones nearly hidden within the blackish-brown hair. The bay tossed his head as Matt neared, yet true to his training, he held his ground. His nostrils flared, but Matt gave him time to grow accustomed to his scent while the two took stock of each other.

  As if Matt had passed some equine test, the bay lowered his head and snuffled at his hand. Matt stepped closer and patted the gelding’s neck.

  “Good boy,” he murmured softly, the moment feeling almost sacred. Just him and the horse. Everything else faded away. His surroundings. His stress. Even the strategies knocking around in his brain stilled. All that existed was the horse. Heads close together. Breathing meshing into a common rhythm. Man and horse. Horse and man.

  Matt’s eyes slid closed. He hadn’t experienced a near-instant connection with a horse like this since Phineas. That bond had led to a decade of unparalleled partnership. He’d never expected to find that level of connection a second time, but his gut told him he had today.

  “You have an eye for quality, I’ll give you that much.” Burkett’s voice opened Matt’s eyes, though he didn’t turn. The older man’s footfalls were softer than he’d expect from someone who’d wanted to plant his fist in Matt’s face a short time ago.

  Matt made no reply to Burkett’s reluctant praise, just ran his hand over the horse’s withers and down his shoulder. He bent to examine leg and hoof. Healthy. Well-defined muscles. Sleek, but not bulky. Bred for speed as much as strength.

  “What’s his name?”

  The footfalls stopped. “Percival.”

  Matt smiled to himself. “A holy knight. Fitting.”

  “Percy’s dam is one of my best mares. I paid a pretty penny to breed her with a stud carrying Thoroughbred blood. Turned out to be worth the expense. Percy’s the best animal on the farm. I tried to buy that stud for myself, but the fella wouldn’t sell. Knew I’d keep coming back for more. Which I did. The last colt he sired on one of my mares has lines nearly as good as Percy’s. Didn’t geld that one. I’m gonna use him as a stud of my own.” Burkett’s tone changed. “If I don’t have to sell him.”

  Having a stud that could produce colts with Percival’s lines would secure demand for Gringolet stock for decades to come.

  Matt finally looked at Josie’s father. “I’d hang on to that stud, if I were you. Mares are easier to replace.” His eyes roamed back to Percival. “Producing stock with these lines will keep the army hungry for your quality even if you can’t supply the desired quantity during the lean years.”

  “Hmm.”

  Matt wasn’t sure what to make of that response. Burkett just stared at him as if searching for an answer to a question only he was privy to. Matt shrugged it off. He had more important puzzles to ponder.

  “Where is the rendezvous point for delivering the ransom?” Matt asked as he stroked Percival’s neck.

  “San Geronimo Creek. Outside the town of Gallagher’s Ranch.”

  Matt raised a brow. “The Ranch is deserted, isn’t it?”

  “Nearly.” Burkett strolled over to one of the other mounts reserved for the Horsemen and fiddled with the tack. “I think there’s still a store and a post office, but it’s abandoned otherwise.”

  “Away from the rail lines. No law handy. Close enough for you to deliver the money even if you couldn’t get to the bank until Monday morning.”

  “Taggart threatened to hurt Jo if he got the slightest whiff of a lawman.” Burkett scowled. “Told me to deliver the ransom alone too. Which I will, but not before I scout out places to hide my men nearby. It’s why I’m so anxious to get a move on. I need time to get everyone into position.”

  Matt sought the older man’s gaze. “That’d be a good strategy if I hadn’t employed the same tactic when retrieving Charlie. Taggart will be expecting a move like that.”

  Burkett grabbed the hat from his head and beat it against his thigh, startling the horse beside him. “What else can I do?” He rammed the hat back on his head, then took hold of the black’s reins, easily getting the animal back under control with a calm hand to his nose and a steady exhalation that forced his own shoulders to relax.

  Once the horse settled, Burkett stepped away and leaned against the paddock fence. “If I go in there alone, Taggart will kill me, take the mon
ey, and likely kill Jo to ensure she can’t bring charges against him. Charlie too. Being his puppet is not an option.”

  “Agreed.” Matt worked his way around to Percival’s right side so he could eye Burkett over the horse’s back. “We’ll scout the area and get protection in place like you planned, but I have a feeling Taggart will keep Jo tightly guarded until the scheduled exchange. There’ll be no opening for an early rescue. Not that I won’t look for one anyway, but Taggart will be on his guard, so I don’t expect to find one. The one advantage we have is that he doesn’t expect the Horsemen to be there. Especially me.”

  Burkett tipped his head toward the house, where the other Horsemen were exiting with rifles, pistols, and ammunition belts draping them from shoulder to hip. “You sure we shouldn’t leave the gimpy one here? Might be a liability with that bum arm.”

  Matt narrowed his eyes. “Wallace is worth more in a gunfight with one arm than most men are with two. He’s coming.”

  “If you say so.” Burkett raised a hand in surrender. “I’ll take all the experience we can get. Albert and Eddie are loyal hands and fair shots, but they’re not battle-tested. One can never tell how a man’ll react under fire until bullets start flying. As much as I’m praying for a peaceful resolution, I have a feelin’ lead is gonna be exchanged.”

  Matt’s gut concurred. “Protecting Josie is my top concern,” he said. “The money, your men, my men all come second. You good with that?”

  “Son,” Burkett said with a raise of his brow, “if your priorities were anywhere else, I wouldn’t be lettin’ you take lead. Now, let’s quit yammerin’ and get on the road.”

  It took about an hour to track down the banker and convince him to let Burkett withdraw the bulk of his savings. Charlie must have advised Taggart on the maximum asking price, for Burkett had only $232.17 in his account when they finished. He might make payroll once or twice before his account was completely depleted, but not much more than that. If Taggart escaped with the ransom money, Gringolet would be bankrupted. Burkett, to his credit, didn’t hesitate over shoving the banknotes into his satchel, however. Just stuffed the bills deep, buckled the leather straps, and tied the bag to the back of his horse as if it contained nothing more valuable than hardtack and coffee. Matt supposed the comparison might be accurate when held up against Josephine’s safety.

  Nice to know they could agree on one thing, at least.

  All right, two things. They definitely shared the same taste in horses. Matt bent forward and patted Percival’s neck as they reached the outskirts of town, then signaled the horse with a squeeze of his knees to open into a lope. The dark bay’s gait was so smooth, Matt nearly forgot about his injury altogether, something that had been impossible with the more jarring strides of the cow pony from the livery. A cavalry regiment outfitted with mounts of this quality would be unstoppable.

  Thoughts of horses, breeding, and the army couldn’t distract him for long, however. Matt’s mind continually returned to Josie, wondering how she fared among Taggart’s men. He prayed for her protection every couple miles, and when he wasn’t running rescue scenarios in his head and trying to anticipate Taggart’s strategy, he allowed himself a few blissful visions of what a future might look like with her by his side.

  His wife.

  The very idea thrilled and terrified him with equal force. He’d never thought himself a settling-down kind of man. His life had been the military, then the Horsemen. Guns and horses were all he knew. All he’d wanted to know. Until he met Josie with her ten-dollar words and her determination to make a place for herself in a man’s profession. She was a fighter. But not just for herself. She fought for her patients, her family, her beliefs.

  And she believed in him. There hadn’t been a shadow of doubt in her eyes when she looked down at him from atop Taggart’s horse. Matt had been beaten, bound, and stripped of all means to protect her. Yet when he’d brazenly claimed that he’d find her, she hadn’t batted an eye.

  “I know.”

  Those two words resonated in his soul and drove him on despite the pain and the weariness that plagued him. He wouldn’t let her down.

  They made camp that night along Helotes Creek and set out at first light for Gallagher’s Ranch. Burkett and his two hands kept to the road. Matt and the Horsemen fanned out to the west, using the trees as cover in an effort to keep their presence a secret from any of Taggart’s men who might be spying out the area.

  As they neared the meeting location, an uneasy feeling prickled the back of Matt’s neck. It was still several hours before the designated time of the exchange, but Matt hadn’t survived fifteen years in the army by ignoring his instincts.

  “Brooks, find some high ground. I need a visual of what’s ahead.”

  Jonah guided his mount to a large oak, then used the horse’s back as a leg up into the tree. Their field glasses were with the rest of their stolen supplies in Taggart’s camp, so the sergeant had to rely on the eyesight the Lord had given him. Thankfully, the Almighty had blessed Brooks with a double portion of that commodity, so Matt had no doubt that if there was something to see, Jonah would see it.

  “Preach, watch our flank,” Matt said, waving him to the west. “Wallace, signal Burkett that there might be trouble ahead.”

  Wallace might not have his trumpet, but his voice was as talented as his horn. He’d arranged an owl call with Burkett yesterday while on the trail, practicing until the sound carried and Burkett recognized it from a distance.

  As the men spread out, Matt slid his rifle from its scabbard and laid it across his lap. Leaves rustled above his head as Jonah moved into position. Matt turned his gaze upward and watched his friend climb. He lost sight of him a time or two, but he kept his gaze glued to the tree anyway, as if his attention could somehow aid the ascent.

  Fifteen minutes passed before Jonah finally made his way back down to the ground.

  “What’d you see, Sergeant?” Matt demanded before Jonah even had time to mount his horse.

  “There’s a path veering off toward San Geronimo Creek.” Jonah swung into his saddle and turned his horse so he could face Matt. “It’s just ahead, after a small bend in the road. Someone planted a white flag at the junction to make sure Burkett doesn’t miss it.”

  “Any sign of Taggart?” Matt swallowed, his heart suddenly pumping erratically. “Or Josie?”

  “I couldn’t make out any outlaws from my position, but a small contingent could be hidden, using the trees and brush for cover like we are. The vegetation thins the nearer you get to the road, though, and I didn’t spot any buildings that could offer more substantial cover. Didn’t spy any horses either, so if Taggart has men out there, it’s probably a small number on foot.”

  Matt chewed on that piece of information, not sure if it was good news or bad. Then he noticed the hesitant lines of Jonah’s face. “What is it, Sergeant?”

  Jonah shifted in his saddle. “I saw something else, but it was too far away to make out clearly.”

  “But you’re pretty sure you know what it was.”

  Jonah never reported something unless he was confident in his impressions. He might not have seen every detail, but he knew what was there. Who was there. The fact that he hesitated only made Matt’s gut churn.

  “Spit it out, Brooks.”

  Jonah met Matt’s gaze. “I saw something that looked a lot like Dr. Jo. Her fancy blue jacket, at least. That black slouch hat of hers too.”

  Matt’s pulse pounded, something Percival must have sensed, for the horse snorted and stepped sideways.

  “She weren’t movin’, but she was upright.”

  What did that mean? Was she dead? Alive? Tied to a stake?

  Those scenarios made no sense. How would Taggart collect his ransom if Josie was dead or tied up by the creek for her father to find? There had to be more to this that they couldn’t see. But what?

  “Meet up with Wallace. Have him signal Burkett to move forward with caution. Keep an eye on his back trail, m
aking sure the outlaws aren’t luring us into an ambush. I’ll circle around with Preach, cross the road on the far side of the bend, and come at the creek from the north. Hopefully we’ll flush any of Taggart’s men who might be about.”

  “You know it’s likely a trap, right, Captain?”

  Matt tightened his jaw. “Yep. But we’re going in anyway.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Percival vaulted across the road with such speed and grace, Matt wondered if perhaps he should have been named Pegasus instead. Unfortunately, speed and grace couldn’t protect him from any spying eyes that might be looking on. Jonah hadn’t spotted any of Taggart’s men, but Matt’s gut told him someone was out there. How many someones was yet to be determined.

  He and Preach, guns at the ready, took cover among the pecan trees that surrounded San Geronimo Creek. When Matt caught a glimpse of blue through the trees, he stopped, signaling Preach to continue past him to protect their eastern flank.

  As soon as Preach moved on, Matt craned his neck right and left, desperate to get a better view through the branches.

  Josie?

  He recognized the blue fabric. It was definitely her coat. Hat too. But the headgear sat at an unnatural angle. Too close to her shoulders. Too flat. Was she unconscious? Slumped over in a tied position?

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, soldier. Catalog the evidence.

  Matt steeled his nerves and concentrated on what could be observed, not what the observations might mean.

  First observation—nothing moved. Except when the wind buffeted the cloth. No arms waved. No head nodded. No feet kicked.

  Feet. Matt sharpened his attention. Shouldn’t he be able to see the green of Josie’s skirt? All he saw was blue and the black of her hat. He supposed she could be wearing her trousers, but even then, something of her should be visible below the knees.

  It had to be a dummy. Bait to draw them out.

  Turning in his saddle, he scanned the area. Where are you? Taggart had to have men watching them. But from where?