The Heart's Charge

by Karen Witemeyer

  Eliza’s hold on him loosened just a little, and her body relaxed enough to begin finding the rhythm of the horse. Augustus seemed to sigh in relief.

  “So did she start out as one of them do-gooders who thought she knew better than you? I bet she came out here from back East with a passel of naïve ideas and wrongheaded notions.”

  “I thought so when I first met her,” Eliza admitted, “but she quickly proved me wrong.” Her torso became more pliant behind him, and he couldn’t help wondering if she were smiling. “The summer of 1889, I traveled from gospel meeting to gospel meeting all over the East Coast, trying to drum up financial support for Harmony House. I had given up teaching in order to start a foundling home in this area, determined to create a place where no child would be turned away. Black, white, Mexican, Indian—none of that mattered. Healthy, sick, abandoned, orphaned—Harmony House would be open to all.”

  Admirable goal. Yet one fraught with political dynamite. For if all children were treated as equals, what did that say about the adults they represented? Yet who better to champion the cause of children from multiple walks of life than a woman whose own childhood straddled two worlds?

  “By the time I made it to Westfield, Massachusetts,” Eliza continued, “I had nearly given up hope of finding the financial support I needed. My project was too small to attract large congregations and too controversial to attract personal donors protective of their reputations.

  “Then Katherine showed up. She was so young, barely twenty-one at the time. I doubted she could be of any real help, but I gave her my pitch anyway, hoping she had a rich daddy who might be influenced by her recommendation. We talked that afternoon, then met again the following day. I appreciated her compassionate nature, yet I needed money, not sympathy. So I decided my time would be better spent courting the favor of others.” Eliza made a scoffing sound. “Here I was, a single woman determined to run a foundling home on my own, and I was discounting a possible donor because of her gender, youth, and inexperience. How the Lord must have laughed at the irony.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “She did.” A tiny chuckle escaped, and Jonah silently cheered. She had all but forgotten she was on a horse. “Katherine might seem soft and dainty on the outside, but she’s got a backbone of steel. She showed up at my boardinghouse the morning I planned to depart, traveling bag in hand. Said she was prepared to donate a sum large enough to purchase the property I had told her about, while leaving enough funds in reserve to supply basic furnishings and teaching materials. She offered to use her connections to drum up monthly support for the continued sustainability of Harmony House as well. But she had one condition—partnership in the ministry.

  “It’s not unusual for donors to want to see how their money is being spent. I told her I would be glad to send her monthly accounting reports and host her any time she wished to travel to Texas for a visit. She turned that offer down flat. Said the Lord was calling her to give not just her money, but herself to this mission.”

  Eliza huffed out a self-deprecating breath. “That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Harmony House was my mission. My dream. The Lord hadn’t laid the need for a partner on my heart. I made it abundantly clear to her that purchasing property did not constitute ownership of this mission. I would run Harmony House as I saw fit with no interference, and if she couldn’t agree to those conditions, she could keep her money.”

  It was a good thing Eliza couldn’t see his grin. She’d probably find it insulting. In truth, he rather liked her straight-shooting mentality. “Not exactly the diplomatic type, are you?”

  “Not when it comes to issues of freedom.”

  That statement sobered him in a flash.

  Her arm shifted at his waist, her fingers stretching out of their fisted state to flatten against his ribs. Suddenly he was the one with the racing heart and shallow breaths. Symptoms that had nothing to do with being on a horse’s back and everything to do with having a compelling woman’s arms around him in a way that felt less like a death grip and more like companionship.

  “I needed her money,” she continued as Jonah struggled to pay more attention to her words than to the feel of her fingertips splaying across his midsection, “but I wasn’t about to compromise my vision in the process. I also wanted to set the ground rules up front. Both for her sake and for mine. The rules didn’t matter to Katherine, though. She agreed on the spot. So fast that I became suspicious. But I agreed to take her to Texas with me and show her the property.

  “She purchased the place after being in Texas for two days. With money I later learned had been set aside as her dowry. She insisted both our names be recorded on the deed, and when she signed the document, she told me she considered the agreement as sacred and binding as any marriage. She committed herself to Harmony House, to me, and to whatever children God brought through our doors.

  “I still expected her to lose interest in a month or two, grow homesick, and run back to Massachusetts. Then I saw her fight for Abner, take him under her wing, and love the fear right out of him. That’s when it became clear that I had misjudged her. This wasn’t a silly, impetuous girl who would quickly grow bored. This was a woman with a deep spiritual calling. The partner God knew I needed even when I stubbornly insisted on carrying the burden alone.

  “By the time we officially opened the doors of Harmony House in the spring of 1890, I had a dear friend and partner whose opinions I respected. I might have thought I wanted unilateral control, but what Harmony House needed was the strength of two differing perspectives working in balance. Harmony was in the name the Lord had supplied, after all.” Eliza fell silent for a moment, then spoke again in a soft tone he barely recognized. “To this day, Katherine insists that Harmony House is my brainchild and gives me full credit for its work, since I am the one with the teaching degree. However, while it might be true that I am the head and hands of the foundling home, Katherine is most definitely its heart.”

  “Sounds like a healthy partnership.” Though he’d argue her last point. Miss Palmer might possess the more affectionate nature of the two, but he didn’t doubt for a second that Miss Eliza loved those kids. Fiercely. Her love simply manifested through meeting practical needs instead of through hugs and games. After all, that love was what got her on this horse. And for a child who might or might not actually be in peril.

  Jonah spotted the turnoff that led to Miss Georgia’s homestead and lifted an arm to point. “Do we turn there?”

  The question startled her out of her reverie. The reality of where she was and what she was doing crashed over them both. Her arms tightened about his middle, and her posture resumed the pliability of a brick.

  “No. Stay on the road another half mile. The school will be on the left.”

  A few minutes later, they came upon a group of five Negro children of varying ages on the road, books and lunch buckets in hand. Jonah scanned their faces, looking for Sam, but didn’t see him. No doubt there was a more direct path to his grandmother’s house than the road.

  Jonah nodded and tugged the brim of his hat as he drew near the kids. Conversations quieted, and their eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if their reaction was due to timidity at having a stranger in their midst, awe at the fine specimen of horseflesh Augustus presented, or disbelief at seeing Miss Southerland in the company of both a strange man and an overlarge horse. The group came to a halt in the middle of the road and craned their necks as Jonah passed.

  “Does Miss Eliza have a beau?” The not-quite-whispered question and the groan it elicited from the woman behind him brought a smile to Jonah’s lips.

  Not yet. But she definitely had a fella intrigued, and intrigue could lead to all sorts of interesting possibilities.

  Possibilities that would have to wait, because they’d reached the schoolhouse.

  Jonah reined Augustus to a halt in front of the small one-room building, then carefully assisted Eliza to the ground.

  “Fit your foot in the stirru
p,” he instructed quietly, not wanting to cause her any further embarrassment. “Then hold my arm. I’ll lower you slowly to the ground.”

  He expected her to need a moment to gather her gumption, but she surprised him. She followed his instructions without hesitation or reservation. Her grip on his arm was tight enough to cut off circulation, but that only proved her courage. Eliza Southerland’s fear of horses might be massive, but she had grit to match.

  She hastened away from the horse, cleverly disguising her desperation to separate herself from Augustus with a cheery greeting for the young black woman standing by the schoolhouse door, her arms filled with books.

  “Candace! So good to see you. How’s the teaching going?”

  Jonah hid a grin and started to dismount. As he shifted his weight into the left stirrup, however, a movement behind the schoolhouse caught his eye. He froze. Swept the area with his gaze, then zeroed in on the kid running head-down toward the school.

  Wrong way. School was over. Kids were headed home. Not back.

  Jonah’s right hand moved to his gun. He glanced over the kid’s head, looking for someone or something giving chase, but nothing else moved. The kid finally glanced up. Recognition stabbed Jonah in the gut.

  “Sam.”

  In a flash, Jonah was urging Augustus into action. The horse responded instantly, and the two raced to intercept the boy.

  He heard Eliza’s concerned call behind him, but Jonah didn’t stop to explain. Only one thing drove a kid to run that hard for the nearest adult—danger.

  Sam must have heard the approaching hoofbeats, for he stumbled to a halt, his eyes widening in his face. He backed up a step or two, obviously thinking he’d run across a new threat.

  “Sam!” Jonah called, hoping to reassure him.

  The boy’s face cleared. All backpedaling ceased, and he took off toward Jonah.

  The distance shrank between them. Jonah reined Augustus in and leapt from the saddle before they’d fully halted. He ran to Sam and dropped to one knee. “What is it, son? What happened?”

  The boy struggled to catch his breath, his exhaustion doubling him over. “Kiddy . . . snatchers. I saw ’em . . . by the . . . old oak.” He pointed to an ambiguous spot behind him. “They got Rawley.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  Jonah’s insides stilled, then hardened as if he were sighting down his rifle for a long-range shot. No room for unnecessary data. Only his purpose. His target.

  He squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Can you show me?”

  Sam’s nostrils flared, but he nodded.

  Jonah stood, swinging the boy up into his arms as he went. In two strides, he was beside Augustus. Gripping Sam beneath his arms, he set him in the saddle, then mounted behind him, scooting the boy into the small space between himself and the saddle horn. Sam was still panting from his run, but he immediately directed Jonah with a jutting arm and pointed finger.

  “That way.”

  Jonah nudged Augustus into a slow canter—fast enough to give chase, but not so fast they would miss evidence.

  Like the scuff marks in the dirt around the old oak and the hoofprints leading west. Jonah pulled Augustus to a halt and ordered him to stand while he examined the area.

  “This is where me and Rawley meet when he’s in town,” Sam explained as Jonah picked out details about the horse he’d be following.

  Average size. Heavy rider. No, not heavy. He had the boy with him, weighing down the horse. Jonah zeroed in on one of the rear hoofprints. It had a small nick at the front of the arc. Likely from a chipped hoof overdue for trimming.

  “I was late gettin’ away from school,” Sam said, self-blame coloring his voice. “Miz Fieldman asked me to clean the blackboard. I tried to hurry, but she wouldn’t let me go ’til it was perfect. If I’da been faster . . .”

  Jonah had seen enough of the ground. He remounted Augustus. “If you’d been faster, you would’ve been taken too, and there would’ve been no one to go for help. You should thank God for dirty blackboards. Now, let’s find your friend.”

  Jonah nudged Augustus into a lope, keeping his gaze locked on the hoofprints glaring up from ground more accustomed to the feet of schoolchildren.

  Rawley had put up quite a fight, by the look of the disturbed dirt and leaves by the tree. The kid was a scrapper. One didn’t ride the rails without learning how to fend for himself. Even against someone twice his size.

  Come on, kid. Make some trouble.

  The kidnapper had too much of a lead for Jonah to catch him unless he was forced to slow down or stop.

  Give me an opening, Lord. Anything.

  A horse’s scream shot through the air. Jonah pinpointed the direction, tightened his hold on Sam, then urged Augustus into a full gallop. No need to watch for tracks if he knew the location of his target.

  When they crested a small hill, the target came into view. A bucking horse. Something protruding from its flank. A man picking himself up from the ground and retrieving his hat. Steadying the horse. Removing the foreign object. A knife, by the look of it, its blade red with blood.

  Where was the kid?

  Jonah reined Augustus in and reached for his rifle. There. Rolling toward the brush. The kid was smart. Staying small, making himself less noticeable.

  The man shouted a curse and pivoted. His eyes searched for the boy. Found him. Lunging forward, he gave chase.

  “Put your head down, Sam,” Jonah murmured. “And don’t move.”

  The boy obeyed, bending over the saddle horn.

  Jonah levered a cartridge into the chamber of his repeater. Calculated the distance—only a hundred yards. The wind—southwest, maybe ten miles an hour. Adjusted his aim. Fired high. The Horsemen didn’t shoot to kill if they could help it, and while anyone who would abduct a child deserved a bullet in his backside, Jonah’s first priority was protecting the child. Which meant shooting high, so that even if the kid jumped up unexpectedly, the bullet wouldn’t be anywhere near him.

  At the sound of the shot, the snatcher jerked toward Jonah’s position. The kerchief tied around the lower half of his face made him impossible to identify. All Jonah could tell from this distance was that he was white with brown hair and a medium build. A description that probably fit two-thirds of the men in Llano County.

  “Leave him!” Jonah yelled the command, then took a second shot, this one close enough to whiz by the fellow’s ear, since he’d done him the courtesy of standing still.

  The man ducked. Cursed again. Then ran for his horse.

  Jonah took a third shot. Kicked up dirt by the horse’s front hooves. The horse reared and bolted. His rider sprinted after him.

  Jonah took up the reins and made for the boy who was busy scrambling into the brush.

  “Rawley!” Sam cried. “It’s me. Hold tight. We’re comin’.”

  Augustus covered the ground in a pair of heartbeats. Jonah reined him in long enough to let Sam down.

  Rawley rolled over to face the newcomers, his gaze leery as he continued scooting backward.

  Jonah pinned him with a glance. “You injured?”

  “Not bad,” the kid ground out.

  Jonah wasn’t sure he believed him, but his only chance to catch the kidnapper hinged on pursuing now. “I’ll be back.” He reined Augustus around and gave him his head. “Yah!”

  “Mr. Brooks! Wait! Rawley’s bleedin’!”

  Sam’s call was barely audible above the combination of Augustus’s pounding hooves and Jonah’s pounding pulse, but it reached its target at the same time the kidnapper reached his mount. Jonah slowed. Debated. Sam might be overreacting. The injury might not be too bad. He still had time to catch the snatcher.

  “Please, Mr. Brooks!”

  The fear in Sam’s voice brought him to a full halt.

  Jonah grimaced as the masked bandit pulled away. The man would have his reckoning one day soon. The Horsemen would see to it. In the meantime, more important matters demanded his attention.

&n
bsp; It only took a moment to return to the boys, but by the time he got there, he could tell Sam had been right to call him back. Rawley had a nasty gash in his side, one his arm had been covering earlier.

  “I’m fine.” Rawley pushed Sam’s hands away. “Leave me be.”

  The kid was tough as weathered boot leather despite the fact that he was probably no older than twelve. Experience had turned him cynical. Guarded. Traits necessary for surviving alone in the world. He had the heart of a lion and the grit of a warrior. He wouldn’t take well to coddling.

  Steeling himself to ignore Rawley’s youth, Jonah strode forward and hunkered down beside the scrawny black boy with hard eyes.

  “You shouldn’t’ve stopped.” Rawley glared an accusation at Jonah as he curled his arm over his side and tried to sit up taller. Facing him man to man. “He’ll jus’ find some other kid to snatch. One that won’t have a knife in his pocket to fight back with.”

  Jonah made no move to touch him, just met his defiant stare with stoicism. “That the same knife that ended up in the horse’s flank?”

  A glint of pride flashed in the boy’s dark eyes, quickly followed by a touch of regret he tried to hide behind a callous shrug. “Couldn’t stop the man, so I had to stop the horse.”

  “Bold move. You break anything in the fall?” Jonah eyed him more closely, examining his limbs for any subtle deformities.

  Rawley shook his head with a vigor that spoke more of impatience than denial. “You kiddin’? I jump from moving trains all the time. I know how to tuck and roll.”

  Maybe. The maneuver would be much more complicated when tangled with a grown man who didn’t want to lose his prize.

  Jonah tipped his head toward the boy’s midsection. “Hard to control a knife while bein’ jostled by a horse.”

  “Weren’t the horse.” Rawley turned sideways and spat at the ground. “Once I got it out of my pocket, the snatcher spotted it. Tried to knock it out of my hand. I didn’t feel like letting go.”

  Even when the blade sliced into his own side.