The Heart's Charge

by Karen Witemeyer

  “Danglin’ over his lap, I didn’t have much choice. I could stab the snatcher’s calf or the horse’s flank. One gave me a better chance of escapin’, so I took that ’un.” The toughness faded from Rawley’s eyes for a brief moment, and a tinge of uncertainty slipped through. “You don’t think I hurt him too much, do ya? The horse?”

  “I doubt you caused him any permanent damage.” Pain, yes. But the kid already knew that. No need to pour salt in the wound. As much as Jonah hated the idea of anyone doing intentional harm to a horse, if it meant saving human life—a child’s life—it was justified.

  Jonah turned his attention to Sam. “Why don’t you see if you can find Rawley’s knife? The snatcher prob’ly dropped it when I took that first shot.”

  The younger boy pressed his lips together and met Jonah’s gaze. Reading the question in his eyes, Jonah nodded. Yes, he’d take care of Rawley.

  Once the assurance had been given, Sam scurried away to search the path and surrounding brush for the missing pocketknife.

  “Thanks,” Rawley murmured. “I didn’t want him to see.” He slowly lifted his arm away from his side and hissed in a breath. “Sam reminds me of my kid brother. Jack never did have a stomach for blood.”

  Taking care to keep his movements methodical and deliberate, Jonah raised the boy’s shirt and got his first look at the wound. Not too deep, thankfully. Might need a few stitches, though. For the second time in as many days, he wished Dr. Jo had come on this trip. Captain Hanger’s wife would have the boy fixed up in a heartbeat. ’Course, she probably woulda fussed all over him too. Rawley would hate that. Or at least he would pretend to. Deep down, Jonah was pretty sure this tough guy hungered for kindness, love, family. What man didn’t?

  “I’m gonna fetch my canteen and pour some water over that wound,” Jonah said as he pushed to his feet. “Then we’ll wrap it.”

  Rawley gave a tight nod, already bracing himself for the discomfort to come.

  After fetching the water, Jonah hunkered back down into position. “What happened to your brother?” he asked as he unscrewed the canteen lid. “Jack.”

  “Rosemary took him back to Houston with her after Pops died. She weren’t my real ma. Just took up with Pops after my ma passed. Jack was her boy, so he went with her.”

  And left Rawley to fend for himself. Jonah’s jaw ticked.

  “Lean to the side,” Jonah said, hardening his heart against the ache throbbing for this boy who’d been so callously abandoned. Rawley wouldn’t want his sympathy. Not that Jonah was the sympathetic type, anyway. Emotions clouded a man’s judgment, hampered rationality. Better to lock them away and focus on the problem in front of him. He tipped the canteen. “This might hurt.” Not as much as whiskey would have, but it still wasn’t gonna be comfortable.

  Rawley braced one arm against the ground and used the other to hold his dusty shirt out of the way. “I’m ready.”

  Jonah poured.

  Rawley flinched but didn’t cry out. A muffled groan was all the sound he made. Had he been a few years older, Jonah would’ve recommended him to the Army. The kid would make a great soldier.

  Once he’d flushed the wound, Jonah pressed a clean handkerchief to the site of the injury. It was only about an inch long and maybe a half-inch deep. It looked to be more of a glancing slice than a stabbing penetration.

  “Hold this,” Jonah ordered, waiting for Rawley to comply before he released his hold on the dressing. “Push tight. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”

  Now he just needed something to use as a bandage. All his spare clothes were back at the roomin’ house. That left him with what he was wearing. He glanced at his coat and trousers. Not exactly the cleanest duds to work with. Although . . .

  Jonah stripped out of his coat, then unsheathed the hunting knife at his waist. Holding his left arm out like a chicken wing, he slid the tip of the knife into the shoulder seam of his shirt, then yanked it through. Holding the knife blade with his teeth, he grabbed his left sleeve and jerked downward until the sleeve tore free of the shirt’s torso. He repeated the action on the other sleeve, then pulled his coat back on.

  The kid was skinny enough that one sleeve ought to do the trick, but Jonah wanted to double up the protection. Hopefully it would cut the chance of infection in half.

  He’d just finished tying off the second bandage when Sam ran up to them, a triumphant grin on his face. “I found it!”

  “Good work, Sam.” Jonah squeezed his shoulder and took the small knife from his hand. “Let me clean it off.”

  He took the canteen and stepped a few feet away before pouring water over the small blade encrusted with blood and dirt. He rubbed it clean with his fingers, rinsed it with another splash of water, then wiped it dry on his trouser leg.

  “You gotta tell ’im.” The boys’ whispers became distinguishable words as Sam’s volume rose. “He was a Buffalo Soldier. He can help.”

  Jonah closed the pocketknife blade and walked back to where the boys sat huddled together. Rawley was shooting daggers at Sam.

  Jonah handed the knife to Rawley. “Help with what?”

  Rawley said nothing as he snagged his knife and jabbed it into his pocket. He glared at Sam in a manner that made it clear he expected the younger boy to keep his trap shut. Sam, however, wasn’t feeling particularly obliging. After firing off a mutinous glare of his own, he jumped to his feet and faced Jonah.

  “Another boxcar boy went missing last night.”

  “Former boxcar boy,” Rawley growled. “And it ain’t none of this fella’s concern. We take care of our own.”

  Sam, angry tears shining in his eyes, fisted his hands and spun to face Rawley. “Yeah, well, you can’t take care of your own if you get snatched too, can you? We need help, Rawley. Mr. Brooks saved you. Maybe he can save the others.”

  “I saved myself,” Rawley grumbled, but his gaze dodged away from both Sam and Jonah as he said it.

  “I respect a man who takes care of his own,” Jonah said as he crouched between the boys.

  Sam imitated his posture, squatting down and balancing an arm on one knee. Rawley frowned, no doubt displeased that his protégé had found a new role model.

  “If you don’t want to work with me, that’s your choice,” Jonah said, offering the boy some semblance of power over a situation that had no doubt shaken his confidence. “But I’ve been hired to do a job, and I aim to see it through.”

  Belligerence hardened Rawley’s face. “Who hired you?”

  Jonah tipped his head toward Sam. “He did. Yesterday. Asked me to look into the kiddy-snatchers. I ain’t gonna walk away from that commitment. Now, we can either both do our own digging and possibly get in each other’s way, or we can work together. Coordinate our efforts. Share information. Work as allies to defeat a common enemy.”

  Rawley raised a skeptical brow. He wouldn’t trust an adult easily. Yet he was smart. He’d recognize the advantage. The question was, did he care enough about his comrades to sacrifice his pride and let someone else lead?

  “Allies means equals.” Rawley jutted his chin. “You gotta share as much with me as I do with you. This ain’t no one-way street.”

  “You have my word.” Jonah extended his hand.

  Rawley made no effort to take it. “Prove it,” he demanded.

  Jonah nodded. It was a risk to tell the kid anything without an agreement in place—shoot, it was a risk to tell him even if they did have an agreement in place—but he and Mark needed the intelligence Rawley and his gang could provide. Trust had to start somewhere. Might as well be on his end.

  “I’ve spoken to the local law. No one has reported missing kids. We’ve shared our concerns with Miss Southerland and Miss Palmer at Harmony House, and my partner is going to speak with the Kingsland teacher this afternoon. We need eyes on kids, and these ladies have the best view.”

  “Not of the boxcar boys.” Rawley turned and spat again. “There’s a reason no one’s reportin’ the snatchin’. It’s �
�cause the only kids being snatched are those with no family. No one to know or care that they’re missin’.”

  “We figured the same. Which means that whoever is taking the kids knows which ones have families or caregivers in the area and which don’t. Only way for them to figure that out is to study the local kids. Watch them. At school. At church.”

  Some of the belligerence fell away from Rawley’s face. “So you ain’t just askin’ about missin’ kids, but about who might be hangin’ around those places. Watchin’.”

  Jonah dipped his head. “Yep.”

  A light that looked suspiciously like approval lit Rawley’s eyes. “You might be worth more than firepower after all.”

  “What can you tell me about the man who took you?”

  Rawley blew out a breath. “Not much. His face was covered.” His brows lifted. “He smelled like peppermint, though. Like those sticks you can buy in the mercantile.” His brows sagged back down. “Probably don’t mean nuthin’.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jonah offered the boy a hand and carefully pulled him to his feet. “Could help us identify him. Can’t be too many outlaws packin’ peppermint sticks in these parts.”

  Sam chuckled. Rawley almost smiled. Progress.

  “So, about this kid that was taken last night,” Jonah pressed as he lifted first Sam, then Rawley, up into the saddle. “What does he look like?”

  “Little taller than Sam,” Rawley said. “Curly red hair. Freckles.”

  A sick feeling churned Jonah’s stomach.

  Rawley circled his hand around the saddle horn and gripped it. Hard. “Worked in town at Donaldson’s livery.”

  Jonah’s hand faltered as he lifted Augustus’s reins over his head to use as a lead.

  The snatchers had taken Wart.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  Eliza tried to concentrate on what Candace Fieldman was telling her about the rumors she’d overheard from her pupils, whispers about the latest bogeymen they were calling kiddy-snatchers. Unfortunately, Candace’s recitation couldn’t compete with the arresting image lingering in her mind of Jonah racing to meet Sam. He could have been a centaur, as one with the horse as he’d been. The sight had stolen the breath from her lungs, and not for the usual reason. She hadn’t feared for his safety. No, she’d been in awe of his mastery. Though as magnificent as the sight had been, her belly knotted for the unknown cause behind it.

  Then there’d been the gunshots. They’d been faint. Distant. But unmistakable. She would have taken off running if Candace hadn’t grabbed her arm and held her back.

  “It’s just hunters,” she’d said, but Eliza hadn’t believed it. She was fairly certain Candace hadn’t believed it either. Nevertheless, she’d stayed behind. Talking. Distracting herself from the hundred questions rattling around in her brain.

  Jonah would protect Sam. She was sure of it.

  Unless one of those bullets had taken him down.

  Her gaze darted to the trees again. Where were they? What had happened? Was someone hurt?

  A hand touched her arm. “Eliza?”

  She blinked and focused once again on Candace. “Sorry.” She offered a weak smile to apologize for her inattention. “You were saying . . . ?”

  The teacher speared her with a concerned look. “Just that I’ve had no unusual absences lately. All of our children are accounted for.” She turned to peer in the same direction that had captured Eliza’s attention. “If they don’t return in ten minutes, we’ll search them out, all right? But we have no weapons to lend to whatever fight is going on, and showing up unannounced will only make things more complicated. Unless you doubt that man of yours can handle whatever trouble he stumbled upon?”

  “Jonah’s not my man.” The sharpness of her denial might have been a tad excessive, but it seemed essential to clarify the point. “However, he is more than capable of handling whatever trouble he comes across. He’s one of Hanger’s Horsemen and a former Buffalo Soldier.”

  A whistle of admiration leaked through Candace’s pursed lips. “One of the Horsemen? I say we give them fifteen minutes, then.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I always knew it would take someone special to turn your head. Guess a Horseman qualifies.”

  “He hasn’t turned my head,” Eliza protested.

  “No?” Candace looked at her sideways. “You called him Jonah.”

  Had she? Eliza bit back a groan.

  “Not that I blame you,” Candace continued, enjoying her friend’s discomfiture far too much. “If I wasn’t such a happily married woman, I’d be scheming to get close to that handsome hunk of man too. The slow ride from Harmony House—with your arms around his waist and your body pressed close to his—must have been quite pleasant.”

  Heat suffused Eliza’s cheeks. “It was terrifying, I assure you. You know how I feel about horses.”

  “Which makes your appearance on one that much more remarkable.”

  Was it poor manners to stuff a handkerchief into the overactive mouth of one’s friend?

  Candace grinned as if she’d read Eliza’s mind. She probably had. Or her face, anyway. Eliza never had been one to hide her thoughts.

  “I’m sure having such a capable man to hold must’ve eased your fears considerably.”

  “Not really.” Though his talking to her had. There’d been a few minutes when she’d actually managed to forget she was perched upon a mammoth beast who could abandon its training at any moment, throw them off, and trample them into the earth. “I’m not at all looking forward to getting back on that animal for the ride home.”

  Candace smirked. “Liar.”

  “Candace Fieldman! I ought to—”

  Her diatribe evaporated the moment she caught a glimpse of Jonah cresting the hill behind the schoolhouse, leading Augustus. She couldn’t make out faces from this distance, but she could count heads. There were two boys in the saddle. Not one.

  “It’s a child.” Eliza’s feet immediately started moving toward the horse. “He might be hurt.”

  Candace’s demeanor shifted in a heartbeat. “Bring him into the classroom. I’ll fetch the medical box.”

  The two diverged, the teacher disappearing into the schoolhouse while Eliza grabbed a handful of skirt and ran to meet Jonah to assess what damage had occurred. However, the closer she drew, the more puzzled she became. She didn’t recognize the taller boy behind Samuel. Who was he, and where had he come from?

  Slowing to a walk to ensure she didn’t spook the horse, she finally looked to Jonah—Mr. Brooks—for a hint of what had happened. The frustrating man’s face was as stoic as ever, giving nothing away. Nothing except an invigorating intensity she found oddly comforting. Almost like a reassurance that everything was under control. Then he lifted his right brow, and all that lovely reassurance disappeared beneath a not-very-subtle warning for her to maintain her composure. As if she were the type of woman to fall apart in a crisis. Exasperating man!

  Lifting her chin, Eliza stepped around Mr. Brooks and came alongside the boys, keeping a good three feet between her and Augustus as she walked. She trusted Jonah to control his horse under normal circumstances, but she didn’t trust herself not to do something accidentally that would spook the animal. Heaven knew she tended to bring out the worst in the creatures.

  “Who’s your friend, Samuel?” She tried to imitate the cheerful tone Katherine used when meeting a child for the first time instead of her authoritative teacher voice, but she must not have done it correctly. After tossing a questioning look over his shoulder and receiving a glare in response, Samuel faced forward and ignored her.

  Fine. Teacher voice it would be.

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me, Samuel Harris.”

  His chin jerked sideways, and his gaze flew to hers. “Sorry, Miz Southerland. I heard ya just fine. But Rawley doesn’t want me sayin’ nuthin’.”

  Rawley? The leader of that ragamuffin gang of boxcar boys the men had been talking about earlier? The one
Miss Georgia had warned Samuel to stay away from?

  Eliza shifted her gaze to the taller boy with the pugnacious expression. And the dirt-encrusted clothing. And the posture of one who seemed to be cradling a wounded side. The child had obviously suffered some kind of injury. How, she didn’t know, but the cause wasn’t nearly as important as the remedy at the moment. His health and well-being took precedence.

  “Mr. Rawley?” She banished all sympathy from her voice. Eliza had dealt with independent types before. Emotion wouldn’t soften them. The only way to bend them to her will was to gain their respect. “I see you’ve run into some difficulty.”

  “Nuthin’ I couldn’t handle.”

  A soft cough from the man in front of the horse confirmed her suspicion that the boy had bent the truth to some degree.

  “And those injuries?” she inquired with a raising of her brows. “Are you handling those as well?”

  He sniffed. “That’s right.”

  Jonah glanced over his shoulder, stoicism giving way to sternness. “Not alone, you’re not. We’re gonna get you stitched up and bandaged proper. Even then, it’d be best for you to lay low for a while. Heal up before you go traipsing around the rail yard. You got people dependin’ on you. Won’t do them any good if you take a fever ’cause that gash got infected.”

  Rawley sat forward, his eyes glittering like shards of black obsidian. “Won’t do them any good if I’m holed up someplace where they can’t find me neither.”

  “Well then,” Eliza said, a touch of cheerfulness creeping back into her tone, “I guess it’s a good thing I have a place where all of you can stay.” She turned her attention back to Samuel. “Sam, do you know how to find Rawley’s people?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Perfect. Then get a message to them that Rawley will be staying at Harmony House, and they are all welcome to join him.”

  Rawley sputtered. “I ain’t goin’ to no orphanage!”

  “Of course you’re not. You’re coming to a place where children go when they have no other safe place to stay.” He started to argue, but she glared him into silence. “From what I understand, you and the boys who run with you are the main targets of whoever is snatching children. How better to keep your comrades safe than by hiding them away in a home with protective walls, three free meals a day, and two of Hanger’s Horsemen guarding the fort?”