The Heart's Charge

by Karen Witemeyer

  Jonah stepped into the barn’s aisle and watched his horse’s ears prick and his head turn toward the north.

  Someone approached.

  Hanging the rope on a protruding nail with one hand, Jonah reached for his pistol with his other and eased the weapon from its holster. Moving silently down the aisle, Jonah positioned himself behind the partially open rear barn door. Back pressed to the wall, he inched toward the opening and peered into the twilight of early evening. The rapidly dimming light made it hard to distinguish shadow from reality, but he caught movement to the east.

  Movement too low to the ground for a man. About right for a kid, though.

  Jonah holstered his gun and stepped through the cracked doorway, keeping his right hand hovering near his hip. After a moment or two, the blob of shadow moving toward Harmony House separated into six distinguishable shapes. A few minutes later, he could make out general features. Sam led, while the others traipsed along in his wake. One fellow lagged behind. Smaller than the rest. Head darting side to side as if nervous, feet tripping over themselves.

  Jonah strained to make out more of the smaller kid’s features. There was something familiar about him. It nagged at his brain.

  Stepping out of the shadow of the barn, Jonah lifted a hand in greeting. “Howdy, Sam.”

  The little fellow at the end of the group jumped at the unexpected sound, and wide, startled eyes flashed Jonah’s way. Recognition hit him. The kid from the livery. The one Wart had been trying to hide. If anyone knew what had happened to the missing stable boy, it would be this kid.

  Too bad he looked as skittish as a cockroach in a lamp factory. He’d run if too much attention was shone on him too quickly.

  “Mr. Brooks!” Sam waved a greeting and jogged over. “I found ’em.”

  Jonah pushed his hat back on his forehead. “You sure did. Why don’t you run inside and tell Rawley his crew is here? Then I’ll see you home.”

  “On Augustus?” The boy’s eyes lit with excitement.

  Jonah chuckled. “Yep.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Sam sprinted to the back porch, leaving Jonah with a handful of wary-eyed strangers. The wariest being the tyke at the back.

  Jonah met each gaze but said nothing. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he had no idea what to say.

  Where was Wallace? He needed his friend’s glib tongue.

  The boys said nothing either. Their attention darted from him to the house to the road as if weighing all options. Some challenged him with defiant glares and jutting chins. Others avoided eye contact altogether, choosing to stare at the ground and kick at the dirt. But when the kid at the back with the freckles finally found the courage to look Jonah in the face, the pleading in his blue eyes kicked Jonah in the gut.

  Doggone it. He couldn’t just ignore him.

  Moving slowly down the line, Jonah came to the end and crouched down in front of the sandy-haired kid with the big eyes. “I heard about Wart. He a friend o’ yours?”

  The boy gave a tiny shake of his head. “Brother.”

  Ouch. Hard enough to lose a buddy, but a brother? The tighter the connection, the more it hurt when severed.

  Jonah held the lad’s gaze. “Me and my partner are going to do everything we can to find him and get him back.” He leaned back on his heels and tipped his hat a little farther back on his forehead. “Ever heard of Hanger’s Horsemen?”

  The young’un nodded, and the rest of the crew started crowding around, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

  “Well, me and my partner ride with Matthew Hanger. We’re Horsemen, and we ain’t about to let a kid go missing without hunting down the one who did it.”

  Quiet murmuring broke out among the older boys. Elbows nudged neighbors, and heads bobbed in some kind of coded communication.

  Until a whistle pierced the air.

  As one, all the boys turned at the sound.

  “Rawley!” One of the boys called out their leader’s name, and then the herd ran off to meet him where he stood on the back porch with Sam.

  Only one little dogie lingered behind. “You really gonna find Wart?”

  Jonah nodded. “A Horseman don’t quit until the job’s done.” He just prayed that when they found Wart, the boy would still be alive.

  His gut told him that someone was taking these boys for a purpose. The fact that no bodies had been found lent credence to his assumption, but that knowledge didn’t comfort him as much as it should have. Death wasn’t always the worst option in cases like these. He prayed the boys who’d been taken were still in the area. Hidden somewhere. Waiting to be found. If they’d been sold, or shipped off to places unknown, they’d be much harder to track down.

  “It’s my fault the snatchers got ’im.”

  The small voice sharpened Jonah’s focus back on the child in front of him. “Why d’ya say that?” He tried to keep his voice patient, sympathetic, but his hunger for details that could provide a solid lead made restraint difficult.

  “I didn’t want to stay at the livery with him last night.” The kid stared at the ground, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I knew you’d seen me.” Blue eyes tinged with accusation rose to glare at Jonah. “If you squealed, told Mr. Donaldson what you’d seen, Wart could lose his job. He weren’t supposed to let any of his riffraff friends into the livery after dark.”

  The kid tossed a glance over at the boys by the porch, then turned back to Jonah. “Rawley has a place outside of town where we stay sometimes, a lean-to with a stash of food and blankets hidden in an old trunk. I was gonna meet up with some of the others there. But with the snatchers on the loose, Wart wouldn’t let me go alone. We had to wait ’til after dark so Wart could sneak away without anyone noticing, but we’d barely made it to the edge of town before he started looking over his shoulder. He told me it was nuthin’, but I knew he was lyin’. He started walkin’ faster. Grabbed my hand. I looked behind us but didn’t see anyone.

  “After we left the road, Wart calmed down some. I thought whatever had spooked him was gone. Then I heard the footsteps. Running. Getting closer. Wart shoved me away from him, grabbed a tree branch off the ground, and yelled for me to run. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave him there. I looked for a branch I could use, but all I found was a bunch of useless twigs. Too small to help. Just like me. That’s when he yelled at me again. Told me to fetch Rawley.”

  The boy swallowed. Glanced away. Almost fast enough to hide the moisture shimmering in his eyes, but not quite. “I ran as fast as I could.” His voice clogged. He shut his mouth and kicked at the dirt.

  Jonah pushed to his feet and clasped the kid’s shoulder, surprised at how thin the bones felt beneath the baggy coat he wore. He must be wearing three or four layers. Probably every stitch of clothing he owned.

  “You did the right thing,” Jonah said, his voice gruff. There was nothing worse than feeling helpless in battle. Unable to help a brother under attack.

  “I let my brother be taken!”

  Jonah narrowed his gaze. “No. You accomplished his mission.”

  “What . . . mission?” The kid’s face scrunched as he sniffed and rubbed his nose with his coat sleeve.

  “Any good soldier puts his mission first. Wart’s mission was to ensure you arrived at your destination unharmed. His own safety was irrelevant. All that mattered was protecting you. If you had stayed behind and tried to help him, both of you would have been taken, and no one would know anything about what had happened. Wart’s mission would have failed. But when you obeyed his order to retreat, you accomplished his mission. Not only did you escape harm, but you collected valuable information that we can use to track down Wart. In war, information is as vital to mission success as guns and bullets. Sometimes more. You’re a witness, young man. A witness who can help us track down the snatchers and rescue their captives.”

  “Me?” Disbelief clouded the kid’s eyes, but hope edged those clouds with a golden glow. “I didn’t hardly
see nuthin’.”

  Rawley strutted toward the barn, his gang dogging his every step. Wallace and Miss Katherine followed, Mark toting a second washtub and Miss Katherine a kettle. Jonah thumped Wart’s brother gently on the back. “Don’t worry, kid. You know more than you think you do. Trust me.”

  “Hey, Al,” Rawley called as he approached. “I know ya don’t like baths, but we’re all takin’ one. The ladies here are strict about dirt. They got hot food ready to set on the table but won’t let us in unless we’re clean.”

  Al adamantly shook his head.

  The older boy came alongside and draped his arm over Al’s shoulders. “It ain’t so bad. See?” He held out his other arm for inspection. “They even gave me clean clothes to wear. There’s enough new duds for everyone.”

  “I ain’t doin’ it, Rawley.” Al pushed away from his mentor, eyeing Wallace as if he were the devil incarnate carrying a tub full of brimstone instead of hand-me-down clothes. He backed away. “I’ll just stay in the barn. I don’t need no dinner.”

  Rawley’s face hardened. “All the boys is doing it, Al. You included. Now get goin’.” He jerked his chin toward the open barn door. “I ain’t gonna miss that food I been smellin’ ’cause you’re too baby to get in a tub of water.”

  The other boys snickered.

  Wallace came up to Rawley and handed the tub to him. “Get some of your boys to fill this at the pump and drag it inside. Al and I will be inside in a minute.”

  Al was gonna bolt. Jonah could feel panicked energy coiling up in the kid. Miss Katherine’s sweet smile and calm manner didn’t even help. She described warm bathwater first, then went on to list all the mouth-watering details of what dinner would entail.

  It didn’t matter a bit. Al bolted between the fresh buttered biscuits and fried ham. Kid was fast too. If Jonah hadn’t been anticipating the move, Al probably would have gotten away. Instead, Jonah scooped the kid off the ground with an arm around his midsection and did his best to dodge the flailing arms and kicking legs. But when a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream nearly busted his eardrum, it was all Jonah could do not to drop the little beggar on his hind end.

  The shriek brought Rawley running out of the barn, knife out, ready to defend one of his own. Wallace winced and plugged his ears with his fingers. But it was Miss Katherine who surprised Jonah the most. She set down her kettle and walked up to the wild child as if her ears were completely unaffected. Jonah did his best to hold the kid still so he couldn’t head-butt the teacher or ram his heels into her ribs, but she proved intelligent. She circled around behind Jonah, then tapped his shoulder.

  “Could you bend down, please, Mr. Brooks?”

  The kid squealed and squirmed, but Jonah squatted down as best he could, leaning his head as far away from the little banshee’s mouth as possible.

  Miss Katherine reached over his shoulder and grabbed hold of Al’s head. Then she leaned close and spoke into the child’s ear. Her words so shocked Jonah, he nearly dropped the kid then and there.

  Al stilled instantly. Jonah’s arms loosened. Al slipped free and took Miss Katherine’s hand.

  “Al has consented to a private bath in the washroom,” the teacher announced as the boys all looked on, gaping. Jonah was pretty sure he was gaping too, though hopefully not quite as loose-jawed as the others. “Dinner will be served in thirty minutes. I suggest you have yourselves presentable before then.”

  No one moved as she turned and strolled away, Al walking meekly at her side.

  “C’mon, boys,” Rawley finally said, breaking the spell. “There’s biscuits waitin’.”

  As the boys disappeared into the barn, Wallace came over to Jonah. “What did Kate say to him?”

  Jonah shook his head, still a bit rattled. “She promised to keep the kid’s secret.”

  Wallace frowned. “What secret?”

  Jonah met his partner’s gaze, hating to admit that the Horseman with the keenest eyesight had failed to see what had been right in front of his face. “Al’s a girl.”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Katherine leaned over the washtub and scrubbed her fingernails against the young girl’s scalp. The poor child had enough dirt caked on her head to start a garden.

  “What’s your real name, sweetie?” Katherine asked as she worked the soap through the girl’s shorn locks, trying to engage the too-solemn child.

  Al hadn’t fought her as Katherine helped her out of her boy’s clothes and into the warm hip bath, but she hadn’t welcomed the chance to wash either. Even with the privacy of a closed washroom door. She huddled unresponsive in the tub, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, as if every speck of dirt that left her body took a piece of hope with it.

  When Al made no effort to respond, Katherine tried a different tactic.

  “Hmm. Maybe I can guess. Alexandra?”

  A tiny shake of the girl’s head signaled participation. Katherine seized on that victory and continued, racking her mind for all the names she could think of that started with those two letters. She let her arms lie slack against the edge of the tub, giving both herself and Al a break as they played their name game.

  “Alberta?”

  Another shake. Though her posture was perking up a bit.

  “Allison? Alfreda? Alleluia?”

  Two shakes and a small burst of air through the nostrils that Katherine chose to interpret as a giggle.

  “How about Alabama?” Might as well throw a little geography into the mix. Especially since she’d drawn a blank on other traditional names. “Alaska? Maybe Albany?”

  An actual smile emerged. A small one, but it was terribly encouraging.

  The shake this time was vigorous enough to splatter tiny specks of suds on Katherine’s bodice.

  “Then what is it, pray tell?”

  The girl’s lips curved wide enough to show a hint of teeth. “Alice.”

  “Alice. Of course.” Katherine made a theatrical face complete with rolled eyes and wagging jaw. “I should have known. Were you named for the girl who visited Wonderland?”

  Another head shake. “No. It was my granny’s name.”

  “Ah. A family name. Those are extra special.” Katherine gently resumed the washing.

  Alice sat up straighter in the tub and leaned her head back to keep the soap out of her eyes. “My brother doesn’t think so.”

  Katherine reached for the small ewer of rinse water waiting at the side of the tub. “No?”

  “He was named for our great-grandpappy Edgar.”

  “That’s not so terrible.” She placed her hand at Alice’s nape. “Lean your head back a little farther, honey. I’m going to rinse you.”

  Alice obeyed with the habitual ease of one who’d been bathed countless times in the past. By a loving mother? How long had she and Wart been on their own?

  “I don’t ’member Grandpappy, but Wart said he was grouchy and smelled like old turnips. He didn’t want to end up like that.”

  “So he chose to be called Wart instead?” It seemed an odd choice. Didn’t exactly draw the finer things to mind.

  Alice closed her eyes and let Katherine pour the water over her head. “He didn’t choose it. I did.”

  “You did?” Katherine helped her sit up. “Why would you choose such an odd name?”

  Alice shrugged as she clasped the sides of the hip bath and stood. “I was just a kid at the time. About four or five.”

  And she was so old now. Maybe as ancient as seven.

  “When Mama got sick, Wart had to take care of me. One day I heard Mama praise him for being such a good big brother. She called him a knight. A stall-wart knight. I thought it was ’cause he liked workin’ with horses, but our teacher said it meant strong and brave. I liked it.”

  Alice eased one leg over the side of the tub.

  “He was the best big brother in the world, so I started calling him Stall Wart. It made Mama laugh. And Mama hardly ever laughed after she took sick. I wanted to make her happy, so I
kept sayin’ it, but I got tired of wrapping my mouth around the whole thing, so I trimmed it down to just Wart.” Alice shrugged as she finished climbing out of the tub and stood on the towel Katherine had laid out on the floor. “After Mama passed last year, calling him Edgar didn’t feel right no more. Edgar was just a kid. Wart was a knight. Strong and brave.”

  And now he was missing. Katherine’s lashes fluttered as she batted away the tears pooling in her eyes. She wrapped a second towel around Alice’s slim shoulders, wishing she could wrap the girl in a warm hug as well. What this poor child had been through. Losing her mother and now her brother as well.

  Please, Lord, let Wart still be alive. Alice needed a home. A sanctuary. She needed Harmony House.

  Alice pulled on the secondhand clothes Katherine had provided, stepping into the trousers and extending her arms over her head so Katherine could help her into the masculine shirt.

  “You think they’ll know I’m a girl?” Alice caught a glimpse of herself in the rectangular mirror hanging over the washstand. She finger-combed her short hair onto her forehead in an unbecoming manner. “Wart rubbed dirt on my face every mornin’. Said it would help with the disguise.”

  No wonder the bathwater looked like mud.

  Unable to help herself, Katherine gently pushed Alice’s hands away and combed her hair in a more natural style, parted on the side with her bangs pulled across her forehead in a fetching swoop. With her delicate features, clean freckled skin, hair that now gleamed more red than brown, and the flip of a damp curl at her nape, Alice could pass for a pixie from a fairy story. There was no way the boys wouldn’t notice.