“She probably went looking for Rawley.” Mark grabbed her hand and took off for the street. “Come on. Let’s check at the depot.”
Katherine took nearly two steps for every one of his, but she didn’t mind. Every moment that ticked past was another moment Alice was in danger. If she had rejoined Rawley’s gang, things might not be so dire, but Katherine remembered how firm Rawley had been about Al staying at Harmony House. He’d probably send her back. And if she was too stubborn to obey, she’d be off searching for her brother on her own. Vulnerable. The easy pickin’s the snatchers were looking for. Katherine started jogging, moving ahead of Mark and dragging him along.
Once they reached the train station, she slowed her pace, happy to let Mark take the lead. He was the one who knew how to siphon information out of people. All she knew right now was how to fret over the child she’d lost.
They circled around to the rear of the depot, both of their gazes scouring every shadowy nook they passed for any sign of the boys. Suddenly, Mark jerked to a halt.
“Look.” He pointed to a uniformed man setting out a pair of luggage carts on the platform near the tracks.
Her heart thudded. Mr. Lopez. God could not have sent them a better source of information.
Katherine nodded agreement to Mark’s unspoken suggestion and hurried with him to the platform steps. Mark released her hand so she could precede him up the stairs. Without a speck of hesitation, she dashed onto the platform and made a beeline for the porter.
“Mr. Lopez!” Katherine waved her arm in the air to draw his attention as she hustled to intercept him before he could duck back inside the baggage room. “Might we speak with you a moment?”
The porter grinned at her and lifted his own hand in greeting. “Señorita Palmer. How nice to see you. And Señor Wallace.” His smile brightened as he saw Mark come alongside her. “Mi amigo. Did you bring me another batch of those oatmeal cookies I like so much?” His eyes twinkled as he turned to Katherine and confessed, “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”
She smiled. She couldn’t help it. “Well, at least I know my missing cookies went to someone who would appreciate them.”
Mr. Lopez thumped a hand over his heart. “Ah, mi ángel. No one could love your cookies more than Fernando Lopez.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to bring you some the next time I bake.”
If cookies encouraged him to talk, she’d promise him a baker’s dozen.
“Fernando,” Mark began, “we need your help. Do you remember the youngest of Rawley’s boys?”
“You mean little Al? Sí.”
“We’re trying to find him. He was staying with Miss Palmer at Harmony House, but he ran away. We think he may be in trouble.”
The porter wagged his head, a quiet chuckle on his lips. “Ah, those boys are slippery. They’re good kids. Not too fond of boundaries, though.” He patted Katherine’s arm. “Don’t worry, mi ángel. He’ll turn up when he’s ready.”
That wasn’t good enough. “You don’t understand,” she said, but the stationmaster’s call cut her off.
“Lopez! Stop lollygagging and finish prepping the carts. The 6:50 will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have them ready.” Mr. Lopez shot her an apologetic glance, then started shuffling back to the depot building. “Sorry, mi ángel. I have to go. Al’s a good boy. He’ll show up.”
Sensing they were about to lose their only lead, Katherine leapt forward, took hold of the older man’s arm, and played the only card she could think to play. “Al’s not a boy. She’s a girl. Alice. Rawley kicked her out of his gang when he learned the truth, so she’s out there all alone. Please. If we don’t find her before dark, there’s no telling what might happen to her.”
Mr. Lopez looked stricken by her pronouncement. “Little Al es una niña? I . . . I never would have let her go had I known.”
“Let her go where?” Mark asked, his voice sharpening.
Mr. Lopez twisted to face the Horseman, his face etched with remorse. “She came by about an hour ago. Asked if I had seen Rawley and the others. I told her they’d hopped the spur into Burnet County. They said something about looking for the man in black.”
Katherine darted a glance at Mark.
“Al said she’d take the bridge. Mumbled something about how Rawley didn’t know what to look for, but she did.”
Katherine’s stomach clenched. Alice was going after the snatcher alone? She’d barely seen the man. She’d said so herself. How did she think she would recognize him? Especially if he wasn’t wearing his black camouflage? Katherine clutched Mark’s arm. It didn’t matter if Alice could recognize the snatcher or not. She was putting herself in his path, and if he spotted her, she could be taken, just like the others.
“We’ve got to get to her. Now!”
Mark nodded but took the time to shake the porter’s hand in thanks. Katherine didn’t. Leaving the men behind, she hoisted her skirt above her ankles and sprinted across the platform and down into the street. People turned to stare as she raced past, but she paid them no mind. Her only thought was to follow the railroad tracks and get to the bridge.
Mark called out to her, but she didn’t look back. He’d catch up soon enough. Nor did she hesitate to mount the tracks and start across the bridge. People crossed this bridge on foot every day. Heavens, children from Hoover’s Valley walked across it every morning to come to school in Kingsland.
Once on the bridge, she hiked her skirt up a bit more and watched the placement of each hurried step. There were no railings and no trestles to protect her from falling into the Colorado River below should she lose her balance.
“Kate!” Mark called, much nearer now. “Stop!”
She lifted her head to judge how far she’d come. Almost halfway. And there, across the river, she spied a pair of horses at the end of the bridge. A small child in boy’s clothing moved between them. Alice! Katherine’s heart soared.
“I see her!” She halted momentarily and glanced over her shoulder, her excitement building.
Mark stood on the tracks at the edge of the bridge, waving her toward him. “Come back!” he yelled.
Go back? No. They had to go forward. Get to Alice before she was lost to them again. She shook her head and resumed picking her way across the bridge. Faster now. Nearly at a run. Alice was on the other side. In danger. Nothing else mattered.
But two-thirds of the way across, she realized she was wrong. Something else did matter. Something barreling toward her with such speed that the tracks convulsed beneath her feet. The deep, haunting moan of a train whistle pierced her ears and her heart.
The 6:50 from Burnet. Heading straight for her.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
The instant Kate turned away from him, Mark sprinted forward, his heart pounding faster than his feet.
God, help her!
She might make it. Might clear the bridge before the train arrived. He calculated and recalculated distances as he ran. The distance to the shore. The distance between each stone pier. The distance between him and the water. Fifteen feet. Maybe twenty. He could survive the plunge if necessary. But Kate? Between the currents of the Colorado and her layers of petticoats dragging her down, she’d never make it. For the first time, he prayed for her to run faster.
Then the train appeared. Its whistle blew. And Kate stopped in her tracks.
No! Run, darlin’. Run!
The toe of Mark’s shoe jabbed an uneven railroad tie and nearly sent him sprawling. He caught his balance at the last moment and righted himself, but it cost him precious seconds. By the time he looked up, Kate had already started running toward him, away from the train. The train traveling at least twenty-five miles per hour. Impossible to outrun.
Mark stopped. Assessed. Decided.
A stone pier stood between him and Kate. Narrow at the top, widening gradually into a slender pyramid as it stretched toward the water. Not ideal, but it presented a better option than drown
ing or butting heads with a locomotive. He reached it first. Dropped to one knee. Peered over the side. A ledge of stone blocks about eight inches wide jutted out roughly two feet from the edge of the tracks. Too precarious to stand on. The force of the train would blow them into the river. They needed a more secure position, and he could think of only one that might work.
“Mark!”
He stood at Kate’s cry.
She slowed as she neared him, but her eyes were wild with fright. “We have to run!”
He shook his head. “No time,” he yelled. The thunder of the train was rolling closer, making it hard to hear. “Get on my back.”
Her brows lifted. She glanced over her shoulder. The train was nearly to the bridge. Her head whipped back around. Tears glistened in her eyes.
Mark took hold of her arms. “Trust me. It’s the only way.”
She nodded and hiked her skirts up past her knees. He turned his back to her and bent down, arms reaching behind him. As soon as he felt her legs against his hips, he grabbed hold and bounced her up to his waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not tight enough to choke him, just enough to secure her hold.
Her unquestioning faith in him boosted his determination as he stepped onto the ledge. Her face pressed against his nape. Her legs squeezed his midsection.
Lord, strengthen me.
The bridge shook as the train left the shore.
Releasing his hold on Kate’s legs, Mark carefully turned his back to the water.
The train blasted another warning whistle. The stone pier trembled beneath his feet.
No time.
Thighs burning, he squatted and fit his hands to either side of the pillar, then dropped over the edge.
Kate squealed in his ear. Her knees knocked against the stone and slid off his waist. Her arms strangled his neck. The wind from the locomotive tugged at his hat. His fingers dug into the stone ledge while his knees gripped the pillar as if he were on a rearing horse. Only this horse stayed upright for minutes, not seconds. He clung to the pier, locking his face against the cold stone, praying Kate would hold on.
Train car after train car sped by. The pillar shuddered like a bronc trying to buck him off. Kate whimpered softly but thankfully held still against him.
The extra weight of her on his back drained his endurance at an alarming rate. How much longer could he hold on? The angle of his arms, initially ninety degrees from wrist to shoulder, grew more obtuse as his strength waned. His knees slipped an inch. Then another.
Like the blind Samson in the Philistine temple, Mark squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for strength. For Kate. Just until she’s safe, Lord. Please.
He slipped another inch. And another. His arms were fully extended now, his knees weakening.
Hurry up, he begged, the train’s length seemingly eternal.
His grip faltered. He fought against his muscles’ rebellion. Concentrated on his fingers, ordering them to hold their position, no matter the pain. Push through the tremors. Overcome the weakness. A Horseman never quit. Not when an innocent depended on him. Not when the life of the woman he loved hung in the balance.
A swirling whoosh of air finally declared the passing of the last railcar. The vibrations of the pier lessened, and Mark’s spirit cried out in thanks.
But the ordeal wasn’t over. He still had to get Kate safely onto the bridge, and with his arms shaking like fall leaves during a blue norther, hoisting her up himself wasn’t an option.
“Kate,” he groaned, hoping she could hear him now that the train’s thunder was in decrescendo. “You gotta climb up. Use me . . . as a ladder.”
She gave no indication that she’d heard. Her arms remained locked at his throat, her legs limp behind his hips.
“You can do it.” He moved his head slightly, so his lips were closer to her ear. “I need you to, Kate. I can’t hold on much longer.”
“But I don’t want to make you fall.” Tears filled her voice, cracking his heart.
“You won’t.” Any falling would be his fault, not hers. “Now, go.”
As she shifted, he tightened his hold, giving everything he had to keep his grip a few moments longer. Her foot found his gun belt and used it as a toehold. He clenched his teeth as she pushed herself up. His knees gave out and slid down the stone. Kate gasped.
“It’s all right,” he ground out. “Keep going.”
Her arms released his neck, and she reached for the ledge. Her second foot braced against his hip, then a knee pressed down on his shoulder. He felt her hands brush against his on the ledge before they reached higher.
“I’ve got the rail!”
“Good girl! Now stand on my shoulders and pull yourself up.”
With her holding the rail, the weight on him lessened, providing a tiny surge of energy.
Her feet found their way to his shoulders, then the ledge. She accidentally trod on the fingers of his left hand, and his grip failed.
“Mark!”
He hung by one hand, too exhausted to pull himself up. Then, all at once, she was there. Her belly flat against the ledge, her hips tucked against the rail. She grabbed his flailing arm and pulled his hand back to the ledge.
He tipped his head back, his gaze melding with hers.
“Don’t you even think about leaving me again, Mark Wallace,” she ordered. “I won’t have it.”
He smiled. “No, ma’am.”
“Good.” She fisted her hands in the fold of his coat collar behind his neck and pulled. “Now . . . get . . . up . . . here.”
Her grunts mixed with his growls as they poured all they had into getting him off that pier. His feet scratched at the pillar until the edge of one boot sole finally caught on a minuscule lip between stone blocks. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to propel him upward since his arms were too depleted to do the job. He got an elbow on the ledge, then his chest. Finally, he secured a knee and allowed Kate to drag him the rest of the way onto the bridge.
Mark lay on his belly for a moment, too thankful to do anything more than breathe. Then reality bombarded him with hailstones of panic.
He could have lost her! If he’d been a few seconds slower or the train a few seconds faster . . . He rolled over onto his side and reached for her. Needing to reassure himself that she was safe. But touching her hand wasn’t enough.
Tucking his knees beneath him, he took hold of her arms and helped her rise to a sitting position. “Kate. Tell me you’re all right.” He scanned her face. Rubbed her arms. Then slid his hands up to cradle her cheeks.
Her deep blue eyes met his, misty but brimming with emotion. “I’m all right. We’re both all right. Thank God.”
Yes. Thank you, God.
He couldn’t lose her. Ever. The clarity of that single thought obscured everything else and drove him to action. He pulled her face up to meet his and kissed her with the desperation of a man who’d nearly lost everything he valued. His fingers tangled in the hair at her nape as he drew her closer, needing to feel her pressed against him, to prove she was alive and still within his grasp.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and she rose up to meet his kiss. To return it. Mark’s pulse throbbed, her passionate reaction lighting a fire inside him. They belonged together. Always.
She tasted so sweet, so . . . right. He tore his lips from hers, his breath ragged and loud in his ears. But he couldn’t stop from dropping tiny kisses on her cheeks, her closed eyes, her forehead.
“Marry me, Kate.” The proposal slipped out before he’d even fully formed the thought, but he didn’t regret the impulse. In fact, as soon as the words left his tongue, they solidified in his brain. She was what he wanted. More than anything. More than everything. “Marry me.”
He pulled away just enough to see her face clearly. Her lashes fluttered open to reveal dazed blue eyes.
“I love you, Kate. I always have.”
Her face softened, her beautiful eyes misted. “I love you too. With all my heart. But . . .” She bit her l
ip.
But? The euphoria that erupted in his chest like a geyser gushing toward the sky at her declaration of love froze mid-surge.
“Miss Katherine?” A tiny voice, wobbly and timid, brought Mark’s head up.
Kate swiveled. “Alice! Oh, thank goodness.” She opened her arms to the little girl standing so despondently on the bridge six feet away.
Alice hesitated. Guilt clouded her gaze as she darted a glance at him before focusing again on Kate. “Are you and Mr. Wallace all right? I saw you . . . and the train . . . I thought . . .”
A sudden sob burst from her throat, and the child ran into Kate’s waiting arms.
“Shh, sweetheart. It’s all right. We’re both safe. Everything’s fine.” She rocked Alice back and forth, stroking her hair.
“It’s my fault,” Alice wailed. “If I hadn’t run off—”
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. I was the one who should have listened to Mr. Wallace when he called to me to get off the bridge, but I didn’t.” She glanced his way, an apology in her eyes.
But an apology for what? Rushing across the bridge or refusing his proposal? Again.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. She hadn’t actually refused. That but could have led to a hundred different statements. Many of them innocuous. Besides, he wasn’t the wet-behind-the-ears kid he’d been a decade ago. He’d battled raiding Indians, survived being shot by rustlers, and outsmarted deadly outlaws as part of an elite military squad. He could lay siege to a woman’s heart and wear down her resistance. After all, there was already a significant weakness in her fortifications.
She loved him. With all her heart, she’d said. That was the important bit. Not some dangling conjunction that could lead a hundred directions.
Besides, there was only one direction they needed to focus on right now. Home.
Mark pushed to his feet with an exaggerated moan, sure to draw attention. Although, in truth, the moan wasn’t all that feigned. He ached everywhere.
“Let’s get you two ladies back to Harmony House, shall we?”
Alice scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, then scowled up at him. “I gotta keep lookin’ for the man in black.” She twisted and pointed back toward the mounts on the other side of the bridge. “One of them horses could be his. I was looking through the saddlebags for papers with names on ’em.”
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