“So they’re all in the mine together, then,” Katherine guessed. She couldn’t afford to let her heartbreaking fear for Mark steal her wits. Her job was to cull information. “Did you leave them there to starve?”
Please, Lord, let there be time to save them.
“Nothing so cruel, I assure you. Their end came swiftly. About an hour ago, as a matter of fact. You might have heard it. The quiet boom of distant thunder? Dynamite has much the same resonance, I’m told.” She smiled, then turned her attention to her brother. “Enough of this chitchat, Ernest. Lock her in the pantry and help me with my trunk. We have a schedule to keep.”
The deputy’s grip tightened. Katherine struggled against his hold, desperate to get one final message to the boys she prayed were listening on the other side of the door. “You won’t get away with this! Mark Wallace is one of Hanger’s Horsemen. It’ll take more than a stick of dynamite to bury him. Jonah and the rest of the Horsemen will find that Packsaddle mine, you’ll see. They’ll save Mark, then come after you.”
Althea turned just as Ernest shoved Katherine backward into the pantry, banging her spine and skull against wooden shelves.
“Even if you’re right, my dear, they’ll have no proof that I did anything wrong. Miguel Ortega is the one with blood on his hands, not me. And I have my very own lawman to vouch for me in the unlikely event that your Horsemen capture Miguel and get him to talk. No one will believe a murderer over a deputy of the law. Your threats are pointless, Miss Palmer.”
No, not pointless, Katherine thought as the pantry door slammed closed against her nose and the lock clicked into place. Not when her points were aimed at a pair of quick-witted boys hovering outside the window.
Show them what to do, Lord. Get word to Jonah and the others in time to save Mark and the children.
And maybe, when the Almighty was finished with that, he could send her a few ideas for an escape plan. Her experience in slipping free of criminal captors was regrettably thin.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jonah.” A soft voice called to him. A gentle hand stroked his brow. “Jonah, wake up.”
The darkness didn’t want to let him go. He frowned, struggling to shake free of sleep’s grip and answer her call.
“Jonah, please.”
Something was wrong. The voice that had soothed him and eased his pain now called with urgency. Desperation.
Eliza! Why couldn’t he get his eyes open? A cavalry officer always woke at the first sound of the bugle. Bugle . . . Mark . . . something about Mark . . .
A hand grabbed his shoulder. Shook him. “I know you’re hurt, but I need you.”
His strong, capable Eliza. With tears in her voice. She needed him. Jonah punched through the darkness and opened his eyes. “Liza?”
“Thank the Lord.” Worry warred with relief on the beautiful face leaning over him. “They took Katherine. I have to go after her. I just need you to show me how to use your guns.”
That woke him up. Shoving aside the lingering grogginess, Jonah sat up, biting back a moan at the throbbing in his head. Pain didn’t matter, though. Protecting the women did. And there was no way he was sending Eliza out into the dark of night with his guns.
“I’ll go,” he said, his voice filled with gravel.
“You’re injured.” Eliza tried to push him back down on the sofa, but he batted her hands away. “You’re in no condition—”
“Quit your bossin’, woman. I’m fine.”
Determined to prove his words true, he rose to his feet, careful to keep his discomfort masked. He tugged the cuffs of his sleeves down to his wrists as he waited for the dizziness to pass. Falling on his face wouldn’t exactly convince Eliza of his fitness for duty.
Shake it off, Brooks. You got a job to do.
And do it, he would. Starting with reclaiming his gun belt. The one buckled around the prettiest pair of hips he ever did see.
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the buckle. Once there, he looked up into her eyes. Eyes wide with fear for her friend, fiery determination to enact a rescue, and frustration that Jonah wasn’t staying where she’d put him. Yet as he slowly worked the belt loose, something else entered her eyes. Something soft, warm, and tentatively hopeful. Man, but he could get lost in those eyes.
The belt fell away, swinging behind her as he held one end steady. The tug of it against his hand sharpened his focus back on the job. Swallowing down the other thoughts and emotions swirling in his brain regarding the mesmerizing woman in front of him, he cleared his throat, took a step back, and murmured, “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know.” Eliza sagged against the sofa arm, her gaze falling to the ground. “She left to confront Miss Gordon, and now they have her. Rawley thinks they mean to kill her.” She glanced up, tears in her eyes. “Why would she do that? Leave in the middle of the night? With no protection?”
Jonah had never seen Eliza look so lost, so vulnerable. “Don’t know. But she musta had a reason. She ain’t the reckless type.”
A movement near the doorway caught Jonah’s eye. Rawley stepped inside the parlor. He looked haggard yet ready for action. “She did it fer Wallace. Whole time she was there, all she did was ask questions about him and the snatched boys. Acted like she weren’t scared for herself at all. Never even asked ’em to let her go. And once she spotted Abner in the window, she made it clear we were to come fetch you. Not for her, though. For Wallace and the boys.”
Eliza blew out a breath. “That sounds just like Katherine. Always worried about everyone else.”
But if she’d found out where Mark was . . . Jonah swung his gun belt around his hips and worked the buckle from memory, his gaze zeroed in on Rawley. “You know where he is?”
The boy gave one sharp nod. “In a mine. South side of Packsaddle Mountain.” He paused. “One they dynamited around midnight.”
A soft gasp escaped Eliza. She pushed away from the sofa and clasped his hands, as if she knew what that news did to him, how it tore up his insides and left him raw and bleeding. Then again, maybe she did know. Her own insides must be shredded, knowing that her friend was in the hands of people who would callously bring a mountain down on the heads of children. He squeezed her hands back.
“We need to tell Deputy Bronson,” she said. “Let him know where to focus his search—”
Rawley’s shaking head cut her off. “The deputy’s in on the whole thing. He was there at Miss Gordon’s house. He’s the one what captured Miss Katherine and tied her up. Said they was gonna turn her over to Ortega.”
Jonah clenched his teeth. Nothing worse than a corrupt lawman. ’Cept maybe the unscrupulous fella he hired to do his dirty work.
“We have to hurry, then,” Eliza declared. “Catch up to them before they leave the house. I’ll fetch lanterns.”
Jonah halted her with a touch to her arm. “No light. I’ll track ’em in the dark.” She started to protest, but he shook his head. “Can’t afford to announce we’re on their trail. Too dangerous for Kate.”
“But if we stop them before they leave . . .”
Jonah looked to Rawley, who confirmed his suspicion with a wag of his head.
“It’s too late for that, darlin’. They’ve already gone.” He turned back to Rawley. “You know where they’re headed?”
“Llano. To catch the train. But they’re gonna drop her off at Ortega’s camp first, and I doubt that’s on the road.”
Jonah’s mouth tightened. His night vision was good, but not good enough to spot an off-road path cut through the brush without going at a snail’s pace.
“Don’t worry. Abner’s following ’em.”
Eliza spun around. “What?”
Rawley shrugged. “One of us had to, and I’m the faster runner. Better suited for fetching help. ’Sides, he wasn’t about to leave Miss Katherine alone. I told him how to stay hidden, to keep his distance and follow the bobbin’ lantern. He’ll break off twigs from the brush to mark t
he path once they leave the road. I’m only worried that if we’re too slow in comin’, he’ll take on Ortega himself.”
“Then we best get going.” Jonah found his boots at the end of the sofa and stuffed his feet into them. “I’ll meet you at the barn.”
Rawley nodded and left.
Jonah took Eliza’s hand and squeezed it tight. “I’ll bring her back to you. I swear it.”
Tears misted her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She held her head up like a queen. “I’ll rouse the children at first light. We’ll put together our own search party and leave word at the station for your partners in case you’re not back in time to meet the train.”
Jonah smiled. “Have I told you how much I love that practical streak of yours?”
Her lips twitched. She covered it up by dusting invisible lint from his shoulders and straightening his shirt buttons. “Yes, well, I’m counting on that mile-wide stubborn streak of yours to bring you back here in one piece. No more tumbling down mountainsides, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then, before he could think better of it, he clasped her face in his palm and drew her lips to his. The kiss was fast and far too short, but it was pure heaven. Breaking it off when he wanted to delve deeper, Jonah released her and left the room—heart pumping, senses alert, and mind fixed on accomplishing his mission so he could return to the woman who was quickly taking ownership of his heart.
“Deputy Bronson. Didn’t expect to see you out here this time of night.”
Katherine stilled at the unfamiliar male voice. Ever since Ernest Bronson had dragged her from the pantry, gagged her, and tossed her into the back of the wagon, she’d been trying to work free of her bindings. He’d covered her with a canvas tarp, so she could work without being seen, but all her efforts were for naught. Tiny splinters riddled her wrists, and her nails were chipped and broken, yet the ties were just as tight as they’d been before.
“Got one final job for you,” Bronson said as the plodding wagon halted. “A witness who needs to disappear. She’s in the back.”
“She?” Interest laced the unfamiliar man’s voice.
Katherine bit her lip. Maybe she could run. Catch the men off guard and lose them in the dark.
That slim hope died the moment Miguel Ortega threw back the tarp. Flickering light from his campfire lit him from behind and filled his face with fiendish shadows. His gaze raked over her, his eyes coldly assessing.
This man belonged to the darkness. There’d be no escaping him. Not on her own.
Help me, Lord.
“Gonna cost you. I don’t usually do women.”
“This ought to soothe your conscience. What there is of it.” Bronson pulled a small sack of coins from inside his coat and tossed them to Ortega.
The outlaw caught it, inspected the contents, then tucked it away in his vest. Without warning, Ortega’s hand closed over Katherine’s ankle and yanked her down the wagon bed toward the tailgate.
She whimpered through the cloth gag. Tears gathered in her eyes. She tried to scramble away from him, but his right hand held her fast. His left moved to the tailgate latch. Her heart pounded like that of a rabbit caught in a snare.
Then, like a soothing breeze, a whisper blew across her cheek, bringing with it the memory of a story. Of three men, trapped by those who wished them harm and facing a furnace of fire. Men who met their trial with dignity and absolute faith in their God. A God with the ability to deliver them, should that be his will. Yet even if deliverance did not fit God’s plan, they resolved to face their fate with convicted hearts and peaceful spirits.
Katherine’s heart slowed its frantic pounding. And when Ortega dragged her out of the wagon and set her on her feet, she met his gaze without flinching. He blinked, then looked away. His fingers bit into her arm in retaliation as he jerked her toward the front of the wagon.
Althea Gordon twisted to face them as Bronson moved back to the front of the team. “Wait an hour before you take care of this business, if you please, Miguel. Ernest and I need to be well away.”
“Still tryin’ to keep your pretty little hands clean? I got news for ya, lady. Just because the blood ain’t on your hands don’t mean the stain ain’t on your soul. You’ll get yours one day.”
Althea smoothed her skirt as if nothing were amiss, but Katherine caught the slight tremor in her fingers. “Perhaps,” she said, covering one hand with the other in her lap as she turned her gaze forward, “but not today. Ernest?” she called to her brother. “Let’s be off.”
Harness jangled and lantern light bobbed as Ernest turned the horses around and headed back toward the road.
Despite her legs feeling like jelly, Katherine held her chin high as Ortega dragged her toward his campsite, where her fiery furnace awaited.
Either God would deliver her, or she would meet her end with dignity.
Or spend an hour tethered to her captor like a dog on a leash, tripping after him while he searched for the best place to do her in. A gully or shallow ravine, preferably, so the burying would already be half done.
“I suppose this spot is as good as any.” Ortega set down his lantern and turned to face her. “It’s a pretty place, don’t ya think? Got some nice prairie grass. Even a few wildflowers. There are worse places to spend eternity.”
Her eternity would not be spent here. She wanted to shout at him that glory awaited her. That her eternity would be spent with the God of heaven, singing with the angels in praise to the Lamb. But the gag kept her silent.
Ortega took hold of the rope that bound her to him and reeled her in, wrapping the hemp in a circle between his left elbow and palm. “I’ll make sure it’s quick,” he promised as he wound another coil. “You won’t feel much pain.” He unsheathed a wicked-looking hunting knife. Its blade shimmered in the lantern’s glow.
Katherine’s courage evaporated. She screamed through the gag and pulled against the rope. She spun and ran. Or tried to. Ortega jerked on the rope and yanked her off balance. She crashed to the ground, her bound arms useless to break her fall.
She rolled and kicked out at him, but the blow glanced off his thigh, doing nothing to halt his charge. In a blink he was on her, pinning her to the ground. His knee planted against her chest. Breathing became nearly impossible. He thrust her chin up, exposing her throat.
Tears streamed down her face. Prayers cried from her soul.
The knife lifted.
A yell suddenly echoed from the night. The knife paused its downward slice. A dark figure rushed forward and smashed Ortega across the shoulders. The blow would have collided with his skull if the man hadn’t lurched up at the last second.
Her rescuer reared back for a second blow, his face close enough to see.
Abner! Dear God in heaven. The boy was no match for this man. Ortega blocked the second blow and knocked the metal rod out of Abner’s hands. The boy backed away. Ortega advanced. Katherine screamed through her gag, praying for Abner to run, then pushed to her feet and launched herself at Ortega’s knees. He cursed and fell forward, the knife falling from his grip. A heartbeat later, his gun cleared its holster. The barrel pointed at her head.
Crack!
Katherine flinched. But it was Ortega who fell to the ground. Dead.
Abner ran to her and buried his face in her side. She wrapped her body around him as well as she could, sheltering him from the gruesome sight of death.
Then came the sound of hoofbeats. Of her name being called. And the sight of a Horseman, rifle splayed across his lap. His stiff motions lacked their usual grace as he dismounted, but his steps were sure when he hurried forward.
Jonah Brooks. The Lord’s deliverance.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jonah swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he strode past Ortega’s body. He hadn’t killed a man since Wounded Knee. Had prayed never to have cause to do so again. But anything less than a kill shot would have left Katherine and Abner vulnerable. The w
eight of a life taken justly would be easier to bear than the weight of two innocents lost when he’d had the power to protect them.
Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy. Deliver the poor and needy: rid them out of the hand of the wicked. The Horsemen had adopted the verses from Psalm 82 as their creed when they left the Army, vowing to preserve life whenever possible. Yet when Ortega had gotten a bead on Katherine, Jonah hadn’t hesitated. There’d been only one way to rid her and the boy from the wickedness that threatened them, and Jonah thanked God his aim had been true.
Still, no woman or child should see such violence and death up close. Jonah placed himself between Ortega and Katherine. Going down on one knee, he gently tugged the gag down over her chin, leaving it to dangle at her throat.
“Are you all right?”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Y-yes. I th-think so.”
Jonah gave her a quick scan, then frowned at her bound arms. It looked like apron strings wrapped around her wrists. He slipped his knife from its sheath and met her eyes. “I’m gonna cut you free. Hold still.”
She nodded.
Standing up, he bent over her shoulder and slid his blade between her wrists. One good slice, and she was free. He barely had time to sheath his knife and hunker back down before she snatched him around the neck and squeezed the breath out of him.
“Thank you, Jonah. Thank you.”
Her body shook as if she were crying, but no sound emerged. Probably trying not to alarm Abner. The poor kid had been through enough already. Taking on a grown man. Nearly being killed. Then seeing the villain shot down right in front of him. The kid could do with some sheltering.
After giving Katherine’s back an awkward pat, he slipped free of her hold and locked eyes with the boy. “You done good, Abner. Laid a good trail for me to follow. Protected Miss Katherine. Things coulda gone a lot worse if it weren’t for you.”
Katherine quickly swiped at her face before directing a big smile Abner’s way. “He’s my hero.” She pulled him into her lap and hugged him tight.
The Heart's Charge Page 30