Josephine’s mind raced as they fled the depot. How had Taggart’s men found them? According to Matthew, the outlaws hadn’t pursued the Horsemen after the rescue, so they must have taken the train. But how many were aboard? Matthew must have assumed there were more than the two they’d spotted. Either that or he was concerned about innocent bystanders being injured should a gunfight erupt. As far as she could tell, Chatfield had no marshal. For pity’s sake, the town didn’t even have its own post office.
Hopefully, the smallness of the town would work in their favor. If the outlaws came by train, they might not have horses. The pickings at the livery were slim, more wagon horses than cow ponies. Then again, these men were outlaws. They’d just steal whatever they needed. And any mount they confiscated would be fresher than the ones her group rode. The Horsemen would not be able to keep up this pace for long. Especially with her and Matthew riding double.
She prayed Matthew had a plan. Were there military rules of engagement for times like these? Or did one simply retreat until more cavalry troops could swoop in and deal with the enemy? With no reinforcements available on the ground, Josephine petitioned the Lord for some angelic army support.
She felt Phineas begin to slow beneath her. She twisted and peered around Matthew to check for followers. Nothing yet. Nothing but a small cloud of dust in the distance. A cloud she wanted to attribute to wind or a stagecoach or anything other than what she knew it had to be.
Was Taggart coming for Charlie, still angling for a ransom? Or did he intend to unleash vengeance on all of them for foiling his plans?
Josephine pressed her lips in a tight line as she faced forward again and adjusted her grip on the saddle horn. She supposed she should be afraid, but with Matthew’s arms around her and his chest bracing her back, fear wasn’t what bubbled up inside her. No. Anger and indignation thrummed through her veins.
These men had no right to hold her brother hostage. To extort money from her father. To threaten the lives of good men. One of whom had her rearranging the picture of her future to include not only a well-run medical clinic, good friends, and the respect of professional colleagues, but the love of an honorable man and perhaps even a child or two if God proved generous.
A family of her own.
She’d known the choice to pursue a medical career would drastically reduce her chances at making a marital match, yet she’d chosen it anyway. It wasn’t just a vocational calling, but a spiritual one. She’d sacrifice whatever was necessary to follow the path God had set before her. No regrets. She found joy in her work and satisfaction in knowing her life had meaning even if it wasn’t shared with the most intimate of companions.
Yet the instant Matthew looked into her eyes and softly admitted his desire to claim her as his own, her paradigm had shifted. Stretched. The craving for family that had been easy to store away when it was an undefined commodity burst its bonds with unexpected vigor now that it was attached to a particular man. A fierce warrior with a kind heart. Her warrior. And no greedy, gunslinging outlaw was going to steal him from her. Not on her watch.
If Matthew could face down a dozen men back in that canyon and come away with only a couple scratches, he could keep their little group safe with tired mounts and open terrain between them and the enemy. He was Matthew Hanger, king of the Horsemen.
Even as the thought charged triumphantly through her brain, the horse beneath them slowed again. Phineas fell back from the pack, the weight of his load taking a toll. The others slowed in response, unwilling to let any separation pull them apart. The Horsemen rode as one.
Charlie, on the other hand, began pulling away.
Josephine made excuses for him. He hadn’t spent years riding with these men, so he wasn’t able to sense their unspoken needs or gauge their subtle reactions. But even so, his lack of awareness of the people around him hinted at an unflattering level of self-absorption.
“Charlie!” She tried to call him back, but her voice drowned beneath the flood of pounding hooves.
“Don’t worry,” Matthew said. “He’s safe enough. Taggart’s men will come from behind. Any distance he gains is just another layer of protection.”
For him. But what about for you?
Josephine peered behind them again and found more than dust. Her stomach tightened. “I see riders.” Definitely more than two. She’d guess as many as six or seven.
“How far back?”
“Not sure. Half a mile, maybe?” She’d never been good at gauging distances.
“Preach!” Matt yelled, then jerked his chin toward their pursuers.
Mr. Davenport craned his neck to peer behind them, then straightened, his expression showing no surprise. “Yep. They’re gaining on us. ’Bout five minutes back.”
“That wallow to the north might work.” Mr. Wallace tipped his head in the direction of a shallow dip in the earth up ahead, probably a dry creek bed.
Work for what? Josephine tried to peek at Matthew’s face, but his attention was focused on his men.
“Jonah?” Matthew pointed. “The wallow.”
Mr. Brooks nodded. “I’ll fetch the rabbit.”
Charlie.
Mr. Brooks gave his mount his head and herded Josephine’s brother like a stray calf while Matthew and the others veered toward the creek bed.
Once there, the Horsemen dismounted, collected their weapons and ammunition, and laid on their bellies in the wallow, rifles aimed at the approaching riders. All but Matthew. He waved Charlie over, then took Josephine’s hand and dragged her toward the biggest rock in the creek bed. Not that it had much competition from the few pebbles scattered about. The stone wasn’t more than a foot high and a foot and a half wide, but it was the best protection the area had to offer.
“Lie flat and keep your head behind this rock,” Matthew ordered, the ferocity of his gaze sending tingles over her skin. “Don’t come out for anything, Josie. Promise me.”
She nodded. It was all the answer she could manage. The anger that had been suppressing her fear evaporated as the reality of their situation sank in. They were taking a stand. Against an unknown number of outlaws. With nothing but a dry creek bed as protection. Their horses were spent. Their ammunition finite. Their chances of survival hairsbreadth slim.
Matthew turned to Charlie and did something Josephine never would have expected. He pulled his left revolver from its holster and handed it to her brother. “Keep her safe.”
Charlie accepted the gun, his mouth set in firm lines. “I will.”
“Watch for my signal,” Matthew said, his voice like steel. “If things go south, take your sister and ride. We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”
“No!” Pulse racing, Josephine grabbed Matthew’s arm. “I’m not leaving you.”
His eyes locked with hers. Hard. Unyielding. “You will.”
She shook her head, tears moistening her eyes in denial even as logic confirmed his plan. Two of six was a better survival rate than zero. But to leave him, knowing she’d never see him again? She wasn’t sure she could do it.
His eyes softened, and he cupped her face with his hand. “Please, Josie.” His thumb caressed her cheek. The captain giving orders disappeared behind the vulnerable man with a tender heart. Her warrior was begging. “Do it for me.”
Yes. For him. She would do it for him.
Her lashes dipped as she nodded her consent.
His hold on her tightened, and in a flash, his lips were on hers. The kiss was hard, fast, and left her shaking. When he released her, she swayed on her feet, unsteadied by his sudden absence.
“Get down behind the rock, Josie. Now.”
The captain was back, but she didn’t mind. The captain was the man they needed. The man, she prayed, who would keep them all alive.
Matthew never glanced back as he rejoined his men. He slid into position on his stomach at the edge of the creek bed, propped himself on his elbows, and extended his rifle barrel onto the bank. They’d have the advantage of a protected position, but Taggart’s men would be advancing on speeding horses. Even the best marksmen would struggle to hit such fast-moving targets.
“Come on, sis.” Charlie’s hand cupped her elbow, tugging her out of her thoughts. “You heard the man. We need to get behind the rock.”
Wishing she’d worn her trousers instead of the skirt and petticoats that made riding, running, and any other physical exertion inordinately more difficult, Josephine leaned on her brother as he helped her to the ground. She flattened herself on her belly, just as Matthew had, folding her arms beneath her chest, but Charlie kept pushing her head down when she tried to peer over the top of the rock.
“Stop it,” he growled as he pushed her down a third time. “If you catch a bullet, all of this will have been for nothing.”
Josephine bit her lip and dropped her chin. She was desperate to know what was going on, to offer any assistance that might be required, but Charlie was right. The whole point of taking cover was to conceal oneself. If she kept popping her head up like an overcurious prairie dog, she’d not only be risking her and Charlie’s safety, but she’d be breaking her promise to Matthew. That she could not do. Surrendering her need to watch, she rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the sky, tuning her ears to Matthew and the Horsemen. She might not be able to see what was happening, but she could listen.
Charlie hunkered down beside her, lying on his left side so he could keep his gun hand free and ready. “Thanks for orchestrating my rescue.”
“Of course. You’re my brother.” And as much as she loved him, she really wanted him to save his thanks for another time. The low murmur of Matthew’s voice was hard enough to decipher from this distance without Charlie talking over him.
“I’m our father’s son too, but the relationship didn’t seem to sway him.”
Josephine sighed and gave up trying to eavesdrop on the Horsemen in favor of tending to her brother. “I don’t know what all has happened between you two, Charlie.” She touched his arm. “But I know he loves you.”
“He’s got an odd way of showing it.” The petulance in his tone grated.
She twisted onto her side to face him. “And how do you show your love to him?”
His brows formed a deep V, as if he couldn’t make sense of the question. Then he clenched his jaw. “You’re taking his side? He left me to rot.”
“I’m not taking anybody’s side. Now, hush, I think I hear horses coming.” A dull cadence sounded from a distance. Josephine tensed.
“I was never good enough for him. He always wanted me to be something I’m not.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Taggart’s men were closing the gap. This was not the time to dredge up old hurts.
“You are his pride and joy,” Charlie droned on. “The child he brags about to his friends, the one he holds up as an example to his disappointment of a son.”
“Shh!” The outlaws were almost upon them. The pounding of hooves vibrated the very ground.
“He owes me, Jo. Owes me respect. Owes me my inheritance. I’m tired of being discounted and ignored. You gotta understand.” Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her backward, away from the rock. “This is the only way.”
“Charlie? What are you doing?” She struggled against his grip, but her skirts twisted, trapping her legs as he pulled her sideways.
Josephine glanced toward Matthew, intending to call out to him for help, but she held her tongue. The outlaws were the bigger threat. Charlie wouldn’t hurt her. Yet even as she reassured herself with that piece of faith, his arm snaked around her waist, digging painfully into her abdomen and pinching her ribs as he roughly hauled her to her feet.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe,” he hissed in her ear even as he carted her away from their cover. “I have everything arranged.”
He had everything arranged? What did that mean? Was he actually in league with the outlaws?
Josephine pulled against his hold, but when his strength proved vastly superior, she stomped on the top of his foot instead. “Let me go,” she demanded, careful to keep her voice low so as not to distract Matthew and the others. She kicked his shin next and swung an ineffectual punch toward his head with the arm not pinned between them.
He easily dodged her blow with a stretch of his neck and ignored her attack on his limbs as if he felt nothing. Thanks to his heavy boots, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.
“On my life, Jo, no harm will come to you.”
His promise only infuriated her more for its complete lack of intelligence. Did he really think he’d have any control once he handed her over to Taggart?
Digging her feet into the sandy soil, she thrust her full weight against him, trying to knock him off his feet. He stumbled a bit but caught himself, his grip on her tightening.
His face hardened. “Stop fighting me, Jo, or I’ll have to do something truly unpleasant.” He lifted Matthew’s gun and pointed it at the very men trying to save him.
Josephine stilled, anger and disbelief leaving her stiff. “Don’t do this, Charlie.” Did he have no honor left at all?
“I don’t want to,” he ground out. “But I have a plan. One that requires your cooperation. If you’ll quit fighting me, I might manage to save the lives of those mercenaries you’re so fond of.” He placed his lips next to her ear. “Trust me.”
Trust him? She didn’t even know who he was anymore.
“Hold your fire,” Matthew called to his men. “They’re showing a white flag.”
“It’s gotta be a trap.” Davenport’s voice.
“Father might not be willing to give up a year’s wages to ransom me,” Charlie said, “but I’d bet my life he’d sacrifice Gringolet itself to save you.”