CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Run, Josie.” Matt mumbled the plea beneath his breath as he trained his rifle on the man who’d been guarding her. When she stumbled away from her brother, hope leapt in his chest. He hadn’t been sure she’d leave Charlie behind, but doing so provided the best chance to get her away unharmed. Seeing her grab a handful of skirt and sprint for the trees ignited Matt’s confidence. “That’s right, darlin’. Run.”
To me.
She fled straight toward his position, as if she heard his heart calling to hers. But before she’d closed half the distance, a shout went up from the camp.
Faster, Josie. Matt tightened his grip on the rifle. Faster.
Jonah was positioned in the branches of a tall oak twenty yards to Matt’s left. Wallace and Preach waited on horseback far enough away to be out of sight but close enough to hear when the gunfire started. They had orders to charge into the fray at the first shot.
Matt’s shot. The one he planned to hold off on as long as possible. He wanted Josie clear of the area before lead started flying.
When the cry of alarm rose, the man pummeling Charlie straightened. His arm dropped to his side and his fist unclenched as he reached for his revolver. He tossed Charlie to the ground and set off after Josie. “Don’t make me shoot you, Doc,” he yelled.
Charlie lunged after him and managed to wrap his arms around the outlaw’s feet. The tangle didn’t last long, however. The outlaw kicked free, knocking Charlie’s head in the process.
The guard raced after Josie, his long stride eating up the small lead she’d gained. Matt judged the remaining distance, and his jaw clenched. She wouldn’t make it. Her guard would overtake her before she reached the trees.
A little farther, he urged silently as the rest of the camp came to life. Movement danced in his periphery. Men getting to their feet. Reaching for weapons. Running to the scene. The instant Matt fired, retribution would explode directly toward his position, trapping Josie in the middle.
He needed to draw the fire away from her. Give them a visible target.
After he took down the most pressing threat.
Matt aimed at the guard’s chest, his vow not to use lethal force nagging on his conscience. Yet he couldn’t afford to miss. Not with Josie’s life at stake. He needed to take the high-percentage shot. Praying that the God who’d sent Israel’s warriors into battle and fought at their side would understand the extenuating circumstances, he squeezed the trigger.
The shot cracked. The guard dropped. Matt roared a battle cry and charged into the fray.
Josie pulled up short at the sight of him, her beautiful eyes going wide. Matt held her gaze for one precious second, then gestured with his left arm for her to sprint for the trees while he turned his attention to eliminating the threats to her escape.
He zagged to the right. Slowed. Raised his rifle and shot. A man howled, clutching his shoulder. Another shot echoed from above. Another outlaw fell, this time to Jonah’s bullet.
Hooves pounded behind Matt. A guttural yell that sounded surprisingly like the bugle call to charge announced Preach and Wallace’s arrival. Matt fought the urge to look behind him, to check on Josie’s progress. Trusting his men to keep her safe, he focused on his job—protecting her back.
The red-bearded Dawson charged out of the house, gun raised. His barrel aimed not at Matt, but someone behind him.
Matt’s blood turned to ice. Josie. His position was vulnerable, out in the open, but that didn’t matter. He dropped to one knee, raised his rifle, and took the shot. Dawson jerked and fell backward against the house wall. He didn’t drop his gun, though. Wincing, the outlaw adjusted his aim. Matt pumped the lever on his repeater to expel the spent cartridge and load another into the chamber. Too long. It was taking too long.
Dawson fired. A horse screamed.
Wallace had ridden straight across the bullet’s path, protecting Josie with his horse and his own body. The gelding reared, its front hooves pawing at the air, but the animal didn’t go down. Thank the Lord. Wallace drew his weapon and shot Dawson in the chest. The gun fell from the outlaw’s hand as his body slid the rest of the way to the ground.
Bullets flew from every direction now. The barn. The house. The copse of trees to the south. As Wallace withdrew in order to prepare for another pass, Matt sprinted for the only cover near enough to do any good—the chuck wagon. Laying cover fire for himself as he ran, Matt pivoted south and alternated shots left and right. The whine of a bullet zinged by his ear. He tucked his rifle into his body and rolled. After more rotations than he could count, his boot collided with a wagon wheel. He quickly swiveled on his hip to get his head safely behind the wagon.
Only when he stopped twisting did he catch a glimpse of the boots on the other side.
He struggled to unfold. To bring his rifle barrel up. A glint of metal appeared around the corner, warning Matt that he was out of time. He flattened his body against the ground to make himself a smaller target, but instead of the gunshot he expected, a dull metallic thud rang in the air.
The camp cook glanced around the wagon, a Dutch oven dangling from his hand and an unconscious outlaw crumpled at his feet. “Get under the wagon. More are on the way. I’ll go for the kid.”
Matt scrambled on his belly and elbows beneath the chuck wagon, taking a quick glance behind him as he went.
Where was she?
Panic knifed through his gut when he couldn’t spot Josie immediately. Had she made it to the trees? No. She’d only been a little over halfway a moment ago when Wallace intervened. Raising up on his elbows, Matt jutted his head out from under the wagon. He caught a glimpse of her white shirt and flapping green skirt, but before he could exhale in relief, a dark horse swooped in from the north.
The rider leaned sideways in the saddle, grabbed her about the waist, and flung her face-first over his lap.
Matt grinned.
Preach had her. Thank God.
He’d given his corporal one job: Get Josie away from the battle and keep her safe. Now that she was in Luke’s care, Matt could concentrate on finding Taggart and taking him down.
The sound of glass shattering brought Matt’s attention back to the house. Crawling to the north end of the wagon to get a less obstructed view of the farmhouse, Matt positioned his rifle and sighted the house. Someone was knocking out window glass with a rifle barrel. A man in black sleeves.
Taggart.
Matt’s jaw tightened. Of course the head outlaw had reserved the most easily defended position for himself. They’d have to drive him out. Find a back way in or set the building on fire.
No easy task with Taggart’s men swarming through the yard. And not all of them would remain on foot. Matt scowled as his gaze swept the area surrounding the barn. Four or five outlaws had captured horses and were in the process of mounting.
Taggart presented the bigger threat long-term, but riders prepared to give pursuit posed an immediate danger. Josie was the mission, Taggart the secondary objective. Matt shifted his aim to the paddock beside the barn.
A movement beside him, however, had him twisting to the side and yanking his revolver from its holster for close-quarters defense.
“Easy, Hanger. I’m bloody enough already.” Charlie raised his palms in surrender, a broken chain dangling from his right wrist. His bottom lip was swollen enough to make his words slur as he halted his lopsided slither under the wagon and waited for Matt to decide his fate.
Matt fought the need to plant his fist on the kid’s chin for what his actions had cost Josie and his men, but looking at the battered mess that was Charlie’s face, he doubted there was an inch of untrounced territory available for him to leave his mark.
“I saw Preach grab Jo.” Charlie didn’t shrink from Matt’s gaze. “Thank you.”
The quiet words softened something inside Matt. Rich with remorse and humility, they were the words of a man ready to admit his wrongs and accept instruction. There might just be an honorable soldier under all that rebellion after all.
Matt turned back to gauge the outlaws’ progress with the horses. A man was shouldering open the gate. In less than a minute, criminals on horseback would be after Josie.
“Your sister’s not out of danger yet.” Matt hesitated for a heartbeat, then flipped the revolver in his hand and extended it grip-first. “Can I trust you not to turn it on me this time?”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie took the weapon in hand, his face hardening with determination as he scooted over to take up position beneath the left side of the chuck wagon. “I won’t be repeating that mistake.”
“Good.” Matt aimed his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The first mounted outlaw grabbed his chest and toppled backward off his horse. “Then let’s protect your sister’s retreat before we lose our advantage.”
“Let me go!” Slung ignominiously on her belly across her captor’s lap, Josephine kicked her legs and arched her back in an effort to escape.
The big man just shoved her head back down, his arm the size of a small tree. “Keep yer head down, Doc. Too much lead flyin’ around here. Matt’ll shoot me himself if one of those bullets finds your pretty hide.”
“Mr. Davenport?” Instead of arching up this time, she simply craned her neck until she could make out the profile of the man whose knees jarred her rib cage.
Luke Davenport crooked a half-grin and winked, though he never took his gaze from the battle around him. “At yer service, ma’am.”
Thank heavens. Josephine relaxed until a new urgency filled her.
Matthew!
She’d seen him for one blessed moment. Vibrant. Strong. Running like a man who hadn’t been laid low by a madman’s bullet.
Yet. But now there were a dozen madmen taking aim at him.
She twisted her head to look behind her, the scene a chaotic blur as the horse’s gait jostled her up and down.
She caught sight of Charlie first. Arnold, the cook, gripped him beneath his arms and dragged him backward toward the chuck wagon, where a man clad in a blue cavalry vest was crawling on his elbows to find cover beneath the wagon bed.
Her heart settled at the sight. Matthew was still alive. For the moment.
Keep him safe, Lord. You preserved his life against Taggart’s bullet before. Please protect him again.
Josephine wanted to do more than pray for the man she loved. She wanted to help. But she was a healer, not a warrior. This situation was beyond her control. Beyond her abilities. Her eyes slid closed as she surrendered to the truth. She couldn’t fix this. Couldn’t shield the ones she loved. Only God could do that.
Yet she must remain vigilant. Her eyes sprang open as certainty blossomed in her soul. This moment might call for being still, but a moment was coming soon when she’d be called to take action. She needed to watch. And listen.
The sounds of gunfire grew muffled as the trees thickened. Finally, Preach drew his horse to a halt. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lowered her to the ground.
“Get on Matt’s horse,” he said, his chin flicking toward a fine dark bay.
One who carried the Gringolet brand. One whose birth she’d witnessed.
“Percival.”
The horse nudged her shoulder as she neared, bringing a smile to her face. She stroked his neck, a sense of rightness settling over her.
Matthew had selected Percy. Out of all her father’s stock, he’d selected the one closest to her heart. The one she’d been tempted to claim as her own when she left to start her practice in Purgatory Springs. In fact, when she’d offered Matthew her pick of Gringolet mounts in exchange for rescuing Charlie, this was the horse she’d imagined him choosing. Somehow, seeing Percival here, now, brought a comfort she hadn’t expected. She leaned her face against Percy’s neck, closed her eyes, and felt Matthew’s presence.
Preach turned his mount to face the battle and drew his revolver. “Mount up, Doc, and be ready to ride. If any of Taggart’s men break through our line, my orders are to get you to your father pronto.”
He expected her to flee? Not a chance. She was a doctor on a battlefield. Her place was here, tending the wounded. Especially the wounded she cared about. What if Matthew or Charlie took a bullet? That was what she needed to be ready for. Not saving her own skin.
Josephine fit her left foot to the stirrup and swung into the saddle, not caring that her skirt hiked up to expose her ankles and shins. “If we need to retreat temporarily, I’ll follow your lead, but I’m not abandoning Matthew and the others.” She set her jaw. “I’m a doctor. My place is with the wounded. Whoever they may be.”
Preach shot a glare over his shoulder. “You’re Matt’s woman. Your place is wherever he says it is. And he said it’s with me until I deliver you to your father.”
Josephine bristled. “I am no man’s possession, Luke Davenport. I will defer to your greater knowledge of warfare and do nothing to endanger Matthew or the other Horsemen, but neither will I shirk a fight that is as much mine as it is yours.”
She could have sworn she saw his eyes light with respect before his heavy brows slashed down in a frown. “You’re the mission, lady. And a cavalryman never compromises his mission. Your feelings are irrelevant. If I have to snatch you off that horse and carry you across my lap to gain your cooperation, that’s what I’ll do. Got it?”
Josephine gave a stiff nod. “I understand.”
But comprehension and compliance were two different things, and she intended to keep her options open.