Page 61 of Heart on the Line

“I tried to follow their conversation but only caught snatches of it here and there. She said something about her mother passing, which made sense because she was dressed in black. Probably traveling for the funeral.” Lee turned his head, and his gaze sharpened as he met Helen’s eyes. “Which means she wouldn’t have been on your friend’s list. If they were picking out homes with single women, they wouldn’t choose an elderly couple.”

Helen winced. “And if Lockhart had already made inroads with this woman on the train . . .”

“She would make the easiest mark,” Lee finished. “He’ll go to her.”

Helen handed Lee the glass of water and draped the damp cloth over the end of the bed frame. “But where is she? Do you know her name?”

Lee chugged about half the water, then set the glass on the floor, the lines around his mouth tightening at the movement. Once upright again, he glanced at the ceiling. “The beginning of her name had something to do with feelings. Mad . . . Glad . . . Sad . . .”

“Madison? Gladney? Sadler?” Helen rattled off the first names that came to mind, but Lee shook his head and frowned.

“No.” He heaved a sigh and stroked his mustache in a slow movement that tugged his cheek downward. “I need to see your friend’s list. I’d probably recognize it if I saw it.”

Helen gave a sharp nod. “I’ll head to the farm and get the buckboard.” She glanced through the open doorway. The afternoon sun already dipped lower in the sky than she would like. The sooner she got Lee to town, the sooner they could help find Grace. “Betty should have some overalls or trousers from her late husband that you can wear. I’ll grab the first thing I see and be back in less than an hour.” She shot him a pointed look. “In the meantime, get as much rest as you can. If we’re going to find Grace, we need your mind sharp, not dull from exhaustion. Understood?”

He nodded. Helen turned to leave, but when his hand grabbed hers, she paused.

Twisting to face him, she tried to concentrate on the matter at hand and not on the distracting warmth of his fingers surrounding hers. “Yes?”

“Seymour.” His green eyes bored into hers. “The woman disembarked in Wichita Falls like we did, but stayed at the depot. Lockhart waited with her, seeing to her luggage and whatnot. If she wasn’t continuing on to Fort Worth on the original train, she had to have been taking the spur to Seymour. It was the only other option.”

Helen squeezed Lee’s hand, trying to offer a generous portion of the one thing she usually kept in very scant supply—hope. “We’ll find her.”

He squeezed her hand in return. “I pray you’re right.”

30

That’s the last one on the list.” Malachi Shaw sighed heavily, then glared at the rapidly darkening sky.

They had just finishing questioning Mr. Bedford, father of two grown daughters—one of whom was betrothed to a ranch hand from the Rocking T over in Knox County, and one who was so painfully shy that she never once looked the marshal in the eye. She’d glanced briefly at Amos when he asked her a direct question about Lockhart, but even then, she stammered her answer and blushed furiously. Not exactly a woman who could be counted on to keep secrets. However, they’d searched the premises anyway. The house, the cellar, the barn. And came up empty. Again.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Bledsoe, but we’ve got to head back. We’ll be pushing it as it is to get back before full dark hits.”

Amos shook his head. “I can’t go back. Not without Grace.”

The marshal folded his hands over his pommel. “And I can’t leave my wife unprotected.”

“I know.” Amos met his gaze. “I’m not asking you to.”

Shaw’s saddle creaked as he shifted his weight. “Look, Amos, I know what it feels like to have the woman you care about taken from you. I lived with that terror for hours piled upon hours when Angus got his hands on Emma last summer. It nearly drove me mad. You’re desperate to do something, anything, to ensure her safe return, I get it, but you’re a greenhorn out here. You don’t know the land. Probably passable at best with a pistol, and your opponent is a stone-cold gunman. He might have reason to keep Grace alive for her information, but there’s nothing to keep him from shooting you on sight.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t see me.” Amos set his shoulders, pretending he wasn’t already saddlesore and exactly as green as the marshal portrayed him. His inexperience didn’t matter. Grace mattered. And the longer they debated his retreat, the longer she remained in Lockhart’s hands.

“Porter might have already found her,” Shaw said, though they both knew it was a long shot at best. “Miss Mallory could be waiting for you in Harper’s Station even now.”

“If so, have her telegraph the depot in Seymour. I’ll check a few more houses in the area with what little light is left, then head to town. I’ll stop by the railroad’s telegraph office, touch base with the sheriff to see if he has any news to report, then find a room for the night and start fresh at dawn.”

Shaw raised a brow at him. “Folks aren’t going to let you search their property without my badge to gain you access.”

Amos shrugged. “Maybe not, but I can still ask questions. Still observe whatever is in the open. If nothing else, I can keep an eye out for Lockhart’s horse.”

“An animal with no distinguishing markings.” The marshal sighed, his frustration palpable, surpassed only by Amos’s own. “Lockhart must have chosen it for its very lack of memorable qualities. A chestnut quarter horse with no socks, no blaze, no fancy tooling on the saddle, nothing to make it stand out from any of a hundred others.”

Amos jutted his chin forward. He refused to be discouraged. He couldn’t afford the luxury. “The man’s clever, but he’s not perfect. One of us will find him. And Grace. I have to believe that. And I have to keep pressing on in the meantime.” He nudged his mount a few steps closer to the marshal. “Go home to your wife, Shaw. Keep her safe. That’s your job. Mine is to find Grace, whatever it takes.”

The marshal nodded and handed over the list they’d been working from. “Seymour’s only about two miles away.” He jerked his head toward the southwest. “If you spot something suspicious, don’t go in on your own. Fetch Sheriff Tabor. He and his deputies have the authority and the experience to handle Lockhart.”

Amos agreed without hesitation. He might be resolute about finding Grace, but he was no fool. Getting himself killed wouldn’t set her free, it would only remove another obstacle from Lockhart’s path. His opponent had captured the queen, but if Amos played a stealthy game, he just might get a pawn far enough across the board to get her back.