Page 30 of At Love’s Command

“I didn’t mind.”

She jerked her chin up. There was no charmer’s smile on his face. Neither was there an abundance of politeness in evidence, as would be the case if someone meant to smooth over a social gaffe. There was only Matthew. The rugged, straightforward captain, with his square jaw and horseshoe mustache, looking at her with an intensity that made her believe cardiac somersaults were anatomically possible.

“Your horse is too spent for us to travel much farther. Cypress Mill is close. We can stay there tonight. I don’t think they have a hotel, but there’s probably someone who’d take in a female boarder. The men and I can bed down at the livery.”

She nodded. Traveling with a group of men wouldn’t do her reputation any favors, but having a chaperoned place to pass the night would ease things. She appreciated his thoughtfulness in taking that into account.

“Tomorrow we can cut across to Austin and catch the train. You can ride with us as far as San Marcos, then take your mount back to Purgatory Springs. I’d prefer to escort you home, but our timetable is too tight for me to take a side trip.”

Josephine frowned. “I’m not going back to Purgatory Springs. I’m going with you.”

Matthew’s face hardened. All chivalry disappeared beneath the absolute authority of a US Cavalry commanding officer. “No. You’re not.”

Had she really just been appreciating his thoughtfulness? Ha! He was a dictator. She straightened her spine and glared at him. “You might order your men about, Captain Hanger, but I am not one of your soldiers. I choose where I go and what I do. My brother is being held hostage. I’m going.”

Matthew grabbed her arm and dragged her close, his voice deadly quiet. “Uvalde is a den of outlaws, Josie. No place for a woman. I couldn’t keep you safe.”

She tossed her head, modulating her tone to match his volume. Neither of them wanted their disagreement overheard. “I’m not hiring you to keep me safe, Captain. I’m hiring you to rescue my brother.”

He made a growling sound in his throat, then released her arm. “Quit calling me Captain.”

She blinked. “What?”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “My military rank obviously holds no sway over you, and even in trousers there’s no way I could ever confuse you for one of my men, so let’s just keep formal titles out of this. Unless you want me to start calling you Doctor at every turn.”

No. The forced formality would itch under her skin. Much like she supposed her sarcastic use of his rank was doing to him now.

“I encouraged the men to take this job because I wanted to help you,” he said. “You, Josie. Not your brother. If you came to Uvalde with us, I’d be little use to my men or to your brother, because I’d constantly be worried about your well-being. If it came down to keeping you safe or rescuing your brother, I’d abandon your brother and my men in a heartbeat.”

He’d abandon his men? For her? Josephine’s pulse accelerated so quickly, she became a little light-headed. His men meant everything to him. She’d seen that truth in how he cared for Mr. Wallace. It reflected in the way they all trusted him, looked up to him. Was it just because she was a woman that he made such a claim? Some chivalrous impulse to save women and children first? Gazing at his earnest face, it felt like more. It felt . . . personal.

“I need to be there, Matthew,” she pleaded. “I want Charlie to know that despite Father’s rejection, his family still supports him. Still cares.” He started to shake his head, and she jumped in with a compromise. “What if I didn’t come to the rescue itself, but simply stayed nearby? Somewhere close enough that I could meet up with you as soon as you get Charlie away?”

His gaze sharpened. “It would have to be outside Uvalde. That place is a viper’s nest.”

She nodded quickly, not wanting to give him the chance to second-guess the offer.

“We plan to disembark at Chatfield in order to do some reconnaissance on the outskirts of Uvalde without anyone being aware of our presence. You can stay there.” He was dictating again, but she didn’t care this time. He was giving her what she wanted. Or close enough to satisfy.

“I’ll wait for you in Chatfield,” she vowed. “Out of harm’s way. You have my word.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. At first he seemed to be ascertaining the reliability of her promise, but then something changed. Softened. Heated. Her heart responded with a thrumming vibration, but he turned away and glanced toward his men. He caught Mr. Davenport’s eye and gave a little sideways jerk of his head. Some kind of signal, apparently. Then he turned back to her, the heat she’d seen in his eyes banked to something far more polite and far less interesting.

“Walk with me?” He extended his arm.

What was he about? Was he trying to distract her? Or did he want to spend time with her away from his men while their horses rested?

Hoping he was motivated more by the latter than the former, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “All right.”

Some of the tension radiating from him eased at her acceptance, and she hid a smile. Could it be that the mighty Matthew Hanger was nervous around women? It was such a departure from the always-in-control cavalry officer that she found the discovery quite delightful. Especially if his reaction had more to do with her specifically than women in general.

That would be a helpful piece of knowledge to obtain. Of course, testing the theory would require surrounding him with other unmarried women to observe his reaction. Her smile dimmed. A passel of beautiful variables flirting with her subject failed to thrill her research-loving soul. Perhaps scientific inquiry was not the proper course of action in this situation. Besides, her method was bound to be flawed. As invested in the outcome as she was, she wouldn’t be an objective observer. She wanted to prove that he had a special interest in her, because she had a special interest in him. One that seemed to grow stronger the more time she spent in his company.

Once they were a fair distance away from the others, Matthew broke the silence. “Tell me about your brother.” He glanced her way, any evidence of nervousness swallowed by pragmatism. “Physical description, personality, how he’s likely to react when we arrive.”

Ordering herself not to be disappointed in his chosen topic of discourse, Josephine turned her mind to Charlie. She was here to secure his rescue, after all, not to secure herself a beau.

“He’s slender in build,” she said, “taller than me, but an inch or two shorter than you, I would say.” She eyed Matthew’s height, only getting a little distracted when her gaze tangled with his on the way back to the ground. Thankful for the trousers and boots that made tromping through tall prairie grass an uncomplicated matter, she lengthened her stride, enjoying the stretch of muscles long confined while riding. “His hair is dark brown and curls a bit around his collar. His face is clean-shaven.” She tried to think of anything that would make him easy to identity, besides the fact that he would most likely be in restraints. “He wears a black hat with a band made of silver conchos. Never goes anywhere without it.” Her pace slowed as a disheartening idea occurred to her. “I suppose they could have stolen it. The silver’s not worth much, but these men seem desperate to wring every last coin from him that they can.” She stopped altogether. “Do you think—” Her voice cracked. “Do you think they’ve beaten him?”