Page 33 of At Love’s Command

“I promise not to tell anyone,” he whispered.

Her attention slid to his mouth, and the kissing side of the tug-of-war inside him gained momentum. He lowered his head an inch.

“Hey, Captain!” Preach’s voice boomed from somewhere behind them.

Matt jerked his head up even as Josie stepped away and started brushing at the edge of her jacket. A growl built in his throat. His corporal was going to get an earful later tonight.

“What?” he shouted at the man who stood a fair distance away, carefully turning his attention to the east so as not to look directly at the couple whose position had been rather cozier than dictated by the client-Horseman relationship.

“Gettin’ late. If we’re gonna make Cypress Mill before nightfall, we gotta get a move on. Horses are rested, and provisions are packed.”

Matt let out a sigh. He couldn’t blame Preach for being practical. “Very well, Corporal. We’ll be right there.”

But when he turned to offer Josie his arm, she skittered past him and hurried back toward the other Horsemen without a single backward glance.

He guessed she’d be hangin’ on to those secrets of hers a while longer.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

The clickety-clack of the train rocking along the rails should have lulled Josephine into a doze, but she was too busy trying to eavesdrop on the conversation happening behind her to allow her weariness to have its way. Matthew had been sitting in the backward-facing seat in front of her, but he’d abandoned her company an hour ago to talk in hushed tones with his men.

She hated not being privy to their discussion. She wanted to know their plans, their strategy for extricating Charlie. Yet they probably wouldn’t speak freely in front of her. Her father never had.

As a girl, whenever she happened to enter the stables while he was discussing business with one of his army buyers, he’d interrupt himself mid-sentence in order to avoid tainting her delicate female ears with talk of breeding or financial concerns. He always greeted her warmly and made time for whatever questions she had, but then he’d send her on her way, taking care not to resume his business dealings until she was out of earshot.

Which was probably why, on such occasions, she made a beeline for his study. If her father didn’t think it proper to teach a girl about horse breeding and economics, she’d simply teach herself. Books didn’t care if she wore skirts instead of trousers. Their knowledge belonged to anyone with the courage to open their covers. And she had courage in spades. The size of the tome and the length of the words didn’t dissuade her. She pursued them all, though the treatises on commerce quickly grew tedious. The books on animal husbandry, however, fascinated her and beckoned her back again and again.

God’s creation was a marvelous machine, each cog and gear accomplishing a unique purpose within its own sphere that then affected the health and function of the overall animal. Those early forays into her father’s study had lit a fire within her to understand the workings not only of four-legged creatures, but two-legged ones as well.

She had been fighting against male notions of what the female brain could handle ever since.

To be fair to Matthew and the other Horsemen, her exclusion from their conversation was most likely not based on gender. Matthew was too practical not to take the shortest distance between two conversational points. And he seemed to appreciate her general intelligence. No, her lack of military training was her disqualification. A fair omission, since she’d never engaged in a rescue mission. They had no reason to include her. Just as she would have no reason to include any of them in a discussion on the proper course of medical treatment for an incapacitated patient.

Still . . . being left out rubbed with all the discomfort of a cat being petted against the grain.

But enough of this moping. She’d hired Matthew and his men because she believed them capable. Time to trust them to do their jobs and quit trying to listen in on their plans. Craving knowledge might be her greatest strength as a doctor, but it was her greatest weakness when it came to matters of faith. Faith in people and faith in God. Knowledge inspired confidence. A lack of knowledge left her feeling powerless and afraid. And weak. As someone who thrived on being in control, weakness was hard to stomach. As was relying on someone else to solve her problems. Yet she had no choice in this case. She didn’t have the expertise or skill to rescue Charlie on her own, so she had to rely on those who did. And not just the Horsemen.

Her eyes slid closed. Grant them success, Lord. Shape their plans with your potter’s hands. You know all. See all. Therefore, your power is infinite. Cover Matthew and his men with your protection. Guide their steps. And please . . . take care of Charlie. He’s made myriad mistakes, but you are a God of mercy as well as justice. Let mercy reign.

A yawn overtook her as she prayed. She opened her eyes and gave her head a little shake. Two full days in the saddle were taking their toll. She might still possess the skill to ride like a cavalryman, but that didn’t mean her muscles were accustomed to such lengthy outings. Her thighs, back, and abdominal muscles were protesting—loudly—about their gross overuse. She hadn’t just pushed her rented horse to the limit, traveling nearly eighty miles in two days. She’d pushed herself to the limit too. She was exhausted, worried, and as sore as she ever remembered being. The worry made it impossible to treat her exhaustion, but perhaps she could address her aching muscles.

Josephine pushed to her feet and stepped into the aisle, reaching overhead to grip the luggage rack for balance as the railcar swayed. A dull throb permeated her legs when she straightened, causing her to bite back a moan. The best prescription for sore muscles was stretching and gentle exercise. A walk down the aisle should ease the stiffness, if not the ache.

And if it happened to take her past the Horsemen, well, that was just a bonus.

The dapper older gentleman seated across the aisle dipped his head politely as she turned down the walkway, though his gaze raked over her with unconcealed disapproval. Probably her mismatched outfit and lack of a proper bonnet. At least she’d remembered to pack a skirt so she wasn’t traipsing through the railcar in her trousers. That would have really raised his brows. A smile tugged at her mouth at the thought. Her dark green skirt might be wrinkled and the color completely unsuitable for the blue jacket that still smelled of horse, but her white shirtwaist was clean. Acting as if she wore the latest Paris fashion, she held her head high and nodded to him in return as she strolled by.

Putting the stodgy fellow out of her mind, Josephine turned her attention to the left, where the low voices of the Horsemen rumbled. They sat two to a seat, facing each other, their heads close together as they plotted and schemed. Mr. Wallace caught sight of her first. He straightened and smiled, and immediately the rumbling ceased as the other three sat up and nodded to her. Matthew twisted in his seat, his gaze finding hers.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m just stretching my legs.”

His gaze traveled over her, not a hint of disapproval evident on his rugged face, just concern and sympathy. This was a man who had trained new recruits. Any efforts to hide her fatigue and soreness were pointless, but her pride insisted she try.

He rose to his feet, his voice softening to a timbre that would travel only to her ears. “I’m sorry we had to push you so hard yesterday.”