Page 50 of At Love’s Command

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.