Page 52 of At Love’s Command

Digging her feet into the sandy soil, she thrust her full weight against him, trying to knock him off his feet. He stumbled a bit but caught himself, his grip on her tightening.

His face hardened. “Stop fighting me, Jo, or I’ll have to do something truly unpleasant.” He lifted Matthew’s gun and pointed it at the very men trying to save him.

Josephine stilled, anger and disbelief leaving her stiff. “Don’t do this, Charlie.” Did he have no honor left at all?

“I don’t want to,” he ground out. “But I have a plan. One that requires your cooperation. If you’ll quit fighting me, I might manage to save the lives of those mercenaries you’re so fond of.” He placed his lips next to her ear. “Trust me.”

Trust him? She didn’t even know who he was anymore.

“Hold your fire,” Matthew called to his men. “They’re showing a white flag.”

“It’s gotta be a trap.” Davenport’s voice.

“Father might not be willing to give up a year’s wages to ransom me,” Charlie said, “but I’d bet my life he’d sacrifice Gringolet itself to save you.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

Battle lust always surged through Matt when an enemy approached. The need to conquer. To defend. To accomplish his objective. But the war storm raging through him as the outlaw gang drew nearer carried more intensity than anything he’d experienced before. Not because he and his men were outnumbered. Not because they were trapped on low ground. No, he could attribute the painful pounding of blood through his veins to only one cause—Josephine. The need to protect her, to ensure her survival. Never had he been tempted to open fire beneath a white flag of truce, but as he aimed his rifle at the black-clad outlaw at the front of the pack, the desire to eliminate the threat without regard for military protocol and human decency proved hard to deny.

Taggart reined in his horse twenty yards from the creek bed, his gaze diverting to something behind Matt before settling on the prone riflemen ready to fire upon him. The six riders accompanying him spread three to his left and three to his right. Each had a weapon trained on the creek bed, including the man holding the truce flag—a stick with a white handkerchief knotted around the end. Dawson held the flag in his left hand and a revolver in his right.

“I’m not here to attack you, Captain,” Taggart called, his arrogance rubbing Matt’s hide raw. “I’m here to negotiate.”

“Save your breath.” Matt didn’t lift his head from his rifle sight. If bullets were going to start flying, he intended his to hit their targets first. “Charlie’s not going anywhere.”

“I beg to differ.” Taggart grinned, and the sight triggered an alarm in Matt’s gut. The outlaw leader lifted his gaze to whatever had captured his attention when he first arrived. “You got the insurance, Burkett?”

Matt’s head whipped around, and his heart turned to stone. Josephine in Charlie’s grip. Being carted toward the outlaws. In the blink of an eye, he pulled up onto his knees and swung his rifle around to draw a bead on the traitor in their midst.

“Now, now, Captain. That’s not how negotiations work.” Taggart’s voice buzzed in his ear like an annoying fly, trying to distract him from what really mattered—Josie.

Matt didn’t care a hoot about the gun pointed at his chest. He doubted Charlie had the guts to pull the trigger. What he cared about was Josie being completely exposed in front of the outlaws.

“I can drop him, boss,” Jonah murmured in a soft, calm voice.

Preach and Wallace kept their guns trained on the outlaws, but Jonah had the better angle for taking down Charlie.

The kid must have sensed the danger, for he yanked his sister more fully in front of him. Jonah could still take him down without touching Josie, of that Matt had no doubt, but if her brother died at Matt’s command—she’d never forgive him.

“Stand down, Sergeant.”

Matt caught Jonah’s movement from the corner of his eye as the sharpshooter turned his attention to more acceptable targets. Matt shifted his focus too. From Charlie to Josephine. Her gaze spilled apologies into the air between them even as her mouth pulled tight in anger when Charlie continued dragging her away.

“Don’t do this, Charlie,” Matt urged in a voice not loud enough to carry to the outlaws. “You’re a fool if you think you can keep her safe once you turn her over to Taggart. If something goes wrong, you’re one against seven. One against twelve once you’re back with the full gang.”

“Shut up, Hanger.” Charlie glared at Matt, his gun hand shaking slightly. Then he lifted his head and defiantly called out to Taggart. “Send a man for the horses!”

Saddle leather creaked.

“Captain?” Preach was waiting for orders, but Matt didn’t have any. Open fire, and Josie could be hit. Do nothing, and the outlaws would take her. And their horses. Even if they shot to kill, they’d be hard-pressed to take out all seven without at least one shooting Josie in the process.

Suddenly a shot fired. From his side of the creek bed. Matt spun around as Jonah levered a replacement cartridge into the chamber of his repeater. “Take another step toward them horses, and the next one goes through your heart.”

The outlaws’ mounts pranced uneasily at the gunfire, and all the men tightened their hold on their weapons, but miraculously, no return fire came.

“Better watch where yer shooting.” Taggart’s face hardened. His smooth cockiness disappeared beneath icy disdain. “I’ll let one go unanswered, but you try me again, and the woman’s dead.”