Page 53 of At Love’s Command

Matt watched as all the outlaw weapons shifted to target Josie. A vise squeezed his chest. He and the Horsemen could take out four before the enemy got off a shot, but not even Jonah could get a second shot off fast enough to stop a bullet already on its way from a fifth or sixth gun.

“This is how it’s gonna work.” Taggart leaned forward in his saddle, his gaze locking again on Matt. “You and your men are gonna leave your weapons in the dirt, then stand up with your hands above your head. My men will tie you up and take your horses, but you’ll keep your lives and ensure the little lady over there keeps hers.”

Matt itched to shut the man up with a bullet. End the threat once and for all. But Taggart hadn’t drawn his gun. Justifications flooded Matt’s mind for why that shouldn’t matter. Taggart was evil, and evil needed to be destroyed whether it wielded its own weapon or the weapons of others. Yet Matt’s honor ran too deep to allow him to shoot a man—any man—in cold blood.

Not only that, but offensive action on his part would endanger Josie. The instant he pulled the trigger, the shot would set off a cascade of return fire. All aimed at the woman he loved. He couldn’t take that risk.

Taggart held all the cards, and he knew it.

So Matt did the only thing he could to guarantee Josie’s survival. He laid down his rifle, then pulled his second pistol from its holster and tossed it into the dirt as well. Head high, he stood and stretched his arms toward the sky.

As he pushed to his feet, the disbelief of his men weighted the air like the humidity before a storm, seeping into his skin in sticky disapproval. He felt their anger. Their confusion. Their disappointment in him. A cavalryman never surrendered without a fight. Ever.

Then again, cavalry officers were sworn to protect the frontier and the civilians in their care, even at the cost of their own lives. That vow included sacrificing their pride. Matt clenched his jaw. His men might disagree with his decision, might even judge him weak, but he wouldn’t apologize. Nor would he change his mind.

“Wise choice, Captain.”

One by one, his men followed his example. First Wallace. Then Jonah. Preach held off the longest, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot in frustration before finally releasing his rifle and dropping his two pistols to the ground. Even then, he hesitated getting to his feet. For a moment, Matt feared he would try something crazy. Grab up his revolvers, maybe, and go on a one-man rampage in an effort to catch the outlaws by surprise. But after crouching on his hands and knees for a long moment, he let out a sigh and stood, his glare hot enough to melt iron as he aimed his defiance at the three outlaws striding toward them.

With Matt’s men unarmed, Taggart’s gang shifted their sights onto the Horsemen and away from Josie, allowing Matt to draw a full breath for the first time in several minutes. He toyed with the idea of waiting for the outlaws to get within reach, then signaling his men to take them on hand to hand. He felt the coiled energy in his officers. They were ready to strike. To fight for their freedom. For Josie’s.

Then he remembered Wallace’s injury. The kid was scrappy, but Taggart’s men were a rough crew who looked like they thrived on brawling. Down an arm, Wallace wouldn’t stand a chance. Preach could compensate. He was a beast with his fists. Matt sized up the men heading their way. Two were burly, tall and broad through the shoulders. The third strutted with a confidence born from experience. Not one to underestimate.

Still, there were only three. If they struck hard and fast and kept the outlaws between them and the guns pointed their way, it just might—

“Oh, Captain?”

Matt turned his attention back to Taggart. The outlaw had dismounted and was waving Charlie toward him. Fire raged through Matt’s blood as Charlie forced his sister toward the monster in black. Josephine fought against her brother’s hold, resisting him like an anchor dragging along the sea floor, but her efforts were futile.

Taggart grabbed Josie and yanked her up against him. “No heroics, Captain. Agreed?” He drew a wicked-looking knife and pointed the tip against Josie’s neck.

She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

“I’d prefer not to kill her,” Taggart said as he lifted his blade and repositioned it at Josie’s temple. “But carving her up might be fun. Daddy would still pay the ransom, and I’d get to leave my mark.” He shifted his gaze from Josie back to Matt. “I’d like that. Knowing that every time you looked at her, you thought of me.”

Bile rose in Matt’s throat. His hands had balled into fists the moment Taggart touched her, but they remained paralyzed. Taggart wasn’t bluffing. Matt could read the sick delight in his voice and in his movements. He’d enjoy slicing into Josie’s fair skin, making her bleed. Torturing not only her but Matt as well.

Taggart might cut her no matter what Matt and the Horsemen did, but if there was a chance Matt could spare her that pain by yielding to Taggart’s will, then yield he would.

“I won’t resist.” Matt forced his fists to unclench. “You have my word. As long as no harm comes to her.”

Taggart grinned. “Such gallantry. I knew I could count on you to see the wisdom in compliance.” He drew the blade away from Josie’s face but kept it positioned beneath her chin, probably to keep her in line as much as Matt.

She was no quivering damsel. She was a hawk—regal even with her wings temporarily clipped. Never had he been more proud of her. And never had he been more determined to make her proud in return.

Josie was going to be out of his reach and under the control of a man driven by greed and retribution. Helplessness clawed at his insides, but he refused to give in to it. He couldn’t fight what was out of reach. Couldn’t control what was out of his hands. So he’d focus on what he could control: his mind.

As Taggart’s man stripped him of his knives, his boots, and his dignity by slamming a fist into Matt’s gut and doubling him over, Matt ran escape scenarios. Piling up possibilities. Discarding weaknesses. He flexed his wrists and ankles when they tied him up, creating just a touch of space he could exploit later when he relaxed. He estimated travel speeds based on weary horses. Theorized likely destinations for the gang to rendezvous. Calculated how long it would take to get a message to Thaddeus Burkett, the likelihood Josie’s father would seek verification before acting, how many men he might bring with him, where the Horsemen could intercept.

Yet when the weapons were carted off and the horses gathered, when the outlaws were mounted and the Horsemen sat barefoot and bound in the dirt of the creek bed, all thoughts ceased in Matt’s mind, save one.

He lifted his gaze to Josephine, who sat mounted in front of Taggart. Chin high. Back straight. Her eyes found his, and for a blessed moment, the connection between them was so strong, he swore he could feel her inside him.

“I’ll find you.” The vow vibrated from the depths of his soul.

She smiled in answer. “I know.”

“I don’t think so,” Taggart announced. He drew his revolver with lightning speed and fired.