Page 56 of At Love’s Command

“Jo!” Charlie called. She heard the fear in his voice. Fear that turned to anger when he called out a second time. “You better make sure nothing happens to her, Taggart. Those mercenaries she hired to free me? They’re not just ordinary hired guns. They’re Hanger’s Horsemen. Harm a hair on her head, and they’ll destroy you.”

Taggart’s step hitched, but he kept walking, dragging her away from Charlie.

Josephine craned her neck around until she could see him. He hobbled alongside his captor, not fighting, but not submitting either. His eyes sought hers.

“Jo, I’m sorry. I didn’t think . . .”

That was the problem. He hadn’t thought. Not about consequences or dangers or how this scheme of his could possibly go wrong. All he’d thought about was himself. And now the man she loved lay shot and abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

Josephine turned her back, no longer able to stomach the sight of her brother.

One step at a time. That was all she could focus on now. One step, one minute at a time. She wrapped her ravaged heart in the gauze of stoicism. She had to stem the emotional bleeding if she was going to survive. Had to keep her mind engaged, her wits sharp.

They approached a barn. Half the roof had caved in, and the rest seemed glued together by nothing more substantial than a series of mud nests that a family of barn swallows had deserted.

“Your brother tells me you’re a doctor.” Taggart drew her to a halt. “That true?”

Josephine lifted her chin. “It is.”

“Good.” He handed her over to a scowling fellow with a mean-looking scar running down his throat. “Your mercenary friends left several of my men injured after that stunt they pulled back in Uvalde. Tending them will keep you occupied while we make arrangements for your ransom. Carver will supervise.”

Keeping her back straight and her head erect as she’d trained herself to do when facing powerful men who belittled her abilities, Josephine met the guard’s cold stare and gave a brief nod. “Mr. Carver.”

Disdain radiated from him. As did a soulless quality that made her insides quail. As much as she wanted to pretend he was just one more in a long line of arrogant men who tried to put her in her place, she knew more than arrogance dwelled beneath his surface. Cruelty lived there. A cruelty she could easily imagine had put more than one man in an early grave.

“Let me know if she causes any trouble, Carver,” Taggart said as he flung her toward the guard. “Any disobedience on her part can be meted out on Burkett. I know how much you’d enjoy teaching the whelp a few much-needed lessons.”

Carver smiled, the expression knotting Josephine’s stomach. “Open season, huh?” He turned that smile on her, and a shiver coursed down her nape. “Just give me an excuse, Doc. Even a little one.”

She forced herself to hold the terrifying man’s gaze. She’d make Matthew proud. Stare into the face of evil and not flinch. “I think not, Mr. Carver.”

As much as she longed to escape and find a way back to Matthew, she wouldn’t take the chance of Charlie being beaten or killed in retaliation. An act this man would obviously take great pleasure in.

Using her haughtiest voice to disguise the trepidation surging inside her, she turned her gaze toward the open barn door and took a single step forward. “Now, I believe there are injured men who need tending. If you’d be so good as to have someone fetch my medical bag from the horses you stole?”

She didn’t wait for an affirmative response. She simply marched into the barn as if she had no doubt her instructions would be obeyed. Carver allowed her arm to slip through his grasp, but he followed close on her heels. So close that he bumped into her hip when she stopped abruptly.

The smell of dried blood and unwashed male bodies stole her breath. Well, at least she’d have plenty of work to distract her from worrying about Matthew. The men eyeing her from strung hammocks, stump stools, and bedrolls might be outlaws, but they were patients too. Patients who required a physician.

“I’m going to need a plentiful supply of hot water,” she said. “And soap.”

Lots and lots of soap.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

Matt winced as a half-buried rock jabbed the arch of his foot, but he didn’t slow his pace. They needed to get back to Chatfield before dark, and to do that, they needed to get to the road and find a local farmer or rancher with a wagon and a hospitable spirit.

God, I don’t know if Wallace is off his rocker with that angel talk or not, but if you do have an angel warrior on loan to us, I’d sure appreciate you reassigning him from protection duty to transportation detail. If we don’t make it to Chatfield before the last train departs, our chances of finding Josie are all but gone.

They had to get to Gringolet Farms before Thaddeus Burkett left. Taggart would have the ransom demand delivered tonight or tomorrow morning. Which meant Matt had to arrive by midday tomorrow to ensure he didn’t miss his window. The banks would be closed on a Saturday, but he couldn’t count on that slowing Burkett down. Josie’s father could easily have his own stash of cash in a safe at his home. Or he could convince the bank owner to conduct an unscheduled transaction, either by emotional appeal or by threatening to take his business elsewhere. If it were his daughter in peril, Matt would do whatever it took to procure her safety. He couldn’t imagine Thaddeus Burkett being any different. Refusing to pay ransom for a wastrel of a son who’d dug his own hole was one thing. Abandoning a faithful daughter was another thing entirely.

“How’re ya holding up, Cap?”

Preach dogged his side like a faithful hound, constantly shooting him sidelong glances as if he expected Matt to keel over at any moment.

“Fine.” Matt didn’t dignify the question with eye contact, just kept trudging forward one step at a time. His side burned like fire and his head ached, but none of that mattered.