Page 70 of At Love’s Command

CHAPTER

THIRTY

By the time Wallace and Brooks made it to Gringolet via the main road, the Spafford boys had four new mounts saddled and ready to ride. Matt met his men by the paddock and sent them inside to collect rifles and ammunition. Then, while Preach caught them up on what had transpired with Burkett, Matt took a few minutes alone with the horses to steady his mind.

The instant he’d walked down those back porch steps and seen the four mounts standing at the ready, he’d known which horse he’d select. The dark bay he’d spotted from atop the hill. The one who’d run with such abandon. Proud. Strong. A big heart. There’d be no quit in that one.

Matt approached the gelding slowly, his hand extended, admiring how the sun caught the horse’s coat, bringing out the deep gold tones nearly hidden within the blackish-brown hair. The bay tossed his head as Matt neared, yet true to his training, he held his ground. His nostrils flared, but Matt gave him time to grow accustomed to his scent while the two took stock of each other.

As if Matt had passed some equine test, the bay lowered his head and snuffled at his hand. Matt stepped closer and patted the gelding’s neck.

“Good boy,” he murmured softly, the moment feeling almost sacred. Just him and the horse. Everything else faded away. His surroundings. His stress. Even the strategies knocking around in his brain stilled. All that existed was the horse. Heads close together. Breathing meshing into a common rhythm. Man and horse. Horse and man.

Matt’s eyes slid closed. He hadn’t experienced a near-instant connection with a horse like this since Phineas. That bond had led to a decade of unparalleled partnership. He’d never expected to find that level of connection a second time, but his gut told him he had today.

“You have an eye for quality, I’ll give you that much.” Burkett’s voice opened Matt’s eyes, though he didn’t turn. The older man’s footfalls were softer than he’d expect from someone who’d wanted to plant his fist in Matt’s face a short time ago.

Matt made no reply to Burkett’s reluctant praise, just ran his hand over the horse’s withers and down his shoulder. He bent to examine leg and hoof. Healthy. Well-defined muscles. Sleek, but not bulky. Bred for speed as much as strength.

“What’s his name?”

The footfalls stopped. “Percival.”

Matt smiled to himself. “A holy knight. Fitting.”

“Percy’s dam is one of my best mares. I paid a pretty penny to breed her with a stud carrying Thoroughbred blood. Turned out to be worth the expense. Percy’s the best animal on the farm. I tried to buy that stud for myself, but the fella wouldn’t sell. Knew I’d keep coming back for more. Which I did. The last colt he sired on one of my mares has lines nearly as good as Percy’s. Didn’t geld that one. I’m gonna use him as a stud of my own.” Burkett’s tone changed. “If I don’t have to sell him.”

Having a stud that could produce colts with Percival’s lines would secure demand for Gringolet stock for decades to come.

Matt finally looked at Josie’s father. “I’d hang on to that stud, if I were you. Mares are easier to replace.” His eyes roamed back to Percival. “Producing stock with these lines will keep the army hungry for your quality even if you can’t supply the desired quantity during the lean years.”

“Hmm.”

Matt wasn’t sure what to make of that response. Burkett just stared at him as if searching for an answer to a question only he was privy to. Matt shrugged it off. He had more important puzzles to ponder.

“Where is the rendezvous point for delivering the ransom?” Matt asked as he stroked Percival’s neck.

“San Geronimo Creek. Outside the town of Gallagher’s Ranch.”

Matt raised a brow. “The Ranch is deserted, isn’t it?”

“Nearly.” Burkett strolled over to one of the other mounts reserved for the Horsemen and fiddled with the tack. “I think there’s still a store and a post office, but it’s abandoned otherwise.”

“Away from the rail lines. No law handy. Close enough for you to deliver the money even if you couldn’t get to the bank until Monday morning.”

“Taggart threatened to hurt Jo if he got the slightest whiff of a lawman.” Burkett scowled. “Told me to deliver the ransom alone too. Which I will, but not before I scout out places to hide my men nearby. It’s why I’m so anxious to get a move on. I need time to get everyone into position.”

Matt sought the older man’s gaze. “That’d be a good strategy if I hadn’t employed the same tactic when retrieving Charlie. Taggart will be expecting a move like that.”

Burkett grabbed the hat from his head and beat it against his thigh, startling the horse beside him. “What else can I do?” He rammed the hat back on his head, then took hold of the black’s reins, easily getting the animal back under control with a calm hand to his nose and a steady exhalation that forced his own shoulders to relax.

Once the horse settled, Burkett stepped away and leaned against the paddock fence. “If I go in there alone, Taggart will kill me, take the money, and likely kill Jo to ensure she can’t bring charges against him. Charlie too. Being his puppet is not an option.”

“Agreed.” Matt worked his way around to Percival’s right side so he could eye Burkett over the horse’s back. “We’ll scout the area and get protection in place like you planned, but I have a feeling Taggart will keep Jo tightly guarded until the scheduled exchange. There’ll be no opening for an early rescue. Not that I won’t look for one anyway, but Taggart will be on his guard, so I don’t expect to find one. The one advantage we have is that he doesn’t expect the Horsemen to be there. Especially me.”

Burkett tipped his head toward the house, where the other Horsemen were exiting with rifles, pistols, and ammunition belts draping them from shoulder to hip. “You sure we shouldn’t leave the gimpy one here? Might be a liability with that bum arm.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Wallace is worth more in a gunfight with one arm than most men are with two. He’s coming.”