Page 73 of At Love’s Command

No response answered Burkett’s shout.

While Burkett called Taggart out, Matt signaled Preach to watch the area on the other side of the creek, then turned his own attention to the north ridge.

“Coward. Show yourself!”

There. A flicker of light, like the sun’s reflection off glass. Matt strained to make out details, but the distance was too great. Then a form appeared, like a man straightening from a prone position. Another shape emerged behind him. A horse. One trained to lie down in battle and rise to his feet on command.

Phineas.

Matt’s knees tightened around Percival. His gut urged him to set out in pursuit, to reclaim what was his and bring an outlaw to justice. Percival perked his ears, ready to respond, but Matt forced his muscles to uncoil. He leaned forward and patted Percival’s neck.

“Not this time, boy,” he whispered, “but soon.”

Very soon.

Pursuing now would only forfeit their one advantage—Taggart’s ignorance of the Horsemen’s involvement. If there were more men secreted in the area, Matt could play right into their hands.

The rider on the ridge mounted and, in a blink, disappeared over the far side of the rise. No others surfaced to join him, but it was too late to give chase. Phineas had a quarter-mile lead, widening by the second. Percival’s legs might be younger, but they weren’t fresher. It would be impossible to catch him, especially traveling across country that offered enough hills and trees to conceal the fleeing outlaw’s route.

Of all the outlaws Matt had encountered in the canyon, he could think of only one who might have the skills to command Phineas with such ease: the wrangler who had been the first to the remuda when Preach started the stampede. He’d handled himself well. No panicking or yelling at the frightened animals, stirring them into a greater frenzy. Just calm, controlled movements. If there had been more men like him in the camp, the rescue operation wouldn’t have worked nearly so well. Such a man could have army experience, enough to understand the capabilities of a cavalry mount. He’d probably watched for Burkett’s approach from atop the hill, then dropped both himself and Phineas into the high grass to remain hidden while observing the goings-on below. And now he was on his way to report to Taggart.

But that was a good thing. It would inflate Taggart’s confidence. Let him believe all was transpiring according to his plan. That he was in control.

A motion to Matt’s right drew his attention away from the ridge. Preach was signaling.

“All clear on the creek side, Cap.”

Matt tilted his head toward Burkett and started walking Percival that direction. Preach brought his horse alongside. Both men holstered their pistols but kept their rifles at the ready in their laps.

“There was a man to the north conducting surveillance. Only one, far as I could tell.” The next words tasted of bile as Matt forced them through his tight throat. “Pretty sure he was riding Phin.”

Preach’s gasped No! summed up Matt’s thoughts pretty well. Disbelief. Outrage. They all had scores to settle, but those would have to wait until Josie was out of harm’s way.

Matt ducked to avoid a branch as he steered his horse through the trees to reach Burkett. The older man’s head, as well as the revolver in his hand, swiveled to greet him. Matt raised his hands, but recognition quickly dawned in Burkett’s eyes. He lowered the weapon in his right hand and waved the sheet of paper he clutched in his left.

“She’s not here.”

Brooks and Wallace must have concluded that the back trail was clear, for they, along with Burkett’s hands, emerged from the trees to take up positions on the path.

Burkett slashed the paper through the air and pointed an accusing finger at the scarecrow standing at the edge of the path. A scarecrow dressed in Josie’s coat and hat.

“He’s toying with us,” Burkett ranted. “Playing some kind of shell game.”

A breeze picked up, and the paper snapped in the wind. Matt eyed it. “I take it the exchange is not going to take place here, after all?”

“He drew a map to someplace in Sabinal Canyon, south of Utopia. Exchange is to be made tomorrow afternoon at three.”

No railroad between here and there, so they’d have to take the horses. Which meant they’d arrive with tired stock while Taggart had a supply of fresh mounts.

“How far you reckon Utopia is from here, Preach?” Matt looked at his corporal as he stood in the stirrup and dismounted.

The big man shifted in his saddle. “Fifty miles? Maybe more.”

Matt approached Burkett, who was spitting-mad and couldn’t seem to stop waving the paper in the air. He needed to get Josie’s father focused on working the problem instead of railing at it.

“What kind of distance can your stock cover in a day? Forty miles?” The best cavalry mounts could do fifty to sixty, but these horses weren’t cavalry mounts yet. They were young. Probably untried.

Some of the redness faded from Burkett’s face as he examined the animals around him with a practiced eye. “They’d probably give us forty-five. We’ve bred them in the hills, so they’re used to the terrain, but with the thirty miles they traveled yesterday, I don’t want to push them too hard. If a horse comes up lame, we’re not just down a horse, we’re down a man too.”