Page 82 of At Love’s Command

The camp cook glanced around the wagon, a Dutch oven dangling from his hand and an unconscious outlaw crumpled at his feet. “Get under the wagon. More are on the way. I’ll go for the kid.”

Matt scrambled on his belly and elbows beneath the chuck wagon, taking a quick glance behind him as he went.

Where was she?

Panic knifed through his gut when he couldn’t spot Josie immediately. Had she made it to the trees? No. She’d only been a little over halfway a moment ago when Wallace intervened. Raising up on his elbows, Matt jutted his head out from under the wagon. He caught a glimpse of her white shirt and flapping green skirt, but before he could exhale in relief, a dark horse swooped in from the north.

The rider leaned sideways in the saddle, grabbed her about the waist, and flung her face-first over his lap.

Josie squealed.

Matt grinned.

Preach had her. Thank God.

He’d given his corporal one job: Get Josie away from the battle and keep her safe. Now that she was in Luke’s care, Matt could concentrate on finding Taggart and taking him down.

The sound of glass shattering brought Matt’s attention back to the house. Crawling to the north end of the wagon to get a less obstructed view of the farmhouse, Matt positioned his rifle and sighted the house. Someone was knocking out window glass with a rifle barrel. A man in black sleeves.

Taggart.

Matt’s jaw tightened. Of course the head outlaw had reserved the most easily defended position for himself. They’d have to drive him out. Find a back way in or set the building on fire.

No easy task with Taggart’s men swarming through the yard. And not all of them would remain on foot. Matt scowled as his gaze swept the area surrounding the barn. Four or five outlaws had captured horses and were in the process of mounting.

Taggart presented the bigger threat long-term, but riders prepared to give pursuit posed an immediate danger. Josie was the mission, Taggart the secondary objective. Matt shifted his aim to the paddock beside the barn.

A movement beside him, however, had him twisting to the side and yanking his revolver from its holster for close-quarters defense.

“Easy, Hanger. I’m bloody enough already.” Charlie raised his palms in surrender, a broken chain dangling from his right wrist. His bottom lip was swollen enough to make his words slur as he halted his lopsided slither under the wagon and waited for Matt to decide his fate.

Matt fought the need to plant his fist on the kid’s chin for what his actions had cost Josie and his men, but looking at the battered mess that was Charlie’s face, he doubted there was an inch of untrounced territory available for him to leave his mark.

“I saw Preach grab Jo.” Charlie didn’t shrink from Matt’s gaze. “Thank you.”

The quiet words softened something inside Matt. Rich with remorse and humility, they were the words of a man ready to admit his wrongs and accept instruction. There might just be an honorable soldier under all that rebellion after all.

Matt turned back to gauge the outlaws’ progress with the horses. A man was shouldering open the gate. In less than a minute, criminals on horseback would be after Josie.

“Your sister’s not out of danger yet.” Matt hesitated for a heartbeat, then flipped the revolver in his hand and extended it grip-first. “Can I trust you not to turn it on me this time?”

“Yes, sir.” Charlie took the weapon in hand, his face hardening with determination as he scooted over to take up position beneath the left side of the chuck wagon. “I won’t be repeating that mistake.”

“Good.” Matt aimed his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The first mounted outlaw grabbed his chest and toppled backward off his horse. “Then let’s protect your sister’s retreat before we lose our advantage.”

“Let me go!” Slung ignominiously on her belly across her captor’s lap, Josephine kicked her legs and arched her back in an effort to escape.

The big man just shoved her head back down, his arm the size of a small tree. “Keep yer head down, Doc. Too much lead flyin’ around here. Matt’ll shoot me himself if one of those bullets finds your pretty hide.”

“Mr. Davenport?” Instead of arching up this time, she simply craned her neck until she could make out the profile of the man whose knees jarred her rib cage.

Luke Davenport crooked a half-grin and winked, though he never took his gaze from the battle around him. “At yer service, ma’am.”

Thank heavens. Josephine relaxed until a new urgency filled her.

Matthew!

She’d seen him for one blessed moment. Vibrant. Strong. Running like a man who hadn’t been laid low by a madman’s bullet.