Page 22 of The Heart’s Charge

Jonah faced him. Met his gaze. The kid’s eyes pleaded, as if he knew Jonah had seen the other boy. He probably wasn’t supposed to have friends around while he was working. Jonah saw no reason to tattle.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I don’t cotton much to fancy hotels anyhow. Prefer mindin’ my own business and lettin’ other folks mind theirs.”

Wart’s posture sagged in relief. “I know whatcha mean.” A smile stretched across his freckled face. “See ya tomorrow.”

Jonah tapped his hat brim, then lengthened his stride to catch up to Wallace. The railroad depot was placed prominently in the center of town, surrounded by pens for livestock. Cattle and hogs, mostly. A two-story school building stood proudly nearby, an impressive building for such a small town. But with darkness setting in, a fellow need only follow the noise to find the saloons.

Wallace led them to the larger of the two and strode up to the bar while Jonah took his customary place in the shadows near the door. Some places tolerated his kind, but few offered genuine welcome. More than one establishment had encouraged his departure with a loaded shotgun or the belligerent escort of a group of locals eager to work out their frustration over a poor hand of cards on a black man who dared breathe the same stale air as them.

So far, the folks here seemed more interested in the entertainment down front than the stranger keeping his own company at the back of the room. A fella banged out a peppy tune on a piano and sang while a group of three females in bright dresses that dipped low in the front and high at the ankle danced to the beat. They swirled their skirts and stamped their feet, showing off a thick froth of petticoats as the patrons clapped along.

Jonah didn’t waste time watching the show. He examined the room instead, keeping an eye out for trouble. A few hostile looks came his way, but no one cared enough to leave their drinks, cards, or companions to follow up on them.

“They’re full up.” The sour look on Wallace’s face told the true tale. The lack of vacancy was tied directly to the company Wallace chose to keep. “Bartender said there’s a couple who sometimes take in boarders on the other side of the tracks. He recommended we check there.”

A Negro couple, no doubt.

“Truth be told,” Wallace ground out as he strode for the door, “I was glad to learn about the Jacksons’ place. I’d much rather give decent folks money than contribute to a place whose business is liquor and cards. Probably has better food too.”

Jonah knew better than to offer to go to the Jacksons’ alone. The Horsemen always stood together. It was one of the things he appreciated the most about Hanger’s group. They all had equal standing, not only within their foursome, but in presenting a united front to outsiders as well.

’Course, things might get dicey if the Jacksons didn’t feel comfortable having a white man under their roof. “Better let me do the talkin’ this time.”

“Glad to.” Mark winked. “My tongue’s plumb tuckered out.”

Jonah scoffed. The day Wallace grew tired of talkin’ was the day Jonah would grow tired of sittin’ a horse.

Thankfully the Jacksons proved more hospitable than the saloonkeeper once Jonah vouched for his partner. The boarding space they offered was part of an old carriage house out back. Half the place was being used for storage, but Mr. Jackson had laid brick to corner off a section to accommodate guests. It had a bed, a chair, a washstand, and a small bureau that would suit their needs fine. A room away from the main house meant more quiet. More privacy. Two things that would come in handy if a pair of Horsemen needed to discuss how best to investigate a case that may or may not be legitimate.

Once inside, Wallace tossed his saddlebags onto the bed. Jonah dropped his into the corner and stood his rifle against the wall. Wallace propped his rifle next to the head of the bed, then sat on the edge and started pulling his boots off. Jonah claimed the chair but left his boots on. He never put himself at a disadvantage when staying in a strange place. He’d learned long ago that it was best to be ready to run or fight when surrounded by strangers. No matter their skin color. So, boots on, valuables stored on his person, and guns within reach. Hence the lack of debate over who got the bed. Whichever Horseman bunked with him knew not to ask. He always opted for the floor.

“So, what case did we pick up?” Wallace asked, his patience holding out an entire thirty seconds longer than Jonah had expected.

“Might be nothin’,” Jonah warned.

Wallace didn’t blink. “But it might be something.”

“Yeah.” Jonah frowned. His gut hardened as disturbing possibilities darkened his mind. “Someone in these parts might be snatching children.”

CHAPTER

TEN

Where’s Wart this morning?” Mark slid the dime in his palm back into his trouser pocket as he grinned up at the bowlegged fellow traipsing out of the livery.

Donaldson scratched at a scraggly beard more gray than brown, his bushy brows angling down in a V of frustration. “Scamp ran off in the middle of the night. No warning or nuthin’. Just left me high and dry. If you gave instructions, I’m afraid I wasn’t aware of ’em. I’m guessin’ the gray and the chestnut belong to the two of you. I can have ’em saddled in fifteen, if ya don’t mind waitin’.”

Mark’s nape tingled as it did when he was out on patrol and something didn’t seem right about the landscape. He glanced at Jonah. His partner’s face confirmed his own unease.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mark said, keeping his tone light and sympathetic despite his concern for Wart. Folks tended to talk more freely when they believed their audience possessed an understanding ear. “The boy seemed eager to make a few coins last night. I’m surprised he didn’t stick around to earn them. Maybe an emergency came up at home?”

“Wart ain’t got no family in these parts. No home neither, unless you count the loft I been lettin’ him sleep in.” The livery owner stretched his suspenders out and ran his thumbs up and down beneath the elastic bands. “He’s one of them boxcar boys. I knew I shouldn’t o’ trusted him. Bunch of thievin’ scalawags. He swore he gave up riding the rails, and he had a good way with the horses, so I took him on. ’Sides, I ain’t gettin’ any younger. Need help watchin’ the place at night. Worked out good for a while. Then this.” His arms gestured wide, and the suspenders popped off his thumbs to snap against his chest. “Guess I learnt my lesson.”

Mark and Jonah shared a look.

Jonah stepped forward, touching his hat brim in deference. “You can hold off on the chestnut for now. I got a few errands to run around town. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

The liveryman jerked his chin toward Mark. “You still want the gray?”