Page 35 of The Heart’s Charge

Jonah reined Augustus in and reached for his rifle. There. Rolling toward the brush. The kid was smart. Staying small, making himself less noticeable.

The man shouted a curse and pivoted. His eyes searched for the boy. Found him. Lunging forward, he gave chase.

“Put your head down, Sam,” Jonah murmured. “And don’t move.”

The boy obeyed, bending over the saddle horn.

Jonah levered a cartridge into the chamber of his repeater. Calculated the distance—only a hundred yards. The wind—southwest, maybe ten miles an hour. Adjusted his aim. Fired high. The Horsemen didn’t shoot to kill if they could help it, and while anyone who would abduct a child deserved a bullet in his backside, Jonah’s first priority was protecting the child. Which meant shooting high, so that even if the kid jumped up unexpectedly, the bullet wouldn’t be anywhere near him.

At the sound of the shot, the snatcher jerked toward Jonah’s position. The kerchief tied around the lower half of his face made him impossible to identify. All Jonah could tell from this distance was that he was white with brown hair and a medium build. A description that probably fit two-thirds of the men in Llano County.

“Leave him!” Jonah yelled the command, then took a second shot, this one close enough to whiz by the fellow’s ear, since he’d done him the courtesy of standing still.

The man ducked. Cursed again. Then ran for his horse.

Jonah took a third shot. Kicked up dirt by the horse’s front hooves. The horse reared and bolted. His rider sprinted after him.

Jonah took up the reins and made for the boy who was busy scrambling into the brush.

“Rawley!” Sam cried. “It’s me. Hold tight. We’re comin’.”

Augustus covered the ground in a pair of heartbeats. Jonah reined him in long enough to let Sam down.

Rawley rolled over to face the newcomers, his gaze leery as he continued scooting backward.

Jonah pinned him with a glance. “You injured?”

“Not bad,” the kid ground out.

Jonah wasn’t sure he believed him, but his only chance to catch the kidnapper hinged on pursuing now. “I’ll be back.” He reined Augustus around and gave him his head. “Yah!”

“Mr. Brooks! Wait! Rawley’s bleedin’!”

Sam’s call was barely audible above the combination of Augustus’s pounding hooves and Jonah’s pounding pulse, but it reached its target at the same time the kidnapper reached his mount. Jonah slowed. Debated. Sam might be overreacting. The injury might not be too bad. He still had time to catch the snatcher.

“Please, Mr. Brooks!”

The fear in Sam’s voice brought him to a full halt.

Jonah grimaced as the masked bandit pulled away. The man would have his reckoning one day soon. The Horsemen would see to it. In the meantime, more important matters demanded his attention.

It only took a moment to return to the boys, but by the time he got there, he could tell Sam had been right to call him back. Rawley had a nasty gash in his side, one his arm had been covering earlier.

“I’m fine.” Rawley pushed Sam’s hands away. “Leave me be.”

The kid was tough as weathered boot leather despite the fact that he was probably no older than twelve. Experience had turned him cynical. Guarded. Traits necessary for surviving alone in the world. He had the heart of a lion and the grit of a warrior. He wouldn’t take well to coddling.

Steeling himself to ignore Rawley’s youth, Jonah strode forward and hunkered down beside the scrawny black boy with hard eyes.

“You shouldn’t’ve stopped.” Rawley glared an accusation at Jonah as he curled his arm over his side and tried to sit up taller. Facing him man to man. “He’ll jus’ find some other kid to snatch. One that won’t have a knife in his pocket to fight back with.”

Jonah made no move to touch him, just met his defiant stare with stoicism. “That the same knife that ended up in the horse’s flank?”

A glint of pride flashed in the boy’s dark eyes, quickly followed by a touch of regret he tried to hide behind a callous shrug. “Couldn’t stop the man, so I had to stop the horse.”

“Bold move. You break anything in the fall?” Jonah eyed him more closely, examining his limbs for any subtle deformities.

Rawley shook his head with a vigor that spoke more of impatience than denial. “You kiddin’? I jump from moving trains all the time. I know how to tuck and roll.”