Page 37 of The Heart’s Charge

Jonah handed the knife to Rawley. “Help with what?”

Rawley said nothing as he snagged his knife and jabbed it into his pocket. He glared at Sam in a manner that made it clear he expected the younger boy to keep his trap shut. Sam, however, wasn’t feeling particularly obliging. After firing off a mutinous glare of his own, he jumped to his feet and faced Jonah.

“Another boxcar boy went missing last night.”

“Former boxcar boy,” Rawley growled. “And it ain’t none of this fella’s concern. We take care of our own.”

Sam, angry tears shining in his eyes, fisted his hands and spun to face Rawley. “Yeah, well, you can’t take care of your own if you get snatched too, can you? We need help, Rawley. Mr. Brooks saved you. Maybe he can save the others.”

“I saved myself,” Rawley grumbled, but his gaze dodged away from both Sam and Jonah as he said it.

“I respect a man who takes care of his own,” Jonah said as he crouched between the boys.

Sam imitated his posture, squatting down and balancing an arm on one knee. Rawley frowned, no doubt displeased that his protégé had found a new role model.

“If you don’t want to work with me, that’s your choice,” Jonah said, offering the boy some semblance of power over a situation that had no doubt shaken his confidence. “But I’ve been hired to do a job, and I aim to see it through.”

Belligerence hardened Rawley’s face. “Who hired you?”

Jonah tipped his head toward Sam. “He did. Yesterday. Asked me to look into the kiddy-snatchers. I ain’t gonna walk away from that commitment. Now, we can either both do our own digging and possibly get in each other’s way, or we can work together. Coordinate our efforts. Share information. Work as allies to defeat a common enemy.”

Rawley raised a skeptical brow. He wouldn’t trust an adult easily. Yet he was smart. He’d recognize the advantage. The question was, did he care enough about his comrades to sacrifice his pride and let someone else lead?

“Allies means equals.” Rawley jutted his chin. “You gotta share as much with me as I do with you. This ain’t no one-way street.”

“You have my word.” Jonah extended his hand.

Rawley made no effort to take it. “Prove it,” he demanded.

Jonah nodded. It was a risk to tell the kid anything without an agreement in place—shoot, it was a risk to tell him even if they did have an agreement in place—but he and Mark needed the intelligence Rawley and his gang could provide. Trust had to start somewhere. Might as well be on his end.

“I’ve spoken to the local law. No one has reported missing kids. We’ve shared our concerns with Miss Southerland and Miss Palmer at Harmony House, and my partner is going to speak with the Kingsland teacher this afternoon. We need eyes on kids, and these ladies have the best view.”

“Not of the boxcar boys.” Rawley turned and spat again. “There’s a reason no one’s reportin’ the snatchin’. It’s ’cause the only kids being snatched are those with no family. No one to know or care that they’re missin’.”

“We figured the same. Which means that whoever is taking the kids knows which ones have families or caregivers in the area and which don’t. Only way for them to figure that out is to study the local kids. Watch them. At school. At church.”

Some of the belligerence fell away from Rawley’s face. “So you ain’t just askin’ about missin’ kids, but about who might be hangin’ around those places. Watchin’.”

Jonah dipped his head. “Yep.”

A light that looked suspiciously like approval lit Rawley’s eyes. “You might be worth more than firepower after all.”

“What can you tell me about the man who took you?”

Rawley blew out a breath. “Not much. His face was covered.” His brows lifted. “He smelled like peppermint, though. Like those sticks you can buy in the mercantile.” His brows sagged back down. “Probably don’t mean nuthin’.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jonah offered the boy a hand and carefully pulled him to his feet. “Could help us identify him. Can’t be too many outlaws packin’ peppermint sticks in these parts.”

Sam chuckled. Rawley almost smiled. Progress.

“So, about this kid that was taken last night,” Jonah pressed as he lifted first Sam, then Rawley, up into the saddle. “What does he look like?”

“Little taller than Sam,” Rawley said. “Curly red hair. Freckles.”

A sick feeling churned Jonah’s stomach.

Rawley circled his hand around the saddle horn and gripped it. Hard. “Worked in town at Donaldson’s livery.”