Page 89 of The Heart’s Charge

Jonah’s mouth tightened. His night vision was good, but not good enough to spot an off-road path cut through the brush without going at a snail’s pace.

“Don’t worry. Abner’s following ’em.”

Eliza spun around. “What?”

Rawley shrugged. “One of us had to, and I’m the faster runner. Better suited for fetching help. ’Sides, he wasn’t about to leave Miss Katherine alone. I told him how to stay hidden, to keep his distance and follow the bobbin’ lantern. He’ll break off twigs from the brush to mark the path once they leave the road. I’m only worried that if we’re too slow in comin’, he’ll take on Ortega himself.”

“Then we best get going.” Jonah found his boots at the end of the sofa and stuffed his feet into them. “I’ll meet you at the barn.”

Rawley nodded and left.

Jonah took Eliza’s hand and squeezed it tight. “I’ll bring her back to you. I swear it.”

Tears misted her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She held her head up like a queen. “I’ll rouse the children at first light. We’ll put together our own search party and leave word at the station for your partners in case you’re not back in time to meet the train.”

Jonah smiled. “Have I told you how much I love that practical streak of yours?”

Her lips twitched. She covered it up by dusting invisible lint from his shoulders and straightening his shirt buttons. “Yes, well, I’m counting on that mile-wide stubborn streak of yours to bring you back here in one piece. No more tumbling down mountainsides, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then, before he could think better of it, he clasped her face in his palm and drew her lips to his. The kiss was fast and far too short, but it was pure heaven. Breaking it off when he wanted to delve deeper, Jonah released her and left the room—heart pumping, senses alert, and mind fixed on accomplishing his mission so he could return to the woman who was quickly taking ownership of his heart.

“Deputy Bronson. Didn’t expect to see you out here this time of night.”

Katherine stilled at the unfamiliar male voice. Ever since Ernest Bronson had dragged her from the pantry, gagged her, and tossed her into the back of the wagon, she’d been trying to work free of her bindings. He’d covered her with a canvas tarp, so she could work without being seen, but all her efforts were for naught. Tiny splinters riddled her wrists, and her nails were chipped and broken, yet the ties were just as tight as they’d been before.

“Got one final job for you,” Bronson said as the plodding wagon halted. “A witness who needs to disappear. She’s in the back.”

“She?” Interest laced the unfamiliar man’s voice.

Katherine bit her lip. Maybe she could run. Catch the men off guard and lose them in the dark.

That slim hope died the moment Miguel Ortega threw back the tarp. Flickering light from his campfire lit him from behind and filled his face with fiendish shadows. His gaze raked over her, his eyes coldly assessing.

This man belonged to the darkness. There’d be no escaping him. Not on her own.

Help me, Lord.

“Gonna cost you. I don’t usually do women.”

“This ought to soothe your conscience. What there is of it.” Bronson pulled a small sack of coins from inside his coat and tossed them to Ortega.

The outlaw caught it, inspected the contents, then tucked it away in his vest. Without warning, Ortega’s hand closed over Katherine’s ankle and yanked her down the wagon bed toward the tailgate.

She whimpered through the cloth gag. Tears gathered in her eyes. She tried to scramble away from him, but his right hand held her fast. His left moved to the tailgate latch. Her heart pounded like that of a rabbit caught in a snare.

Then, like a soothing breeze, a whisper blew across her cheek, bringing with it the memory of a story. Of three men, trapped by those who wished them harm and facing a furnace of fire. Men who met their trial with dignity and absolute faith in their God. A God with the ability to deliver them, should that be his will. Yet even if deliverance did not fit God’s plan, they resolved to face their fate with convicted hearts and peaceful spirits.

Katherine’s heart slowed its frantic pounding. And when Ortega dragged her out of the wagon and set her on her feet, she met his gaze without flinching. He blinked, then looked away. His fingers bit into her arm in retaliation as he jerked her toward the front of the wagon.

Althea Gordon twisted to face them as Bronson moved back to the front of the team. “Wait an hour before you take care of this business, if you please, Miguel. Ernest and I need to be well away.”

“Still tryin’ to keep your pretty little hands clean? I got news for ya, lady. Just because the blood ain’t on your hands don’t mean the stain ain’t on your soul. You’ll get yours one day.”

Althea smoothed her skirt as if nothing were amiss, but Katherine caught the slight tremor in her fingers. “Perhaps,” she said, covering one hand with the other in her lap as she turned her gaze forward, “but not today. Ernest?” she called to her brother. “Let’s be off.”

Harness jangled and lantern light bobbed as Ernest turned the horses around and headed back toward the road.