Page 81 of In Honor’s Defense

“Matthew Hanger, Austin depot.”

The clerk’s eyes widened. “The Matthew Hanger?”

Somehow Luke managed not to roll his eyes. “Yep.” He pushed the second blank through the window opening. “I need these sent right away.” He met the clerk’s eye with a knowing look. “Official Horsemen business.” He’d make use of whatever advantage the Lord sent his way.

“I’ll do it now, Mr. Davenport.”

Luke tipped his hat. “Mighty obliged to ya.”

The operator scurried over to his machine and began tapping out the code that would inform the captain of their target.

Ronald Mullins—lawyer. Harbinger Land Development Company.

After dropping the necessary coins on the counter, Luke excused himself to wander over to the platform and wait for the boarding call. As he stepped out of line, however, he felt eyes upon his back. Murmurs followed.

“Did you hear? Hanger’s Horsemen are back in action.”

That they were. For the most important mission of Luke’s life.

Damaris blinked and tried to focus, but the room kept swimming. A room she didn’t recognize. A wave of nausea roiled through her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a slow, deep breath. A cloying scent tinged the air, making her nose scrunch up and her mind awaken to snippets of memories.

On the train. Mr. Mullins holding her at gunpoint. His handkerchief over her mouth and nose after the rocking of the train had lulled most passengers to sleep. The sticky-sweet smell of ether. The resulting dizziness. Him claiming she was ill as he clutched her close and ushered her away from the San Marcos depot. When her legs eventually collapsed, he’d swept her into his arms and climbed into a waiting buggy. She’d had no strength to fight. Consciousness gave way to darkness.

Hazy impressions fluttered through her mind. A scantily clad woman in a room that reeked of cheap perfume. Colburn tossing Damaris on the borrowed bed, tying her wrists to the iron frame, and leering at her with cold, wicked eyes. The panic that had pulsed through her. The inability to scream when she thought he would attack. The relief she felt when the woman teased him away with a bottle of whiskey and the promise of her charms.

A private railcar had carried her to Austin. At least she thought it was Austin. Hadn’t that been the name on the sign at the station? The memory was too fuzzy to pin down with complete certainty.

Collecting herself, Damaris opened her eyes again, better prepared to battle the dizziness. Sunlight outlined a pair of closed shutters on the wall in front of her. A pillow lay beneath her cheek, and her left hip sank rather comfortably into a mattress that must be filled with feathers. Logs made up the walls, but they were well-chinked. No drafts slipped through. She was in a cabin somewhere. A well-made cabin with an expensive bed. Unfortunately, that was all she could deduce from her curled position facing the wall.

She listened for additional clues, but no voices murmured behind her. No feet tapped against floorboards. Had they left her alone? How late in the day was it? Still morning? Or had the ether kept her sleeping into the afternoon?

With tiny, controlled movements, she tested her mobility. Her arms stretched in front of her unhindered. Ankles too. So no bindings.

Dare she roll over? Let her captors know she was awake? But what if she was alone and this was her one chance to escape?

Hearing nothing that warned her to lie still, she braced her hand on the bed and slowly rolled over. She was alone. But in a small room with a closed door and a few pieces of bedroom furniture. Not in the main cabin as she’d imagined.

Still, she was free of prying eyes. She had to make the most of it.

Careful to move as smoothly as possible to avoid a dizzy spell, she climbed from the bed and made her way to the window. The shutters were barred from the outside and refused to budge. She turned to the bureau and wardrobe next, searching for something that could be used as a weapon, but all the drawers were empty. No chamber pot beneath the bed or porcelain ewer on the washstand with which to knock someone over the head. Sudden inspiration had her grabbing for her hair, but the straw hat she’d worn for the trip—along with the pointed hatpin she’d used to secure it—was gone.

She had nothing.

No, that wasn’t true. She had her wits and a reason to hope. Nathaniel would fetch the Hangers. Luke would come. She just had to hold out long enough for her Horseman to find her.

Courage and cunning. Those would be her weapons.

Yet even as a prayer for such blessings took shape in her heart, a key rattled in the door lock, scattering her composure and setting her hands to trembling. Grabbing hold of the bed frame for support, Damaris backed away from the opening door.

Ronald Mullins stepped through, a smile stretching across his face.

A queasiness that had nothing to do with having been dosed with ether earlier agitated her stomach. How had she ever trusted this man?

“Ah,” he said. “You’re awake. Excellent. Time for us to get down to business.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN