The road agent scowled and stepped through the doorway.
Instantly, Doc moved.It was the chance he’d been waiting for.
He snatched a vial of morphine from his valise and measured out a heavy dose of the liquid.
Before he could administer it, though, the woman’s eyes fluttered open for the first time.
Disoriented and weak, she saw the dropper descending toward her lips and tried faintly to push his hand away.
“No…” she whispered.
“It’s all right,” Doc said gently, lowering his voice.“Trust me.Sleep will help keep you alive.”
Her frightened eyes searched his face.
Then slowly, reluctantly, she allowed him to give her the sedative.
A few moments later, her breathing deepened once more into sleep.
Doc sat quietly beside her in the lantern glow while the cold mountain wind rattled softly against the rough cabin walls.
And for the first time in many years, he found himself praying.
ChapterFour
Caleb climbed down from Pirate,his buckskin-colored gelding, and glanced up at the new sign, smartly painted and telling the world—or Elkhorn, anyway—thatMalachi Rogers Livery.Horses Bought, Sold, and Boardedwas a moneymaking concern.
The livery itself was sound and well-kept.It was a large, wood-plank barn with a good-sized loft space for hay.Under the beams of the loft, the left side of the building consisted of a small office space with a cot, and beyond that was a row of enclosures for oats storage.The back wall had stalls for horses, and on the right, doors opened out to a large, fenced area.
The owner was known in town to be a skilled blacksmith, and his forge and anvil sat under wide, overhanging eaves facing the corral.
It was the kind of place Caleb respected.Built carefully.Meant to last.
The son of Malachi Rogers hurried out into the moonlight, trailed by one of the many barn cats prowling the property.The boy’s sleepy expression brightened immediately when he recognized Caleb.
“Hullo, Mr.Marlowe.”
“Gabriel.”Caleb handed him the reins to Pirate and Doc Burnett’s gelding before gesturing toward the six riderless horses carrying grim burdens across their saddles.“Need the sheriff fetched.”
Gabe Rogers—tall, dependable, and already carrying himself more like a man than a boy despite his fourteen years—stared wide-eyed at the bodies.
“Hope nothing bad happened to Doc’s daughter.”
“Just saw her safely home.”
Gabe visibly relaxed at that.
“I was a little worried, letting her take Doc’s horse after dark.”He shrugged.“She don’t seem like a woman willing to take no for an answer.”
A faint smile tugged at Caleb, despite the long night.“Stubborn as mountain weather.”
Truth was, during the entire ride into town, Sheila Burnett had barely spoken two words to him.
Which had suited Caleb just fine.Though the silence between them had carried enough chill to freeze whiskey solid.
Still, somewhere beneath her anger and shock and pity for the rustlers, he’d seen something else too.Not weakness.Heart.
“Gabe,” Caleb asked, “you remember when Doc came for his horse?”
