Page 67 of Heart on the Line

Amos slid the door open, and Lockhart pushed him through the opening. A dark spot at Lockhart’s back caught Grace’s notice for the first time. A second pistol was tucked into the waistband of his trousers. It must be Amos’s weapon, confiscated after that deluded woman bonked him over the head. That made two pistols, at least one knife, and the rifle in the saddle boot. Against a single-shot derringer with a short range and a woman whose arms were so exhausted from hook-hanging that she couldn’t hold them chest-high without trembling.

Yet David needed only one stone to fell Goliath.

Odds didn’t matter when God fought at one’s side.

Guide my hand as you did David’s, Lord. I can’t succeed without you.

It took fifteen minutes of tromping over uneven ground to reach the clearing and another five for Lockhart to decide on the perfect centralized position to make his stand.

A three-quarter moon shone in the charcoal sky, and cricket song filled the night air. The wind cut through Grace’s wet hair and clothing until she shivered so severely that she lost her grip on the gelding’s reins. Not that it mattered. Lockhart had stopped. Unable to wrap her arms around herself for warmth, Grace settled for hunching her shoulders and turning her back to the wind.

“Come here, Grace.” Lockhart jerked his head forward, signaling her to approach on Amos’s side.

She obeyed, eying the gun pointed at Amos’s head and Lockhart’s punishing grip on his arm. Her heart throbbed.

This was it. In a few minutes Amos would either be free or dead. Her too, though that outcome was secondary.

“Do you see that scraggly mesquite about eighty yards to the north?” Lockhart tipped his head that direction.

Grace eyed the shadowy outline of a short, gnarled tree not too far away. “Yes.”

“I figure with the low visibility, that’s about the extent of my range for hitting a moving target.” Lockhart tapped the pistol barrel against the side of Amos’s head, making him wince and duck away. “In a minute, I’m going to let Bledsoe go, and he’s going to walk in a straight line to that tree. You have until he gets there to tell me where the books are. If you don’t, I shoot him.” He met her gaze, his voice menacing. “And we all know how good a shot I am.”

Grace swallowed, desperately fighting off images of her father bleeding in the street.

“What happens to Grace after she tells you what you want to know?” Amos demanded, his voice strong and sure despite the threat of death hanging over his head.

Lockhart shrugged. “I’ll have no more need of her. She’ll be free to find her way back to the main road or to a homestead nearby. Probably won’t find much of a welcome at the Gladstone place, but there are others around who might be more sympathetic to her plight.”

Grace didn’t believe a word coming out of Lockhart’s mouth, and judging by his clenched jaw, Amos didn’t either. Nevertheless, it was essential Amos went along with the plan.

She stepped close to his side, drinking in his warmth as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me,” she urged. “I’ll be fine.”

He stared hard at her.

She stared back. “I need you to go, Amos. Please.”

His fingers tapped against her arm. At first she simply absorbed the comfort, but then she realized it was code. I’ll come back for you.

She wanted to return the message, to tell him again that she loved him, but her hands were pinned between them, and Lockhart was too impatient to give her the chance. He yanked Amos away from her and shoved him forward.

“You heard the lady, Bledsoe. She needs you to go.”

Amos stumbled a few steps, then turned to look at Grace. She nodded and mouthed the word, Go.

Lockhart was less subtle. “Get a move on,” he ordered as he planted a boot on Amos’s rear and pushed. “I don’t got all night.”

Amos found his balance, favored Grace with one final, incredibly fierce gaze, then pivoted forward and started walking toward the tree.

Grace watched him go. Each step he took farther away filled her heart with hope. This would work. It had to work.

When Amos reached the halfway point, Lockhart chanced a quick glance at her before refocusing his attention on his quarry. “Where are the books, Grace?”

Not yet. Amos was still within range. She needed to make sure he put as much distance between himself and Lockhart as possible.

Amos halved the remaining distance.

“Grace?” Lockhart’s voice hardened, demanding she give him what he sought.