Page 3 of At Love’s Command

She refused to move, just stared at him, her eyes casting blame on him and his kind.

A sudden motion from behind the woman, however, flared Matt’s instincts. A half-grown boy lurched around his protector, a revolver in his hand.

Matt didn’t hesitate. He lowered his barrel and fired. The kid fired too, his shot going wide as Matt’s bullet lodged in the youth’s shoulder. Matt rushed forward, needing to secure the weapon. A second child cried out as the boy crumpled to the ground. Matt lunged for him and wrapped his fingers around the gun still in the kid’s hand. With a quick twist, the gun fell free. Matt tucked it into his belt, then yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the boy’s wound. The kid would need a doctor to remove the bullet and sew him up, but he’d survive.

If they got out of this ravine.

“Captain! Artillery is on the move,” one of his men called. “We gotta retreat.”

Matt jerked his attention to the canyon wall behind him. Sure enough, one of the Hotchkiss guns was being wheeled into place near the ravine’s edge. No one would survive the cannon fire at this range.

He turned back to the old woman. “Come.” He gestured urgently and pointed at the mountain gun. “We must leave. Now.”

She ignored him. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. She ignored his order, not him. Him, she impaled with a look of hatred as she herded the other children back toward the camp. Into the line of fire. As if she’d rather die with her people than follow a white man to safety.

The boy Matt was tending flailed. He kicked out at Matt and rolled away, leaving Matt’s bloodied handkerchief in the snow behind him.

“Wait!” Matt grabbed for the boy, desperate to save at least one, but the kid scrambled rashly after his kin, only to be hit full in the chest by a bullet. He flew backward from the force of the hit.

“No!” Matt charged after him, but a hand locked on his arm from behind.

“You can’t save him, Matt.” Preach’s voice.

When had his corporal come into the ravine? Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding the line? No, the line had been overtaken by the Hotchkiss gun.

Matt struggled. He had to get those kids out. Before it was too late.

But Luke only tightened his hold. Dragged him backward.

The boy didn’t move. Blood soaked through his coat as the truth soaked into Matt’s mind. He was dead. Beyond saving. But what about the others?

Matt scanned the ravine for the old woman and her charges as Luke dragged him away. He spotted her right as the cannon boomed.

“Captain? Can you hear me?”

Matt roused slowly. His head throbbed. His ears rang. His cheek stung. Why did his cheek sting?

He eased his eyes open just in time to see Wallace’s open hand swinging in for a slap. His trumpeter’s palm connected sharply with Matt’s jaw. Matt’s head lolled sideways.

Mystery of the stinging cheek solved.

Matt groaned. “I’d like to keep my teeth in my head, if you don’t mind.”

“Thank God.” Wallace slid an arm beneath Matt’s shoulders and helped him sit up. “Apologies, Captain Hanger. You’ve been out for quite a spell. We were getting worried.”

That was when it hit him. The quiet. No gunfire. No cannons.

His senses sharpened. “Luke?”

“Here, Cap.” Preach’s head popped into Matt’s field of vision, followed by Jonah’s. “It’s over.”

Over?

As if they’d read his mind, his men braced his arms and helped him to his feet. Dizziness assailed him at the jarring movement, but it was the sight that met his eyes that made his knees buckle. He’d seen death before, but never on this scale. Never so one-sided.

Scores of Lakota lay dead in the ravine. Maybe hundreds. He swallowed hard as his gaze landed on a face as stoic in death as it had been in life. The old woman. The children scattered around her. Nothing more than lifeless heaps in the snow.

Why? This was supposed to be a simple weapon confiscation. An escort to the reservation. How had it turned into a bloodbath?