Page 39 of At Love’s Command

Rather like the fellow prowling through the center of camp, talking to a man who carried himself with the bearing of one in command.

Matt adjusted the focus on his binoculars. It was hard to make out features from this distance, but the man in the blue kerchief had skin that looked different from the man at his side. Less smooth. Textured, almost. Pockmarks could explain the effect. Matt wished Jonah was here. He’d hand off the field glasses and get a second opinion. His sharpshooter had the vision of a hawk. Unlike Matt, whose eyesight had dulled in recent years, losing the sharpness of objects viewed at a distance. But the Horsemen had split up to cover more ground, each heading out from the Hanging Tree in a different direction in an effort to locate the outlaw camp more quickly. Matt took his eyes from the field glasses to pull his watch from inside his jacket and check the time. Ten minutes ’til rendezvous. He needed to gather what information he could, then meet up with his men.

Stuffing the watch back into his pocket with his right hand, he lifted the binoculars with his left and combed through the camp in search of a prisoner. He didn’t find one.

Matt frowned. It was hard to know who to rescue if no one was tied up.

He spotted a man in a hat that matched the description Josephine had given him—black with a band of silver conchos. Could be Charlie. Or it could be a gang member who’d swiped the headgear. The man in the hat sported a scruffy brown beard. Not clean-shaven like Josie had described. But then, a hostage wouldn’t be given access to a razor. It could too easily be turned into a weapon to be used against his captors. Yet this man didn’t look like a hostage. He roamed the camp freely. No restraints. No evidence of torture. He even laughed at something his companion said.

The back of Matt’s neck prickled. Something was off. Maybe Josie’s father had been right about Charlie not being in any real danger. On the other hand, every man in the camp looked like the type who could shoot a friend in the back if given the right provocation. Especially the leader.

Matt moved his field glasses until the leader came into focus again. Dressed in unrelieved black with a bearing to match, he snapped at a man by a small wagon. The camp cook, most likely. The gray-haired fellow scurried forward and extended a tin cup. The man in black took it, guzzled a big swallow, then turned and spewed it from his mouth. He lashed out, slapping the cup across the older man’s face with enough force to send the cook reeling backward, cradling his bloodied nose.

Words were shouted, though Matt couldn’t hear them. He saw the tendons lifting in the leader’s neck, though, and the blood rushing to his face as his mouth moved in exaggerated motions. The old man backed away, his posture bent in on itself. The leader let him escape but pitched the cup at his head, bouncing it off the old man’s skull.

No one interfered. No one stepped up to help the man who’d been foolish enough not to keep their leader’s coffee warm. Everyone kept their heads down, not wanting to attract any hostile attention upon themselves.

A sick sensation swirled through Matt’s stomach. Josie had been right to be concerned. These men were violent and didn’t deal well with disappointment. Charlie’s life could easily be forfeit if the ransom went unpaid.

Matt swung his gaze back to the man in the concho-decorated hat. Charlie? He needed to be sure. He couldn’t risk the Horsemen’s lives for an unverified target. These outlaws were armed to the teeth. Guns. Knives . . .

Wait.

Matt’s gaze zeroed in on Charlie’s hip. He wore a gun belt, but the holster was empty. No weapon. The only unarmed man in the entire camp. Matt shoved the field glasses into the leather case hanging from his neck as he backed away from the edge of the canyon wall.

It wasn’t the best verification he’d ever taken action on, but it would have to do.

He raced Phineas down the back side of the canyon and around to the abandoned line shack that sat half a mile north of the Hanging Tree. The rest of the Horsemen were already there.

“Hope you found something, Cap,” Preach said as he came out to meet him. “Jonah found a small group holed up in a ramshackle old barn east of here, but Wallace and I came up empty.”

Jonah didn’t move from where he leaned against the shack wall, just glanced up and met Matt’s eye. “The gang I found looked more like squatters than outlaws. Five men, two little more than boys. Scrawny. Didn’t look like none of ’em had had a decent meal in weeks. Not much in the way of weapons neither. A couple of old rifles. One revolver. They might be desperate enough to try ransom, but they looked too haggard to carry it off.”

Matt dismounted and patted Phineas on the rump to let him know he could join the other mounts at the trough by the water pump.

“I found a dozen men holed up in a shallow box canyon two miles northwest. Pretty sure one of them was the pockmarked fellow Wallace’s lady friend told him about.”

“Did ya spot Dr. Jo’s brother?” Preach asked.

“I think so. Found a fellow wearing the hat Josephine described. Right height and build. Same coloring as the doc. But he wasn’t restrained.” Matt nodded at the raised eyebrows around him. “He walked freely about the camp. The only difference between him and the other men was that he wore no weapon. The rest of the crew was armed for Armageddon.”

“So what’s the plan, Captain?” Not an ounce of doubt shadowed Wallace’s face. “I’d guess we have about an hour before they head to the ransom site. Do we wait for them to make their move and snatch Dr. Burkett’s brother when they leave the canyon, or are you thinking of utilizing a more stealthy technique?”

Matt blew out a heavy breath, praying he was making the right call. “If these were a bunch of rowdy kids trying to gouge their friend’s father for money, I wouldn’t hesitate to confront them. But from what I’ve seen of this crew, they aren’t the kind to fold in the face of a well-coordinated attack. They’ll rage with a wild and vicious counterattack, not caring how many of their own go down in the skirmish.”

Preach let out a low whistle. “That kid got himself in way over his head.”

“Yes, he did.” And for the first time, Matt worried that he might not be able to keep his promise to the kid’s sister.

“Goin’ in from the back, then?” Jonah asked.

Matt nodded. “Best option for avoiding a shootout. Though it might still come to that.” He hunkered down and used his finger to draw a crude representation of the canyon in the sand. “I spotted two sentries. Here and here.” He pointed to either side of the canyon’s entrance. “The horses are in a remuda here.” He made a circle at the rear left side of the drawing. “Preach and I will scale the back wall.” He glanced at his corporal. “It’s only about twenty feet.”

Preach scoffed. “Child’s play.”

Matt grinned, then returned to his plan. “Brooks and Wallace will be positioned up top to keep watch and lay down cover fire if needed. I’ll locate the target. Preach will provide the distraction.” Again, he glanced at his second-in-command. “I was thinking a nice, old-fashioned stampede should do the trick.”

Preach’s eyes danced. “I do love creating chaos.”