Page 4 of At Love’s Command

Bile burned the back of Matt’s throat. He’d joined the cavalry to protect settlers, people like his family. His task had been to bring justice and order to the frontier. This wasn’t justice.

“God forgive us,” he murmured.

They’d just participated in a massacre.

CHAPTER

ONE

PURGATORY SPRINGS, TEXAS

MAY 1893

They’ve got us pinned down, Captain.”

Matt Hanger braced his back against the wall of the line shack he and Wallace had taken shelter behind and reloaded his Remington. Gunfire peppered the air as the gang of rustlers they’d been hired to eradicate closed in on their position. Matt’s former trumpeter returned fire from the opposite side of the ramshackle building while Matt dumped his spent casings and plucked fresh cartridges from his belt.

“Hold the line a little longer, Wallace,” Matt ordered, his voice firm. Mark was a good soldier. A mite reckless from time to time, but a man who could be counted on when a situation deteriorated. Like this one.

Preach and the ranchers who’d hired them needed more time if they were going to drive the stolen cattle back to the Circle D before the rustlers discovered they’d been hornswoggled. It fell to Matt and Wallace to keep the gang distracted.

Sliding a sixth bullet into the cylinder, Matt turned back to the fight, aimed, and shot the hat from a rustler who’d taken advantage of the reloading lull to dash through the trees on Matt’s side of the shed in an effort to gain a tactical advantage.

The rustler yelped and scurried back to the oak guarding his compatriot.

After mustering out of the army following the disaster at Wounded Knee, Matt and the others had made a pact against the use of deadly force. They might be mercenaries after a fashion, but they made it clear to the people who hired them that killing was off the table.

Using hats for target practice, however . . . well, that kept a man’s skill honed.

“Jonah will be in position soon,” Matt said as Wallace retreated behind the shed to reload. “We just gotta hold them off for a few more minutes.”

Easier said than done when the enemy outnumbered them six to two.

A shot splintered the wood inches from Matt’s face. He jerked back to a covered position and cast a quick glance at Wallace to ensure the kid was all right. His head was down, eyes locked on fingers busy shoving bullets into chambers. A good way to ensure speed, yet he sacrificed awareness of his surroundings.

The sight immediately put Matt on edge. He scanned the trees on his partner’s side of the shed. Caught a movement. Fired.

A howl echoed as the rustler fell. Wallace’s head came up, as did his weapon. He glanced at the fallen man, then turned to Matt, a smile of thanks on his face. That smile immediately hardened. He lunged forward, gun drawn.

“Get down!” he yelled as he shoved Matt out of the way and fired.

A second shot echoed nearly simultaneously. Mark grunted and fell backward.

“Wallace!” Matt scrambled to a better position. He had to protect his man.

Rustlers encroached from both sides. Matt dragged Wallace against the shed wall and crouched down in front of him. He fired at a movement on his right. Then swiveled and fired to his left.

Only two shots left.

God, I could use some help here.

Like a trumpet blast from heaven, a rifle reported from behind the shed. Two shots. One echoed from the left. The other from the right.

“Throw down your weapons,” a deep voice boomed. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Jonah. Thank God. Jonah had been an answer to Matt’s prayers more than once during their time together, but never had there been more on the line than today. They had a man down. The youngest of the crew.

“How bad, Wallace?” Matt didn’t take his eyes off the trees. He’d put one rustler down with a shot to the leg, but the outlaw could still pose a threat. He was fairly sure Wallace had at least winged his man, but there was too much cover for him to know for sure.