Page 77 of At Love’s Command

It was late, yes, but the saloon should be doing a rousing business about now. Wallace could slip in among the locals and ferret out the needed information. Men tended to talk more freely under whiskey’s influence anyway.

Only, as the Horsemen wandered down the main street of town, everything was dark. No dance hall music, no light pouring into the street through batwing doors, no horses lined up at the hitching post. By Matt’s count, Utopia had two gristmills, three churches, a blacksmith, a general store, and a cotton gin. But no saloon.

Matt sagged in the saddle as they reached the edge of town. No saloon, no café, no hotel. No public building of any kind open for evening travelers. Which meant no source of information available to them tonight. Which would leave them even further behind schedule.

“Look. Up ahead.” Preach, riding at Matt’s side, pointed to the steepled building Matt had counted as the third church. “Is that a light in the window?”

Matt squinted. The church looked dark to him. Maybe it had been the moon reflecting off the glass. But then he saw it. A yellow light bobbed at the bottom of the window for a heartbeat, then disappeared back into darkness.

“Someone’s there,” Wallace said. “Might as well knock on the door. See what happens.”

“It’s God’s house, after all,” Preach said with a shrug. “Supposed to be open to everyone, right? Whenever there’s a need? Well, we got a need.”

Matt tugged Percival’s reins to the right. Why not? A smidgen of a chance was better than no chance at all. “Let’s check it out.”

Once at the church, they dismounted, and Matt swore he heard the horses sigh in relief. He patted Percival’s neck in apology and whispered praise in his ear as he moved past. “You did well, old boy. As valiant and noble as your namesake.”

He wished he could promise that the hardest road was behind them, but he couldn’t. There’d be no real rest until Taggart and his men were behind bars.

Matt had his foot on the bottom step leading to the church’s door when Jonah’s low voice stopped him.

“Hold up, Captain. There’s something under the stoop.”

Matt bit back his impatience as he pulled his foot from the step. He didn’t see why they should care about whatever had fallen under the stairs. They had a mission to complete, and that mission had nothing to do with an item lying forgotten in the dirt. Yet he’d trained his men to heed their instincts. If Jonah’s keen eyes had spotted something suspicious under the stoop and his gut told him it was important enough to investigate, Matt wouldn’t argue.

“Make it quick, Sergeant.” He might not argue, but he would hurry the expedition along.

Jonah got down on hands and knees and crawled under the stoop, his head and shoulders completely disappearing. How on earth had he even seen that thing? In the dark. In the even darker shadows beneath the church stairs. Matt shook his head.

Brooks backed out, ducking his head to keep the floorboards from knocking his hat askew. Once out, he sat back on his heels and dusted off his treasure.

“Looks like a Bible,” Preach said.

Wallace leaned close, stealing a peek over Jonah’s shoulder. “An old one, by the looks of it. The spine and edges are worn thin.”

Jonah rubbed the leather cover against his chest, cleaning off the dirt. “It’s a nice one,” he said. “Somebody’s prob’ly looking for it.” He held the top of the book up to his mouth and blew a puff of air across the closed pages. Dust scattered.

“Well, maybe we can do a good deed while we’re here.” Matt supposed he should be happy about that, but all he could think of was the danger Josie was in and how much his side throbbed. It didn’t put him in the most charitable frame of mind. “Let’s go.” They’d dallied long enough.

Matt forced energy into his tired legs and tromped up the steps. He set his jaw, doing his best to ignore the pain in his side. Taking a determined breath, he knocked on the door, then clasped the handle and gently pushed it open.

“Hello? Anyone here?” His gaze moved to the right, where soft lantern light peeked out between the floor and rear pews. “We’re in need of assist—”

A loud bonk cut off Matt’s words. It was followed by a grunt and a quiet “Ouch.”

For the second time that night, Matt watched a man back out of a tight space on his hands and knees. This man had empty hands, however, unless you counted the one vigorously rubbing a spot on his head that would surely sport a lump in the near future.

“Just a minute,” he said as he finished crawling out from under the rear pew.

Preach hurried forward and offered him a hand.

“Thank you.” The middle-aged man clasped the supportive arm and allowed Preach to lever him to his feet. He turned to face his unexpected company, a sheepish grin on his face. “I suppose it’s not a bad thing for a preacher to be found on his knees in church, though it would probably reflect better on me had I been praying instead of crawling under the pews like a mischievous toddler. What can I do—”

He interrupted himself with a gasp as his gaze zeroed in on Jonah. “You found it! Oh, God be praised!” He clapped his hands and rushed to Jonah’s side. “Where was it? I’ve been searching for hours.”

Jonah held the book out to him. “Under the stoop outside. Caught sight of it when we was walking up.”

The preacher accepted the Bible and clasped it to his chest with one hand while he gripped Jonah’s shoulder with the other. “You are a godsend, my brother. Truly. You have no idea what this means.” Tears misted his eyes. He inhaled sharply and blinked the moisture away before aiming his gaze toward heaven. He opened his arms wide. “Thank you, Father, for sending these men. For granting them vision to pierce the darkness so they might return to me what was lost.”