Page 79 of At Love’s Command

“We’re going to find the outlaws,” Matt said. “I have no doubt. The Almighty wouldn’t bring us this far only to leave us empty-handed. What I don’t know is what will happen when we get there. What price might be demanded of us.”

“Same price we’ve been willing to pay in every other battle we’ve faced, Cap.” Preach gave him a nod.

Wallace echoed the gesture. “Even more so this time, with Miss Josephine in the line of fire. She’s one of us.”

Matt’s chest swelled with gratitude and not a little wonder.

How had Josie become so essential to him in such a short time—to the point that he would ask his men to place her well-being above their own? Had that been orchestrated by God too? Two lives intersecting at just the right moment and under just the right circumstances had proven to be a simple matter for the Almighty lately. After all, the Lord had brought him a wagon driven by a bootmaker when they had no shoes, the finest stock in the state when they had no horses, and a map-drawing preacher when they had no direction. Bringing him a woman to awaken a heart scarred by loss and failure when he thought he was destined to live out his life alone no longer seemed so farfetched.

Strange how spiritual hindsight could change one’s view of the future.

“That jutting rock face to the south could be the hill Parson Andrews marked as the northeast corner of the Hightower property.” Jonah’s comment sharpened Matt’s focus on his surroundings.

Matt looked in the direction his sergeant pointed, pulled the map back out, and oriented himself with other landmarks closer at hand. “I think you’re right.”

Anticipation for the coming battle thrummed through his veins and pumped his pulse into a high tempo. Josie was close. But so were Taggart and a crew who outnumbered the Horsemen three to one.

Matt started to look to Preach for a verse, but a different urge tugged on his spirit. One he couldn’t ignore.

He pulled his hat from his head. “Join me, fellas?”

The other Horsemen drew their mounts near, and each man uncovered then bowed his head.

“Lord.” Matt wasn’t accustomed to addressing the Almighty in front of others, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that his men needed the words as much as he did. “Thanks for showin’ us the way and providin’ what was necessary to mount this rescue. I know we ain’t the most righteous of men. We have blood on our hands and failings aplenty, yet if you ride with us, I believe we will prevail. So stick close, Lord. We need you.”

I need you. Don’t let me botch your plans with my own ignorance. Don’t let this be another Wounded Knee.

“Grant us courage under fire. Protect us from harm, but more importantly, protect Josie. Let no bullet find her, no injury befall her, no indignity be foisted upon her.” Matt swallowed, working hard to keep his head above the murky water that roiled with dark possibilities. “I know vengeance is yours, but we offer ourselves as warriors for justice should you deem us worthy. Make our aim true and our mission a success.” He paused for a moment, culling his mind for what he might have missed. Not finding anything, he opened his eyes and tipped his chin toward heaven. “I guess that about covers it. Thanks for listening. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

A murmured collection of amens echoed around him.

“Good words, Captain,” Wallace said as he and the rest of the Horsemen fit their hats back onto their heads.

Feeling more settled in his spirit, Matt nodded to Preach.

“‘The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped.’ Psalm 28:7.”

He couldn’t think of a better send-off.

Matt gave the signal to ride, then bent over Percival’s neck and whispered, “Let’s go get our fair maiden, Sir Knight.”

As if the horse understood the quest, he sprang forward and surged to the front of the pack, forcing Matt to rein in his enthusiasm lest he tire too quickly. With a grin on his face, and a confidence rooted not in his own expertise but in the God whose presence permeated the air around them, Matt led the way to the rocky outcropping and the outlaws waiting on the other side.

A cool bit of wind brushed Josephine’s cheek like the caress of a finger. Her head jerked upward, and a shiver of awareness tingled against her nape. She pushed away from the chuck wagon where she’d been opening the tinned vegetables from her supply bag into Arnold’s soup pot, and scanned her surroundings.

She glanced toward the house, then the barn, then to areas beyond, but she spied nothing out of the ordinary. A handful of Taggart’s men were readying the horses for the ransom appointment. Others hunkered together playing cards. A few passed around a jug of home-brewed spirits. Taggart remained inside the house. Separate. Apart.

Ever since she’d written that letter, he’d barricaded himself in the house, watching the goings-on through the windows and distributing orders through his lieutenants. Was he weary of his men? Heaven knew she was. Or maybe a part of him feared she was right about the cavalry coming and sought the protection of four solid walls.

Carver and Dawson had spent the most time indoors, but yesterday another fellow had spent nearly an hour inside. A man who had ridden Matthew’s horse. She’d recognized Phineas the moment the outlaw had ridden in last night, the provoking sight raising her ire. No one should ride that horse but Matthew Hanger. Yet even thieving outlaws recognized prime horseflesh when they saw it. All of the Horsemen’s mounts had been claimed in short order, along with their ammunition and weapons. Taggart’s top men kept the best items for themselves, of course. Her guard wore Matthew’s gun belt and pistol crisscrossed over his own, giving him a gun on each hip.

Carver winked at her as her roaming gaze slid past him. He tucked his thumb into the gun belt and smirked as if to remind her that her man was gone.

But was he?

Another breeze tickled her neck. Stray hairs pulled free from her braid and whipped across her eyes. As she drew them away from her lashes, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was supposed to see something. Something important. Her scientific mind tried to dismiss the thought as irrational. It was just a gust of wind, after all. Nothing more. Yet her instincts continued to flare, prodding her to be ready.

Today was the day the ransom was to take place. The day her fate would be decided. Charlie’s too. They had to be ready to take advantage of any opportunity that presented itself. Arnold had slipped Charlie a knife after supper, and her brother had spent the better part of the night whittling the end of the wheel spoke so that he could splinter it and unfetter himself should a chance for escape arise. Or should the threat to their lives reach a critical stage.