Page 16 of In Honor’s Defense

Satisfaction rolled through him as the rustlers moved stealthily through the brush. A gang. He’d suspected as much. In all his years of riding with Hanger’s Horsemen, he’d never come across a one-man rustling operation. A gang meant he’d need to bring Grimes and his hands in on the capture, though. Tonight, he’d watch. Follow. If he could find their entrance point, he and Grimes could set a trap. Even better, if he could find where they were stashing the rustled beeves, he could recover the stock. They probably had horses waiting on the other side of whatever cavern they’d come through, but if he could mark the exit spot, he might be able to track their trail come morning.

One shadow separated from the rest and pointed to a pair of steers lying in the grass at the base of an oak about twenty yards to Luke’s left. The men crept closer. Luke studied them through the dark. Their features were indistinguishable at this distance, but he made note of their gaits. The shape of their hats. Anything that might identify them later. Or now, if one happened to be a smooth-faced fourteen-year-old with an oversized chip on his shoulder. Luke prayed Nate wasn’t among them, but he searched for similarities anyway. Better to know what he was dealing with now than find out later when guns were drawn.

A twig snapped somewhere to Luke’s right. He fought the urge to turn and instead kept his gaze glued to the rustlers. The leader of the gang signaled with a sharp drop of one arm, and all four men flattened themselves to the ground, disappearing in the prairie grass.

A fifth figure entered Luke’s frame of vision. The newcomer moved quickly, with a boldness that paid little heed to the amount of noise he made. A shadowy lump extended from his back. A hat dangling from a stampede string? Or maybe a gunny sack slung over one shoulder?

Luke tensed. Stared hard at the figure’s profile, taking in the height. The bare head and hairless chin. The belligerent stride. Nate. And he was marching directly toward the rustlers. As if he aimed to join them.

Luke clenched his jaw, wishing he could close his eyes and unsee the truth, but he couldn’t. The best he could do now was watch and listen. Determine how involved the kid was and see if there was any way to extricate him before Grimes brought in the law.

Nate neared the rustlers’ position but didn’t slow. Didn’t announce his arrival, either. Just kept walking as if . . . as if he didn’t actually know they were there.

Luke’s fists clenched. He braced himself against the edge of the rock in front of him. It took all of the restraint he had not to lurch from his hiding place. He tried to think about what Matt would do. The captain always seemed to have a plan at the ready, and it rarely entailed rushing in until all the facts were gathered.

Let it play out. Don’t make things worse by jumpin’ the gun.

Luke fought to control his breathing. His pulse. There was a chance the rustlers would hold their positions and let the boy walk right by, none the wiser.

Yet even as that hopeful thought started to calm him, reality exploded.

Nate tripped over something in the grass. That something jumped up and grabbed the boy around the middle. Nate yelled. The rustler clamped a hand over his mouth.

Luke drew his revolver. Pushed up from his crouch. Then froze when a low-pitched voice met his ears.

“That one of Grimes’s hands?” The rustler from the front of the pack rose from the grass and gestured to Nate.

“Nah. It’s just some kid.”

The leader came to stand in front of Nathaniel. “Out pretty late, aren’t you, boy?”

For once, Nate kept his mouth shut. Not that he had much choice in the matter.

“Well, you picked the wrong place for a midnight stroll.”

“What should we do with him, Boss?” one of the other rustlers asked.

“He’s seen our faces, so we’ll have to take him with us. Leave his body somewhere where we can stage an accident. Maybe a broken neck from a fall out of a tree. Boys are always climbin’ trees.”

“What about the other thing we come for?” The fourth man waded into the conversation.

“We’ll get it another night. Gotta take care of this problem first.”

Not if Luke had anything to say about it.

Luke crept out from behind the rocks that sheltered his position and stalked toward the gang. Their distraction with Nate allowed him to get within fifteen yards before the first rustler noticed him. His jolt of surprise alerted the rest of the gang. All four spun to face him. The leader snatched Nate from his partner, pulled a knife from his belt, and held the blade to the boy’s throat.

Luke aimed his revolver at the leader’s head, what little he could see of it behind Nate’s wide-eyed face. “Let the kid go.”

The leader eyed the revolver and tightened his hold on Nate. A gunshot could bring more of Grimes’s men to the scene. If they were within range. Grimes was at the house. Joe, Quincy, and Randall in the bunkhouse. Buck was monitoring the west fence line and was probably too far away to hear a shot. But the rustlers didn’t know that.

“Can’t hit me without hittin’ the kid.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. But I could hit him.” He shifted the barrel of his revolver to line up with the man standing to the leader’s right.

The fellow fumbled for his holster, but the leader hissed at him. “No guns! You wanna bring the whole lot of ’em down on us? He’s only one man. We can take him.”

“Easy for you to say. His first bullet ain’t aimed at your chest.”