Page 4 of In Honor’s Defense

All she had to do was not go crazy in the meantime, imagining the various creepy-crawly things that dwelled in cellars. Things that came out of their holes when the lights went out.

Sitting on the bottom rung, Damaris wrapped her skirt tightly around her legs and hugged her arms across her chest. It would only be for an hour or two. She could manage.

A creak echoed from the corner. Her gaze darted that way, but her vision couldn’t penetrate the darkness.

Tiny tapping sounds clicked behind her. She drew her legs closer to her body and began to hum.

She could do this. They were just noises. Magnified by the dark.

Something itched the top of her hair. She shook her head and fluttered a hand over her bun, encountering nothing but hair and pins.

She could do this.

Something tickled her nape. She jumped up from the ladder and wiggled from head to toe.

Perhaps patience wasn’t a viable option after all. As she slapped at the itchy spot on the back of her neck, Damaris fervently began praying for an Option Three.

CHAPTER

TWO

Luke Davenport rode up to the ranch house on the Triple G spread, holding Titan to a walk so he could scan his surroundings as he approached. He’d noticed a neighbor to the west, a couple of farms to the north, closer to Madisonville, but nothing developed to the south. The rustlers probably came and went from that direction.

His horse’s ears pricked, and Luke leaned forward slightly to pat the big fella’s neck. “Yep,” he murmured. “I see him.”

A man stood in the shadows of the porch, rifle in hand.

Luke signaled Titan to halt. The big sorrel immediately obeyed, seeming to sense his master’s desire even before Luke tugged the reins.

Titan was one of the first horses at Gringolet that Luke had broken to saddle after his former captain took over running the respected breeding farm. When Matt Hanger married and declared Hanger’s Horsemen officially retired, he’d given all of the Horsemen jobs at the farm, training horses for the army and other local buyers.

Luke liked the work well enough, especially since Matt assigned him the wildest animals to saddle break. The wilder the better, as far as he was concerned. He loved pitting himself against a worthy opponent and giving his own wildness an outlet. Something he’d missed since leaving the cavalry. Riding with the Horsemen had scratched the itch. Chasing bandits, dodging bullets, and infiltrating outlaw gangs kept a man sharp. On top of his game. The military had channeled his recklessness and given it purpose. Then Matt had honed that purpose into a godly mission, protecting the lives and property of decent folk from the wickedness of unscrupulous men. But lately, Luke’s sense of purpose had dulled. Like a saber no longer used for battle, his reason for existence was deteriorating. Matt and the others might be content to hang their swords on the wall as a memento of days gone by, but Luke had nothing else. Who was he if not a warrior?

Terrified to contemplate the dark void that yawned wide and empty in answer to that question, Luke had snagged the first available excuse to get back in the action. Wilson Grimes, a trooper who had served under the captain back in their cavalry days, had written to Matt, asking if the Horsemen could look into a rustling problem his brother was facing in Madison County. Luke had volunteered for the job before Matt could even finish reading the letter.

He knew he’d be on his own this time. No Horsemen were available to watch his back, but he’d been on his own before. He’d manage. His friends had more important places to be at the moment. Matt’s wife was heavy with their first child, mere weeks from delivering. Jonah had a new bride to keep happy and a ranch to get off the ground. And Wallace wore a deputy’s badge now, keeping peace for the good folks of Kingsland. None could just pick up and leave at a moment’s notice. None but Luke.

“Hello, at the house,” he called. “Name’s Luke Davenport. I’m here to see Oliver Grimes. Matthew Hanger sent me.”

The man on the front porch stepped out of the shadows, a smile stretching across his face as his rifle barrel dropped to point at the ground. “Mr. Davenport! Welcome.” He hurried down the porch steps and strode out to where Luke waited. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you here. Please, come inside. I’ll have one of my men see to your horse.” He whistled, and an older fellow emerged from the barn, his bowlegged gait wide enough for a baby buffalo to scamper through. “Quincy, see to Mr. Davenport’s horse, would you?”

“Sure thing, Boss.” The fellow ambled up as Luke dismounted. “Fine-lookin’ horse. What’s his name?”

“Titan.” Luke patted his gelding’s neck, then handed the reins to the old cowhand, whose eyes glowed with admiration.

“Fittin’,” Quincy said, his experienced gaze cataloging the animal’s features. “He’s gotta be, what, seventeen hands?”

Luke grinned. “Seventeen-two.” With Luke’s own height reaching four inches over six feet, he needed a mount to match.

Quincy whistled softly. “Woo-ee. I’ll prob’ly need the stepladder to unsaddle him.”

“Just loosen his girth and give him some water for now,” Luke said. “I’ll want to ride the property line after your boss fills me in on what’s been goin’ on around here lately.”

Quincy nodded. “Will do.” His smile faded into a solemn expression as he met his boss’s eye. He nodded to both men. “Titan will be ready when ya need him.”

Luke fingered his hat brim. “Thanks.”

“Come on inside.” Grimes bounded up the front steps and held the door wide open.