Page 77 of In Honor’s Defense

As Harbinger’s base of operations, Austin would provide resources to Mullins that other cities wouldn’t. He’d have the advantage of familiarity and allies at his disposal. But he’d have to get there. The tickets Luke purchased for the Baxters would take them through Houston and then on to San Antonio. For Mullins to divert to Austin, he’d have to switch trains at either the main hub in Houston or later down the line in San Marcos. Waiting until the last minute would give Damaris and Nate fewer chances to escape or flag down help, so San Marcos was probably Mullins’s target. Which meant Luke might be able to make up time on them if he took the line running directly from Houston to Austin.

He slid back over to the window. “When’s the next train?”

“Not ’til tomorrow. We only get the two spurs a day.”

“Could I catch something if I rode into Phelps?” That was where the Huntsville spur met the main line.

The telegraph operator frowned. “Only if you have a fast horse. That’s a good seven miles from here.”

Luke nodded to the operator and rushed out of the depot, thanking God for the impulse that had led him to tie Titan to the back of the Baxter wagon this morning, as well as the check that had kept him from running the horse ragged chasing an uncatchable train.

Your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.

He tried to take comfort in the Lord’s provision as he leapt onto the wagon seat and drove the Baxters’ team to the nearest livery, but his concern for Damaris and Nate eroded his peace. He could feel precious minutes tick by as he arranged to board and store the wagon. As soon as the money changed hands, Luke hurried to Titan’s side, tightened the cinch, and climbed into the saddle.

You revealed the danger to me, Lord, and you provided Titan, so I gotta believe you’ll get me to the station in time to catch the next train. But I’m scared for Damaris and Nate. The thought of living the rest of his life without them slashed like a saber across his chest. Protect them. Please.

As Titan’s powerful hooves tore up the ground, Luke scoured his memory for a verse to cling to, one to keep him sane during the next half hour of hard riding.

The last two verses of Psalm 37 rose to his consciousness, and he latched on to them like a drowning man to driftwood. He repeated them over and over in his mind, the words eventually matching the rhythm of Titan’s stride.

But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them: he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him.

Help them. Deliver them. Save them.

Please.

“All aboard!”

The conductor’s call jerked Damaris out of her doze and sharpened her attention. They’d been traveling for hours. The sun had set long ago, and the dim kerosene ceiling lamps illuminating the aisle did little to hold the shadows at bay. She glanced out the window and managed to make out the forms of several passengers milling about the platform. Porters with lanterns began urging people back onto the train.

Nathaniel wriggled in the seat next to her, pushing up from where he’d leaned against the side of the car. “How much longer?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

“Maybe a couple of hours?” she guessed. “We’re in Lockhart now. We’ll stop in San Marcos and then arrive in San Antonio.” With the lateness of the hour, the train wouldn’t stop at the smaller towns along the way unless they needed to take on water or coal.

The train whistle blew, and the few remaining passengers outside rushed to board. A pair of men stood beneath a lamppost, waiting for the others to board ahead of them. Something about them struck her as familiar. She leaned around Nathaniel and peered through the smoky glass, trying to make out the men’s features. The one with the lighter coloring moved his hands over his mustache in a distinctive manner. The curling flourish he made with his fingers at the end was exactly like . . .

“Mr. Mullins?”

“The lawyer fella?” Nathaniel straightened and pressed his face to the window. “What’s he doin’ here? Is he on the same train as us?”

Damaris’s stomach clenched, and a shiver snaked down her nape. She tried to tell herself it was merely coincidence, but her instincts screamed that it was more.

When the man next to Mullins stepped more fully into the light, all doubt vanished. Air whooshed from her lungs as if she’d been hit in the gut. Damaris clutched her nephew’s shoulders and jerked him backward, away from the window. Her mind spun.

A plan. She needed a plan.

“Was that . . . ?” Nathaniel’s trembling whisper confirmed what her eyes had told her. The man who’d attacked them in the fire was on their train.

Not only on their train, but apparently working with Ronald Mullins.

They needed to get off the train. Now. But they had to do it in such a way that Mullins and his wicked friend wouldn’t realize they were gone until it was too late to follow.

Damaris grabbed her handbag and pulled out the coin purse that carried her travel funds. She snatched the folded banknotes sitting on top of the heavier coins and shoved the money into Nathaniel’s hand. “Put this in your pocket. In case we get separated.”

He obeyed, then turned to look over his shoulder. “Are they coming after us?”

As much as she wanted to shield him from the truth, they didn’t have time for wishful thinking. Only action. “We can’t afford to find out. We’re getting off this train.”