Page 80 of In Honor’s Defense

The first light of dawn streamed across Luke’s face and woke him from a restless sleep. Like all good soldiers, his senses sharpened to keen points the moment his eyes cracked open. He climbed off the too-short hotel bed and padded on bare feet to the window, a prayer on his heart. Had Damaris and Nate made it to San Antonio? He wanted to believe they had, yet the unease stirring in his gut told him they remained in danger.

He’d only made it as far as Houston last night. No outbound passage had been available until morning. He’d wired Gringolet to let them know his location, bought a ticket on the first train to Austin, then stalked across the street to the Grand Central Hotel and secured an overpriced room so he could get a few hours of shut-eye before resuming his mission.

He’d slept in his clothes, so it took less than five minutes to strap on his gun belt, slide his feet into his boots, and grab his hat. After a quick visit to the community washroom down the hall, he headed downstairs to the dining room and ordered coffee and a plate of eggs, sausage, and biscuits with gravy. Not knowing if he’d have the chance to eat again, he steeled himself against the worry churning in his gut and forced down every last bite. He couldn’t afford sapping strength or flagging energy. Nothing would slow his search today. He’d go until he found his family.

After swallowing the last of his coffee, he left payment on the table and strode across the street to Houston’s Grand Central Station. His train didn’t leave for another hour, but he wanted to check in with the telegraph clerk on duty.

Luke’s bootheels echoed loudly in the near-empty station as he strode through the passenger waiting area to get to the ticket window.

A man in a green eyeshade visor looked up at his approach. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Name’s Luke Davenport. Any messages waiting for me?”

The clerk twisted to survey a shelf of wooden pigeon holes to his right. He pulled out a handful of small envelopes before finding one with his name on it. “Ah. Yes. Here you are.” He slid it through an opening at the bottom of the barred window.

“Thanks.”

Luke tore open the envelope and read the short message.

Horsemen in Austin. No sign of Baxters. Will wait at station until location is determined. Burkett

Thank God for Matt’s father-in-law. Thaddeus Burkett was a former army man and would guard his post well. Damaris and Nate wouldn’t know him, but Matt would have given his business partner a detailed description of them. If they arrived, he’d find them.

The thought brought Luke little peace, though. The fact that they hadn’t arrived last night meant something had happened on the train. Helplessness jabbed him in the gut, followed by an uppercut of self-recrimination. He’d fed his family to the wolves and left them to fend for themselves. He wadded the telegram into a ball inside his fist—a fist so tight his knuckles whitened.

Mullins could have taken them anywhere. He could be doing anything to them while Luke paced an empty corridor miles away, unable to track them. Unable to save those he loved. A quiver vibrated through his jaw as his throat thickened. He clenched his teeth together and forced his mind away from the impotence that threatened to incapacitate him.

He glanced up at the vaulted ceiling. Got a verse for me?

The words his captain always asked him before a mission resonated in Luke’s heart as he took them and laid them before the Almighty.

I need one awful bad, and I seem to be plumb out.

No word of the Lord descended from the ceiling tiles to soothe his ragged heart, however, so Luke returned to his pacing. If only he knew where Mullins had taken them. Austin made sense, but there was no guarantee they hadn’t gone elsewhere. And even if Austin was correct, the state capital was huge. Mullins and his killer-for-hire could be hiding Damaris and Nate anywhere.

Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall not see him? saith the Lord.

The scripture filled his mind with such fullness, Luke snatched his hat from his head to make more room.

The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.

A tear slid down Luke’s face.

For his eyes are upon the ways of man, and he seeth all his goings. There is no darkness, nor shadow of death, where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves.

Luke fell to his knees. His eyes closed as the Lord’s generosity overwhelmed him.

God saw. He saw Damaris. And Nate. Right this very moment. Mullins too. No one could hide from the Almighty. No one could flee his presence.

Guide me to them, Lord. Make my path straight. Lead me in the way that I should go.

He knelt in that empty corridor for several minutes. Praying. Humbling himself before his God. Opening his fist to take the Father’s hand. When the mingled sounds of footsteps and voices increased and told him that his solitary place would soon be public, Luke braced a flat palm against the wall and levered himself to his feet.

His mind oddly clear, he scrubbed a hand over his face and marched back to the ticket counter. This time he had to wait in line behind a drummer and his oversized sample case, but once the peddler concluded his business, Luke stepped up to the window and asked for two telegraph blanks.

“Send this first one to the depot in San Antone, addressed to Mr. Thaddeus Burkett.”

The clerk accepted the message, making a quick count of the words before looking up again. “And the second?”