Page 87 of In Honor’s Defense

Luke leapt off the roof, twisting his body in the air to aim himself feet-first at his target—the large plate-glass window at the front of the cabin. His arms snapped in their sockets as the rope tautened. A heartbeat later, his boots slammed into the window.

Glass shattered. A curtain covered his face as his momentum carried him into the front room. Releasing the rope, Luke fell to the floor. Throwing the curtain fabric aside, he sprang to his feet, spotted his prey, and charged.

With a roar, he launched himself at the rustler who’d left him for dead, the devil who dared touch Damaris. His enemy spun to face him, bringing up a knife, but Luke was ready. He blocked the blow with his left forearm and slammed an uppercut into his opponent’s jaw. When the man staggered backward, Luke charged again, flattening him to the ground. He grabbed the knife arm and banged wrist against floor until the blade fell away. The rustler kicked and punched, but without his three compadres to even the odds, he was no match for Luke’s greater size and strength. Ignoring the pelting jabs to his body, Luke fisted the rustler’s shirt and yanked his head and shoulders off the ground. Then, with a mighty swing, he smashed his enemy’s jaw. The rustler went limp.

“Gun!”

The captain’s call had Luke spinning around and reaching for his weapon, but his revolver never cleared leather. Because the gun the captain had spotted wasn’t pointed at Luke. It was pointed at Damaris.

His beautiful, brave Damaris. Her hair hung down around her ears in lopsided hanks. Tears streaked her cheeks. Blood stained her sleeve and her skirt.

Mullins stood with his arm wrapped around Damaris’s middle. Gun pointed at her head as he used her as a shield. Luke’s jaw tightened. As did his fists.

“Back away,” Mullins demanded. “Or she dies!”

Luke unclenched his fists and held his hands harmlessly away from his body.

The lawyer’s gaze darted over to Matt, who stood, gun drawn, directly outside the shattered window. “Throw your pistol into the broken glass. Now!”

Matt uncocked the revolver and loosened his grip, letting it spin around his finger so that it dangled upside down like a fish on a line. “Easy, there,” he coaxed as he leaned down to drop his gun into the glass shards on the floor inside the window. “All we want is Miss Baxter. Let her go, and we’ll let you walk right out that door.”

“Not a chance,” Mullins said, inching his way toward the door. “I know who you are, Horseman. You and Davenport are going to stay right where you are while Miss Baxter and I take a ride into town.” Another step toward the door. “You follow me, she dies. You race ahead and try to stop me at the depot, she dies. But if you’re smart and do as you’re told, I’ll leave her unharmed at the first station we reach.”

Luke itched to get his hands around Mullins’s throat, but he’d do nothing to endanger Damaris. A fact the lawyer knew all too well. Mullins actually smirked as he sidled past his fallen comrade to get to the door. Luke didn’t pay him more than half a glance, though. He focused on Damaris. On those glistening brown eyes that looked far too defeated.

“Take care of Nathaniel for me,” she said softly as Mullins dragged her past.

A muscle ticked in Luke’s jaw as he pinned her with his stare. “I’ll take care of him with you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and her step slowed until a shove from Mullins broke their eye contact and forced her to stumble toward the door.

“Open it,” the lawyer snapped as he twisted her sideways so he could keep an eye on both Luke and the captain.

Not that his vigilance mattered. Luke and Matt weren’t the Horsemen to be worried about.

After struggling with the heavy latch barring the door, Damaris pulled the portal open and stepped out into the sunshine. The moment she cleared the eaves, the getaway wagon raced by with Wallace in the driver’s seat.

“Stop!” Mullins moved his gun arm to take a shot at the man stealing his team.

As soon as he moved, a rifle fired. Mullins yelped. His pistol fell to the ground, and blood seeped through his cuff. He bent sideways to cradle his injured wrist, but with the gun no longer pressed to her temple, Damaris discovered new energy to resist, kicking the gun out of his reach and straining against his hold.

She didn’t struggle long, for the moment Luke heard Jonah’s sniper shot, he ran for the door. He pulled Damaris to his chest, creating enough separation between her and her captor to chop an elbow across Mullins’s bicep, breaking his hold.

Without his shield, Mullins had no choice but to run. Luke let him go a few yards while he steadied Damaris on her feet, then chased the cur down and tackled him to the ground. Luke’s knuckles crashed into Mullins’s jaw on the same side where Damaris’s face had been reddened by a man’s palm. Then he laid into his body, jabbing stomach, kidneys, and ribs until Mullins curled into a ball, covered his head, and begged Luke to stop.

Grabbing Mullins by the coat lapels, Luke dragged him to his feet. Matt stood nearby, ready to take the villain off his hands, and Luke didn’t hesitate. Mullins might deserve to be covered in honey and staked out on a bed of ants for a week, but seeing to Damaris took precedence over vengeance. That was God’s jurisdiction anyhow.

Luke shoved Mullins toward the captain, then jogged over to the cabin, where Damaris stood with an arm braced against the wall. A quick peek inside the door as he passed confirmed there’d be no trouble from that quarter. The rustler still lay in an unconscious heap.

“I got him.” Wallace waved from the wagon he’d just drawn to a stop in front of the cabin. “Come on, slowpoke,” he called over his shoulder to the black man striding across the yard from the tree that had served as his sniper’s perch. “Give me a hand.”

Jonah scowled as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, which of course made Mark chuckle.

“Those two are about as similar as rocks and water,” Luke said with a grin when he saw Damaris watching them with a dazed expression, “but their friendship is as solid as they come.” He came alongside her, his smile fading into a frown of concern. “Damaris? Are you all right?”

It took her a moment to meet his gaze, and when she did, his stomach dropped to his boots. Dullness clouded her eyes.

“Luke?” She reached for him. “I think I’m going to . . . fain . . .”