Page 74 of Fairest of Heart

Please, Lord. Expel the poison and spare her life. As you did for the daughter of Jairus, awaken this precious child from her deathly slumber.

Resolved, Enoch squeezed the bulb and released the ipecac. It didn’t take long for the vomiting to start, though not even the violent retching woke Penny from her unnatural sleep.

An hour later, they had her laid out on her bed, her soiled clothing removed and replaced with a nightdress. He’d bathed her skin and freshened her mouth with a bit of tooth powder and a wet sponge. She looked so peaceful. Yet he feared she was slipping away.

Rowdy stood at the foot of the bed, hat in hand, head bowed in prayer when Dusty slipped into the room.

“The others are starting to stir, Doc.”

Thank God.

He didn’t want to leave Penny’s side, afraid that if he did, she might stop breathing. But he wasn’t the one keeping her alive. The Lord was. And right now, God was calling Enoch to serve other patients.

He rose, though he couldn’t quite find the energy to straighten the hunch from his shoulders. Rowdy rounded the bed to take his vacated chair, ensuring the vigil would continue in his absence. His heart heavy and his steps slow, Enoch met Dusty at the doorway and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Better ride to Glen Rose and telegraph the Rangers. They’ll know where to find Titus.” He glanced down at Penelope, a new sorrow flooding his soul at the thought of the devastation about to tear through his grandson. “The boy will want to be here.”

31

Hunting entailed ninety percent patience and ten percent marksmanship. Titus’s father had drilled that truth into him and Tate when they’d been boys full of restless energy with a compulsion to wiggle. They’d frightened away game more times than Titus could count before they’d learned to master the art of watchful waiting. A skill essential for a Ranger on a manhunt.

Yet as Titus lurked in a shadowy Fort Worth alleyway across the street from the house where Cecil Hunt was supposed to take refuge, all those hard-earned lessons in patience eroded. Second thoughts plagued his mind, making it nearly impossible to sit still. What if this was a bigger ruse than he’d initially assumed? Deception was Narcissa LaBelle’s lifeblood, but a betrayal of her partner to spare herself had seemed in keeping with her self-serving character. She’d cast blame before, convincing him that Penelope was a woman of low morals and therefore a viable theft suspect. It made sense that she’d serve up Hunt on a similar platter.

Watching for Hunt seemed a solid strategy. Find him. Show him the letter. Leverage Narcissa’s betrayal. Get him to turn on her. However, for the last hour or two, Titus’s skin had itched in a way that made him antsy. His gut had tangled into knots as if something were wrong. Like he should be somewhere else. Watching someone else.

He shifted his position, and his heel knocked softly against the pair of empty liquor bottles he’d salvaged from the trash bin behind the saloon three doors down. People tended to avoid conversing with drunks in alleyways. They averted their eyes. Hurried past. Scrubbed the image from their minds so they could focus on more pleasant things. A sad commentary on social reform, but a rather convenient practice for a lawman wanting to escape notice and questions. Titus had been sitting in the dirt with his back propped against the wall since dawn.

No sign of Hunt. Yet.

Titus had scouted the property last night after arriving in Fort Worth on the late train. A banker lived in the residence with his wife and two daughters. A woman wearing a plain gray dress arrived around seven this morning and let herself in with a key. Probably the housekeeper. The wealth of the family seemed more in keeping with a connection of Madame LaBelle than a simple man like Hunt, but it was still the best lead Titus had. He’d give it a day. If Hunt didn’t show up by noon tomorrow, Titus would head back to—

Instinct shut off his wandering thoughts when a man in a dark suit turned down the rutted path that led to the banker’s carriage house. Titus slid his hand beneath the horse blanket he’d draped over his lap to hide his gun belt and clasped the butt of his pistol. Slowly, he pushed to his feet, his gaze locked on the stranger ducking inside the carriage house door.

It could be a workman. The fellow didn’t have the same build he remembered from when he’d chased Hunt, but it had been night then. Things sometimes looked different in daylight. Best to make sure.

Leaving the alley, Titus strolled across the street, then circled around to approach the carriage house from the rear. Unlike the barn-sized door at the front of the building that was large enough to accommodate the exit of a carriage and team, the door at the back was more ordinary in size and easier to crack open unnoticed. It took a moment for Titus’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior, so he concentrated on sounds instead. Particularly, the quiet shuffling of shoe leather on floorboards somewhere to his left. He pivoted that direction.

His vision sharpened, allowing him to make out the lines of the black buggy and the legs of someone standing on the far side of the vehicle. Keeping his footfalls as silent as possible, Titus drew his weapon and edged his way through the tack room to stalk around the back of the buggy.

Settling his finger on the trigger, he darted around the buggy, gun first. A raised revolver in a steady hand greeted him. As did a face he knew well.

“Hoffman?” Titus lowered his weapon.

The weathered Ranger dropped his gun arm. “Figured that was you, but didn’t want to call out just in case it weren’t.”

Titus holstered his gun but didn’t relax. “Why are you here?”

“Captain Bill sent me to relieve you.” The man’s somber tone and penetrating gaze tightened the screws on the vise squeezing Titus’s chest. “There was an attack at the Diamond D yesterday afternoon.”

Titus tensed. “Casualties?”

Please, God, no.

“Not yet.” Hoffman rested a hand atop Titus’s shoulder and gave his collarbone a squeeze. “Telegram urged you to come home quick. Some gal named Penny is in dire straits.”

Titus’s knees nearly buckled.

He never should have left. He should have been there. Guarding her. Protecting her. He’d only just found Penelope. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not when his heart was finally learning how to beat again.