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"Can't we go faster?" she asked finally, frustrated at their slow pace.
Sam shook his head. "I'd like to, Emma, but we can't afford to tire the horses. In this heat, they'll collapse if we don't take it easy on them."
"But we won't catch them if we don't hurry," she protested.
Emma understood what Sam was saying and knew deep in her heart that he was right. Nevertheless, patience had never been one of her virtues. She wanted desperately to close the distance between them and the children. With every mile they plodded along at what seemed like a snail's pace, her nerves wound tighter and tighter until she felt as if she was going to fall apart.
Fred slowed his horse until Sam and Emma caught up with him. "I expect they'll run the horses until they collapse."
"Oh, those poor animals --"
Sam reached over and gave Emma's hand a quick squeeze. "I know how you feel, but since we don't know how far ahead of us they are, we have to hope they're forced to stop. Because if they don't ..."
His voice trailed off. He didn't need to finish the thought. They were very much aware of the words he'd left unspoken.
***
The sun was a bright orange ball hovering on the horizon by the time they rode into Bluebell, a haphazard collection of buildings already showing signs of abandonment.
They'd stopped at four settlements during the day. Each time, they'd been too late. And each time, Sam had become more and more withdrawn, until they'd ridden in absolute silence for the past few miles.
Reining in their horses in front of a ramshackle livery stable near the edge of town, Sam and Fred dismounted. Emma planned to stay behind with the horses, but her curiosity got the better of her. She couldn't stand not knowing what was happening. She dismounted, groaning as her muscles cramped in protest. Her thighs burned, and every bone and muscle in her body ached. Biting her lip against the pain, she hobbled into the livery and approached the men.
As she drew closer, she saw Sam nodding, then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few coins. He handed them to a bear of a man holding a sledge hammer, who jammed them into his pocket beneath a filthy leather apron.
"Yeah," the man said through a mouthful of broken and blackened teeth. "I seen 'em. That there's theirs." He pointed to a dust-covered buggy.
Emma's heart thundered. That meant only one thing. The Howards - and the children - were close by.
"Where did they go?" Sam asked.
Emma recognized the effort it was taking Sam to control himself and not force the information out of the man through physical means.
"Well, now, my memory ain't what it used to be--"
Fred took a threatening step towards the blacksmith, but stopped when Sam put a restraining hand on his arm.
Handing the man another coin, he asked, "Maybe if you think real hard ..."
The blacksmith glanced down at the coin, then tucked it away with the rest. "Well now, I do seem to recall the woman sayin' somethin' about gettin' a room for the night. One of the kids with her wasn't feelin' too good."
Emma's heart skipped a beat. One of her children was ill? "Which one?" Emma interrupted. "What was wrong?"
"Where?" Sam asked at the same time.
"Bluebell's only got one hotel. Other end of town," he said to Sam, then turned to Emma. "Well, now, little lady," he said. Emma cringed at the way his gaze moved over her body. "It was one of the boys that was under the weather." He chuckled. "I've got to hand it to him, though. Told the woman to leave him alone, he didn't want her lookin' after him."
"Nathan. It had to be Nathan," Emma murmured.
"Yeah, that was what the woman called him. They're gonna have their hands full with that one. He's a little hellion."
Emma almost smiled at the admiration in the man's voice.
"Does Bluebell have a sheriff?" Sam asked. The blacksmith's brows lifted in concern at the urgency in Sam's tone.
"Well, sure, we got a sheriff. You
'll probably find him having supper at Rose's Cafe."
