At Love's Command

by Karen Witemeyer

  “Rider on our back trail. Gained on us over the last hour.”

  Matt frowned. “Single rider?”

  Jonah nodded. “Yep. On the small side too. Could be a boy.”

  Matt groaned. It wouldn’t be the first time a kid had ridden out after them with some crazy notion about joining the Horsemen. The boy he’d met in the clinic, what was his name? Donald? Dennis? Douglas! That was it. He’d had a hundred and one questions about the Horsemen. Could be he’d followed them. He seemed a mite young, but stranger things had happened.

  “I’ll check it out. Stay with the others.” If it was a kid, Matt would have to see him home. He couldn’t let a young’un wander around on his lonesome. If it wasn’t a kid . . . well, Matt would have a friendly chat with the fellow. Determine his business and see if he posed a threat. “Wallace can probably do with a rest about now, anyway. Have the others hold up until I return.”

  Jonah tapped the brim of his hat. “Will do, Captain.”

  Nudging Phineas into a canter, Matt set off in the opposite direction from his men. He should probably thank the mysterious rider for giving him an excuse to force Wallace to rest without sounding like a nagging old woman for once. The kid’s pride was already rubbing raw with the slower pace Matt had forced on the group for his benefit. Having a reason to stop that didn’t center on his injury would be a blessing.

  Matt crested the hill that had obscured his view of the back trail and reined Phineas in. He scanned the road that stretched out to the south. There. About a mile back. A rider with a black hat on a pale horse. Rode well for a youngster. Too well. The rider had the seat of an experienced horseman, one with years of training. Matt shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted. Fellow might be small, but not likely a boy.

  Unsnapping the guard on his holster so his revolver would be ready for a quick draw if needed, Matt touched his heels to Phineas’s flanks and set an intercept course. Could be nothing, or could be trouble. Time to figure out which.

  With both horses cantering, the distance between them shrank quickly. As they drew near each other, the rider in the black hat straightened in the saddle, then waved an arm above his head as if signaling him. Matt leaned forward over his mount’s neck and strained to make out distinguishing features. Was one of Dalton’s ranch hands chasing him down for some reason? Had they left something undone with the rustling job?

  The color of the mount was wrong, though. He didn’t recall any palominos in Dalton’s corral. Of course, he likely hadn’t seen all the horses in the rancher’s remuda.

  The rider waved again. The skin on Matt’s nape tingled. Who was this? And what did he want?

  As the distance between them closed, something about the horse struck Matt as familiar. The palomino. When he’d boarded Phineas and Cooper at the livery in Purgatory Springs, there’d been a palomino there. American quarter horse. Good lines. Strong chest. But the rider?

  “Captain Hanger!”

  He barely made out his name over the sound of pounding hooves, but it was the frequency of the voice that brought him up in his saddle. High pitched. Like a boy or a—

  “Matthew!”

  Female. And one who made his heart skitter sideways by calling him by his given name.

  Josephine.

  Twice now he’d mistaken her for a man. An unbelievable happenstance, given how much he was drawn to her as a woman.

  The weight of the situation suddenly hit him. She wouldn’t have chased him down just to wheedle a proper good-bye out of him. Something was wrong. Something serious.

  As they came together and reined in their mounts, Matt urged Phineas alongside the palomino.

  “What is it, Josie? What’s wrong?”

  The desperation in her face made his gut churn. “My brother. Please. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

  Her lack of ten-dollar words or even complete sentences told him more than anything else how frightened she was.

  He leaned forward in his saddle. “Tell me.”

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  Josephine turned away from Captain Hanger’s intense hazel eyes, needing a moment to collect herself. She’d been so driven to reach him. Now that she finally had, it was all she could do not to disintegrate into a weepy mess of gratitude. But she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t be the type of woman who used tears to sway a man into solving her problems for her. She needed his help, but she fully intended to be a partner in this rescue mission, and if she fell apart now, he’d never deem her strong enough to ride alongside them.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she ordered her trembling insides to still. His nearness proved an apt distraction from her distress, but it did little to focus her mind on her well-thought-out speech. She’d rehearsed for miles what she would say to him, but she needed her wits intact to competently plead her case.

  Sliding her right foot out of the stirrup, she shifted her weight to her left side. Matthew took the hint and urged his mount back a step, thereby allowing her to dismount without hindrance. After a moment, she and the captain walked side by side up the road, their horses trailing behind them.

  “I received a letter from home this morning. My brother, Charlie, is being held hostage. A ransom demand was sent to my father, but he refuses to pay.”

  Matthew twisted to face her. “Seems harsh.”

  Her shoulders drooped. How to explain the complicated nature of her father and brother’s relationship?

  “Charlie’s a bit of a rascal. Always getting into one scrape or another.” She pressed her lips closed over the well-worn excuse. Sugarcoating the truth wouldn’t serve any purpose. “He’d rather live off my father’s money than apply himself to establishing his own career. He wants nothing to do with running Gringolet, much to my father’s consternation, and prefers gambling and racing. A few months back, Charlie ‘borrowed’ several Gringolet horses on a dare, and he and his drunk friends raced them cross-country. One of the animals came up lame. It was the last straw. Father was so furious, he cut Charlie off financially and kicked him out of the house. According to Darla, our housekeeper, Father has refused even to speak Charlie’s name since that day.

  “It sounds harsh,” she said, drawing to a halt in the middle of the road, “but I believe Father still loves Charlie. He’s trying to save him from a path of destructive behavior. Hoping he’ll sever ties with the bad company he’s been keeping and recognize the importance of integrity and the value of hard work.” Josephine shook her head, tears welling despite her determination to stay strong. She blinked them back. “I never thought he would go so far as refusing to pay a ransom, though.”

  The captain made no comment, and his face was impossible to read.

  “According to Darla, Charlie was seen in the company of these outlaws before the ransom demand was issued, so Father doubts the veracity of their threats. He doesn’t think they will actually hurt him. He believes they’re just trying to leverage the family for money Charlie can no longer provide. Most likely to cover gambling debts.”

  Worried that Matthew would take the same stance as her father, Josephine grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “Even if this trouble is of Charlie’s own making, I can’t leave him in the hands of violent men with nothing more substantial than a . . . a theory that they won’t harm him. He’s my baby brother. If there’s even a chance that his life is in danger, or that he might suffer bodily injury, I have to help him.”

  Captain Hanger turned to gaze at something off in the distance, making him even more difficult to read. “You plannin’ to pay the ransom?”

  She bit her lip. “No. They’re asking for three thousand dollars. By Friday. I can’t afford half of that.” Here it came. The moment of truth. Straightening her backbone and lifting her chin, Josephine gathered her courage and made her outrageous request. “I want to hire the Horsemen to rescue my brother.”

  A tiny muscle ticked in Matthew’s jaw beneath his ear. Was he angry?

  “I’ll pay you, of course,” she hurri
ed to assure him, in case he thought she was trying to take advantage of their acquaintance. “I remember your enthusiasm for Gringolet horses. When I graduated from medical school, my father promised me my pick from any of the mounts in his stable. I’ve been saving that pick, knowing it would take several years to build my practice. I hoped that when I was more established, I would be able to stable a horse and ride regularly. But I’ll give my pick to you.” It was the only thing of value she owned. “Agree to rescue Charlie, and you can have any horse Gringolet has to offer.”

  He said nothing. Just slowly turned back to face her. His face a mask.

  Her heart rate tripled. Her breath shallowed.

  Please say yes. Please say yes.

  “Hard to split a horse between four men,” he finally said, his voice flat. “You aren’t just hiring me, Josie. You’re hiring all the Horsemen.”

  She swallowed. She’d been so focused on convincing Matthew, she hadn’t given the others more than a cursory thought. Her mind spun, desperate to find a solution.

  “Perhaps you can sell the horse and split the profits,” she blurted. “Gringolet stock brings top dollar at auction.” The idea was paper-thin, but it was all she had to offer. “Please, Captain Hanger.”

  Something hardened in his eyes. “I liked it better when you called me Matthew.”

  Josephine blinked. Then hope speared upward through her core like water from a geyser. He hadn’t said no. In fact, he’d just invited a greater level of intimacy. And—wait a minute. Had he called her Josie? He had. Twice. She’d been too consumed with spitting out her proposal that she hadn’t fully registered the pet name.

  Josie.

  Her mother had always insisted on using her full name, while her father and Charlie had shortened the moniker to Jo. As a youngster who idolized her father, she’d enjoyed being one of the boys with a more male-sounding name. But once she took to wearing long skirts and pinned-up hair, the desire to be one of the boys proved less enthralling. She’d leveraged the name with her medical practice, thinking people might be more accepting of her as a physician if there were something about her that reminded them of a man.

  But Josie? It felt feminine. Maybe even affectionate. It opened a door between them that had previously been closed and invited her closer.

  Her head warned against the lure. He was a man who lived by his gun, who profited from violence. Yet her heart argued that he fought for justice and was no different than her father—a man trained for war who had turned that training into a livelihood that not only provided for him and his men but contributed to the good of society. And, most telling of all, Matthew Hanger was the man she had instinctively run to for help. How hypocritical would it be to condemn him for his warrior skills even as she pled for him to use them on her brother’s behalf?

  “Matthew.” As she said his name, acceptance of who he was resonated in her chest. She shifted nearer to him. Touched his arm. “Please. I need your help.”

  Matt fell into those pleading sea-green eyes and knew at once he was lost. Who was he kidding? He’d been lost the minute she flagged him down. Now she was touching him. Calling him by his given name. Looking at him as if he were some kind of hero.

  He would help her, but then, he’d decided that from the beginning. Didn’t even need her horse, though a Gringolet mount would be a mighty fine prize. Phineas had served him well, but the old boy deserved greener pastures and an easy retirement in the next year or two.

  The others would give him a hard time for even bringing up the idea of taking a job for free. If word got out, they’d be swamped by charity cases. They’d have to leave Kendall in the dark. Of course, the others might think him a sentimental fool and turn down the job. They always put jobs to a vote. Three against one wouldn’t cut it, and even though he could probably convince Wallace to take his side, since the doc saved the kid’s life, two votes still weren’t enough. It took a majority to contract a job. And despite what he’d said about the Horsemen being a package deal, if they decided that risking their lives for a man they’d never met and a woman they barely knew wasn’t a job they were willing to take, he’d strike out on his own for a week and do it himself.

  Because he couldn’t tell her no.

  He didn’t want to tell her no. And that right there should send him riding in the opposite direction as fast as Phineas could carry him.

  He knew better than to fall for a pretty pair of eyes and a feisty temperament. Female entanglements left a man vulnerable. He’d already lost one family. If he let himself care for Josie, he’d run the risk of suffering that agony all over again. He couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

  Yet he also couldn’t leave her stranded. She needed him.

  No, he corrected himself, she needed the Horsemen. That was all this was. A job. Nothing personal.

  Needing a clear head, he moved away from her touch. “Mount up. We gotta run this by the others before I can give you an answer.”

  He might have already decided to help her, but she didn’t need to know that yet. He wanted to discuss it with his men first. Get their opinion. An objective opinion.

  To her credit, she didn’t balk at the delay. Just said, “Of course,” and moved straight to her horse. Not a whiff of chicanery. Just an eagerness to do whatever needed to be done to achieve her goal.

  In two quick strides, Matt arrived at her side and offered a leg up. She smiled her thanks and fitted her foot into his laced fingers. He made a point not to stare at the snug way her trousers outlined her legs when she mounted. He looked—how could he not—but he didn’t stare. He didn’t have to. His memory and imagination captured the images for him. As he turned away to mount his own horse, the feel of her calf brushing against his arm lingered to taunt him. He did his best to banish the sensation, but it proved stubborn.

  He couldn’t recall ever seeing a lady in trousers, and now he understood why. It put thoughts in a man’s head. Thoughts about limbs. Shapely limbs, in Josie’s case. With the way she rode, her trousers had to encase well-defined legs. She couldn’t have endured several hours of hard riding otherwise.

  Get your mind back where it belongs, Hanger. She chased you down so you could save her brother, not so you could obsess over her legs.

  Matt blew out a sigh and urged Phineas to an easy canter. Josie stayed right with him, as he knew she would. A capable horsewoman. One who’d been smart to wear trousers. They were a practical garment for long rides. It spoke well of her common sense. It wasn’t her fault his mind kept wandering where it had no business going.

  Her brother. That was what he should be thinking about. Matt knew the type. Privileged. Spoiled. Eager to earn the respect of their peers with money and stupid stunts, not realizing that the very friends they worked so hard to impress cared nothing for them. Would desert them the instant things grew dull or difficult. He’d trained more than a few recruits with similar backgrounds. He’d tried to instill a sense of purpose in them. Teach them to fight for something bigger than themselves. To find honor in serving their country, protecting others, and defending the men at their sides. Men who wouldn’t abandon them in battle, who cared more about mettle than money. Some couldn’t handle the strict military lifestyle, having every moment dictated by bugle calls or orders from others. Some couldn’t handle the grueling training and loneliness of long patrols. But some . . . some found the inner strength to apply themselves, to become men of character, men worthy of genuine respect.

  Men like Mark Wallace. Wallace had come to him as a flamboyant kid with a talent for horsemanship and a reckless craving for adventure that endangered all around him. Now he was a man others depended upon, one who’d taken a bullet for his captain. His friend.

  Perhaps he could do the same for Charlie. Matt had heard the sorrow, the embarrassment in Josie’s voice as she explained the situation. She loved her brother, wanted him to be a man of character, a man who would bring the family honor instead of disgrace. Maybe Matt could put in a good word for the kid w
ith the commanders of the 7th. Get him some military discipline and pride. Maybe . . .

  “I think I see Mr. Brooks.” Josie raised her voice to be heard above the hoofbeats.

  Matt jerked himself out of his own thoughts, swiveled his head to the side to look at her, then peered in the direction she pointed.

  Sure enough, Jonah sat atop his horse at the edge of the rise, rifle draped across his lap in readiness, waiting for them to crest the hill.

  “Yep,” he snapped, angry at himself for dropping his guard. If Jonah had been foe instead of friend, Matt could have led them straight into an ambush. “Let’s go.” His voice was sharp, even to his own ears, but he made no apology.

  The time for tenderness had passed. If he was going to lead the Horsemen into battle, he couldn’t allow distractions. And there was no bigger distraction than the woman riding at his side.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  Matt reined Phineas in as he topped the rise where Jonah waited. The sharpshooter didn’t seem shocked in the least by Josephine’s appearance. Although he’d probably deduced her identity halfway up the hill with those keen eyes of his.

  “Ma’am.” Jonah tugged on his hat brim as if he’d just met her crossing the street in town instead of out in the middle of nowhere, dressed in a hodgepodge of men’s and women’s clothing.

  Josephine nodded to him as she leaned forward in her saddle and patted the palomino’s neck. “Mr. Brooks. Fine day for a ride, don’t you think?”

  “Beats walkin’.”

  She smiled as she straightened. “That it does.”

  “The others are just up the road a piece.” He gave a little nod to indicate the direction, then turned to meet Matt’s gaze, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “I’ll bring up the rear. Keep an eye out for any more trouble.”

  “More trouble?” Josie scanned the surrounding countryside as if an attack were suddenly imminent. “Just how much trouble have you faced so far on your journey?”