At Love's Command

by Karen Witemeyer

  His hold on her tightened, and in a flash, his lips were on hers. The kiss was hard, fast, and left her shaking. When he released her, she swayed on her feet, unsteadied by his sudden absence.

  “Get down behind the rock, Josie. Now.”

  The captain was back, but she didn’t mind. The captain was the man they needed. The man, she prayed, who would keep them all alive.

  Matthew never glanced back as he rejoined his men. He slid into position on his stomach at the edge of the creek bed, propped himself on his elbows, and extended his rifle barrel onto the bank. They’d have the advantage of a protected position, but Taggart’s men would be advancing on speeding horses. Even the best marksmen would struggle to hit such fast-moving targets.

  “Come on, sis.” Charlie’s hand cupped her elbow, tugging her out of her thoughts. “You heard the man. We need to get behind the rock.”

  Wishing she’d worn her trousers instead of the skirt and petticoats that made riding, running, and any other physical exertion inordinately more difficult, Josephine leaned on her brother as he helped her to the ground. She flattened herself on her belly, just as Matthew had, folding her arms beneath her chest, but Charlie kept pushing her head down when she tried to peer over the top of the rock.

  “Stop it,” he growled as he pushed her down a third time. “If you catch a bullet, all of this will have been for nothing.”

  Josephine bit her lip and dropped her chin. She was desperate to know what was going on, to offer any assistance that might be required, but Charlie was right. The whole point of taking cover was to conceal oneself. If she kept popping her head up like an overcurious prairie dog, she’d not only be risking her and Charlie’s safety, but she’d be breaking her promise to Matthew. That she could not do. Surrendering her need to watch, she rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the sky, tuning her ears to Matthew and the Horsemen. She might not be able to see what was happening, but she could listen.

  Charlie hunkered down beside her, lying on his left side so he could keep his gun hand free and ready. “Thanks for orchestrating my rescue.”

  “Of course. You’re my brother.” And as much as she loved him, she really wanted him to save his thanks for another time. The low murmur of Matthew’s voice was hard enough to decipher from this distance without Charlie talking over him.

  “I’m our father’s son too, but the relationship didn’t seem to sway him.”

  Josephine sighed and gave up trying to eavesdrop on the Horsemen in favor of tending to her brother. “I don’t know what all has happened between you two, Charlie.” She touched his arm. “But I know he loves you.”

  “He’s got an odd way of showing it.” The petulance in his tone grated.

  She twisted onto her side to face him. “And how do you show your love to him?”

  His brows formed a deep V, as if he couldn’t make sense of the question. Then he clenched his jaw. “You’re taking his side? He left me to rot.”

  “I’m not taking anybody’s side. Now, hush, I think I hear horses coming.” A dull cadence sounded from a distance. Josephine tensed.

  “I was never good enough for him. He always wanted me to be something I’m not.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. Taggart’s men were closing the gap. This was not the time to dredge up old hurts.

  “You are his pride and joy,” Charlie droned on. “The child he brags about to his friends, the one he holds up as an example to his disappointment of a son.”

  “Shh!” The outlaws were almost upon them. The pounding of hooves vibrated the very ground.

  “He owes me, Jo. Owes me respect. Owes me my inheritance. I’m tired of being discounted and ignored. You gotta understand.” Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her backward, away from the rock. “This is the only way.”

  “Charlie? What are you doing?” She struggled against his grip, but her skirts twisted, trapping her legs as he pulled her sideways.

  Josephine glanced toward Matthew, intending to call out to him for help, but she held her tongue. The outlaws were the bigger threat. Charlie wouldn’t hurt her. Yet even as she reassured herself with that piece of faith, his arm snaked around her waist, digging painfully into her abdomen and pinching her ribs as he roughly hauled her to her feet.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe,” he hissed in her ear even as he carted her away from their cover. “I have everything arranged.”

  He had everything arranged? What did that mean? Was he actually in league with the outlaws?

  Josephine pulled against his hold, but when his strength proved vastly superior, she stomped on the top of his foot instead. “Let me go,” she demanded, careful to keep her voice low so as not to distract Matthew and the others. She kicked his shin next and swung an ineffectual punch toward his head with the arm not pinned between them.

  He easily dodged her blow with a stretch of his neck and ignored her attack on his limbs as if he felt nothing. Thanks to his heavy boots, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.

  “On my life, Jo, no harm will come to you.”

  His promise only infuriated her more for its complete lack of intelligence. Did he really think he’d have any control once he handed her over to Taggart?

  Digging her feet into the sandy soil, she thrust her full weight against him, trying to knock him off his feet. He stumbled a bit but caught himself, his grip on her tightening.

  His face hardened. “Stop fighting me, Jo, or I’ll have to do something truly unpleasant.” He lifted Matthew’s gun and pointed it at the very men trying to save him.

  Josephine stilled, anger and disbelief leaving her stiff. “Don’t do this, Charlie.” Did he have no honor left at all?

  “I don’t want to,” he ground out. “But I have a plan. One that requires your cooperation. If you’ll quit fighting me, I might manage to save the lives of those mercenaries you’re so fond of.” He placed his lips next to her ear. “Trust me.”

  Trust him? She didn’t even know who he was anymore.

  “Hold your fire,” Matthew called to his men. “They’re showing a white flag.”

  “It’s gotta be a trap.” Davenport’s voice.

  “Father might not be willing to give up a year’s wages to ransom me,” Charlie said, “but I’d bet my life he’d sacrifice Gringolet itself to save you.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Battle lust always surged through Matt when an enemy approached. The need to conquer. To defend. To accomplish his objective. But the war storm raging through him as the outlaw gang drew nearer carried more intensity than anything he’d experienced before. Not because he and his men were outnumbered. Not because they were trapped on low ground. No, he could attribute the painful pounding of blood through his veins to only one cause—Josephine. The need to protect her, to ensure her survival. Never had he been tempted to open fire beneath a white flag of truce, but as he aimed his rifle at the black-clad outlaw at the front of the pack, the desire to eliminate the threat without regard for military protocol and human decency proved hard to deny.

  Taggart reined in his horse twenty yards from the creek bed, his gaze diverting to something behind Matt before settling on the prone riflemen ready to fire upon him. The six riders accompanying him spread three to his left and three to his right. Each had a weapon trained on the creek bed, including the man holding the truce flag—a stick with a white handkerchief knotted around the end. Dawson held the flag in his left hand and a revolver in his right.

  “I’m not here to attack you, Captain,” Taggart called, his arrogance rubbing Matt’s hide raw. “I’m here to negotiate.”

  “Save your breath.” Matt didn’t lift his head from his rifle sight. If bullets were going to start flying, he intended his to hit their targets first. “Charlie’s not going anywhere.”

  “I beg to differ.” Taggart grinned, and the sight triggered an alarm in Matt’s gut. The outlaw leader lifted his gaze to whatever had captured his attention when he first arrived. “You go
t the insurance, Burkett?”

  Matt’s head whipped around, and his heart turned to stone. Josephine in Charlie’s grip. Being carted toward the outlaws. In the blink of an eye, he pulled up onto his knees and swung his rifle around to draw a bead on the traitor in their midst.

  “Now, now, Captain. That’s not how negotiations work.” Taggart’s voice buzzed in his ear like an annoying fly, trying to distract him from what really mattered—Josie.

  Matt didn’t care a hoot about the gun pointed at his chest. He doubted Charlie had the guts to pull the trigger. What he cared about was Josie being completely exposed in front of the outlaws.

  “I can drop him, boss,” Jonah murmured in a soft, calm voice.

  Preach and Wallace kept their guns trained on the outlaws, but Jonah had the better angle for taking down Charlie.

  The kid must have sensed the danger, for he yanked his sister more fully in front of him. Jonah could still take him down without touching Josie, of that Matt had no doubt, but if her brother died at Matt’s command—she’d never forgive him.

  “Stand down, Sergeant.”

  Matt caught Jonah’s movement from the corner of his eye as the sharpshooter turned his attention to more acceptable targets. Matt shifted his focus too. From Charlie to Josephine. Her gaze spilled apologies into the air between them even as her mouth pulled tight in anger when Charlie continued dragging her away.

  “Don’t do this, Charlie,” Matt urged in a voice not loud enough to carry to the outlaws. “You’re a fool if you think you can keep her safe once you turn her over to Taggart. If something goes wrong, you’re one against seven. One against twelve once you’re back with the full gang.”

  “Shut up, Hanger.” Charlie glared at Matt, his gun hand shaking slightly. Then he lifted his head and defiantly called out to Taggart. “Send a man for the horses!”

  Saddle leather creaked.

  “Captain?” Preach was waiting for orders, but Matt didn’t have any. Open fire, and Josie could be hit. Do nothing, and the outlaws would take her. And their horses. Even if they shot to kill, they’d be hard-pressed to take out all seven without at least one shooting Josie in the process.

  Suddenly a shot fired. From his side of the creek bed. Matt spun around as Jonah levered a replacement cartridge into the chamber of his repeater. “Take another step toward them horses, and the next one goes through your heart.”

  The outlaws’ mounts pranced uneasily at the gunfire, and all the men tightened their hold on their weapons, but miraculously, no return fire came.

  “Better watch where yer shooting.” Taggart’s face hardened. His smooth cockiness disappeared beneath icy disdain. “I’ll let one go unanswered, but you try me again, and the woman’s dead.”

  Matt watched as all the outlaw weapons shifted to target Josie. A vise squeezed his chest. He and the Horsemen could take out four before the enemy got off a shot, but not even Jonah could get a second shot off fast enough to stop a bullet already on its way from a fifth or sixth gun.

  “This is how it’s gonna work.” Taggart leaned forward in his saddle, his gaze locking again on Matt. “You and your men are gonna leave your weapons in the dirt, then stand up with your hands above your head. My men will tie you up and take your horses, but you’ll keep your lives and ensure the little lady over there keeps hers.”

  Matt itched to shut the man up with a bullet. End the threat once and for all. But Taggart hadn’t drawn his gun. Justifications flooded Matt’s mind for why that shouldn’t matter. Taggart was evil, and evil needed to be destroyed whether it wielded its own weapon or the weapons of others. Yet Matt’s honor ran too deep to allow him to shoot a man—any man—in cold blood.

  Not only that, but offensive action on his part would endanger Josie. The instant he pulled the trigger, the shot would set off a cascade of return fire. All aimed at the woman he loved. He couldn’t take that risk.

  Taggart held all the cards, and he knew it.

  So Matt did the only thing he could to guarantee Josie’s survival. He laid down his rifle, then pulled his second pistol from its holster and tossed it into the dirt as well. Head high, he stood and stretched his arms toward the sky.

  As he pushed to his feet, the disbelief of his men weighted the air like the humidity before a storm, seeping into his skin in sticky disapproval. He felt their anger. Their confusion. Their disappointment in him. A cavalryman never surrendered without a fight. Ever.

  Then again, cavalry officers were sworn to protect the frontier and the civilians in their care, even at the cost of their own lives. That vow included sacrificing their pride. Matt clenched his jaw. His men might disagree with his decision, might even judge him weak, but he wouldn’t apologize. Nor would he change his mind.

  “Wise choice, Captain.”

  One by one, his men followed his example. First Wallace. Then Jonah. Preach held off the longest, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot in frustration before finally releasing his rifle and dropping his two pistols to the ground. Even then, he hesitated getting to his feet. For a moment, Matt feared he would try something crazy. Grab up his revolvers, maybe, and go on a one-man rampage in an effort to catch the outlaws by surprise. But after crouching on his hands and knees for a long moment, he let out a sigh and stood, his glare hot enough to melt iron as he aimed his defiance at the three outlaws striding toward them.

  With Matt’s men unarmed, Taggart’s gang shifted their sights onto the Horsemen and away from Josie, allowing Matt to draw a full breath for the first time in several minutes. He toyed with the idea of waiting for the outlaws to get within reach, then signaling his men to take them on hand to hand. He felt the coiled energy in his officers. They were ready to strike. To fight for their freedom. For Josie’s.

  Then he remembered Wallace’s injury. The kid was scrappy, but Taggart’s men were a rough crew who looked like they thrived on brawling. Down an arm, Wallace wouldn’t stand a chance. Preach could compensate. He was a beast with his fists. Matt sized up the men heading their way. Two were burly, tall and broad through the shoulders. The third strutted with a confidence born from experience. Not one to underestimate.

  Still, there were only three. If they struck hard and fast and kept the outlaws between them and the guns pointed their way, it just might—

  “Oh, Captain?”

  Matt turned his attention back to Taggart. The outlaw had dismounted and was waving Charlie toward him. Fire raged through Matt’s blood as Charlie forced his sister toward the monster in black. Josephine fought against her brother’s hold, resisting him like an anchor dragging along the sea floor, but her efforts were futile.

  Taggart grabbed Josie and yanked her up against him. “No heroics, Captain. Agreed?” He drew a wicked-looking knife and pointed the tip against Josie’s neck.

  She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

  “I’d prefer not to kill her,” Taggart said as he lifted his blade and repositioned it at Josie’s temple. “But carving her up might be fun. Daddy would still pay the ransom, and I’d get to leave my mark.” He shifted his gaze from Josie back to Matt. “I’d like that. Knowing that every time you looked at her, you thought of me.”

  Bile rose in Matt’s throat. His hands had balled into fists the moment Taggart touched her, but they remained paralyzed. Taggart wasn’t bluffing. Matt could read the sick delight in his voice and in his movements. He’d enjoy slicing into Josie’s fair skin, making her bleed. Torturing not only her but Matt as well.

  Taggart might cut her no matter what Matt and the Horsemen did, but if there was a chance Matt could spare her that pain by yielding to Taggart’s will, then yield he would.

  “I won’t resist.” Matt forced his fists to unclench. “You have my word. As long as no harm comes to her.”

  Taggart grinned. “Such gallantry. I knew I could count on you to see the wisdom in compliance.” He drew the blade away from Josie’s face but kept it positioned beneath her chin, probably to keep her in line as much as M
att.

  She was no quivering damsel. She was a hawk—regal even with her wings temporarily clipped. Never had he been more proud of her. And never had he been more determined to make her proud in return.

  Josie was going to be out of his reach and under the control of a man driven by greed and retribution. Helplessness clawed at his insides, but he refused to give in to it. He couldn’t fight what was out of reach. Couldn’t control what was out of his hands. So he’d focus on what he could control: his mind.

  As Taggart’s man stripped him of his knives, his boots, and his dignity by slamming a fist into Matt’s gut and doubling him over, Matt ran escape scenarios. Piling up possibilities. Discarding weaknesses. He flexed his wrists and ankles when they tied him up, creating just a touch of space he could exploit later when he relaxed. He estimated travel speeds based on weary horses. Theorized likely destinations for the gang to rendezvous. Calculated how long it would take to get a message to Thaddeus Burkett, the likelihood Josie’s father would seek verification before acting, how many men he might bring with him, where the Horsemen could intercept.

  Yet when the weapons were carted off and the horses gathered, when the outlaws were mounted and the Horsemen sat barefoot and bound in the dirt of the creek bed, all thoughts ceased in Matt’s mind, save one.

  He lifted his gaze to Josephine, who sat mounted in front of Taggart. Chin high. Back straight. Her eyes found his, and for a blessed moment, the connection between them was so strong, he swore he could feel her inside him.

  “I’ll find you.” The vow vibrated from the depths of his soul.

  She smiled in answer. “I know.”

  “I don’t think so,” Taggart announced. He drew his revolver with lightning speed and fired.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  No!”

  Josephine threw her weight against Taggart’s gun arm, praying she could divert the trajectory of the bullet, even as her scientific mind recognized the futility. If she was hearing the sound of the gunshot, her movements were too late to do anything more productive than irritate her captor. A fact brought home to her when he cuffed her on the side of the head. The metal of his revolver impacted her skull. Not enough to do any permanent damage. Just enough to hurt like blue blazes.