“I’ll abandon the search in time to reach the exchange point by the assigned time.” He narrowed his gaze. “I’ll need you to hold off your approach until three. Don’t go in early. Even to position your men. Taggart’s bound to have spies watching the place, just as he did here. If they see you coming, they’ll send word to Taggart. He’ll gather Josie and his men and leave the farm before we have a chance to find them.”
Matt knew he was asking a lot. Asking Burkett to give up the one small advantage he held in order to trust a group of men he didn’t know to pursue a larger advantage that could either make all the difference or no difference at all.
“Can you give me that time?” Matt asked.
Burkett’s eyes closed even as the muscles in his jaw ticked. He stood silent, his face slowly tipping toward the sky as his hands balled into fists. He was a fighter by nature, a man used to being in control. Exactly like Matt. And exactly like Matt, he had to fight his instincts and surrender to the One who held the highest ground. The One who could see beyond the plans of men.
Ever since he’d surrendered his rifle to Taggart, Matt had been surrendering more and more control to the Almighty. He’d had no choice. Never had he been less equipped for a rescue mission than when he’d lain bound, wounded, and stripped of all weapons and belongings. Yet from that moment of deprivation, God had stepped in to take charge. He’d provided boots and transportation. Horses and a guide. Then better horses along with weapons and manpower. Now he’d even provided directions. Ambiguous directions, to be sure, but directions all the same. Matt had to believe that more details would be forthcoming if they followed in faith and allowed the Lord to navigate.
After a long, tense silence, Burkett’s chin came down and his lids lifted. His dark green eyes, so like Josie’s, met Matt’s, a plea tinged with desperation giving them an unnatural sheen. “I’ll wait until three.”
He extended his hand, and Matt grasped it.
Burkett tightened his grip, his stare boring into Matt’s soul. “Bring my children home, Hanger.”
Matt gave a brief nod. “I will, sir. Or die trying.” After studying the map on the back of the note a final time, he handed the paper over to Josie’s father. “God go with you.”
Burkett nodded. “And you.” With a thump to Matt’s back, he returned to his horse, mounted, and set off for the main road at a walk. Albert and Eddie followed close behind.
Knowing daylight was a precious commodity they couldn’t afford to waste, Matt signaled his men to mount up.
Preach looked at him as Matt swung onto Percival’s back. “We’re gonna have to push these horses harder than Burkett would want to cover the amount of ground necessary to carry out this plan of yours, Cap.”
Matt drew the reins around and aimed Percival not west toward the main road, but north to cut off a corner that would place them ahead of Josie’s father and his men.
“I know. We’ll have to take care. We can’t press them past their breaking point, but we’re going to have to get as close to that point as possible if we’re going to find that farm before Taggart takes Josie to the exchange.” He looked at each man in turn. “Keep me updated on the status of your mounts as we go. If we need to rest, we will. It just can’t be for long.”
“We can dismount and walk with them too, Captain, to lighten their loads,” Preach said.
“And use lanterns after dark,” Jonah added.
“Whatever it takes to find her.” This from Wallace, whose arm must be throbbing but whose face gave no indication of anything but strength and determination.
Matt’s chest swelled with pride in his men. His friends. Their mission might consist of finding a needle in a field of haystacks, but with God, nothing was impossible.
“Preach?” Matt looked to his corporal for the one thing they lacked before setting off.
The big man grinned. “‘If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed . . . nothing shall be impossible unto you.’ Time for some mustard, boys!” With a whoop, he set off at a lope.
Matt leaned over Percival’s neck, the thrill of the hunt stirring his blood. “Time to see what you’re made of, young knight. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
By the time night fell, Matt and the Horsemen had crossed the entirety of Medina County, including fording the Medina River, Hondo Creek, and finally Seco Creek. The hilly terrain had taken a toll on their mounts, leaving the animals’ heads hanging low as they plodded toward Utopia.
They’d gambled on the assumption that the best chance to learn the outlaws’ location was to ask those living closest to Seco Creek, so they’d sacrificed possible information in favor of speed, stopping only at the Hondo Canyon post office on Williams Creek at about the halfway point of their journey. The postmaster had no knowledge of vacated property in the western part of the county, but he did advise them on the best route to take into Utopia, helping them avoid arroyos and canyons that would slow their progress.
Matt slumped slightly to the right, his side throbbing after a long day in the saddle. He hated looking weak in front of his men, but at this point, they were all so weary and bedraggled, preserving energy was more important than preserving pride.
“I see it, Captain.” Jonah’s voice echoed behind him.
Matt straightened, then swiveled to glance back at Brooks, clutching his side to minimize the pull on his stitches.
Jonah tipped his head and pointed to the right side of the road up ahead. “Buildings. We made it to Utopia.”
Matt peered into the darkness ahead of him. It took a minute, but eventually he made out a pair of dark square shadows. Like a horse who sensed the home barn was close, Matt flared his nostrils and lifted his head. Little zings of energy ricocheted through his chest, revitalizing his flagging stamina.
“Look alive, men. Time to start our investigation in earnest.”
It was late, yes, but the saloon should be doing a rousing business about now. Wallace could slip in among the locals and ferret out the needed information. Men tended to talk more freely under whiskey’s influence anyway.
Only, as the Horsemen wandered down the main street of town, everything was dark. No dance hall music, no light pouring into the street through batwing doors, no horses lined up at the hitching post. By Matt’s count, Utopia had two gristmills, three churches, a blacksmith, a general store, and a cotton gin. But no saloon.
Matt sagged in the saddle as they reached the edge of town. No saloon, no café, no hotel. No public building of any kind open for evening travelers. Which meant no source of information available to them tonight. Which would leave them even further behind schedule.
“Look. Up ahead.” Preach, riding at Matt’s side, pointed to the steepled building Matt had counted as the third church. “Is that a light in the window?”
Matt squinted. The church looked dark to him. Maybe it had been the moon reflecting off the glass. But then he saw it. A yellow light bobbed at the bottom of the window for a heartbeat, then disappeared back into darkness.
“Someone’s there,” Wallace said. “Might as well knock on the door. See what happens.”
“It’s God’s house, after all,” Preach said with a shrug. “Supposed to be open to everyone, right? Whenever there’s a need? Well, we got a need.”
Matt tugged Percival’s reins to the right. Why not? A smidgen of a chance was better than no chance at all. “Let’s check it out.”
Once at the church, they dismounted, and Matt swore he heard the horses sigh in relief. He patted Percival’s neck in apology and whispered praise in his ear as he moved past. “You did well, old boy. As valiant and noble as your namesake.”
He wished he could promise that the hardest road was behind them, but he couldn’t. There’d be no real rest until Taggart and his men were behind bars.
Matt had his foot on the bottom step leading to the church’s door when Jonah’s low voice stopped him.
“Hold up, Captain. There’s something un
der the stoop.”
Matt bit back his impatience as he pulled his foot from the step. He didn’t see why they should care about whatever had fallen under the stairs. They had a mission to complete, and that mission had nothing to do with an item lying forgotten in the dirt. Yet he’d trained his men to heed their instincts. If Jonah’s keen eyes had spotted something suspicious under the stoop and his gut told him it was important enough to investigate, Matt wouldn’t argue.
“Make it quick, Sergeant.” He might not argue, but he would hurry the expedition along.
Jonah got down on hands and knees and crawled under the stoop, his head and shoulders completely disappearing. How on earth had he even seen that thing? In the dark. In the even darker shadows beneath the church stairs. Matt shook his head.
Brooks backed out, ducking his head to keep the floorboards from knocking his hat askew. Once out, he sat back on his heels and dusted off his treasure.
“Looks like a Bible,” Preach said.
Wallace leaned close, stealing a peek over Jonah’s shoulder. “An old one, by the looks of it. The spine and edges are worn thin.”
Jonah rubbed the leather cover against his chest, cleaning off the dirt. “It’s a nice one,” he said. “Somebody’s prob’ly looking for it.” He held the top of the book up to his mouth and blew a puff of air across the closed pages. Dust scattered.
“Well, maybe we can do a good deed while we’re here.” Matt supposed he should be happy about that, but all he could think of was the danger Josie was in and how much his side throbbed. It didn’t put him in the most charitable frame of mind. “Let’s go.” They’d dallied long enough.
Matt forced energy into his tired legs and tromped up the steps. He set his jaw, doing his best to ignore the pain in his side. Taking a determined breath, he knocked on the door, then clasped the handle and gently pushed it open.
“Hello? Anyone here?” His gaze moved to the right, where soft lantern light peeked out between the floor and rear pews. “We’re in need of assist—”
A loud bonk cut off Matt’s words. It was followed by a grunt and a quiet “Ouch.”
For the second time that night, Matt watched a man back out of a tight space on his hands and knees. This man had empty hands, however, unless you counted the one vigorously rubbing a spot on his head that would surely sport a lump in the near future.
“Just a minute,” he said as he finished crawling out from under the rear pew.
Preach hurried forward and offered him a hand.
“Thank you.” The middle-aged man clasped the supportive arm and allowed Preach to lever him to his feet. He turned to face his unexpected company, a sheepish grin on his face. “I suppose it’s not a bad thing for a preacher to be found on his knees in church, though it would probably reflect better on me had I been praying instead of crawling under the pews like a mischievous toddler. What can I do—”
He interrupted himself with a gasp as his gaze zeroed in on Jonah. “You found it! Oh, God be praised!” He clapped his hands and rushed to Jonah’s side. “Where was it? I’ve been searching for hours.”
Jonah held the book out to him. “Under the stoop outside. Caught sight of it when we was walking up.”
The preacher accepted the Bible and clasped it to his chest with one hand while he gripped Jonah’s shoulder with the other. “You are a godsend, my brother. Truly. You have no idea what this means.” Tears misted his eyes. He inhaled sharply and blinked the moisture away before aiming his gaze toward heaven. He opened his arms wide. “Thank you, Father, for sending these men. For granting them vision to pierce the darkness so they might return to me what was lost.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s just like the parable of the lost coin. That poor woman lit her lamp and swept her entire house, looking for her coin. I’ve done the same.” He nodded toward the lantern glowing near the side window, then looked down at himself, shook his head, and brushed the dust from his knees. “You’ll have to rejoice with me,” he said, grabbing Matt’s arm and giving it a little shake. “All my other neighbors are tucked away in their homes, preparing for bed.” His smile beamed, and for just a moment, the ache in Matt’s side lessened.
The preacher laughed, his joy too big to contain, and Matt found his lips twitching in an answering grin.
The preacher released Matt’s arm and thumped him on the back. “Guess I have my sermon topic for next Sunday, don’t I? Luke 15 might have a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son, but God just gave me a lost Bible parable to share with the congregation.”
He held his prize out in front of him, and his palm caressed the leather cover with reverence. His jig-dancing gaze settled into a slow waltz as something deeper than happiness softened his features.
“My wife gave me this Bible.” He glanced up and caught Matt’s eye. “On our wedding day. She vowed to support me in my calling, wherever God might lead us. I’ve never preached a sermon without it.” A thoughtful look crossed his face as he looked at each of the Horsemen in turn. “I always leave it on the podium at the front of the building after services, but today . . .” Lines crept across his brow as he puzzled through events aloud. “I guess I tucked it under my arm and carried it outside where I shake hands and wish everyone well as they depart. It must have fallen without my noticing, and since I never carry it outside with me, I didn’t think to search there.”
His attention returned to the holy book in his hands. “When I discovered it was missing, I was so distraught. Then angry at myself for being careless and too scatterbrained to recall where I’d left it.” His gaze lifted. “But now I’m wondering if losing this Bible wasn’t God’s plan all along. Perhaps he wanted me to be here at this time. To meet you.”
Matt’s pulse picked up its pace. How many providential encounters were they to be blessed with? Never before had he felt God directing his steps so carefully or providing for his needs so completely. It humbled him. What would life be like if he lived from a place of surrender like this all the time?
“I don’t know if it was God’s plan or not,” Matt said, though his heart urged him to believe it, “but we’re mighty glad to find you here. We’re hoping you can help us locate a piece of property nearby. An abandoned farm near Seco Creek. Do you know it?”
The preacher nodded. “I know of several around here. You got any other information to help narrow it down?”
Several? Matt’s side took up throbbing again. How many? Three? Four? Ten? They wouldn’t have time to scout them all.
“That’s all we know,” Preach answered, since Matt’s brain was too busy being discouraged to respond. “Except for the fact that an outlaw gang has taken up residence there.”
“Outlaws?” The preacher’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. “I hoped they were gone for good this time. I haven’t heard of them being in these parts for over a year. Rumor had it they’d moved on to Uvalde.”
“Where are they?” Matt took a step toward the preacher, desperation lending an unwelcome sharpness to his tone. The parson’s eyes widened. Matt immediately halted and softened his voice. “Please. They’re holding a woman captive. A woman I care about a great deal.”
The preacher straightened, a glint of purpose lighting his eyes. “Then you need to get her back. If these outlaws are the same band that came through here two years ago, they’re no respecters of life. They killed George Hightower and made off with his herd when they discovered him living alone so far from town. He had worked that land for five years. Built a house, a barn, a chicken coop. He planned to send for his family that year, as soon as he drove his cattle to market, but he never got the chance. Now his widow is left with nothing more than a piece of property that won’t sell for fear the outlaws will return. And now they have.” He shook his head and released a sigh. “George was a good man. Worked hard. Came to church every Sunday. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
“My Josie is an innocent as well,” Matt said, his voice trembling slightly. “Taken for
ransom, though I imagine they’ll kill her as soon as they get their hands on her father’s money. That’s why we have to get to them first. Rescue her and her brother before the exchange takes place.”
The preacher clapped Matt’s shoulder. “Well, that decides it, then. You’re all coming home with me.”
Matt started to protest, but the preacher cut him off.
“No arguments. I’m not about to wish you warm and well fed and wash my hands of you. I aim to play the Good Samaritan in this scene. Might even get another sermon topic out of it.” He winked, and Matt abandoned his reluctance. “By the looks of you, you’re all worn to nubbins. Tildie loves to cook, and she’ll tan my hide if she learns I allowed hungry men on a noble quest to escape unfed. She’ll fill your bellies tonight and fuel you up again in the morning before you set out. There’s no barn for your horses at the parsonage, but I have plenty of sweet grass and a pump for water. We have a spare room where you can spread your bedrolls, and a rooster next door that will ensure you don’t oversleep.”
Overwhelmed by his kindness and the continuation of the Lord’s provision, Matt dipped his chin and extended his hand. “Thank you.”
The preacher clasped his palm. “Least I could do for the men who found my Bible.”
“And you’ll be able to give us directions to the Hightower farm?” As good as the food and shelter sounded, Matt couldn’t afford to lose sight of the main goal.
“Better than that, my friend.” The preacher’s eyes were back to dancing again, hinting at surprises Matt didn’t have the energy to guess at. “I’ll draw you a map.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
I can’t believe Parson Andrews drew that map.” Wallace exuded admiration as the horses enjoyed a short respite from their travels. “It looks like it was rendered by a professional cartographer.”
Matt silently agreed. He held the map at arm’s length and examined the incredibly detailed sketch the preacher had given them this morning. The grove of trees to their left matched the leafy markings on the page. Rock formations, creek beds, canyons, hills—they were all depicted with stunning accuracy. If the army had more men like Andrews on the payroll, scouting time could be cut in half.
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