“Let me up,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Not unless you stop acting loco.” He was barely winded, the son of a bitch.
“Tell me where they are.” She tried to break his grip, but the man was obviously made of oak. She succeeded in almost breaking her own arm though.
“Stop moving or you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Chloe barked a laugh. “You’ve already done enough to hurt me.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you. Hell, I spent an entire day helping you. I do have honor, whether or not you believe that right now.” He eased his knee up. “I don’t know what happened to the wagon, my horse, the girls or Granny, but I promise you, I will find out.” She was surprised to hear sincerity in his voice along with a fierceness she hadn’t expected.
“Why should I believe you?” As the haze of anger faded, Chloe recognized she needed Gideon. Not only was she a woman alone, but she had no transportation—easy pickings for anyone with less-than-honorable intentions.
“I have no reason to lie to you.” He let her loose and stepped back, watching her. There was a stillness about him, as if he could have her on the ground again in seconds if he chose. Likely without much effort judging by how powerful and fast he had been.
It stuck in her craw. Chloe did not like being at anyone’s mercy.
She sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You have no reason to tell the truth either.”
“True enough, but I promise you, I did nothing to those girls or Granny, and I sure as hell didn’t make the wagon or my damn horse vanish.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around the clearing. “If you promise not to try to kill me again, I can track them.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” she mumbled as she got to her feet. If she killed him, she might not find out what happened to Granny and the girls.
Gideon crossed his arms. “I think you would have if you could have, but I can respect that. Family is important to me too.”
She brushed off most of the dirt and grass from her skirt. Gideon should have scared her. He was big, strong and fast, and could overpower her. Yet she wasn’t afraid of him; she was afraid of never finding her family. She’d never admit it to him, but she did believe he had honor, that he would help her and, grudgingly, that she shouldn’t have accused him of wrongdoings. Unless he had a hidden partner, there was no way he could have done any of it. She wasn’t about to apologize, though—it might kill her to try.
“Get to tracking.” Chloe’s throat tightened as she walked toward the campfire.
“We need supplies. If we go after them with nothing but the clothes on our backs, we won’t last more than a day.”
“Maybe they only have a day.” Chloe didn’t want to add they might only have hours. The very thought made her want to vomit.
Gideon looked like an immoveable wall of man. “We are no good to them unless we’re ready. We have no water, no food. Hell, we don’t even have something to lie on to sleep.” He pointed at the furniture. “I’m guessing there are linens and such. We’ve got five minutes to see if we can make some packs to carry what’s left of the supplies. Maybe we can even find a blanket or two if we’re lucky. Go clean up the supplies by the fire while I search for things we can use. Five minutes, no longer.”
“You give too many orders.”
He had turned away, heading toward what was left of her family’s goods, but he must have heard her anyway, because his shoulders stiffened. “Maybe you ought to follow some.”
Chloe wanted to tear off after Granny and the girls, but she knew he was right. Emotion had gotten in her way, more like overwhelmed her. She’d never been so scared in her life, even when she’d been in danger. Those girls had been through a lot. Although they were a handful, they deserved a loving home and a family. They sure as hell didn’t deserve to be kidnapped and have awful things done to them.
That was what was making her mind whirl—what might be happening to her family while she cleaned up the coffee pot and dishes. She used sand to wipe off the remnants of breakfast, trying not to think of which one of the girls had made that very mess. Chloe would not cry over this. She would be strong and smart, with or without Gideon’s help.
Gideon searched through the furniture piece by piece. He focused on the task itself, not on why he was doing it. Admitting he allowed someone to steal two children, an old woman, a wagon with four mules and his horse right out from under his protection was almost incomprehensible. He was one of the most decorated captains in the Confederate army, led so many raids he lost count and had survived four years of hell on earth.
Now he’d lost an entire family while he had been thinking about the woman he’d bedded the night before.
Shame mixed with anger and frustration. The last day had left him with a bad taste in his mouth for more than one reason. Everything had gone horribly wrong, and he had to take responsibility for that. He was a trained soldier with enough sense to control himself. Yet he’d thrown all that away, forgotten who he was and who he should be, all because of his weakness for a tiny curmudgeon with freckles and a big mouth.
Gideon ached to be back in Tanger at the restaurant, doing nothing but enjoying the coffee and the company. He couldn’t even go back to Tanger for help. If they didn’t get moving and soon, they’d lose the trail and possibly those girls. They had no choice but to follow and hope like hell they didn’t find themselves completely outnumbered. If Gideon could get to a telegraph office, he could have four Devils by his side in less than a day. But for now, he had to go on a mission without his friends to help him.
He reached down deep in himself and searched for that iron control, that which made him who he was, what he was. There hadn’t been a dangerous situation in his life he hadn’t been able to conquer. Chloe had stolen some of the thunder from within him, how he had no idea, but he needed to find it again. He had to ignore his foolish obsession with the woman and clamp down on his wayward emotions until he regained control of them. Their lives depended on it.
More focused, he was able to search faster. In a chest, he found two blankets, a quilted bag, a burlap sack and a leather pouch they might be able to use for water.
Chloe walked up beside him and noted the pile of goods. “Let me take that quilted bag and pack up the cooking supplies. There’s some flour, coffee and jerky. Everything else is gone.” Her voice was tighter than a tick’s ass but not emotional. Thank God. He needed her to stop fussing and start helping.
“Are there sewing notions anywhere?”
She shook her head. “Sewing kit is under the wagon seat, wherever the hell that is.”
“Shit. That will make things difficult. I’m going to tear up one of these sheets, if you don’t mind, to make straps for a sack.”
“They ain’t doing me no good. They were Granny’s mother’s anyway. God knows I ain’t slept on ’em.” She didn’t even look at the linens. In fact, she kept her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder.
He held up the ancient canteen he’d found hidden in one of the drawers, no bigger than his hand. “I came across one thing to carry water, but it’s not much. Do you know if there’s anything else hidden in here?” He glanced around at the furniture.
She shook her head. “Granny packed most of this. I never even saw that canteen before.”
“Then make sure you check the barrels for anything useable. I’ll get started making a sack and fill the canteen.”
With a nod, she went back to the fire with the bag in her hand. Gideon imagined she was complaining about his highhandedness. Too bad. If they had any chance of catching whoever took her family, she was gonna have to get used to it.
Captains didn’t stand for soldiers who didn’t take orders.
The wagon was large, pulled by four mules, with a horse trailing behind—spotting the path was easy enough for anyone to find. Chloe wanted to point out the fact Gideon was doing nothing she couldn’t have done, but she held her tongue. No need to rile the bear any mo
re that morning. It was hard enough knowing her family was missing and in danger. She didn’t need to start another argument with him.
Fear for Granny and the girls coated her tongue. God only knew who had taken them and why. Chloe figured the girls had been taken to be traded or sold, but why Granny? She was old, her hands didn’t work good, and she was ornery. Maybe the girls were putting up such a fuss, they decided to bring along someone to watch them. For that, they needed the wagon. That made sense, even if it made her want to tear someone’s arms off.
Bastards left her with hardly anything but the furniture she couldn’t carry on her back. Likely everything they’d left behind would be either destroyed or long gone if—when—they returned to get it. Gideon had made some ingenious sacks from the linens while she had put the plates, dented coffee pot and the meager food supplies in the bag. They were currently clanking on her back as they walked.
He carried the sack he made, stuffed with two blankets and whatever else he scavenged from her family’s belongings along with the tiny canteen. She didn’t want to be annoyed by the fact he had gone through all their things, even if it had been necessary. Yet she was, just the same. As they walked away, she could hardly look back at what lay behind them. Her life had exploded into pieces, and what was left had been scattered around the tall grass in a field in eastern Texas.
It was almost too much to bear.
She swallowed the huge lump in her throat with effort. Chloe had been independent all her life. Being dependent on someone else, a man she had given herself to twelve hours earlier, was far outside her imagination, and she didn’t know how to behave. He was cold and bossy now, barking orders at her. Good thing she was more worried about her family than his rude behavior.
Worry was something she didn’t do well. She needed to find something solid to focus on, or she might start howling.
“Do you know where the next town is?” She looked ahead across the gently rolling hills and prairie and saw nothing but trees. Chloe needed to know exactly what they were doing—that would be what she hung on to, to maintain control of her emotions.
“Ahead.”
Chloe counted to ten. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“Depends on how fast you walk. I can make it twenty miles in a day, but I doubt you can.”
Chloe counted to ten again. “How many miles do we need to walk to get to the next town?” There, that ought to be simple enough for him to understand.
“A lot.”
Her patience snapped, and she wagged her finger at his broad back. “I can keep up with any pace you set, Blackwood. Stop being such an ass. Just tell me how many miles it is and what the name of the town is.”
He stopped and pivoted to look at her. “I don’t know. You happy? I rode this trail more than a year ago, and things change. Most times I stay put because I have a restaurant to run. I’m following the tracks, nothing more. If we find a town, then I can wire for help. If we find the bastards that took everything, I can kill them and ride for help.” He stepped close enough she could see a drop of sweat meandering down his whiskered cheek. “Anything else you need to know?”
The man was bigger than life, bossy and absolutely the most impressive thing she’d seen in her life, especially when he was mad. This wasn’t the place or time to be attracted to him, but it was happening anyway. Her body was already warm from the pace Gideon had set with his long legs, and now he’d set a fire burning low and deep in her belly. Her thoughts scattered like dandelion puffs in the breeze.
She struggled to find something to say, anything to take her mind off the man. At least he had distracted her from worrying. “Do you have a weapon?”
He huffed out a breath. “No, I don’t. My rifle and my pistols were hanging on the saddle. The knife I normally keep on my back when I travel was in my bedroll, since I was doing heavy lifting. All I’ve got are my fists and my brain.”
“That’s not a whole lot if we come up against the ones who stole your guns.” She was only being practical. Even the strongest man could not stop a bullet with his fists alone.
“Thank you for the confidence in my ability to protect you.” His tone was anything but grateful.
Chloe was insulted by the inference. “I don’t need you to protect me. I’ve done right fine up until now. Besides, I’ve got a knife.”
The frown on his face could have cut glass. “Why do you have a knife, and where did you hide it?” He looked her up and down, pausing briefly on her chest.
She wanted to smack him. “Why wouldn’t I have a knife? I have need to protect myself too. I’ve got my fists, my brain and my knife. And it’s in my boot, not my tits.” She stuck her nose in the air and walked around him.
He cursed under his breath, but the wind carried it to her clearly. She smiled grimly and kept walking. He’d follow when he was ready.
Gideon wanted to strangle her. The little snip of a woman, barely more than a girl, was deliberately inciting his anger, didn’t listen to a word he said, and she had a knife. He’d been distracted by her from the moment he realized she was a woman, and things just got worse and worse. Now they appeared to be at rock bottom.
He was at a loss as to how to speak to her, much less be on the trail with her. If only he hadn’t stopped to help them, things wouldn’t be so incredibly wrong. He could have been closer to Grayton, to visiting with Nate and Elisa. Hell, for that matter, he could have been home in Tanger. Instead, he was horseless, weaponless and stuck with Chloe, who happened to possess the most amazing passion he’d ever seen.
She was driving him loco, and he’d known the woman only a day. Granted, if he’d kept his hands to himself in the wagon last night, things might have been a bit less tense. But no, he hadn’t kept any body part to himself.
Dammit to hell.
When he’d gotten his frustration tamped down, at least temporarily, Gideon finally started walking again. With her short legs, it didn’t take him long to catch up. She wouldn’t look at him, but she kept pace with him as they walked. Perversely he didn’t make his stride any shorter to be considerate of the difference in size between them. It was a childish thing to do, he knew that, but he did it anyway. She had to understand he was in charge, regardless of how much it annoyed her. There had to be a chain of command or their mission would fail.
Gideon didn’t like feeling out of sorts in any situation. As a captain in the army, he either controlled situations, or they controlled him. It didn’t matter how difficult things were; if he could figure things out, then he would find the place where he was comfortable, in control.
The Ruskins had yanked him from that safe, organized existence into their chaos. Now he had lost his horse, his pistols and the hard-won Yankee rifle he had kept by his side since the war. It was nearly everything he valued, aside from his friends, the Devils on Horseback, named because of their bloodcurdling yells as they performed midnight raids during the war. The five of them were closer than kin, brothers in heart and soul. If he’d lost one of them, he’d be devastated. The horse and his gear, well, that would cost him a year’s profit from the restaurant he co-owned just to replace them.
It took him another ten minutes to realize he was complaining, albeit to himself, about how hard it would be to lose his family, and Chloe had lost hers. He stopped dead in his tracks. He’d been a complete ass about the whole thing. The Ruskins didn’t lure him into a situation to steal his things or make him loco. They were a family too, as odd and unusual as his own. Now they were separated through no choice of their own.
The Devils all survived the war, near starvation afterward, and a very lean six months of running from an army captain who wanted to throw them in jail. They were all healthy, and aside from Gideon, happily married, still together in heart, if not physically. He had everything that was important to him; all he loved was safe and sound.
Not so for Chloe. Gideon felt a rush of shame at his behavior, at his petty reaction to what happened.
“Chlo
e.”
She stopped and swiveled to face him. With a speed and agility that surprised him, she looked around and reached toward her boot, as if to retrieve her knife. Small round sweat marks stained the underarms of her hideous potato-sack dress. It was hot, and they’d been walking at least an hour, taking only sips of water, heading into the unknown without a clear direction other than the tracks. Her face was tight with worry and a wariness he recognized well. He’d seen it on his own face many times.
She was obviously exhausted, worried and hot. Gideon had ignored what she’d been going through, and for his own selfish interests, to boot.
Another item on his ever-growing list of sins.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just, uh, wanted to say I’m sorry.” The words almost stuck in his throat, unwilling to exit the premises without a fight.
“For what?” Her brow furrowed.
How could he explain without sounding like a complete fool?
“I should have kept a better eye on all of you, especially the girls. And I didn’t get the repairs done quickly enough. I also didn’t make sure the fire stayed lit last night.” Gideon wanted to smack his own face for that last piece of nonsense that came out of his mouth. He hadn’t even been near the fire last night.
“Do you have a flask or something? Because you sound tipsy.” She shook her head. “What in tarnation are you talking about?”
Gideon approached her, stopping a few feet away. “I acted like a horse’s ass, worried about my plans to visit a friend, my horse and my things. I should have been more concerned about your family.”
Her mouth dropped open just a bit before she closed it, but he saw the surprise on her face. Perhaps even a bit of respect in her eyes.
“Well then, I accept your apology. Now let’s get moving. They’ve got wheels and four-legged critters to get them where they need to be. All we’ve got are two feet each and a whole lot of stubbornness.”
Gideon: Devils on Horseback, Book 5 Page 5
