Steady, Coulter. Keep your head.
When he reached the gelding, he scanned the horse and saddle for a sign Dinah had struggled. None that he could see except a gash on one of the gelding’s rear legs. Blood had run down to cover the hoof, then dried into a crust. That probably meant the animal had been waiting here several hours at least.
It also meant Dinah had been forced to leave her horse against her will. She never would have abandoned him when he was injured.
He peered over the wagon's side. The bed was half empty with an oilcloth over the contents. Did it hide a body? His gut clenched at the possibility, and once more, bile rose up to burn his chest.
God, you can't take her away. I know I was wrong—about so many things. Keep her alive. Show me where she is. Help me rescue her from whatever her attackers have done. Help me make things right. With her. And with You.
The prayer infused a bit of strength in him, and he leaned over the wagon to lift the oilcloth enough to peer under. Only crates and a couple barrels.
He guided Pinto around to check the other side. If someone lay in wait for him, the scoundrel would have most likely attacked by now.
No one there either.
He shifted his focus to the forest. This seemed to be the end of the road, which meant Dinah's captors had taken her through the woods on foot. Or maybe they rode other horses and had transferred her onto those animals.
Within less than a minute, he spotted footprints. Dinah's delicate boot heel left a distinct impression in a section of soft ground. There was at least one other man's tracks, maybe two. No horses, as far as he could tell. Unless they'd entered the trees in a different spot.
He guided Pinto through the woods, following alongside the path Dinah and her captors had taken. After only a few minutes, the trees ahead thinned, like maybe the woods opened up to a clearing.
He slowed Pinto. Maybe he should dismount and move forward to see what lay beyond the trees. It might only be a gap before the forest continued, but surely he was closing in on the blackguard who'd taken Dinah.
And surprise might be his best weapon.
He dismounted and tied the gelding to a branch, then crept on with his rifle at the ready. The closer he came to the opening in the trees, the better he saw the structure.
A cabin.
But when he peered from behind a trunk at the edge of the clearing, his unhindered view showed it was really just a tiny shack, the boards ill-fitting and some nearly rotten.
A surge of anger swept through him. Dinah must be in there. And what were they doing to her?
He scanned the distance to the building. They wouldn't expect him. Dinah herself wouldn't even expect him.
A check of his rifle showed it was ready to fire the instant he pulled the trigger. He sprinted forward, staying low. Trying to keep his steps from pounding the ground as he neared the cabin.
When he reached the building, he halted, doing his best to breathe quietly so he didn't alert anyone inside.
A sound drifted through the wall. Something like a grunt. Then a scraping.
A man’s voice spoke. "Are you sure—?" His words cut off. Then a gasp.
Jericho ducked to see in through one of the larger cracks between boards. It took a moment for his eyes to make out the two forms standing in the middle of the cabin. The outline of one showed she wore a dress.
Dinah.
It had to be her, though he couldn't see more than a vague form with so little light inside. The other figure stood beside her, and they seemed to be bending over something.
He had to see better. And he had to get in to save her.
He stepped toward the door. It wasn’t latched, just pulled to. Maybe the latch didn't work, as dilapidated as this shack was.
Or maybe this was a trap.
He pulled the door open a crack to peer in. From this angle, he couldn't see much more other than the fact that Dinah's arm moved back and forth. What was she doing, bent over like that?
Keeping the door cracked open with his foot, he prepared his rifle. He'd go in quietly until he knew what was happening, but he'd be prepared to shoot if necessary.
