“Mister! Mister Sheriff, sir! Open up, please!” A boy’s voice, accompanied with several vigorous knocks, sounded on Darcy’s door.
Arlen paused in the middle of his request to Darcy to help him search for Josie, and Darcy went to the door.
A tall, skinny boy burst in. He held a half-eaten apple, and his face was flushed bright red. “Sir, there’s a lady in trouble! I saw it, down on Main Street.”
“A lady?” Arlen stepped closer to the boy.
“What do you mean?” Darcy asked. “Start at the beginning.”
The boy took a deep breath and told them what he’d seen, which was essentially a woman in the middle of a group of men being marched down Main Street in the direction of the church. “She didn’t look happy. She looked like she wanted to ask for help.”
“Can you describe her?” Arlen asked quietly.
“It’s hard to say, sir, considering she was mostly hidden. But she had on a hat, almost like a man’s hat. And I think she had dark hair.”
Arlen closed his eyes. It was Josie. He knew it in his bones.
“What did the men look like?” Darcy asked.
“They, well . . . I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t get much of a look at them. I was mostly concerned about the lady,” the boy said.
“Thank you, son.” Darcy fished a coin from his pocket. “You’ve done well.”
The boy grinned at the shiny coin in his hand before looking up. “You’re going to rescue her, right?”
“We are,” Arlen replied, already reaching for his hat and thankful he’d stopped here on his way in instead of going to the livery to leave General. Getting there on horseback would be much faster.
In less than a minute, they were headed down the Stage Coach Road. Reaching Main Street, there were no big groups of men in sight.
“Where do you suppose they went?” Darcy asked as Arlen pulled up alongside him.
“The boy said they were headed toward the church,” Arlen said as he peered to the left down an empty Sixth Street. “It’s as good a place as any to start.”
“But why the church?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Even if they didn’t enter the church, perhaps the pastor or his sister saw them pass.”
They tied up the horses outside, and feeling as if he were doing something incredibly wrong by drawing a gun before entering a church, Arlen waited for Darcy to open the door.
The door creaked open, and they peered inside.
His pistol outstretched in front of him and Darcy at his side, Arlen found himself face to face with Pastor Collins, Josie, Mr. Finnegan and a group Arlen supposed where his associates. Eyeing him with furor from beside Josie was the tall, blond man he remembered from the ranch back in Wyoming—the one who had shot him.
“Sheriff Darcy!” Pastor Collins exclaimed, a hand to his heart. “Mr. Thomas! Please, we donotallow weapons drawn in the house of the Lord.”
“Normally I would agree, Pastor,” Darcy said. “But we’ve word the lady here is in distress, and I don’t trust the gentlemen she’s with.”
“Mrs. Gresham is under no distress.” The blond man set his hands on Josie’s shoulders, and Arlen felt a rage soar through his entire body. When Josie flinched under his grasp, and Arlen nearly growled with anger.
“Take your hands off my intended,” he said, the words barely legible as he ground them out.
The man kept his hands resting on Josie’s shoulders. “The lady claims she’s unpromised to anyone. In fact, she was certain you’d run off on her. That’s why I’m here, to save her from a life of loneliness. As the future Mrs. Porter, she’ll never be alone again.”
Josie appeared to shudder under his grasp, and Arlen clasped his pistol tighter. If this Porter had hurt her in any way, Arlen would see he paid for it.
“Then why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?” Darcy suggested.
“Of course!” Porter stepped away from Josie.
