The man gestured at Matthew to throw down the revolver at his hip. He complied—and hoped his words alone would be enough to free Miss Timperman.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the younger man said. “You run, I shoot.”
Matthew nodded and rested his hands on the saddle horn.
“Why are you here?”
It was best to get straight to the point. “I’ve come for my intended.” He nodded toward Miss Timperman, who stared at him as if she couldn’t believe he’d come.
The older man raised his eyebrows while the blond one narrowed his gaze at Matthew. “Try that again.”
“I’ve come to collect the woman I plan to marry. Miss Daisy Timperman. The lady you took from the wagon train.” Matthew said it more slowly this time as he gestured toward Miss Timperman.
The two men looked at each other, as if they still couldn’t understand what Matthew had said. The older one motioned for the man holding Miss Timperman’s reins to bring her forward. And as the man did what was asked, Matthew finally got a good look at the woman with whom he’d been corresponding—the one who had agreed to come to Colorado to marry him.
And he wondered what Miss Timperman thought she saw when she looked in the glass at her home in Missouri. She was certainly pretty—beautiful even, Matthew thought—but not a thing like she’d described. Waves of dark hair—not blonde—that had fallen from pins framed her face, soft brown eyes instead of green, a pointed chin instead of a round face. Had he misread?
Or . . . a rock settled in his stomach at the thought. Had she been untruthful?
But why? That made no sense, when her true appearance was hardly one that any man could easily look away from.
“Did you receive the note?” the older man asked him.
Matthew tore his eyes away from Miss Timperman, who watched him with a guarded expression. “A note? I received no communication.”
The older fellow made an incredulous noise in the back of his throat as the younger one leaned forward in the saddle to better see Miss Timperman. “I don’t suppose the lady would care to explain to us all what’s going on here?”
Miss Timperman pressed trembling pink lips together, and all Matthew wanted to do was grab hold of her and get her away from these men as fast as possible. The color of her hair and the shape of her face mattered not at all to him.
“This is the man I’ve come to marry.” She hesitated, her eyes going from Matthew to the two outlaws. “I’m sorry,” she said in a softer voice, one that just covered the terror hiding beneath. She swallowed before continuing. “I . . . I feared you might hurt him, so I gave a false name for him. He must have begun to worry over me and came looking.”
Matthew thought he saw the older man’s hand tighten around his pistol as he glanced back to his partner. The younger fellow’s gaze traced Matthew, from his worn boots to his dusty coat to the hat that was in dire need of replacement. The man smiled without a trace of friendliness.
“I don’t suppose you’re a businessman?” he asked.
Matthew glanced at Miss Timperman. She knew of his work at the land office, as well as his intentions to begin ranching the land he’d purchased. Although he supposed that the land officewasa business, and he did work there for now. That did make him a businessman of sorts, he supposed. “I work at the land office.”
The blond outlaw downright scowled at Miss Timperman this time, and Matthew wondered what exactly he’d said to cause that response. She seemed to shrink into the saddle. Matthew gripped his horse’s reins. How much had these men scared her already? He wanted to toss them both from their horses, grab her, and take her to where no one would ever harm her again.
“You and I have a very different understanding ofsuccessful,” the younger outlaw fairly growled at Miss Timperman. When she didn’t answer, he shot his gaze back to his companion, who shook his head.
“Leave it be, Snake. Let’s cut our losses,” the older man said.
After casting an angry look at both Matthew and then Miss Timperman, Snake—a well-earned name if Matthew had ever heard one—finally nodded.
“What’ve you got?” the older man asked. When Matthew didn’t answer right away, he added, “For the lady.”
Money. They wanted a ransom. His heart took a dive down to his boots. He didn’t have much, not after three weeks at a boardinghouse in Pueblo, but perhaps they’d be satisfied with the little he had. “May I?” He pointed to his pocket.
When the older man gave a quick nod, Matthew reached into his pocket and extracted the paltry sum he had remaining. Snake urged his horse forward and held out his hand. Matthew dropped the bills and coins into it.
The man counted them silently and frowned. “That’s all you’ve got?” When Matthew nodded, Snake glanced back at his companion. “Not even enough to buy a horse.”
Matthew bit back his real thoughts—that they’d taken enough horses from the wagon train. Why would they need to bother with buying one?
“What else have you got?” the older man asked as Snake shoved Matthew’s money into his own pocket.
The only other thing of value he carried, besides the horses, was the ring he’d planned to give Miss Timperman. He’d hoped they could be married by his father, back in Crest Stone, but he’d also planned for a hasty wedding in Pueblo if she didn’t relish the idea of riding back home with him unwed.
