Page 93 of The Heart’s Charge

“Preach.” Jonah shook his head. Davenport raised a brow in question. Jonah said simply, “Mark will want her there.”

Apparently that explanation sufficed, for Davenport nodded.

Then a new voice piped up. “I’ll go with you.”

Abner? Eliza stepped away from Jonah and moved to Abner’s left side while Katherine hunkered down on his right.

“No,” Katherine protested, her maternal instincts flaring even when no true danger existed. Abner would be traveling in the company of a Horseman, for pity’s sake.

Still, Eliza knew Katherine. Knew her tender heart. A heart bruised from the violence she’d just witnessed. Violence that had touched not only her, but the boy she loved like a son.

“You’ve done too much already, Abner,” Katherine insisted. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.” Abner turned pleading eyes to Eliza. “I can point out Miss Gordon and Deputy Bronson. I can explain what happened with Ortega. Please. Let me help.”

Eliza couldn’t ignore his plea. Especially when he was right.

She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to the man in front of her. “I’m sure Mr. Davenport will guard the boy well. Won’t you, sir?”

“Yes, ma’am. On my life, he’ll come to no harm.”

“Then I see no reason to keep him from going. Do you, Katherine?”

“No, I suppose not.” Katherine wiped her eyes and stood, mimicking Eliza’s stance as if Eliza were some kind of pillar of strength to imitate, when Katherine was already one of the strongest women Eliza knew. Maybe not in the conventional way, but her soft heart had a core of iron.

“Then I guess you and me better get some tickets before this train leaves without us.” The big man smiled at Abner, and the smile transformed his face. The intimidating bear looked more like an oversized puppy when he patted Abner’s shoulder. Abner didn’t smile back, but he did nod and follow Davenport into the depot.

“Ain’t that Wallace’s horse?” Rawley called out from where he stood in the street, holding the mounts Katherine and Jonah had ridden. He pointed, and Eliza caught a glimpse of the man and woman she’d seen exiting the train behind Mr. Davenport.

The woman led four terrifyingly oversized horses, one of them a gray that looked just like Cooper, with the ease of a mother duck leading a string of ducklings. Eliza didn’t know whether to be impressed by her control of the beasts or worried that they might break away without a man’s strength to control them. Her companion, however, had his hands full with a more belligerent charge, a stranger who sported a bloody nose and reddened jaw. The man Eliza assumed to be Matthew Hanger shoved his captive forward, keeping a grip on the arm he’d bent behind the fellow’s back.

Jonah moved to meet him. “Captain?”

Eliza followed, keeping an eye on the horses, relieved to see that the lady doctor had them well in hand.

“Found this fellow trying to load Cooper into the stock car when we were unloading our mounts,” the captain said. “Claimed the horse was his. I knew otherwise. Thought I’d deliver him to the local law for horse thievin’.”

“Ain’t no local law at the moment,” Jonah said, “but I got a better idea.” He strode up to the man and spoke in a voice so cold it could freeze the Mississippi. “Horse thieving’s not his worst crime. See, the only way he could have come across this horse was to take it after ambushing me and Wallace out on Packsaddle Mountain yesterday. Which means that in addition to horse thievin’ and back-shootin’, he’s also guilty of snatchin’ kids and collapsin’ a mine on top of their heads.”

The stranger’s face paled.

Jonah jabbed a finger into the man’s chest. “If my partner or any of those kids die in that mine, you become guilty of capital murder—a hanging offense. But if Wallace and the kids are found alive, there’s a good chance hangin’ gets taken off the table. It’s simple, really. If they live, you live. So why don’t you increase your odds of survival by showing us where the mine is?”

The snatcher swallowed hard, then gave a jerky nod of assent.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

Mark closed his eyes and focused on breathing. No easy task with half the mountain piled atop his legs and belly. Any sense of time had left him hours ago. He’d prayed, dozed, and prayed some more. Not just for himself, but for the boys in the far passage. Boys with so much life left to live. So much potential yet to realize. And for Kate. He’d imagined her beside him. Even pretended to talk to her. Should they wed here or back home in Westfield? How many children would they have? What should they name them?

He did his best to stay positive, to hold on to his faith and his optimism, but the darkness wore on him. As did the pain. Falling rocks had pummeled him during the explosion, leaving him bruised and aching. Being pinned to the cavern floor didn’t help matters. He couldn’t stretch or move more than an inch or two. And the air seemed to grow thinner by the moment. Fear of suffocation prowled at the edge of his awareness, ready to pounce.

Stay strong, soldier. The cavalry’s coming.

Oddly enough, he heard the admonition in Matt’s voice, not his own. Maybe the thin air was starting to take its toll.

The melody of a hymn he’d learned a year or two ago started playing in his mind. Music had always been his solace, so when he’d run out of words to pray during the night, he’d let symphonies run through his mind. Bach. Brahms. Beethoven. The chords filled his head. Lilting woodwinds. Reverberating brass. Singing strings. He’d imagined his own trumpet joining the orchestra, harmonizing with the instruments around him, getting swept up in a current of music that could take him away from his present reality.