No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(87)
The outlaws must have changed direction here and masked their trail somehow. But which way had they gone? A growl of frustration rose in Mal’s throat. Why must he always be a step behind? It was maddening.
Emma’s captor had obviously spent years running from posses and lawmen to be so accomplished at hiding his trail. Mal would just have to be better. Smarter. He had a woman to find. A woman who meant more to him than anything else under the sun. So he picked a direction and started marching. When he’d gone about twenty-five yards with no sign of a trail, he backtracked and tried again at a different angle.
After five attempts, he finally stumbled upon the outlaws’ trail on a nearly perpendicular path to where they’d been headed before. A path that passed near a tree sporting a broken branch with a scrap of burlap stuck in its bark. They must’ve had a sack of dirt, dead leaves, and other various ground scrapings waiting for just such an occasion. They made a sharp change in direction, then backtracked and covered the trail with debris to throw off anyone following. Mal had to give the man credit. He was a wily old fox. But tricks would only hold up for so long, and Mal was too invested to give up the chase.
Until he found the hoofprints.
He couldn’t chase down horses. He’d have to return to town and fetch Ulysses. Following the trail on foot would keep him at too much of a disadvantage. Besides, Flora needed tending. He could practically hear Emma now, scolding him for leaving a battered woman alone in the woods, defenseless and unprotected. She’d never approve of his abandoning a female in need, even when her own safety hung in the balance.
So he begged the Lord to do what he couldn’t—watch over and protect Emma—and then tore his gaze away from the trail and turned back.
Urgency continued pounding in his head, and a physical ache twisted his gut as his steps carried him away from Emma, but he set his jaw and forced his legs into a trot. The faster he took care of Flora, the faster he could return for Emma.
When he finally caught up to the other woman, she had dragged herself a few more yards toward the river. Hearing his approach, she swiveled her head around, her eyes wide with fright. Then recognizing him, the air whooshed out of her lungs. “Thank heavens you came back.”
Mal hunkered beside her again and gently touched her back. “It’ll be all right, Flora. I’ll carry you back to town, and Maybelle will get you all fixed up.”
She shook her head at him. “You don’t understand. It ain’t me you should be worryin’ about. In fact, you should leave me here and run back as fast as you can go. They need to be warned. The entire town is in danger.”
A coldness spread through Mal’s veins like a ribbon of ice winding from his arms through his core and down to his toes. “What kind of danger?”
“Angus . . . my husband . . .” Flora’s gaze dropped to the ground at that admission, but she quickly steeled herself and brought her face back up. One eye was swollen and red, but the other glittered with determination. “He gave me a message. Said to tell you that he’s done waitin’. The women have until morning to clear out. If they ain’t gone, he’ll take care of the business himself—picking them off one by one.” She swallowed hard. “Startin’ with Emma.”
No! The roar of denial screamed through Mal’s head with such force he had to clench his jaw shut to keep it contained. Even then, an agonized moan rumbled in his throat as his hands trembled with helpless outrage.
“What does he want?” Mal forced the words through his tight throat as he balled his hands into fists to still their tremors. “The county land office wired me back a couple days ago. There’s no record of valuable mineral deposits or water rights worth killing over. What could he possibly want with Harper’s Station?”
“Gold.”
“But there’s no gold in the area,” Mal insisted. “No silver, copper—nothing of that sort.”
Flora shook her head sadly. “Not in the ground. In a U.S. Army payroll strongbox.”
Mal rocked back on his heels, her words nearly bowling him over. “All of this is about a stash from a heist?”
Flora nodded. “From five years ago. Angus and a gang of no-good drifters he’d collected, ambushed a small army convoy headed for Fort Elliott, killing three soldiers and injuring several more. Angus told the gang to split up so they’d be harder to track, and fools that they were, they listened to him. He gave them each a piddling few coins to tide them over, then hid the rest. That way when the army tracked them all down, he was the only one with no evidence on his person. Talked his way into a reduced sentence. Probably would’ve gotten off completely if one of the injured soldiers hadn’t recognized his horse.”
Flora wilted a bit, the telling apparently taking its toll on her. Mal moved close and shored her up, lifting her so she could lean against his side.
“Angus spent the last five years in prison, obsessin’ over that gold and making plans to get it back. And now he’s forcin’ our son to ride with him.” She grabbed Mal’s arm with surprising force. “Ned’s only fifteen. He’s just a boy. Too scared of his pa to stand against him. If you or the ladies challenge Angus on this, I’m terrified my boy will get caught in the crossfire. Please. You gotta convince the others to leave. It’s the only way to protect my boy and Emma.”
Mal didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. Not when the truth of what would happen was churning his heart into mush.