No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(89)

“Malachi,” Henry huffed. “Where’s Emma?”

He clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze to the ground. How he hated to disappoint these ladies. But the truth was the truth, and dancing around it would only waste time. “The outlaw has her.”

Bertie gasped and grabbed Henry’s arm. Henry’s eyes flared with fire. “Then what are you standing around here for? Go after her!”

“I tracked her to their camp. They left on horseback.”

Henry snapped at Andrew. “You! Boy! Get off that horse and give it to Malachi. He’s got to go after—”

“No, aunt.” Mal stepped in front of her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “There is more to explain, and not much time to act. Organize the women while I give instructions to Andrew. I want everyone at the church in twenty minutes.”

Then before she could find the breath to argue, he spun away from her and strode toward Andrew, signaling him to stop dismounting and stay in the saddle. He gestured to the telegraph operator, too, who had just caught up to the group.

“Grace, I need you to wire Sheriff Tabor. Tell him Emma Chandler’s been abducted, and we have a witness who can describe the outlaw who took her.”

“I will, but when I wired yesterday to report the attack at Betty’s farm, the deputy sent a reply that the sheriff had been out of town the last three days chasing rustlers, and he didn’t know when Tabor would be back.”

Mal frowned. “Then tell the deputy to come.” He turned to Andrew. “But just in case he refuses, I need you to ride to Seymour.”

“But I want to stay with you,” Andrew protested, revealing his youth more than usual. Then he caught himself and hardened. His jaw jutted forward, and his eyes shimmered with defiance. “You need all the help you can get if you want to get your woman back.”

Mal didn’t bother disagreeing. “That’s true. But the rest of the womenfolk need protecting, too. And you’re the most capable rider I got around here.” Andrew sat a little straighter in the saddle. Mal patted Ulysses’s neck and peered pointedly at the boy who was in such a hurry to be a man. “Take Ulysses back to the barn for me and saddle the gray mare. There’s money in my saddlebags. Take ten dollars and settle my account with the livery owner, then check on the deputy.”

Mal glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure Henry and Bertie still stood a distance away. He’d be telling them the rest of the news soon enough, but he couldn’t afford to be slowed down with questions and demands at the moment. So he lowered his voice just to be safe.

“Tell him that the outlaw says, if the town isn’t vacated by morning, he will kill Miss Chandler along with any person who remains behind.”

Andrew swallowed slow and long, but he gave a sharp nod.

“If he still won’t come, go back to the livery. The owner is Ben Porter’s brother. Tell him Ben needs his help. And see if he knows of any other men in town who might be willing to assist.”

“I’ll send a wire ahead to Mr. Porter,” Grace offered, “so he’ll know to expect you. That will give him time to round up any others who might be willing to help.”

Mal nodded. “Good.” He turned back to Andrew. “Take one of the Chandler horses with you as a spare, in case you need it, but it’d be best if you stay in Seymour until this mess is over.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be back by this afternoon, Mr. Shaw. With reinforcements.” Then, before Mal could argue the point, he reined Ulysses’s head around and set off at a canter for the station house.

Stubborn brat. Mal’s mouth twitched at the corners as he watched the boy weave around the women clustered at the wagon. The kid reminded him of himself at that age. Proud. Defiant. Desperate to prove his worth to anyone who would give him a chance. That defiance had landed him in hot water on more than one occasion.

Watch over him, Mal prayed. He’d do his best to keep an eye on the kid, as well, but the threat to Emma demanded his full attention.

Mal swept his gaze over the women Henry was herding back toward town. They moved at a quick clip. Even Betty had climbed back into the driver’s seat of her wagon. She clucked to her team, and worked at turning them around while Maybelle and Bertie sat with Flora in the rear. Satisfied that everyone was following instructions, he backtracked a few steps to collect the two rifles Flora had dropped when the wagon arrived.

“Where’s Porter?” Malachi asked Grace as he jogged back her direction.

“Keeping watch from the steeple,” she called out as he loped past.

Picking up his pace, Mal left the females behind and cut across the fields for the shortest path to the church. Once there, he cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted up to the freighter. “Ring the bell, Porter. We need everyone gathered as soon as possible.”

Without bothering to question why, the freighter grabbed the rope and pulled. The high-pitched metallic tone resonated through the air, sending vibrations along Mal’s nape.

“It’s a little early to be ringing the bell, son,” Brother Garrett said, stepping out of the church door. “I only rode in about fifteen minutes ago. We don’t normally sound the call to worship until ten o’clock.”

“Sorry, Parson. We’re going to have to forgo services this morning.” Mal strode to the steps and planted his boot on the bottom stair. “An outlaw has taken Miss Chandler hostage and threatened the rest of the town. We have to make a plan, then get the womenfolk out of Harper’s Station.”