The Heart's Frontier (22 page)

H
uddled on the ground, Emma wrapped her arms around her bent knees and drew herself into a tight ball. Though the night was warm, she could not still her shivering limbs. The expressions on the faces of the four men ranged from speculative to eager. The man with black teeth, Lester, kept an evil, hungry gaze fixed on her as he cut large pieces of cooked meat and shoved them in his mouth. She dared not meet his eyes or she would fall apart.

What was I thinking? As if I didn’t look foolish enough falling off a horse, sneaking off in the dark when I knew there might be thieves in the area surely proves to Luke that I’m a dull-witted simpleton
.

The fact was, she didn’t stop to think of the risks before she crept off into the dark. Her thoughts had been fixed on Luke and the idea of him becoming Amish so they could marry. And now she wouldn’t be marrying anyone, ever. Would she even be alive to see the sun rise on the morrow?

“We best be up and away from here before sunup,” said the one she’d heard the others refer to as Earl. “When they find her missing, they’ll come looking.”

Another answered with, “This herd’s been resting for days. We could rouse them now and head west toward Colorado. We’ll deliver them to the reservation, collect our pay, and be on our way to California before anybody can catch up with us. I’ll bet we can find someone to give a good price for her too.”

“Don’t be in such an all-fired hurry to sell her, Porter.” Lester fixed glittering eyes on Emma. “A man’s got a right to some leisure time first, don’t he?” He grinned around a mouthful of food.

A frigid blast of terror washed over her, swamping impending sobs to frozen silence. The hands with which she clutched her knees felt icy, and she was too afraid even to shiver.

Lord, please help me. I’ll never be stupid again. I’ll listen to Papa and
Maummi,
and I’ll be nicer to Rebecca too. I promise
.

Lester shoved a last bite of meat in his mouth and tossed his plate away into the grass. He stood and seemed to grow to giant-size stature when he took a step toward Emma. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for a rough hand to snatch her up.

“Pardon me, please.”

A voice, not too distant, echoed down from above. For the span of half a heartbeat, she thought it might be the Lord calling to her in answer to her plea. But then she realized the voice wasn’t deep and resonant and Lord-like. Instead, it was soft and quiet and intimately familiar.

“Papa!” She didn’t mean to shout, but the name tore from her throat of its own accord. Her eyes flew open, and she wildly searched the surrounding hills.

Luke lay flat on the ground behind the ridge, listening to the rustlers’ conversation. The circling ridge magnified the sound so he could hear most of the words. Anger built like a hot ball of fire in his gut, but he did not move until he heard Jonas’s voice. Only then, when he was sure the rustlers’ attention would be elsewhere for a second or two, did he raise his head and look down into the camp. His gaze was drawn to Emma, who shouted “Papa!” in a terrified voice that squeezed his heart in his chest.

He took in the scene before him in an instant. Emma crouched on the ground, just inside the ring of light from a low-burning fire. The three who had been seated leaped to their feet, scanning the opposite hillside for the source of the voice. Lester, the one who had kidnapped Emma, pulled a pistol from the holster at his side.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Lester shouted.

“I am Jonas Switzer.” The answer rolled down the hillside. A dark silhouette rose from the ground and stood upright. “I will fetch my daughter home now, please.”

To Luke’s right, a quiet crack echoed in the silence as Griff, starting his descent down the hill, crept across a dried root. He froze, as did Morris beyond him. Luke watched the men by the campfire. One head turned briefly to glance around but then fixed again on Jonas.

Lester’s arm swung wide as he leveled a pistol on Emma. “I’d better see your weapons tossed down that hill or I’ll shoot this here girl.”

Jonas’s arms spread wide. “I carry no weapon.”

With an effort Luke forced his gaze away from the sight of the vulnerable girl huddled on the ground and traced his path down the hill. He could do nothing to help her from here. He needed to be closer. A big boulder ten yards in front of him would provide some cover, and beyond that a shallow crevice in the ground, dark with shadows. Then there was no cover at all for the thirty yards between that and the man who stood with his gun pointed at Emma.

Luke grasped his Winchester in one hand and belly-crawled to the rock as quickly and silently as he could

“You expect me to believe you came after your girl without even a gun to back you up?” A bark of laughter echoed around the bowl. The nearest cattle stirred, and the rumble of bovine voices created a low hum that was repeated from various corners of the herd.

“We are Amish. We do not bear arms against anyone.”

Luke didn’t pause behind the rock but continued on. He wedged himself into the shallow crevice, lowering his body to the earth inside. To his right he spotted Griff huddled behind a rise in the land, and beyond him Morris lay flat on the ground. A cloud that had provided a moment’s darkness blew across the moon, and the hillside was bathed again in white light. Morris was exposed. If one of the men below looked in his direction, he’d be spotted in an instant.

Emma was still thirty yards from Luke.

Fortunately, the rustlers were too busy laughing at Jonas to bother looking over their shoulders.

“That’s what they said when we took the wagon with that backbreaking piece of furniture in it,” said the one whose voice identified him as Earl. “I didn’t believe it then, but I guess it’s true.”

“I
don’t
believe it.” Suspicion saturated the voice of the fourth, unnamed rustler. He shouted toward Jonas, “Surely you didn’t come here alone expecting us to hand over this here girl just ’cause you asked.”

Soundlessly, Luke shifted until he had his feet under him, ready to stand and make a quick dash. Any minute now. He raised his rifle, the barrel pointed in the direction of the kidnapper standing beside Emma.

“No, I did not,” Jonas answered.

The rustlers looked at each other. “What’s he saying? He’s talking in circles.”

“I don’t know, but I’m tired of foolin’ with this idiot.” Porter, who stood on the right, closest to Morris, raised his pistol and pointed the barrel toward Jonas.

The next few seconds exploded with rapid-fire action.

A woman’s scream ripped through the night. “Papa!” Emma jumped to her feet and dashed sideways, toward Porter, whose gun was trained on Jonas.

A shot rang out from somewhere to Luke’s right. Porter fell a moment before Emma reached him.

A second shot answered from the left, from beyond the pass into the bowl.

Charlie! Luke leaped to his feet and sprinted forward, his rifle in his hands. Lester surged after Emma, but he jerked his head around at the sound of thundering hooves. Five horses galloped through the narrow pass, all saddled but only one mounted, as Charlie drove the others before him.

Startled cattle surged to their feet in a wave, beginning with the ones closest to the camp and ending at the opposite end of the bowl.

Another shot, and the unnamed rustler fell. Earl whirled to face the hillside, where Morris, Griff, and Luke ran at full speed. Luke was dimly aware that the rustler’s gun rose to point directly at Griff, but he couldn’t spare a thought for that. He was heading toward Lester, who had recovered enough to resume his sprint after Emma.

The kidnapper reached her while Luke was still ten feet away. Luke raised his rifle and set the man’s head squarely within his sites. In one numb part of his brain he knew this moment would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Then Emma ducked and threw herself sideways. The kidnapper’s hand closed on air at the same moment Emma slammed into Earl, knocking the arm that held the gun fixed on Griff. He staggered and his shot went wild.

Lester’s back was exposed to Luke, a wide open target. One squeeze of a trigger, and Luke could take the man down.

What kind of cowboy shoots a man in the back, even a low-down, no-good, cattle-rustling kidnapper?

Not this kind
.

He flipped his rifle around as momentum carried him across the few remaining feet. Holding the cold metal barrel, he swung the heavy butt like he used to swing a stick at a ball as a kid. It connected with Lester’s head. For an instant, the rustler’s body stiffened. Then he toppled forward and hit the ground at Emma’s feet with a puff of dust.

While Morris relieved Earl of his weapon, Griff approached Luke. The grizzled cowboy stood beside him, staring down at the unconscious man sprawled out in the dirt.

“Well.” He took his hat off and scratched his head. “I never saw a Winchester used that way before, but it sure was effective.”

Luke opened his mouth to answer, but he forgot the words in the next instant when Emma flew into his arms. He held her close, his insides quaking with relief while she sobbed.