Chapter 27
Thomas gripped the reins a little harder as the wagon slid on an icy patch. Maybe he should slow the team on this last stretch before Walnut Springs. But everything inside him urged him to go faster.
To reach Kate, who was in the same town with hired killers.
What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem.
He’d been reacting—the same reckless, impulsive behavior his brothers had been warning him about for months.
The very behavior that had led him into that Butte saloon in the first place, starting the chain of events that now threatened everyone he loved.
The road curved ahead, and he guided the team around a patch of ice that gleamed treacherously in the afternoon sun. His hands ached from gripping the reins, and the cold had long since seeped through his gloves.
The sound of hoofbeats reached him—coming from behind, moving fast.
His heart slammed against his ribs. Had Jake and his companion already finished their business in the saloon? But they wouldn’t be coming from behind him. He’d meet them head-on.
He twisted in the seat, shifting the reins into one hand in case he needed to grab for the rifle.
A single rider emerged around the bend, pushing his horse hard through the snow.
Enoch.
Relief and confusion tangled inside him as his eldest brother closed the distance between them. Enoch’s face was set in hard lines, his dark beard frosted with ice crystals from the cold.
Thomas pulled the team to a halt, the horses heaving and stamping in the sudden stillness.
Enoch reined in beside the wagon, struggling to catch his own breath as his horse blew white clouds. “Clara’s taken a turn for the worse. Where’s Kate?”
“A turn for the worse?” His gut twisted. “But she was improving—the fever broke—”
“It came back.” Enoch’s voice was grim. “Robert sent me after you in case you decided to spend the night in town. We thought Kate would want to know.”
Clara. Sweet, gentle Clara, who’d been so weak already. Kate would be devastated if anything happened to her.
But there was more pressing danger. Danger Enoch didn’t know about.
“Enoch, listen to me.” He leaned forward. “Those men I fought in Butte. They’re here. In Walnut Springs.”
Enoch frowned. “The ones from the saloon? Why does…?”
Thomas shook his head. “They’re working for Reginald. I saw them in the mercantile, sending a telegram.” Thomas’s throat tightened around the words. “To England. To Cumberland.”
Enoch reared back. “How in the…?”
“I know.” The connection seemed hard to fathom. “But I heard them. They said they found their ‘assignment’ right where he told them it would be. And they plan to finish the job within the day.”
Enoch went still. “Today.”
“They went into the saloon after sending the telegram. I left Kate in town to wait for the doctor and was heading back to warn you, but—” Thomas gestured helplessly at the wagon. “I realized partway back that I couldn’t leave her there. Not with those men so close.”
Enoch’s gaze cut toward Walnut Springs, then back to Thomas. The calculation behind those blue eyes was almost visible—weighing options, assessing threats.
“Where is Kate now?”
“Waiting to get Clara’s medicine.” Guilt twisted in his gut. “Then she’s planning to ride for the ranch. I can’t risk her running into those men on the trail. I have to make sure she’s safe.”
Enoch nodded once. “Go. Take care of Kate. I’ll ride back and get the others ready.”
“Enoch—”
“We’ve prepared for this.” His brother’s voice carried the steel of a man who’d spent his whole life expecting danger.
“Ever since we came to Montana, we knew Reginald might find us eventually. The house can be defended. We have weapons, provisions, plans mapped out. How many do you think there are?”
“I only saw two in the mercantile. But probably more.” His mind raced through the possibilities. “They might be meeting the others in the saloon.”
Enoch gathered his reins. “Get Kate. Get her somewhere safe. Once you know she’s secure, if there’s time, come back to the ranch. But her safety comes first.”
The words should have chafed. Should have felt like another dismissal, another reminder that his brothers didn’t trust him with the important work.
Instead, they settled something inside him.
Kate was his responsibility. His wife. The woman he was beginning to love with everything in him. And protecting her—making sure she didn’t ride straight into danger—that wasn’t running away from the fight.
That was exactly where he needed to be.
“All right.” He gathered the reins tighter. “But Enoch—be careful. These men have been hired to kill, and they won’t hesitate.”
“Neither will we.” Enoch’s expression hardened. “Get Kate. Keep her safe. And Thomas?” He paused, his gaze locking with Thomas’s. “Be careful.”
Then he was gone, his horse’s hooves throwing up sprays of snow as he galloped toward the ranch.
Thomas snapped his own reins and urged the tired team forward. The wagon lurched into motion, and he pushed them as fast as he dared on the treacherous road.
Hold on, Kate. I’m coming.
Walnut Springs emerged from the mountain pass like a collection of snow-dusted boxes scattered along the frozen river. He scanned the main street as he aimed the team toward the livery. No sign of his wife’s familiar figure.
The boardwalks were mostly empty, the cold driving everyone indoors. The livery stood open, and he pulled the wagon to a halt.
“Howdy.” The livery owner—a short fellow named Rufus who’d been shoeing horses in Walnut Springs for at least five years now—looked up from a harness he was mending. “Everythin’ all right, Mr. Balfour?”
“I need a horse saddled.” Thomas set the brake and jumped down. “I’ll leave the wagon here and come back for it later, if that’s all right.”
Rufus set down his work and pushed to his feet, moving toward the row of stalls with the unhurried calm of a man who’d spent decades around horses. “Something wrong?”
Everything. But he couldn’t explain now.
“Family business. My wife came into town earlier—have you seen her? A pretty blonde woman wearing a blue dress.”
Rufus shook his head as he led a sturdy bay gelding from its stall. “Can’t say I have. Been in the back most o’ the afternoon, though.”
Thomas forced himself to breathe. Kate was probably still at the cafe next to the clinic. Still safe. Still waiting for the doctor.
Please let her be waiting.
“Let me know if she comes by.” He started toward the door. “I’ll be back for the horse soon.”
As he trotted to the doctor’s office, the building sat dark, the windows reflecting nothing but the pale afternoon sky. He tried the door anyway. Locked.
His pulse kicked higher. Where was she?
The boarding house sat next door, Mrs. Patterson’s neat sign swinging slightly in the wind. He covered the distance in a few long strides and pushed through the door.
Warmth hit him first, then the smell of coffee and bread. Mrs. Patterson looked up from behind the small desk, her lined face creasing into a welcoming smile.
“Mr. Balfour!”
“My wife.” The words came out in a bark. “Kate. Was she here?”
“Oh yes.” Mrs. Patterson nodded to the tables by the window. “She was waiting for the doctor. Had some tea. But she left—oh, must be twenty minutes ago now. Said the doctor had returned.”
Twenty minutes.
His stomach dropped. “Did you see where she went?”
“Just out the door, I’m afraid. I assumed she went to the doctor’s office.” Mrs. Patterson’s expression shifted, concern creeping in. “Is everything all right?”
No.
If Kate had gone to see the doctor twenty minutes ago and the office was locked, where had she gone?
He forced his voice to stay calm. “Did you see anyone else on the street? Two men, maybe? Strangers?”
The lines at Mrs. Patterson’s brows gathered. “There were a couple of fellows I didn’t recognize. Rough-looking types. They were standing near the doctor’s office when I glanced out earlier.” Her eyes widened. “Why? Mr. Balfour, is your wife in some kind of trouble?”
He was already moving toward the door. “If she comes back, keep her inside. Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone in you don’t know.”
“Mr. Balfour—”
But he stepped out the door, and the cold once again struck him like a fist. He scanned the street in both directions.
Empty boardwalks. Closed shops. The wind carrying nothing but the distant sound of the river.
He strode toward the doctor’s office, examining the snow-packed ground. Boot prints—dozens of them, overlapping, impossible to distinguish one set from another.
Wait.
There, just past the doctor’s door. A scuff mark in the snow. And beyond it, drag marks leading toward the alley between the clinic and the boarding house.
His insides clenched even tighter as he followed the tracks.