drained from his brain, and the world spun in an eerie, sickening dance. An Amish head covering. And the darkness in which the figure was swathed was an Amish dress.
Emma. That person was Emma.
And she was in the hands of murderous cattle rustlers.
TWENTY
For one agonizing moment, Luke was paralyzed with indecision.
What should I do?
He lay flat on the hillside, his head peeking up over the ridge, and watched the distant scene with increasing horror. The newcomer talked to his partners, his arms gesturing. And then he threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed around the bowl and stirred up fear in Luke’s gut. Though he could not see her face, Emma’s figure on the ground seemed to draw more tightly into itself. Her posture indicated her terror.
The sight decided him. If he left, galloped back to camp to rouse the men and return with greater numbers, he would be leaving Emma alone in the hands of ruthless, vicious men. There was no telling what they would do to her before he returned. Correction. He had a couple of very good guesses about what they would do. Possibilities formed in his mind like bullets striking a target. Acid roiled in his stomach. No. He couldn’t leave her with them, not even for a moment.
Moving as cautiously as possible while his insides screamed at him to hurry, he crept backward down the hill. When he was sure his silhouette could not be spotted, he rose and sprinted toward Whitey. He grabbed his rifle, a Winchester Model 1873, and checked to be sure the magazine was full of cartridges. Twelve shots. Plus his six-shooter in his holster. Surely that would be enough to take care of four mangy kidnappers.
A thought struck him in the instant before he leaped into the saddle. He’d answered his question of a moment before. No, he wasn’t willing to risk killing another human being for a herd of cattle, but he would blow those rustlers’ heads off before he’d let them harm Emma.
At the back of his mind, a nagging worry pounded its way to the front. What could he, a lone cowboy, do against four murdering thieves? If he went charging into their camp, no doubt he’d have the element of surprise, but it wouldn’t last long. He’d probably get himself killed and Emma along with him. He needed a plan.
Lord, I’m fresh out of ideas. Help me. No. Help Emma!
The silent plea rose as he pointed Whitey in the direction of the pass into the bowl and dug in his heels. Surely the Lord wouldn’t leave this one special sheep all alone with no one to rescue her but a cowboy who couldn’t even manage to get his herd to the railhead intact.
The last jagged ridge loomed ahead on his left when he spotted movement off to his right. Four horses charged across the plain in his direction. A wave of relief hit him so hard he almost lost his seat. The riders were coming from the direction of his camp. In fact, he could make out a few identifying details. Jonas’s round straw hat glowed in the cold white moonlight as though he’d set it afire.
Taking in their location at a glance, Luke judged they were not in sight of the rustlers’ camp, but if they kept galloping ahead at that pace, they would round the shelter of the ridge in a matter of minutes. He jerked Whitey’s reins and raced across the plain to cut them off.
“My Emma,” Jonas shouted as soon as he neared. “Where is my Emma?”
“Shhh.” Luke held up a hand as he closed the final few yards. “Keep your voice down or you’ll give us away.” His gaze slid from Jonas to Griff. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”
“Jonas roused us,” he answered in a voice lower than a whisper. “Said he woke up in time to see a horse galloping away. Thought there were two people on it, but it was too far to tell for sure. Then he got up to check on the women and realized Emma was missing.”
“I don’t know what woke you,” Luke told Jonas, “but I thank God for whatever it was.”
The Amish man’s response was quietly certain. “The source, I know.”
Luke didn’t have any trouble believing the Lord capable of kicking a man awake at the right time. After all, if He could arrange to have a man tossed