Never in his life had Daniel wished his brothers were closer. Wes and Adam were organizers, fighters. He'd always been the thinker. Even when he'd been wounded in the war, he was helping load men onto a wagon when shot, not fighting.
As he left the room, he asked one of the boys to hitch up the buggy. His leg was still too stiff to trust himself on horseback for hours, and when he found Karlee, he'd need something to bring her home in. He didn't even know if she knew how to ride.
As he opened the bottom drawer in his study, he realized how little he knew about her. He'd never asked, and she was not a woman who talked about herself. Did she ride? Could she shoot? Had she ever told another man she loved him? Why hadn't he taken the time to ask?
Daniel pulled out a gun belt Wes had given him for Christmas the year he'd turned eighteen. He'd shot the gun a few times at targets, but he'd never strapped on a weapon.
He was a man of peace. But they had Karlee!
Daniel belted the holster and checked the bullets.
Karlee watched the men. She could see them in the moonlight, but she knew they couldn't see her hidden in the shadows of the tree. As they slept, she sawed the rope against the bark, praying she could get free before they woke up.
Finally, the rope began to fray. Her wrists were raw and she felt near exhaustion, but frantically, she worked. She couldn't be sure of the time, but she guessed it was less than an hour before daylight when she freed her hands. The men would be waking any minute.
If she tried for the horses, they'd catch her. Assuming she could find the road, she'd never make it to town before daybreak. All Whiteley would have to do was ride by and pick her up. If she tried to go across country, she could be lost for days.
There was only one way to freedom. The river.
Karlee moved to the water's edge and slipped off her clothes. She buried them in the brush and mud. She'd worry about her lack of dress if she ever reached safety.
Slow as an alligator, she slipped into the water and began to swim toward the direction of town… she hoped.
Daniel thought he'd go mad looking for her. The Union had posted troops on every road into town waiting for Baker, but none remembered seeing Whiteley or any other men leaving in a wagon.
At the third post, Daniel ran into Wolf and told him what had happened.
Wolf reported vigilantes in flour-sack masks had broken into the local jail, kidnapping several men they claimed were murderers and about to get away with the crime because of the courts. Every lawman in the city was busy hunting them down.
To make matters worse, ruffians were looting, knowing their chances of getting caught were slim. They'd already broken into the bakery and several other businesses that had survived the fire. Wolf made sure they left the bakery empty-handed, but they'd still managed to damage the front of the store.
“Thank God, Valerie and her mother were at your place,” Wolf said before he realized they might be no safer there than anywhere.
“I'll get my horse and look west for Karlee. If I know men like Whiteley, they'll be headed for the least populated area to make camp. They won't want to go far, only far enough from town to feel comfortable. The west blockade had the fewest soldiers guarding it. If I don't find anything, I'll meet you back at your place an hour before dawn.”
Daniel nodded. “I'll search every barn in town, then move to the docks. If Whiteley stayed in town, there aren't that many places he can hide a wagon with a woman tied up in it.”
Wolf gripped Daniel's shoulder. “Don't worry, we'll find her.”
Daniel nodded wishing he believed everything would be fine. “I have to,” he answered. “I'm not sure I can live without this woman.”
Wolf grinned. “We'll find her. 'Til then, keep an angel on your shoulder, preacher, and your fist drawn until I'm there to cover your back.”
Daniel smiled as Wolf repeated the old oath his brothers always said when leaving. “I'll do that.”
Dawn danced off the surface of the bayou. Whiteley's camp was in a full panic. They were all running around like squirrels in a well, as if they'd somehow just misplaced Karlee.
“Where is she?” Miller yelled in frustration. He beat his bony fists against even bonier legs. “She couldn't have gone far in the dark.”
Whitely studied the ground looking for clues. Others paced to the water's edge and back.
“Maybe a gator came up from the bank and ate her,” Miller reasoned. “These cuts in the rope look like they could've been made by gator teeth.”
“What about blood, you idiot? If she were eaten, there'd be blood everywhere.”
Miller thought for a moment, then smiled a toothless grin. “Maybe the gator was real hungry and licked up all the blood when he finished. Kind of like a cat cleaning himself.”
Whiteley slapped Miller on the side of the head with the butt of his rifle. “Shut up! You're as dumb as a wart on a dead frog.”
Rubbed his scalp, Miller tried to act like he took offense at the remark. “Well, you got any better ideas?”
“She'd be too scared to go running through the dark and ever'body knows a woman can't swim.” He picked up the gag lying a few feet from the tree. “She's hiding around here somewhere. Spread out, men! We'll find her.”
Ten minutes later, all they'd found was Karlee's skirt and blouse.
“She done drowned herself!” Miller whined. “What a waste of a good killin'.”
Whiteley shook his head. “A woman don't strip and hide her clothes before she kills herself.”
Miller's eyebrows wrinkled together. “Then she's running around here naked!”
“Not likely,” the sergeant replied as he scratched his head in thought. “I don't think preacher's wives are allowed.”
Miller brightened. “Maybe the gator spit her clothes out after he ate her.”
Whiteley swung the butt of his rifle again, but this time Miller ducked. He was still smiling when the return flight caught him unexpectedly.
“Forget about the gator,” Whiteley ordered. “We can't go into town without the hostage. The preacher wouldn't give us the guns even if he has them.”
“What are we gonna do?” Miller rubbed both sides of his head. “What are we gonna do without the woman?”
The sergeant shook out the clothes and held them out toward Miller. “Get dressed.”
Three blows later, Miller decided it could be a plan after all. He was still mumbling about the gator when he lifted his skirt and climbed into the wagon.
They made it to within sight of town before Whiteley saw something in the road that made him pull up short.
One man, covered in hair and wearing a Ranger badge, stood before them. He looked like a giant. If God sent an avenging angel, this surely was one. Twin Colts hung from his waist, and a rifle rested against his shoulder.
“Morning, Sergeant Whiteley!” Wolf growled. “I almost didn't recognize you in civilian clothes.”
“This ain't your concern, Captain Wolf.” Whiteley was in no mood to visit. He'd tangled with the giant a few times in saloons. Rangers like him considered being outnumbered six to one as about even odds.
“There's where you're wrong, Sergeant. You see, Daniel McLain is as close to a brother as I got. I'd take it real unkindly if any harm came to his wife.”
“We ain't got his wife.” Whiteley shook his head so hard everything before him blurred… except the giant.
Wolf's rifle leveled at the men in the wagon. “I'll see for myself, but first, everyone out.”
Whiteley knew the six of them could all fire and kill Wolf before he could get more than two, maybe three of them. But he was too close to retirement to chance being one of the two or three. Besides, everyone in Texas knew Rangers were too mean to die. He'd heard rumors of a Ranger being wounded a half dozen times and still firing until his gun emptied.
Whiteley raised his hands and stepped down. One by one, the others followed. They were good at following orders, but not acting on their own.