A mood of bitter rage curled in Steve’s belly, belying his outward calm. He was calm only because he had to be, because the senator wasn’t in front of him, but he itched to confront him. The nearer they came to finding Brandon, the more vicious his mood grew.
He’d wanted to leave Ginny behind, but knew better than to try it. She was like a tigress since discovering that her children were missing, as feral and determined as any wild cat. The three of them had ridden like avenging angels since disembarking from the flatboat at Roma, silently and with grim purpose.
Steve’s big bay had settled into a mile-eating pace that was matched by the other mounts. As he rode in silence, anger built inside him, the cold, dispassionate mood of a gunfighter. It filled him with icy resolution.
Twilight descended, streaking the sky in colors of rose and purple as they rode into Laredo. The streets were crowded, saloons blaring tinny music and raucous laughter. With a new bridge being built across the river to Mexico, the town had grown swiftly.
Colonel Prime seemed surprised to see them, and was reluctant to help search for the children.
“I don’t know why you think they’re hidden in this area, but I can’t spare a squad right now, Morgan. The apaches have been raiding and I need all my men.”
“If the Apaches find a United States senator and his grandchildren before we do, you might find yourself back in the rank and file,” Steve said curtly. “It wouldn’t look good on your military record to have refused aid.”
Prime scowled. “I have a squad returning tomorrow. I’ll send them out to scout the hills in two days.”
“Two days may be too late.”
“It’s the best I can do. You don’t even know if they’re out there, but I damn sure know the Apaches are. It will have to wait, and none of your threats can change that.”
Steve leaned forward, fists pressing into the wood of Prime’s desk as he said softly, “You’re wrong, Colonel….”
“I’m going with you,” Ginny said when they left the fort and took a room in a small, secluded hotel. She came to stand beside him, her eyes offering a challenge.
A faint smile slanted his mouth. “Where do you think I’m going?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here alone. I’ll go crazy with nothing to do but think and worry.”
“Do you still have that pistol I gave you?”
She looked startled, but nodded. “Yes.”
“Think you can use it if you have to? This will be a lot different than shooting at tree branches and tin cans, Ginny.”
“Do you think it will come to that? I mean, I can’t see the senator engaged in a gunfight, Steve.”
“It wasn’t the senator who picked up your aunt and the children in Galveston. He had someone else do that for him. Hired guns, maybe.”
Her eyes widened slightly, dark pupils soaking up light from the wall lamp until they glittered. “I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, Steve, the children must be terrified!”
“I’d prefer doing this without gunplay, but I want to be ready for anything. And Ginny, I can’t protect you and be certain the children are shielded as well.”
Silence fell in the small, shabby room. A muggy gust of air drifted in through the open window, rife with the sound of drunken laughter. Tension vibrated between them, and he knew Ginny had just realized how dangerous it was for all of them.
“If a choice must be made, Steve, you know what I want you to do.”
“I know.”
It didn’t really need to be said. Laura and Franco came before anyone else.
Neither of them slept that night, but lay awake in each other’s arms, the closeness their only comfort.
The early morning sun was veiled by pale, cloudy shreds of mist. The air was cool, night shadows lurking at the base of the hills and in crevices and ravines. Laredo was behind them, an indistinct blur visible in the distance. Hooves kicked up dust, clattering on the sun-baked road that was little more than well-worn ruts snaking across the plains.
Steve kept the pace slow and casual, watching the horizon. They couldn’t be that far ahead, and wouldn’t be expecting him. If not for the cable he’d sent London, he wouldn’t ever have discovered that his children were in America.
All his instincts returned sharply to guide him, the old tricks he’d learned when he was still a youth riding with the Comanche enabling him to cut sign of riders that had veered off the main track. Paco had seen the faint marks of hooves in the hard soil, too.
“You figure they’re up in the hills, amigo?”
“Makes sense. He’d be close here, able to ride back across the border if pursued.” Steve shifted in his saddle, frowned slightly as something glittered in the rising sun.
He dismounted, bent to pick it up, turned it over in his hand. His mouth tightened. It was a two penny coin. An English coin. As he stood up, he saw another one a few yards up into the rocks, glinting dully. He turned to Paco.
“Isn’t there an old ruin up in these hills?”
Paco scratched his jaw. “Yeah, in a stand of cottonwood trees down in an arroyo. I holed up there once in a storm.”
“Why would he take them to a ruin way out here?” Ginny asked with a frown. “It would make more sense to take them to the house he has near the mine.”
“No one would notice out here.” Steve palmed the coin. “It’s away from everything.”
They rode slowly up through the rocks, horses carefully picking a path through jumbled rocks and brush-studded earth that melded from dun to ocher to red. Steve found three more coins. Shadows grew short, hugging boulders as the sun rose higher. The clink of bridle chains and creak of leather accompanied the dull thud of hooves against hard rock.
He heard Ginny unscrew the
