Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [132]
Georgie blinked, her lips parting.
Clicking his tongue, Luke touched his heels to Honey Dew’s sides. “Come on, Georgie. Next stop’s a good ways from here.”
Biting her lip, she shook the reins. “Hiyyup.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Luke tensed. Peter Finkel stood on his front porch. He raised a hand to block out the rising sun behind Luke’s back, then must have smelled trouble. Breaking into an all-out run, he jumped onto a black thoroughbred hitched to a nearby mesquite tree.
“Stay here,” Luke shouted to Georgie as he dug in his heels and gave chase.
Finkel headed straight for the brakes, whipping his horse on both sides with his reins. Luke leaned forward along Honey Dew’s neck, the pommel of his saddle hitting his stomach.
Looking back, Finkel laid into his horse, goading it with his spurs. His horse accelerated. Dirt clods flew up behind the thoroughbred, pelting Luke and stinging his shoulders, arms, and face with each blow.
Squinting his eyes against the onslaught, he kept his focus on his quarry and prayed there were no gopher holes or loose footing. A fall at this speed would break Honey Dew’s neck and likely his own.
Not for the first time, he wished he had his own horse and saddle. He shouted encouragement to the mare, but Finkel’s black continued to pull away.
Luke whipped his reins back and forth. Sweat bubbled along Honey Dew’s neck and chest. She stumbled, lurching forward. Tensing, he managed to keep his seat. She recovered her footing and he let out a breath.
The slip had given Finkel an even greater lead. Honey Dew’s hoofbeats slowed. He couldn’t afford to let the energy drain from her. They still had one more man to round up.
Pulling her to a stop, he grabbed his Winchester, swung to ground, and settled the butt of the rifle into his shoulder. Honey Dew wheezed and blew beside him. The distance between him and Finkel increased exponentially, but he was still well within range.
Looking down the barrel, Luke shot the ground in front of the galloping thoroughbred, knowing full well his bullets came within a hair of Finkel’s ears before striking the earth.
He’d long since learned he rarely had to actually hit his mark. The sound of a bullet singing by usually raised the level of concern enough to bring his man to a halt, for most weren’t willing to gamble on where the next one would land.
“Stop!” Luke shouted. “Or I’ll shift a little left this time.” He followed immediately with a second shot.
Instead of slowing, Finkel spurred his mount to greater speeds.
Hardening his resolve, Luke aimed at the man himself. “Last chance,” he hollered and hooked his finger around the trigger.
At this final warning, Finkel brought his horse up so short it rose onto its hind legs before settling. He quickly put his hands in the air.
“Keep them there, get off your horse, and come on in.” Heart hammering, he kept his gun trained on the man.
“Who are you?” Finkel asked, drawing close. His horse had not followed but stood where he’d left it. “You certainly aren’t der Troubleman.”
He clamped on the cuffs, anger sluicing through him. “You have any idea how close you were to missing your day in court?”
“Who are you?”
“Lucious Landrum.”
“You’re supposed to be in South Texas chasing die Diamonds.”
“What did you go and run off like that for?” Luke barked. “I thought I was going to have to shoot you.”
“Vhy didn’t you?”
“I was seconds away from it!” His breathing was as labored as Honey Dew’s, his fury palpable.
“Vhy didn’t you?” he asked again.
With an effort, Luke brought himself under control. “It’s not something I care to do unless I absolutely have to.”
Finkel studied him. “Zat de only reason?”
The men faced each other, memories shuffling through their minds. They’d played cards, shared meals, traded jokes, exchanged confidences.
Luke sighed. “Let’s get going. We’ve got one more stop.”
They headed toward the hack. “Comer von’t let you take us in. You know dat, don’t you?”
“This is the end of the rail, Peter. You’re going to jail.”
The creak of the hack and the clinking of chains drew the man’s