Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [133]
“Yep.”
“You planning on getting every-von?”
“Yep.”
Finkel shook his head. “Comer hates jails. He von’t sit by and let you lock us up.”
“He let me have six others.”
“He vas hopping mad about it, too. Promised us he vouldn’t let it happen again.” Walking to the back, he climbed into the bed.
Duane perked up. “So how ya likin’ that telly-phone Luke sold ya?”
Finkel scowled. “Shut up, Pfeuffer.”
“Who-wee, I think he’s got a couple o’ lines crossed, Luke.” Duane leaned in. “What happened to yer ear?”
Luke whipped up his head from securing the chains. A trickle of blood ran down Finkel’s ear.
Tightening his lips, Luke finished shackling him. “Well, that was some mighty sorry shooting on my part, Peter. I’m sorry. I aim to miss by about three inches.”
“I should haf stopped right avay.”
“We couldn’t believe it when ya kept going after Luke here gave ya warnin’.” Duane shook his head. “We thought ya were dead fer shore, didn’t we, boys?”
The men offered their agreement. Duane rehashed what they saw, telling Finkel how each of them had been caught.
Luke checked Honey Dew’s flanks. They were covered in a foam of sweat. Her nostrils flared wide as she sucked in air. He wiped her sides and patted her neck. “You did real fine, girl. Real fine.”
When Duane wound down, Finkel nodded at Georgie. “Guten Morgen, Fräulein Gail. Das Telefon isn’t vorking.”
“Good morning, Mr. Finkel.” She gave him a soft smile. “And you’re quite right. Seems someone shot down every line we have.”
He gave a disgruntled look at Necker. “Vas that your idea? Did you stop and think that now our Frauen can’t call the next Mann and warn him?”
Necker sneered. “Shut up, Finkel.”
Georgie exchanged a look with Luke, then faced forward.
Taking Honey Dew’s reins, he walked beside the hack and back toward the farmhouse. The gunfire had emptied it of its occupants. Finkel’s wife and five stairstep children stood on the porch. Luke picked out the boy who’d churned butter and the girl who’d fed the chickens that first day he stopped by.
The missus ran down the steps. “Peter?”
“Go back in das Haus, mein Liebling,” he said, his voice gentle.
She turned to Georgie. “Vat’s happening? Was ist los?”
“Mrs. Finkel, this is Ranger Landrum. I’m afraid . . .” Georgie looked at him, at a loss for words.
“I’m going to have to take him in, ma’am. I’ll get word to you as soon as I can.”
“Is this because of Herr Comer?”
“Stille!” Finkel said.
“I’m afraid so,” Luke said to the woman.
“But das Telefon doesn’t vork. How vill I hear?”
The children spilled into the yard like ducklings trailing after their mother.
“We’ll get it fixed or send someone out,” he said. “Either way, I’ll be in touch.”
Finkel twisted around, catching his son’s eye. “Morgan’s out in die Pasture. You’ll need to get her and cool her down, ja?”
“Jawohl.”
“That’s a good boy. You take care of your Mutter now. I’ll be back soon as I can.”
“When, Vater?” The boy’s gaze traveled over the occupants of the wagon.
“I don’t know, Sohn. But not for a long vile. I love you, and die Mädchen, too.” He glanced at his daughters, then gave his wife a sad smile. “It’ll be all right, Liebling.”
She brought her apron to her mouth. “Nein, Peter. What vill ve do?”
Finkel looked at Luke. “Let’s get going.”
Heart heavy, Luke swung up onto Honey Dew, then rode alongside Georgie as she urged the horses in a westwardly direction. The image of the five ragamuffins swirling about their mama’s skirt seared his brain. He knew what it was like to lose a father at age ten and to have your ma and siblings to take care of. He wished he could come back, check on them from time to time, see if they needed anything. But if he kept rangering, chances were, he’d never see them again.
He glanced at Georgie. She kept her eyes forward, her throat working. The men in back quieted. Even Duane was subdued.
Clem Ragston was the only one left, but Finkel’s words had given Luke a sense of unease. Was Comer in the area? Would he try to get the drop on them? When would he