Page 25 of Redeeming the Outlaw
“We learned from George Youngerman yesterday. Brodie paid him off this morning. Who would have thought it was under our noses all this time?”
“Youngerman. Youngerman.” Whit rolled the name off his tongue. “Don’t think I know him.”
“We knew him in Texas. A scrounger of sorts. Sells information. Turns out one of Randall Hartman’s boys is sweet on his sister.”
“You’ve been using the sister to get information?” Whit’s anger was white hot. Not only was this bigger than what he originally thought, it now involved his family.
“She is a charmer. George is going to give her to Brodie now they’ve found Ma’s grandson.”
“She must be something.” Whit laughed to keep fromretching. All he could think about was unleashing his fury on Tom, demanding answers. “Where did they find him?”
Tom jogged along, trying to keep up with Whit. “He’s been with the Chapmans all this time.” Tom slapped Whit on the arm. “Can you believe it? They’ll grab the boy and then destroy the family.”
Hart. They were looking for Hart.
“That close? Have they found his ma?”
“Not yet. Ma will find her though.”
“Guess I don’t know the whole story.”
“Don’t matter none. Since Ma gave the word to get rid of the preacher, I guess plans are in motion.”
Whit breathed a sigh of relief. Tom just confirmed Esther’s family was alive for now.
“Do you think we should check with Brodie first?” Tom asked.
Slapping Tom on the side of the head, he glared at the man. “Do you really want to explain to Ma you had to check with Brodie when she ordered me to come to town to kill the family who took her daughter away?”
Tom’s eyes opened wide. “I guess not. What do you need from me?”
Whit shook his head. “How many men are at the house right now?”
“Boone should be the only one there.”
“Any others around?”
“Might be a few over at Miss Marcy’s, but they are off tonight. Need me to go get them?”
“No. I need you to stick with me.”
They approached the house from the south side. Whitcould see signs shoutingFEVER STAY OUT!on the walls and windows. He tensed as Tom walked up the creaking stairs to the front door and slid inside. Whit followed; his boots were silent on the worn wooden floorboards.
His heart thrummed a rapid beat in his chest, each thud echoing the urgency of his mission. The dim glow of lamplight flickered through the cracks of the closed doors, casting eerie patterns on the walls.
“God, guide my steps,” Whit prayed inwardly, his eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of danger.
“Boone!” Tom called. “Where are you?”
“In here.” Boone sauntered out of the kitchen, his hands full with a half-eaten piece of crusty bread. A mischievous twinkle shone in his eyes as he took another bite and spoke around it. “Was making a…”
He didn’t finish the sentence as the items dropped to the floor, and he tumbled to the ground. Tom turned and fumbled for his gun.
“You!” Tom’s eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Whit finished Tom off with two rounds before he could pull his revolver from his holster. Taking the revolver from Tom’s body, Whit climbed the stairs to the second level. He didn’t know how many of the Richards’ gang were in the house.
He crept forward, pausing at each door to listen for the sound of breathing or whispered prayers.
