held no more hope than twilight’s last rays. He wet his lips.
“Don’t you dare try to lie to me now, Gareth Lowell.” She rolled the cloth a little tighter around her knuckles, completely ignoring the crossed cartridge belts.
“When I left her two days ago, I went straight to the big Catholic church and prayed I wouldn’t find her in the churchyard when I returned.” Gareth wrapped his big, warm hands around her very cold ones. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you better news, honey. But you know she wouldn’t want you to be in danger.”
Portia rested her forehead against him, her heart shaking somewhere against her throat. Aunt Viola, who’d opened her home and her heart to a motherless child, who’d always supported and cherished her no matter what mischief she’d gotten into. Aunt Viola, the only mother she had now.
The road ahead was suddenly very clear.
“I must go help her.” She shoved her sobs deep into her belly where they couldn’t be heard and drew herself erect. “I’ll take the package to Tucson with you.”
“Have you gone mad, Portia? With Victorio’s army on the loose, you want to ride across Arizona?”
“I must help save Aunt Viola’s life, something neither you nor anybody else can do.” If nothing else and the worst had happened, she could manage the household, while Uncle William dealt with his own ravaging grief. She bit her knuckle to force back a sob.
“Explain yourself, Portia.” Steel would have been friendlier than his eyes.
“Neil and Brian are only little boys, who need somebody to look after them,” Portia continued with barely a tremor in her voice, despite how she’d whitened after a look at his face. “Aunt Viola’s maid can either tend to her or the boys, but not both. You know Uncle William has his hands full, running this branch of the business.”
If she assumed—as she must—that Aunt Viola had improved since Gareth left. Portia was the only blood kin Viola had west of the Mississippi and she alone could ease the family’s burden.
“But if I’m there, I can take care of Neil and Brian. So Aunt Viola will rest easily and recover more quickly,” Portia finished, desperation leaking through her overly courteous tones.
“Aunt Viola?” Baylor questioned from a step behind Portia. Kenly’s long shadow, with the crisp rifle, flanked her on the other side.
“Miss Townsend is Mrs. Donovan’s niece,” Gareth announced bluntly.
The stationmaster’s imperiousness immediately washed out of Baylor’s face to be replaced by stunned horror.
Oh, dear God in heaven, Viola Donovan’s condition was common knowledge. Gareth’s fear wasn’t a beloved foster son’s nervous twitches but the frostbite from terror’s wind.
Portia made a small, pitiful sound and staggered slightly before recovering herself. “I’m sure I can help Aunt Viola,” she reiterated.
The three men regarded her with some sympathy but no gentleness. Sweet words and pretty gestures would solve nothing here.
Then Baylor and Kenly looked at Gareth, silently letting him carry the argument.
“This is one of the worst raiding seasons in years, Portia. Hundreds of savages roam those mountains, every one bent on murder and plunder.”
“Of course, it’s war time,” she acknowledged with barely a tremor. Her jaw was sharp and tight above the ornate bow which steadied her hat.
“The only route from here to Tucson is a one, perhaps two day ride across those mountains. We’ll be dodging savages every step of the way, especially when we stop for water.”
“I’ll manage.” Her backbone was tall and straight, her blue eyes level. “Remember when we went hunting in the Sierra Nevadas and had to outride that blizzard? I’ll do very well this time, just as I did then.”
Yes, she had kept her head but blowing snow was almighty different than howling bullets. She crisply told her stomach to stop tying knots like objections.
“Will you hurry up? Daylight’s wasting!” the lead driver hollered at them. “We’ve got to make it through the pass before dark.”
“Do you truly understand, Portia?” Gareth stepped to within an inch of her. “Every one of those heathen will consider you a greater prize than any fancy horse or purse of gold. They will abuse you shamefully and pass you among their friends. You will pray for death.”
She flinched but rallied, coming back to meet him toe to toe. “We’ll have to ride fast.”
He caught her chin in his hand.
“Remember how well I know you, Portia. I’d rather haul a box of cartridges through those canyons than you because they’d be of use, rather than a magnet for trouble. If you cause any