Chapter Twenty Nine

Jack stared at Titus for a long moment, fear and dread rising inside of her. Donovan had never come to meet with Sheriff Fletcher. He hadn't told Titus everything the Slates had done, condemning them and defending himself.

Donovan was gone.

Everything Jack had feared was coming true. She knew Donovan was worried about her, but even though he promised, even though she'd practically begged him, he had left her. Jack wanted to punch him and demand he come back at once. But he promised...

"No," Jack said, her fists clenched. "No, he didn't leave. Something's wrong."

Titus studied Jack as she resumed her pacing, her heart rattling in her chest. Donovan had told her he wouldn't leave. He'd promised her, and she knew he was a man of his word. Jack had staked everything on her trust in Donovan's honesty and character. He hadn't left, but if he was still in Irvington, where was he? Why hadn't he come to see Titus?

Perhaps he didn't trust Titus as much as Jack did. Perhaps he had been held up at the school. Perhaps he was sitting at home and poring over a book as he did nearly every evening.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

"I...I don't know," Jack said, her apprehension growing. "He promised me he would come and tell you everything, but he didn't."

Realization dawned on Titus and he rose from the desk. "You think the Slates did something."

"Well, they met with you today, right?" Jack said. "They probably realized you weren't going to be manipulated."

Titus sighed and ran a hand over his face. "That might be true. Perhaps I should have been more cooperative. They tried to bribe me and I refused."

"They're taking things into their own hands," Jack exclaimed. "They know you won't do what they want, so they're going to end this now. They want Donovan dead."

"There's something else," Titus said. "Donovan has the deed for the land, and they want that turned over to them which is clearly unethical."

Jack paused in her pacing and looked at Donovan. Not only did they want him dead, they would want him to sign over the deed to the land before they killed him. Jack's stomach rolled. Donovan was in danger, and she could not lose any more time.

"They have him, Titus, don't you see?" Jack said, walking closer to Titus and slamming a hand on his desk. "They took him because of what we did. When I went and confronted them and when you refused to take their bribe. They're going to get him to sign over the deed and then kill him."

Titus studied her for a long moment, his eyes focused on some distant nothing as he contemplated Jack's words. Tension embalmed Jack and she resisted the urge to sprint down the street, hollering Donovan's name from every street corner. The Slates had him. They would torture and kill him, and Jack was the only one who could stop him.

"We have to go!" she cried. "Now, Titus. You have to know that they're capable of this--they'll stop at nothing, and Donovan's the only one in their way."

"You're not going, Jack," Titus said, rounding the desk and reaching for his rifle. He buckled two pistols into his belt and slung the rifle over his shoulder.

"Don't you dare tell me what I can or can't do, Titus Fletcher. I'm coming with you and you'll have to lock me in one of those jail cells if you want to stop me."

Titus sighed as he changed shoes into a pair of sturdy leather boots. "Jack, this is dangerous. If anyone knows that, it should be you. I don't want to put you in any danger."

"It's my choice. Plus, it's too late for that. How do we know they won't try to kill both of us because of what we know?"

"I don't have time to argue with you, Jack. But we're going to the Bookers first, just to make sure he's not there."

A weary smile crossed Jack's face and she followed Titus out the back door to his waiting automobile. "Great. That'll give me a chance to fetch my shotgun; I'm not facing them unarmed ever again."

Jack climbed into the sheriff's automobile and he revved the engine, the tires screeching against the street as he sped down the street. A flock of chickens clucked as they narrowly escaped the car's wheels and Jack's heart raced as they drew nearer to the Bookers' house. He wouldn't be there; Jack was certain. He would be at Margaret Hunt's house, the Slates' headquarters, and they were wasting valuable time. With every passing moment, Jack's certainty that Donovan was in danger multiplied.

Titus must have reached the same conclusion for the automobile barreled forward so fast that it ricocheted over rocks in the path to the Bookers' and wind pulled Jack's hair from its hasty pins.

He's still alive, Jack told herself as her apprehension grew. Thanks to the unsigned deed, he had to be alive. In what shape, she didn't know, but living was better than dead. But could she and Titus save him on their own against two experienced gunmen and fiery Margaret? The Bookers' house next to Jack's appeared and Jack's eyes raked the field for Donovan's automobile even though she knew it was futile. He wasn't here.

Before Titus could even park the car, Jack sprinted for her house. Her feet hit the ground as the automobile slowed and she nearly fell over on her twisted ankle, but she stumbled and ran on. She pushed through her front door and reached for the shotgun hidden behind it. Her fingers itched to put a bullet through Max Slate and his brother.

The gun in hand, Jack abandoned her home and found Titus limping towards the Bookers'.

"Julius, Minnie!" Jack called as she joined him, pushing their door open without a knock.

Minnie stood at the kitchen table, slicing a loaf of freshly baked bread. "Jack? What's wrong?"

A stitch in Jack's stomach made her words come out hurried and gasping. "Donovan, is he here? Have you seen him since morning?"

"Jack?" Julius appeared from his back office, hands stained with ink. "What's wrong?"

"Donovan's missing," Minnie explained, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Have you seen him?"

Julius removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "No, not since this morning, I'm afraid. What's happened?"

"The Slates," Titus explained from the doorway. "We think they have him."

"And we're going to rescue him," Jack explained, her fingers anxiously tracing the barrel of her gun.

"By yourselves?" Minnie demanded. "What sort of foolishness is that? They'll shoot you to smithereens and him too."

"We have to do something," Jack said, tears stinging at her eyes. Calm down, Jack. Now wasn't the time for hysterics.

"I'm coming with you," Julius said, returning his glasses to their perch on the end of his prominent nose. He exchanged the book in his hand for a gun hidden in a broom closet. "I trust there won't be any repercussions for my involvement, Sheriff?"

Titus shook his head. "Frankly, I'm grateful for the help, Mr. Booker."

Jack looked to Minnie, her closest and dearest friend, and saw the tremble in her chin as she watched Julius don a coat to go after Donovan. "Julius, you don't have to--"

"Yes, he does," Minnie said. "It's the right thing to do."

Jack wanted to protest, to save her friend from the pain and anxiety she herself was feeling, but she understood. Donovan was Julius's friend as well, and he wouldn't hide in cowardice.

"Let's go," Titus said grimly. "Minnie, I suspect we'll have to bring Donovan back here if we're able to recover him, and he may be in bad shape. Prepare some hot water and strips of bandages. If we have to, we'll fetch Dr. Benjamin, but I'd like to involve as few people as possible. We've all been pulled into danger by this, and I refuse to let anyone else get involved."

Jack knew that Titus was more concerned with protecting Hannah, the doctor's sister, than Dr. Benjamin himself, but she understood. What she would give to protect Donovan from all of this pain.

Jack and Julius followed Titus out of the house silently and they fit into the short car seat with little extra space. Jack couldn't summon a question or word of encouragement as they approached Margaret's house. Shouldn't they have a plan of attack formed? But they hardly knew what to expect. Would Donovan be conscious or alive? Would they be inside or outside? Or worse yet, had they taken Donovan and fled back to King William? Jack refused to even consider the possibility. They had to be there.

Titus parked the car behind a knoll near Margaret's house and they dismounted, shaking out tight muscles. Jack made sure a bullet was ready in her shotgun and held it in her right hand, ready to pull it to her shoulder at a moment's notice. Most of her experience with the gun was from shooting foxes that attempted to infiltrate her henhouse, but she doubted shooting the Slates would be much worse than shooting a fox.

"I'll take the center," Titus instructed. "Jack, you cover me from the left, and you from the right, Julius."

Jack's heart thundered so loudly in her head that she could barely hear his words. The Slates wouldn't hesitate to shoot her, Julius, or Titus. These men, her friends, were in danger because of her and Donovan. She wiped her sweaty hands on her dress. There was no time for doubts now; they had to act.

"Fine," Jack said, knowing Titus was putting himself in the most danger for their sakes.

"They're going to try to use Donovan to keep us from shooting, but we need to pick them off anyways," Titus said. "There's no time for demands or hostages. Shoot to kill."

Jack and Julius nodded and they crept up the knoll, their guns in hands. Margaret's house stood at a distance, but Jack could already see what was happening. A bloodied body knelt in the front yard, hands restrained behind his back. Donovan.

A cry rose in Jack's throat and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep it from escaping. She only recognized Donovan by the mane of black hair descending down his back. Clyde Slate stood towering over him with a knife in one hand, and Jack could hear the stream of obscenities even from their distance. Max leaned against Margaret's sagging front porch, nursing a bottle of brandy with a gun at his side. Margaret wasn't in sight.

"Those devils," Jack swore under her breath. She swung her gun up and pressed the stock into her right shoulder, closing one eye.

"Not yet, Jack," Titus said, pressing the barrel of the gun down. "We need to get closer."

Jack took her position to the left and together they walked towards the Slates. The scenery was so flat and bare that they had no hope of disguising their approach. If--when--the Slates fired at them, there would be no hope. Jack was torn between wanting to shoot both Slates dead and wanting to kneel in front of Donovan. She wanted to wipe the blood from his face and soothe every pain. He's alive. At least he's still alive.

"Well, look who it is!" Max Slate's voice called out when he saw us approaching. Jack's legs turned to jelly but she forced herself to keep walking. They needed to face him. She needed to end this.

Max leisurely set his bottle of brandy on the porch railing and eased his gun into his hands. "I told you not to get involved with this Sheriff."

Clyde stopped taunting Donovan with the knife and backed away, searching for his gun discarded in the grass. Donovan looked up at their advance and Jack saw his eyes widened as they lit on her.

"Jack," he murmured, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Run!"

At his words, Clyde kicked him in the stomach, sending him onto his side with his hands restrained. Rage blinded Jack and before she could even stop to think, she swung her gun to her shoulder and sent a bullet through Clyde's chest. A cacophony of noise broke out as multiple guns fired at once and Jack saw Clyde fall to the ground, blood gurgling from his chest. Jack turned her gun to Max, but he knelt on the porch, gun steadied on the railing, and Jack watched the smoke rise as he fired. She looked to Donovan, but he was still breathing. Where had the bullet gone?

Then she heard a moan and watched as the bullet tore through his vest and badge, leaving a gaping hole. Titus crumpled to the ground, clutching his chest.