The Day They Took His Son (Preview)

Prologue

Missouri/Kansas Border

Late 1864

“Steady as they go.” William Harker’s voice filled Ethan’s ear, low and steady in the early morning fog. 

Ethan felt the captain’s hand on his shoulder. Though Harker’s grip was light due to an injury he’d sustained a few months prior, Ethan found it reassuring all the same. Captain Harker had been something of a father figure to him since the beginning of the war, and his presence alone was enough to make Ethan feel at ease. 

His breath came in puffs of steam, forming condensation in his beard and adding to the gloom of the early morning. But Ethan had long since grown accustomed to the cold, damp air. He couldn’t much remember a time when he wasn’t living in constant discomfort. 

Just below, a group of six men, Union soldiers, rode single file. Five were on horseback, and the last was seated in the back of a wagon, driving the team. They headed north, likely on their way home. But they wouldn’t be making it with those supplies. 

Ethan looked at Captain Harker for direction. It came in the form of a single nod, and Ethan moved forward. 

The other guerrillas joined him, their bodies nearly invisible as they moved from tree to tree. 

Then, all at once, they sprang onto the road. 

“Hands in the air!” 

“Don’t move!” 

“Get off your mounts or we shoot!” 

The orders flew through the air, Captain Harker standing tall. He drew his sword, holding it up like he’d done so many times before leading the charge onto the battlefield. Ethan raised his gun, ready to open fire the moment his captain gave the command. 

The men on the horses were caught off guard. Their hands instinctively went to their weapons, but they quickly changed their minds. Ethan and the rest of the guerrillas had gotten the jump on them, giving them no choice but to comply. 

“Toss your weapons on the ground,” Captain Harker ordered. 

One by one, the men obeyed. Ethan and his companions motioned for the Union soldiers to dismount, lining them all along the side of the road with their hands behind their heads. 

Ethan expected Captain Harker to order the men searched and the wagon confiscated. So when Harker instead pulled out a leather book and walked the length of the six men, he was confused. 

He stood poised, his gun ready, but he watched the captain out of the corner of his eye. This wasn’t the standard way they did things. Normally, they’d have taken all the other men’s supplies and been on their way before anyone had the chance to react. 

“On your knees,” Harker told them, waving his sword. “Or I’ll cut you down.” 

The other guerillas and Ethan motioned with their guns, indicating that the prisoners had better do as they’d been told. 

Though the men appeared enraged, no one argued as they dropped to their knees in the soft mud. Ethan wondered if Captain Harker was enjoying the humiliation he was putting those men through, or if he had another reason. 

Harker seemed to be looking for something. He stopped in front of a young man, another captain, his mustache twitching as he smiled. Ethan guessed the other captain to be only a few years younger than himself—impressive that someone close to his age could reach such a rank. 

“Captain Thomas Morrison,” Harker said, his tone filled with mock pleasantness. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” 

The other captain said nothing, glaring at Captain Harker with pure rage in his eyes. Ethan’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He didn’t like the tension filling the air. No one expected two men who’d fought for opposing sides to get along, but something wasn’t right. 

Then Captain Harker turned away from the line of men and gave a slight nod toward Ethan and his companions. 

“Put them down, boys,” he said, nodding toward the prisoners. 

Confused, Ethan pulled the trigger. He was a soldier, and soldiers obeyed orders. But he couldn’t shake the sick feeling that ran through him as he helped kill those men. The rules of engagement were clear, and they’d had no justifiable reason to pull the trigger on anyone that morning. If he hadn’t been given the direct order, he would have walked away without harming any of them. 

The gunshots faded into an oppressive silence, and Captain Harker didn’t bother looking back. The bodies had fallen silently amid the blasts, and Ethan had a difficult time even breathing. He approached Captain Harker, who stood with that same leather book in his hand. 

He was marking the page with Morrison’s name scrawled across the bottom, and Ethan noticed something else: a bounty. 

Ethan tasted bile as he realized what had just happened. They weren’t raiding survivors for supplies. They were engaging in murder for hire. Cold-blooded killing for money. 

This wasn’t Captain Harker. Not the Captain Harker he thought he knew. These were the actions of men who didn’t care about life. Who only cared about the money. He’d never thought his old mentor capable of such a thing, but he couldn’t deny the bodies lying motionless behind him, either. 

“Well done, Ethan,” Captain Harker said dismissively over his shoulder. He raised his voice. “Let’s roll out, shall we?” He nodded toward the wagon. “Bring that. It’s probably got things we could use.”

One of the other guerrillas scrambled into the driver’s seat, and another of the men roped the horses. Ethan remained right where he was in the middle of the road, the fog suddenly oppressive. 

Everything about the morning suddenly made sense. But at the same time, his entire world just fell apart.

Chapter One

Fort Smith, Arkansas

1875

“I’ll hang your guts from the ceiling!” the drunk shouted, yanking out his pistol. 

“I’d love to see you try!” the other man snapped. “You take one step near me, and I’ll hang you by your guts!”

The first drunk laughed. “Big talk for a Yankee on Confederate land!” 

“The war’s over. Leave it in the past,” the Union veteran replied. “No need to dig up old grudges.” 

“Old grudges, he says!” the drunk sneered. “Or maybe you just realized you’re outnumbered here.” 

“You’re the only one threatening me, and you’re doing it because you lost your hand,” the Union veteran replied, nodding at the table. “And I’m not scared of you or anybody! You want to gang up on me? Do your worst!” 

“You hear that, boys?” The drunk turned to the rest of the saloon. “He’s in here talking big. Why not show him what we’re good at?” 

“Enough of this, or I’ll have you both thrown out,” the bartender warned. “This isn’t the place for brawls. You know that, Jenkins.” 

The drunk shook his head. “I’m not brawling. I’m calling out a man who cheated! I’m not giving him my money when I can prove he’s trying to double-cross me!” 

“You’re just drunk and mad you lost,” the Union soldier replied evenly. His gun remained in his hand, ready to pull the trigger if the drunk took even a single step toward him. 

The other men in the saloon looked up from their cards. At first, they’d tried to ignore the fight. After all, fights broke out often in the dimly lit room. Alcohol and gambling wasn’t a good combination, but it did make money. 

Still, the bartender usually put an end to the fights before they escalated to true violence, though it seemed he was losing the battle this time. 

“Enough of this. You heard what the man said.” Ethan Carter finally spoke up. He’d been sitting at the bar when the two men started bickering, and he’d listened to the tension grow between them. 

From what he’d heard, the Union veteran hadn’t cheated, but it would be next to impossible to convince the drunk of that truth. Once a drunk had it in his head that he’d been swindled, few things could change his mind. 

“Stay out of this!” the drunk snapped, turning his attention—and his weapon—on Ethan. “What’s it to you, anyway?” 

“I’m trying to stop a crime from taking place,” Ethan said, flashing his badge. 

“You the sheriff?” the drunk asked, squinting. 

“A marshal,” Ethan replied. “And able to enforce the law if you cross a line.” 

“Cross a line?” the drunk repeated with another laugh. “Are you really going to stand by this man robbing me blind? You’re probably a Yankee, too!” 

“The war’s over, and it has been for ten years,” Ethan replied. “None of that matters anymore.” 

Of course, the words were a lie. He felt it as they left his mouth. His entire life had been shaped by the events of the war. Even now, ten years later, he still carried the weight of the things he’d said and done. No amount of liquor had been able to drown out the memories. Or the pain, for that matter. 

“Unbelievable!” the drunk snapped, throwing his hands in the air. At least the gun wasn’t on the other man any longer. 

“Put your weapons away,” Ethan said, stepping away from the counter. “There’s no need for any bloodshed today.” 

“I want my money back,” the drunk replied. “I’m not going to be cheated out by no Yankee!” 

Ethan looked at the other man, who stubbornly shook his head. 

“I won this fair and square. If he didn’t want to lose his money, he shouldn’t have played cards,” he said. 

“How much?” Ethan asked. 

Both men looked at him in surprise. The rest of the saloon watched as well, interested in how Ethan would put an end to the fight. 

“Two dollars,” the drunk said. 

“You’re going to kill a man over two dollars?” he asked, posing the question to both men at once. “Gentleman, please tell me we’re not stooping to this level.” 

“Easy for you to say. It’s not your money!” the drunk snapped. 

“It’s not about the money,” the Union veteran argued. “It’s the principle. I would have been happy to give him his money back if he’d just handled it civilly and not acted like this!” 

Ethan doubted that was true. He’d seen plenty of fights break out over less than a dollar. But he wasn’t going to argue semantics with either man. They’d both been drinking more than he had been, and neither appeared in a reasonable state of mind. 

“Tell you what,” Ethan said after a pause. “You take this, and you both get out of here.” 

As he spoke, he took two dollars out of his own pocket. He wasn’t in the habit of settling disputes in that way, but the talk of the war rattled him. He didn’t like being caught between veterans. 

“Stupid. Stupid waste of money,” the Union veteran said with a shake of his head. 

“It’s not your money, is it?” Ethan shot back. “Now let that be the end of it.” 

The men looked like they were ready to start with each other once more, so the bartender stepped in. 

“I think you’ve both had enough for the day, actually,” he said. “I’ll thank you both to move along, or I’m going to have to ask you not to come back.” 

Though both men appeared angry with the order, they both kept their mouths shut as they headed for the door. 

“You might want to make sure they don’t pick back up when they get outside,” the bartender told Ethan. “Both seemed more than a little happy to pull a gun on the other.” 

“You’re probably right,” Ethan agreed, picking up his glass and draining the rest of the amber liquid. “Be seeing you.” 

He sauntered out of the saloon, looking for the two men. Relief ran through him when he saw the Confederate veteran stumbling up the block alone. The Union veteran was nowhere to be seen, and Ethan was fine with that. So long as the two weren’t at each other’s throats, he could go about his day. 

The school bell chimed in the distance, informing him that school had been let out for the day. He’d best be getting back home. 

Ethan took his time walking up the street. The late winter air was warm, promising an early spring. He was glad for that. The scar running down his ribs felt tight in the cold weather, and his back hurt relentlessly. His body had taken a real beating during the war, and he’d never fully recovered from the injuries. 

He drew in a deep breath, enjoying the warm, fresh air in his lungs. Chances were that his son would beat him home, and he was right. 

The schoolhouse was on the other side of town, closer to their little cabin than the saloon. Daniel was a good boy. He’d head right home after the teacher let them out for the day, and he’d wait for Ethan to get back. 

Ethan pulled a cigarette out of the tin he kept in his pocket, stopping to light one with a match before he continued walking. 

He wasn’t an alcoholic. Not by a long shot. But he also didn’t want to get home early in the afternoon with the scent of whiskey on his breath. Daniel was a smart boy, and he’d no doubt guess where Ethan had been if the smell followed him home. 

Cigarettes were an easy solution, and he’d nearly finished his when he walked through the narrow gate of their front yard. 

“Pa!” Daniel cried when he saw his father coming up the little path. “You’re home early!” 

“It was a slow day,” Ethan told him, glad for the truth of it. He easily could have been dealing with a murder, had the altercation in the saloon taken a different turn. “How was school?” 

“Slow,” Daniel said with a small laugh. His blue eyes, mirror images of Ethan’s, sparkled as he turned to skip toward the cabin. The boy had gotten his father’s looks, but he acted more like his mother. 

“You hungry?” Daniel called through the open door. “There’s still some cornbread left!” 

“Help yourself,” Ethan told him, taking a seat on the front porch. “But make sure you save enough for supper.” 

“Or we could have an early supper,” Daniel told him as he reappeared, a piece of cornbread in hand. Ethan bit back the urge to scold him. If Anna could see Daniel just now, she’d tell him to fetch a plate and eat properly. 

But Anna was gone. She’d been gone for eleven years, having passed from cholera when Daniel was just a year old. Ethan did his best to consider what she would have wanted while he raised their son alone, but there were plenty of times when he turned a blind eye to the boy’s antics. 

“An early supper,” Ethan repeated. “Then you’ll be hungry again by bedtime.” 

“Then we could have a second supper.” Daniel laughed. 

“That’s crazy talk,” Ethan told him, and Daniel laughed again. 

The pair sat in silence, enjoying the unusually warm day. 

“Can I come to the office with you tomorrow?” Daniel asked, breaking into Ethan’s thoughts. 

“Come to the office?” Ethan turned toward his son, raising his brow. “What about school?” 

The boy watched him with hopeful, blue eyes. “I can miss a day, can’t I, Pa? Why not? I’m ahead of the class.” 

“Because school’s important,” Ethan told him simply. “You might be ahead today, but it doesn’t take long before you’re behind.” 

“I spent all day today helping the younger kids,” Daniel countered. “I could be learning so much more if I went to work with you.” 

“I don’t teach arithmetic or spelling,” Ethan replied. 

“You don’t have to. I want to be a marshal, just like you. I’m nearly grown. It would be good for me,” Daniel told him, puffing out his thin chest. “You’re always saying there’s no better time than now to start something. And I’m already twelve years old. That’s practically a man.” 

Ethan couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. He did his best to keep his amusement in check, not wanting to hurt Daniel’s feelings. After all, he remembered what it was like to be young and so full of dreams. He wished he could preserve his son’s innocence forever. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said. 

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Daniel told him as if he wasn’t already aware. “It’s not that big of a deal if I miss the end of the week, is it?” 

“I told you I’d think about it,” Ethan told him again. “Is your homework done?” 

“I did it at school today,” Daniel told him. “Already turned it in and everything.” 

Ethan didn’t reply out loud. His eyebrows raised slightly at the news, but he wasn’t going to say anything to give Daniel false hope. School was important for many reasons, not just the education the boy received. 

But Ethan also didn’t mind taking his son to work with him. Fort Smith was quiet enough a town for Daniel to be safe at the office, and if Daniel really did want to be a marshal when he was grown, it would do him some good to get exposure to the job at least. 

After all he’d been through, Ethan only had Daniel. The war had taken so much from him, then losing Anna had been almost more than he could bear. If it hadn’t been for Daniel, Ethan didn’t know if he’d even have made it through the loss of his wife. 

He treasured the time they spent together, even if he did bend the rules from time to time to make it happen. 

“You finished with your bread?” he asked, changing the subject. 

Daniel shoved the rest of the cornbread in his mouth and wiped his hands on his pants. “Yessir.” He sprayed crumbs as he spoke, then quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry.” 

“Why don’t you get the basket and fetch the eggs from the henhouse?” Ethan suggested. “I’ll see what we’ve got for supper.” 

He rose and headed inside, though he already knew the answer. More often than not, he made beans. Beans and cornbread. They were easy and filling, and he’d never taken the time to learn how to cook much else. He’d survived in the army on beans, and Anna had been the one to do the cooking once he’d gotten home. 

Daniel didn’t complain. But then, Daniel didn’t complain about anything. He was such a good boy. 

Daniel hurried to do as he was told, soon bringing in six eggs from the chicken coop. “There’s some strange tracks in the yard.” 

“What?” Ethan asked, surprised but masking any concern that tried to creep through. “Probably just the neighbors cutting through.” 

“That’s what I thought at first,” Daniel said. “But they cut through by the garden. See? I’m learning to be a marshal already.” 

He spoke proudly, and Ethan grunted as he gave the boy a single nod. Still, he felt uneasy at the idea of someone creeping around their yard. The neighbor’s children would walk through from time to time to get back home quickly, but they always stayed right at the fence line. 

No one cut through the yard. There was no reason for it. 

Ethan left the beans heating on the little cookstove and headed outside to see for himself. Sure enough, a set of tracks stepped away from the road and cut right through the middle of their yard. The soft ground made them easy to follow, and it seemed the intruder had stepped close to the porch before walking directly toward the back stable. 

He wouldn’t have noticed the tracks himself. If Daniel hadn’t gone out to get the eggs, he might never have even known. 

Probably nothing. Might be Luther coming out to check on that colt I’m letting him board in the stable. I haven’t seen him today to give him an update.  

Ethan walked to the stable to check on the two horses himself. The colt Luther was paying him to keep pricked up its ears and flicked its tail while Bullet snorted. 

“Easy,” Ethan told his horse. “Just checking on you two.” 

He fed the pair their oats before locking up the stable for the night. But on his way back toward the house, he paused to check the tracks once more. He looked around the yard, but everything seemed to be in order. The only thing out of place was the tracks themselves. 

Ethan shook his head, pushing the unease out of his mind. He had no reason to believe anything was wrong, and it never did anyone any good to borrow trouble. More likely than not, those tracks belonged to Luther, and that was all there was to it. 

Everyone in Fort Smith knew what everyone was doing in a helpful way. With neighbors nearby, if someone nefarious had been creeping about, surely he would have heard from one of them. Mrs. Darby was always home, and she had a real knack for keeping an eye on the things that went on in their little edge of town. 

Still, he paused before he went back inside the house, skimming the yard behind him one last time. He never could bring himself to fully relax. Not since he’d left Captain Harker and his band of men behind. He’d long since accepted he’d forever feel as though someone was watching him, and those tracks in the yard didn’t help his peace of mind. 

Darkness was falling early, as it always did during the winter, and that cast an eerie hue to the scene before him. 

Everything looked normal.

Chapter Two

“Luther! Can I have a minute?” Ethan called as he finished locking the office. He caught sight of the other man walking up the alley, and after spending the day wrestling with his own unease, he’d decided to ask Luther whether he’d come to see the colt the previous afternoon. 

“Marshal? What can I do for you?” Luther asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading to the sheriff’s office. “If you’re going to ask me to apply for sheriff, I’m afraid—” 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Ethan said quickly. “I just wondered if you’d come by the house yesterday.” 

“Yesterday?” Luther ran a hand through his scraggly beard. “No. I meant to, really I did. I wanted to come by and check on the colt and see if there was anything I could do around the place for you. I really do appreciate you watching him for me.” 

Ethan held up his hand. “No, that’s not necessary. You’re already paying me, and that’s enough.” 

He didn’t tell Luther about the tracks he’d found cutting through his yard, but his stomach twisted all the same once he heard that Luther hadn’t been by. He’d wrestled with nightmares because of those tracks the previous night, and he was still on edge. 

“Is everything alright?” Luther asked, and Ethan quickly forced a smile. He didn’t want rumors to start spreading. 

“Yeah, I just wondered if you’d been by, that’s all,” he said. “I was late getting home last night, so I might’ve missed you if you had.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Luther said, relaxing. “I know where to find you if I need anything. And with any luck, I’ll have that colt out of your stable soon enough.” 

“He’s no trouble,” Ethan replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be seeing you.” 

Luther turned and started toward the saloon, but Ethan went in the opposite direction, heading for the schoolhouse. 

He’d ended up sending Daniel to school that day after all, as he’d been called into town on short notice during breakfast that morning. Daniel had been thoroughly disappointed when Ethan told him he couldn’t come. 

“I can stand by and offer support!” his son had pleaded. 

“School is important, and you know breaking up a saloon fight is no place for a boy,” Ethan had told him in response. 

“But I’m—” Daniel had tried to argue, only to be interrupted by his father. 

“You’re going to school, and that’s the end of it,” Ethan had said, using the tone that left no room for argument. 

His heart sank when he reached the schoolhouse, finding the new schoolteacher sweeping the steps. 

“Good afternoon!” she called with her bright smile. 

She had only taken over the class temporarily, filling in while the school found a new, permanent teacher for the district. Miss Plum had married and moved further west, and Miss Prescott had graciously stepped in during her absence. 

Ethan didn’t know much about the woman. She was single and plain, her bright smile and brighter blue eyes the most memorable things about her. Still, Ethan had noticed how attractive she was despite her plain features, and as he didn’t have the time to entertain such thoughts, he’d dismissed them almost immediately. 

“Miss Prescott,” Ethan said with a single nod. “School’s out?” 

“Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “The children have all been so restless with this warmer weather, and we’re ahead of schedule. I didn’t see any harm in letting them out early for the day. Especially with it being Friday.” Her expression changed somewhat when she saw the look on Ethan’s face. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes,” he said a little too quickly. “I was just coming by to pick up Daniel, that’s all. Seems I’d better hurry as he’s going to beat me home.” 

“I’m sure he has,” she said brightly. “I let them out about an hour ago.” 

“Much obliged,” Ethan said, touching the brim of his hat. “Be seeing you.” 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” she said, resuming her chore as he turned away. 

He kept his pace steady as he started up the path leading out of town. He tried not to dwell on the fact Daniel hadn’t come to the office after being let out early. He must still be angry with Ethan for making him go to school that morning. Ethan wouldn’t be surprised. 

He didn’t want to let his imagination run wild, but he picked up the pace somewhat as he drew closer to home. No one was out on the road, and the eerie quiet left him feeling unsettled. Images from his nightmare the night before flashed through his mind, driving him forward. 

When he saw the door to their cabin hanging open, Ethan broke into a run. 

“Daniel! Daniel!” he cried, bursting through the door into their small home. 

The place inside had been torn apart. The sheets had been ripped off the beds and the pillows were on the floor. The table had been turned on its side, and cupboards were open and empty. 

Everything before him indicated that a struggle had taken place, and Daniel was nowhere to be found. 

“Daniel!” Ethan called again, though he sensed he wouldn’t get a response. 

He rushed back outside, whipping around as he looked in all directions. He hunted for some indication of what had happened. “Daniel!” 

His voice was swallowed by the woods. The echo called back, haunting him, and his stomach twisted once again. His eyes fell on something in the dirt, and he ran forward, collapsing to his knees when he saw what it was. 

Daniel’s cap had fallen onto the ground. It had been trampled flat in the soft earth, and the footprints and hoofprints painted the clear picture of a kidnapping. Ethan picked up the cap, clutching it in one hand while he beat his fist against the dirt with the other. 

He dragged himself back to his feet and stumbled back indoors, his thoughts racing. He closed the door behind him, trying to clear his mind. He had to get himself under control if he wanted to devise a plan. Panic wouldn’t do him a bit of good. He had to focus. 

As the door closed, his eyes fell on something he’d not noticed before. A knife had been driven into the center of the door, pinning a note in place. 

With shaking hands, he tore the note free, skimming the contents. He tasted bile as he instantly recognized the handwriting. As his eyes fell on each word, he heard his old friend’s voice saying them. 

Carter. 

Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you? It’s been ten years, but every day I carry the pain of what you did to me. The weight of your betrayal sits heavier on my shoulders than anything I’ve ever done, and it’s time for you to pay. 

I have your boy. If you ever want to see him alive again, meet me at the base of Raven’s Nest. Alone. You remember the spot, right near the fork in the Canadian River. 

I’ll be waiting for you there. 

Harker

Ethan dragged his hand over his face, his heart pounding as his stomach clenched. Raven’s Nest was a huge natural rock formation deep in the heart of Indian Territory. He’d been there once before with Harker and the other guerillas. He’d hoped he’d never go back. 

Captain Harker shouldn’t even still be alive. Ethan knew he was, but the improbability of it all haunted Ethan almost as much as his betrayal of the man. 

None of that mattered now. Harker was bloodthirsty and violent, and he had Daniel in his clutches. Their meeting wouldn’t be amicable; Ethan had no doubt in his mind about that. But with Daniel’s life at stake, he had no choice but to do as the note said. 

He was going to Indian Territory. 

“Hello the house!” 

A familiar voice drifted through the wall, and Ethan was jerked back to the present. He yanked open the door to find Sam Hawkins, a deputy marshal from the nearby town, grinning at him. Sam’s smirk vanished, however, when he saw the look on Ethan’s face. 

“What’s going on?” He stepped inside, letting out a low whistle as he surveyed the place. “What happened?” 

“I just got home,” Ethan said, handing his old friend the note he’d found pinned to the door. Sam read the contents and looked at Ethan with concern on his face. 

“You know this man?” he asked.