when forming some words but she was infinitely more understandable now. “Beating a man who is half unconscious. What do you expect him to tell you when you don’t give him a chance to talk? No one has asked me a single question.”
Still at the window, Rick wheeled, giving her a squinty glare before stomping to the woodpile next to the stove. He picked up the camp axe by the bit and pointed at her with the handle. “You should shut your mouth,” he said. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”
Spewing curses, he split a piece of wood that seemed too large for the stove and then buried the hatchet into one of the logs in the pile.
Morgan dropped the pilot-bread box on the table and got to his feet with a groan. “Don’t worry so much, brother,” he said. “Donna said she would be here, so she’ll be here. She probably just had a bit of trouble slipping away from the village.”
“Maybe so,” the one-eyed man said. “But what if something’s happened? It’s blowing like hell out there. Could be the troopers figured out who she is. Or maybe she broke her leg. You don’t think I should go check on her?”
“It would just piss her off,” Morgan said. “You know how mad she’ll be if the boy dies before she gets a few minutes to talk to him.”
Rick squatted in front of the open stove door holding the length of wood he’d split, staring at the flames. His eye was red from the drugs and lack of sleep. He rubbed his face with his free hand and then began to bounce his fist off his own forehead. “This didn’t go like I pictured it,” he said. “I thought it would . . . I don’t know, give me some answers, make me feel better about Reese.”
Sarah threw back her head and screamed. “Will someone tell me what I’m doing here? Who is Reese?”
Rick crammed the piece of wood in the stove, disturbing the fire and sending up a shower of sparks. He ignored Sarah altogether, but his hulking shoulders heaved with emotion.
Morgan looked at her and raised a hand, as if to warn her off. It did no good.
“Who is he?” she asked again. “You’re going to kill me anyway. You may have already killed my husband. I have a right to know why we’re here.”
“Reese was his son,” Morgan said.
“And you think David hurt him?”
Rick wheeled, snatching up the axe, and stood so he brandished it above her. His voice was low, viperous.
“Your precious husband let my boy die. I want to know how it happened.”
Sarah was too exhausted to be terrified anymore. Pain and futility flatlined all her emotions. What should have been white-hot anger had dulled to a mechanical frustration directed at these two men. Unclouded by panic or fear, her mind began to form the sparks of a plan. It was likely to get her killed—but doing nothing was worse.
“Does it occur to you that David might have told me whatever it is you want to know?”
Rick reared back, holding the axe higher, as if he were about to swing it. He paused for a moment, considering what she said, and then scoffed. “Not a chance. This guy doesn’t have the balls to tell the truth about anything.” He gave David an openhanded smack of contempt to the side of his head. “He’s too much of a coward.”
Sarah slammed her hands down flat on the bed. “Stop it! Stop hitting him!” She snapped her fingers when Rick turned away. “Here, jackass! Here. Focus on me. You’re going to kill us whenever this Donna gets here, because you think my husband hurt your child.” She shook her head, crying now, not begging, merely pointing out the idiocy of the situation. “I have done nothing wrong. I’m someone’s child, and you plan to kill me. Should my parents come after you when this is over? Maybe scoop up one of your other children in the process and kill them too?”
“Yeah, well.” Rick sneered. “Reese was my only kid.”
“What does all this accomplish?”
Rick shrugged. “I’m going to hell, but my boy will get a little justice. That’s what it accomplishes. It’s your sorry luck you married this spineless worm. I guess life’s a bitch.”
“And you’re a bastard,” Sarah hissed. “A weak and pitiful bastard.” She leaned forward, daring him to do something. “You know what I think? I think you probably never paid any attention to