Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
G race’s pulse pounded in her ears. She peered through the slats of the wooden stall. Jess’s father had come? She’d never met Mick McPharland, but the stories were enough to raise her guard.
With the light flooding the opening, she couldn’t make out details. But then the barn door creaked shut, and the newcomer came clear.
He wasn’t alone.
Her father stood beside the man who must be McPharland.
Her father surveyed the barn’s interior with hard eyes, his jaw clenched tight. Searching for her? Or for the Coulters he'd come to destroy?
Her pulse ratcheted higher. How had they gotten past the Coulters? Where were the rest of the men?
The sound of gunfire had become so common that she’d hardly noticed it. Now, it still crackled, but it was closer. Not dangerously so, though. These two must have ridden ahead somehow, slipped through the defenses.
And Gil. Had he seen them enter the barn?
And why had they come? To take her and Jess back with them?
Fresh fear churned in her gut, but she forced it down. She wouldn't go with her father. Not ever. But maybe she could reason with him, persuade him to abandon this terrible plot.
McPharland took a step toward them. "Jessamine." His voice sounded almost tender.
Jess lifted her chin. "What are you doing here?" Unlike her father, anger vibrated on her words.
He spread his hands. "I've come for you. To take you home where you belong."
"I'm not going anywhere with you. Take your men and leave."
McPharland stepped closer, and as he did, his gaze caught on Grace through the cracks in the stall wall. His eyes narrowed. "Who's this?"
Her father strode to McPharland’s side. "Grace? What in blazes are you doing here?"
Fury surged through her, infusing her with the courage to step out from her hiding place and face her father head-on. "I came for Sampson, to help him after what your men did to him." She lifted her chin. "And I came to stop you from hurting anyone else."
Father’s eyes turned to flint, cold and unyielding. "This has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me. These people took me in, showed me kindness. I won't let you destroy them." Anger pulsed through her.
"Kindness?" he scoffed. "They turned you against your own flesh and blood."
"No." Grace shook her head. "You did that all on your own." She grasped for one more thread of courage. “If you care about me at all, you’ll leave here. Leave the Coulters alone.”
His face remained hard, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes glinting like cold steel in the dim light filtering through the barn slats. "I've put my whole focus on getting what we want from the Coulters. That's more important than anything else. More important than you."
His words pierced like a knife, severing her heart. She could only stare at him. Where was the father she once knew? Or thought she had known. His expression held nothing soft. No warmth, no compassion, no love. Only an icy, unwavering resolve.
"And if you can't abide that," he continued in that same icy tone, "then you're no daughter of mine."
The words slammed into her like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs. She staggered back a step, eyes blurring.
Jess gripped her arm, holding her steady.
Grace blinked to clear her eyes, forcing herself to straighten. She couldn't let him see how much he'd hurt her. Couldn't give him the satisfaction.
Beside her, Jess straightened, and a glance at her profile showed her jaw set. "Both of you need to leave. Now." Her voice rang out strong and clear in the tense stillness of the barn. "Or I'll call the entire Coulter clan, and they'll be more than happy to force you off their land."
Her father let out a harsh bark of laughter, the sound grating against Grace's ears. "I'd like to see you try, girl." He took a menacing step toward Jess, his weathered face twisting into a sneer. "In fact, it would be mighty helpful to have them all gathered together. Make things simpler."
Icy tendrils of fear snaked through Grace's veins as the weight of his words sank in.
How could she have ever thought her father cared enough to listen to her pleas? That there was anything left inside him besides callous self-interest and hate? Nausea roiled in her stomach.
She darted a glance at the barn door. The only other exit was a stall farther down that opened to the corral. But their fathers blocked them from leaving this stall. She and Jess would have to get past them to escape.
She darted a glance at the rifle Jess had left propped in the corner of the stall. It was close, so close. If she could just get her hands on it…
But even as the thought crossed her mind, doubt followed swift on its heels. Could she really do it? Point a gun at her own father and pull the trigger? At anyone?
She had to try. For Jess. For Sampson and his entire family.
In a lightning-quick move, she snatched up the rifle and brought it to her shoulder, sighting down the barrel at her father's chest. Her hands shook, but she gripped the stock tight, finger poised over the trigger.
The man she’d always thought of as Father stared at her for a long moment, then a slow grin spread over his face, and he laughed. Actually laughed .
The sound came harsh and mocking. "What in the world do you think you're doing, girl? Put that toy down before you hurt yourself.” Then any hint of humor leaked from his expression, leaving only cold fury. “Who do you think you are to point a gun at me?”
Anger surged through Grace, hot and bright. She had no trouble holding the rifle steady now. "I am Grace Hampton Coulter." As the words left her mouth, she absorbed the truth of the, soaking them into every part of her. "And this is my home, my family."
She met his gaze without flinching, letting him see the resolve in her eyes. "I will not let you hurt them anymore. I won't let you destroy the only good thing?—"
Her father’s hand shot out, knocking the rifle sideways.
She stumbled, her grip faltering as the weapon slipped from her grip. Before she could recover, her father lunged forward, his fingers digging into her arms like iron bands.
Panic exploded through her as he dragged her out of the stall, his strength overpowering. She thrashed against him, desperate to break free, but he held her fast. He wrapped an arm around her, clamping her tight against him, holding her wrists with his other hand. His foul breath blew hot against her ear.
"You've made your choice." His growl coiled more fear inside her. "Now you'll pay the price."
From the corner of her eye, she could just see McPharland snatch up the fallen rifle, leveling it between her and Jess. She couldn’t see his expression, but she didn’t have to. He was just like her father. Heartless.
Her captor—she couldn’t bring herself to think of him as Father anymore—clamped the arm around her tighter as he let her wrists go to reach for a coil of rope hanging on a nearby post. Her pulse surged into a panicked gallop as he wound the rough fibers around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides.
The rope bit into her flesh, the pain secondary to the utter helplessness that washed over her. How had it come to this? How had she let herself believe that she could stand against him, that she could protect those she loved?
Tears burned behind her eyes, and she could no longer hold them back.
Jess stood frozen, her face pale and stricken. Grace wanted to call out to her, to tell her to run, to save herself, but the words lodged in her throat, choking her.
McPharland's voice cut through the tense silence. "What are you doing, Jedidiah?"
Her father jerked the knot tight, pulling her off balance with the action. "I'm doing what needs to be done. They made their bed. They betrayed us. Now they get to lie in it."
McPharland's voice lost a bit of its fury. "She’s your daughter. Your flesh and blood."
Jedidiah's laughter was bitter, mocking. "You've gone soft, Mick, letting sentiment cloud your judgment. There’s no other way. This ends here, today. One way or another. No loose ends."
She could barely breathe through her panic. Especially with the rope cinched so tightly around her chest.
Her own father was about to kill her. And Jess too.
God, help us! Nothing but a miracle could save them. They were at the mercy of a man who possessed none. God had kept Sampson alive. Maybe He would choose to protect her and Jess too.
Her father jerked her backward, and she scrambled to find footing as he half-dragged her to another stall. Then he shoved her hard, sending her sprawling onto dirty straw. When she hit the ground, pain lanced through her shoulder.
She struggled to sit up, to see what was happening outside the stall. What would they do to Jess?
The rope was cinched too tight, and she couldn’t get her balance. Frustrated tears blurred her vision as she strained, desperate for some glimpse of Jess, to know what was being done to her.
Outside the stall, she could only hear silence, broken by the distant sound of gunfire and the ragged gasps of her own breathing.
Until McPharland's voice cut through the stillness like a knife. "Don't touch my daughter." The words came low, dangerous, filled with a cold fury that sent shivers down her spine.
"Fine, if you want her to come with us, she can." Her father sounded hesitant now.
A flicker of hope sparked to life in her chest. Maybe there was still a chance for Jess, a way out of this nightmare. She finally pushed herself up on her knees and peered through the cracks in the stall door.
McPharland stood with the rifle pointed at her father, his face a mask of cold fury. "The thing is…" His voice came low and dangerous. "…I'm not sure I want you coming. I knew you were ruthless, but a man who would take his own daughter's life? That's not someone I can have around."
Jedidiah's eyes flashed with disbelief. "What are you saying, Mick? We're in this together. Always have been."
McPharland shook his head, the rifle’s aim never wavering. "Not anymore. I can't let you do this, Jed.”
Grace's pulse pounded. She hardly dared to breathe. Was this really happening? Was Jess's father actually standing up to hers?
Father’s expression shifted from surprise to calculation. "You're making a mistake, Mick." His voice had turned deceptively calm. "We're so close to getting everything we've worked for. Don't throw it away over some misguided sentiment."
McPharland's jaw clenched. "It's not sentiment. It's about having a line you don't cross. Hurting your own child…that's too far, even for the likes of us." His tone was hard as flint. “Sorry it has to end this way, but I have to protect my daughter. And yours too, even if you won't."
The gun exploded.
The deafening blast thundered as powder clouded around him. For a moment, everything seemed to still, the world holding its breath in the aftermath of the shot.
Then her father crumpled to the ground, his body hitting the earth with a dull thud.