Chapter 11
Cutter looked much the same as he had a month ago. His beard was a little thicker, but it couldn’t hide the twisted scar over his lip. He wore a jacket lined with sheepskin against the cold.
Bo had changed quite a bit. He was on his feet again, and the color had come back into his face. The jagged line the bear had marked down the length of his face now stood out as a raw pink scar.
His eye had misted over, not quite healed but not quite bad enough to be taken out. If Cutter had taken his brother to a real doctor, it was impossible to tell.
Then there was Sister Andrews between them, defeated and broken. The snow soaked into her habit, but she didn’t even shiver in the cold.
“Let her go.”
Ben swung the maul down from his shoulder. Rage flooded his body like a swollen river after a storm, uncontrollable and coming fast. He adjusted his grip on the wooden handle and gauged his balance. It would only take two large steps to get to Cutter, and the maul was sharp.
When he was done with Cutter, he could finish what the bear had attempted on Bo.
“Don’t even try it, boy.” Cutter pushed the gun’s barrel hard into the side of the nun’s head, making her wince. “You’re young and strong, but I can pull a trigger a lot faster than you can swing that overgrown axe.”
Father Tillman raised his hands benevolently. “Gentlemen, let’s all put our weapons down. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m sure we can work it all out.”
The door banged as Sister Matthews ran out. She was holding part of her veil over her face to keep out the smoke. “All of the children are out. We’ve got to get a bucket brigade started. Oh!”
“They went to the barn.” Father Tillman raised his voice so that Sister Matthews could hear, but he kept his eyes on Cutter. “Go to them.”
Cutter stretched his lips wide, his dark eyes shining as he addressed the nun. “That’s right. Go to them and keep them safe, before I change my mind on exactly why I’m here.”
Ben’s heart thudded in his ears. His body pulsed with the urge to move. His early days in the army had made him wonder why men wanted to kill so badly, but now he understood. Ben wanted to see Cutter’s blood splattered on the snow. He felt the urge like the need to eat or breathe.
“Please, Mr. Kincaid. I don’t want anyone to get hurt any more than they already are. I don’t believe Sister Andrews is in any condition to fight. Put the gun down.”
“I don’t make a habit of leaving myself vulnerable when there’s a boy with that look in his eyes brandishing a blade.” Cutter’s gaze held Ben’s. “You’d like it, wouldn’t you? Your army days finally catching up? It happens to all of them.”
“Ben,” Father Tillman whispered quietly.
He sucked cold air into his lungs and felt the deep wood grain against his palms. The thick maul could split Cutter’s head like a piece of firewood. Easier, perhaps. He wanted to find out.
But Sister Andrews was crying even harder now. She held her hands clasped under her chin as she gasped for air between sobs. “Please, Ben,” she gulped. “Do as he says. He’s a dangerous man.”
Cutter laughed at that. “Just a few days together, and already she knows me quite well.”
Reluctantly, Ben let the maul fall forward. The blade thumped to the ground. “Where are the boys?”
“Oh, they’re right back there.” Cutter gestured behind him as he tucked his pistol back in its holster.
Ben had been too focused on the fire and Sister Andrews to notice them before.
Adam and Stan stood near the orphanage’s wagon, which they must have captured somewhere in between St. Thomas and Antelope Springs.
The boys were bound and gagged in the back of the wagon, but they seemed mostly unharmed.
“Set them free so they can put out this fire before it spreads to the rest of the building,” Cutter directed his men. “I think we’ve made our point. For now.”
Emmitt’s eyes widened with fear as Adam pulled a shining blade from his sheath. It sliced quickly through the ropes around his wrists.
Stan jerked the gag off of Shane’s mouth. “Don’t make me put this back on,” he snarled.
The boys quickly hopped down from the wagon and ran to the well.
“What do you want?” Ben demanded.
“Such an angry young man,” Cutter noted. “It’s funny, really. I pegged you as rather the shy type when we met before. I never imagined you’d be the kind to lie to my face, and yet here we are.”
Cutter tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. “You lied to me, boy. You told me Hattie Montroe had never been here, but I know she was.”
A new round of sweat began building on Ben’s skin. How could he have known? Did Cutter actually know the truth, or was he bluffing? They were already paying the price, either way.
The fire hissed behind them as Emmitt and Shane each tossed a bucket of water on the side of the building and then ran back for more.
“If you think I lied to you, then why not just come and ask me about it?” Ben challenged.
He would never be able to tell Sister Andrews how sorry he was. It’d been his decision to lie, and it had nothing to do with her, but she was the one who’d gotten caught up in it. Bo stood over Sister Andrews, his fingers twitchy as he fiddled with his pistol.
“That’s what I’m doing right now,” Cutter reasoned. “I want to know why you lied.”
“How do you even know I did?” Ben had never been so impertinent with his elders. He’d never been one to have a smart mouth.
Which meant Cutter had been right about him when he said he wasn’t the kind to lie. That irritated Ben even more.
“Not that I owe you an explanation, but the sister here likes to talk when she’s away from the orphanage.
” Cutter pointed at Sister Andrews, who was bent so far forward with her weeping that her forehead nearly touched the ground.
“She was talking to a shopkeeper in Antelope Springs, telling her all about the strange young woman who’d shown up at her orphanage. ”
“That could’ve been anybody,” Ben retorted.
“But it wasn’t.” Cutter’s voice turned crisp on the last word. “I told you what she looked like, and I told you her name. I’m not the sort of man you lie to, Ben.”
Ben didn’t even know why he’d lied, not really. It’d all been instinct and feelings, but he doubted any of that would matter to Cutter. He remained silent.
“I’m here to make a little business proposal.” Cutter tipped his chin back slightly. “You tell me where Hattie is, and we’ll leave. Simple as that. Understood?”
Father Tillman nodded. “Yes, but unfortunately we don’t know where she is.”
Cutter had mostly been focused on Ben, but his eyes slid to Father Tillman. “I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t believe you.”
It’d be easier to just lie again, wouldn’t it? To make up some destination where Hattie was heading when she left the orphanage? But Ben’s lies had already hurt too many people.
The fire hissed again as Emmitt and Shane returned with more buckets, their thin legs moving desperately. Ashy water sloshed back out of the burned opening in the side of the pantry.
“I do understand,” Father Tillman said patiently. “And I hope you understand that we don’t know you nor Hattie. It’s not our business to get involved in other people’s affairs. Whether Hattie was here or not, it wouldn’t have been our place to say.”
Cutter studied him for a long moment. “You got involved the moment you decided not to tell me. Don’t feed me that line of bullshit, Father.”
Father Tillman’s shoulders stiffened. His fists curled at his sides. “This is the Lord’s land. We help those we can, but there are limits even for God-fearing people like us. You can’t come here and expect us to just bow down and do whatever you ask. That’s not how it works.”
“Oh, but it is.” Cutter’s hand lifted toward his holster, but he didn’t yet touch his pistol. “It doesn’t matter to me how long you’ve lived here or what you do with your Sunday mornings. I don’t care if you’re a man of God or an outhouse digger. You’re going to give me the information I want.”
“I don’t have it,” Father Tillman snapped. “You can squeeze all you want, but you can’t get blood from a stone.”
“I don’t want your Sunday school lessons,” Cutter retorted. “I want to know where Hattie is. If she’s here, then give her to me. If she left, then tell me where. It’s not hard, Father. I think you can manage, if you know what’s good for you.”
The priest changed before Ben’s eyes. He held his head higher, proud. Instead of the humble bend of his back when he studied the Bible, he carried himself straight and sure. “I was like you once.”
Cutter laughed. “I doubt that.”
Father Tillman moved forward. He looked like an outlaw in a priest’s costume instead of a man of the cloth.
He came to stand directly in front of Cutter.
“You think you’re invincible. You think you’ll win every fight because you always have in the past. But let me tell you, eventually it comes back to bite you. ”
Cutter’s brow twitched in amusement. “You’re awfully bold compared to the man who cowered in his chapel the last time we were here.”
“I have my regrets,” Father Tillman ground through his teeth, “one of which is that I gave you food and shelter. Leave this valley right now and understand that you’re never welcome back.”
Father Tillman pointed back over Cutter’s shoulder, gesturing toward the main road out of the valley.
“Well,” Cutter hedged, his head dipping slightly to the side and his brow rising. “If that’s how you want it to be.”
A gunshot burst inside Ben’s mind. A fraction of a second later, he realized it was real. It wasn’t a flashback from his army days, when the fighting took place all around him and yet didn’t seem to involve him. It had happened in his real life.
Father Tillman’s shoulders slouched forward slightly as he tucked in his ribs and stomach.
A whoof of air escaped his lungs, and he staggered backwards.
Blood seeped through his fingers where he clutched his stomach.
He looked down, his eyes widening in shock and then closing in understanding as he sank to his knees.