Chapter 25
Ben woke early. His limbs and joints were sore from staying still all night, trying not to disturb Hattie while he slept so close to her. He’d woken up several times through the night, confused and on guard, but then he’d remembered where he was.
Not that it brought him much comfort. There was something about Traveler’s Rest that bothered him. Ben had heard mention of the little settlement before as a waystation while on a supply run, but he’d never been there.
It was dirty and didn’t offer much, but that wasn’t what bothered him.
Ben had slept in tents that were nothing more than a piece of canvas draped over a branch, with only the hard ground beneath him.
He’d eaten stew that’d been in the pot for a questionable amount of time.
The army had taught him how to survive no matter what.
No, there was something else that chewed at him, a rat of doubt gnawing at the back of his mind. The door was closed and his gun was within arm’s reach, but he didn’t feel safe. He probably wouldn’t until he got back to the orphanage.
At least the night was over, and he could get back on the road.
Ben studied Hattie as she slept. Her heart-shaped face, her wide eyes, and her generous mouth made her quite pretty, especially when she wasn’t in a position to question every move he made or create more obstacles in his path.
A curl of her dark hair had fallen over her forehead.
Her hair was just as wild and rebellious as she was.
If their lives had been different, he might have fallen for her.
He might have taken up her offer to truly share a bed with him.
Ben had been raised to forgive others for their sins, but he couldn’t forget.
Nor could he entirely trust Hattie not to create any more problems for him than she already had.
And what about him and his sins? Was he any more worthy of her or any other woman? Ben wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to think about it. Whatever life lay ahead of him would have to wait until after he’d finished his mission and got back to the orphanage.
He rose slowly from the bed, easing off the mattress. His body protested as he stretched, angry from being cold and confined. The room was warmer than sleeping outdoors, and the bed was more comfortable than the wagon, but not by much.
Ben peered through the one clean spot on the window. The sun was coming up on the horizon, its honey-colored light filtering through the trees and drizzling onto the snow. The sky was cloudless. If it stayed that way, the remainder of their journey might be a little easier.
He slipped on his boots and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Hattie.
When she woke up, she’d probably tell him that he should’ve woken her so that she could help with the preparations for their travel.
She seemed bent on making sure she pulled her weight, and she’d be aggravated with him for letting her sleep.
He stretched again when he got to the hall and then made his way to the common room. Ben could smell bacon, thick in the air and maybe a little burned. His stomach rumbled. Even the cluttered and messy kitchen wouldn’t keep him from a hot meal.
But as he rounded the corner, he found something that would. Mama sat at a small table just outside the kitchen door. A big pot of oats, a platter of bacon, and a bowl of scrambled eggs sat before her, and she sipped coffee from a battered tin cup.
“I need you to fix some things while yer here,” Mama instructed as her cup clattered against the table. “You’ve been gone too long, and the place is fallin’ apart.”
Her dining companion had wide shoulders and dark hair. He was so focused on his meal that he didn’t look up even as Mama spoke to him. He nodded and kept forking eggs and bacon into his mouth, the scar above his lip twisting and squirming like a pale worm with each mouthful.
“I know, Mama. Bo’s already on it. He brought his toolbox in when we arrived. Just give us a minute to rest, will ya?”
Cutter.
Ben spun on his heel and quickly retreated around the corner. He braced his hand on the doorway that led into the hall where the guest rooms were. How could Cutter be there? When Mama had spoken of her guests, she’d only mentioned the farmer and her sons.
Realization crept up his spine like a cold finger of ice. He and Hattie had sought refuge from the Apache, the mountain men, and the weather, but they’d found refuge in a snake’s nest. Cutter and Bo had left the orphanage after killing Father Tillman, and they’d returned home to their mama.
He had to get out of here, as quickly and quietly as possible. Ben charged down the hall toward the room he shared with Hattie, already making plans for slipping out and sneaking across the road to the stable before Mama or her boys could figure out who they were.
He slammed into a wall.
It was wearing boots.
Ben staggered back, mumbling an apology as he slowly lifted his head. The man’s trousers had been recently patched and his shirt laundered. Long pink scars slashed across his face, leaving one eye cloudy and distant.
Bo took a step to the side, about to move around Ben, when he recognized just who had run into him. “Hold on a second!”
Ben lurched into action. He rushed forward, slamming his hand over Bo’s mouth and pushing him backward. A door stood open behind Bo, and Ben aimed for it.
Bo was a big man and certainly outweighed Ben, but he hadn’t been prepared for a fight before breakfast. He swept his hand over the wall, searching for something to hold onto. He found only rough wood before Ben shoved him into the room.
His foot caught on a toolbox sitting on the floor, causing his mighty bulk to tip backwards onto the bed. Tools scraped across the floor as they were flung from the box.
Ben kicked the door shut, cringing at the noise. He was trying not to attract attention! In that brief moment, he realized the mistake he’d made. The closed door might keep Cutter away, but now Ben was stuck in the room with his brother.
Bo got his feet under him. He launched himself at Ben, his scarred face red with fury. His big hands slammed into Ben’s shoulders.
Ben crashed into the wall, his skull thumping against the rough wood. When he saw Bo raise his fist to prepare for a punch, he went the only way he could. He let his feet drop out from underneath him. Splinters dug into his back as he slid down the wall.
The building shivered as Bo punched the wall instead of Ben’s face. The big man recovered quickly, though, turning around as Ben tried to crawl through his legs. He wrapped his arms around Ben and jerked him to his feet.
With a quick swing of his arm, Ben buried his elbow into Bo’s stomach. He heard the rush of air escaping Bo’s lungs as his opponent curled forward. He pounded his other elbow backwards a moment later, crunching into Bo’s ribs.
Ben was the one who’d brought them into the room, but now he desperately wanted to get out of it. He needed to get to Hattie and get the hell out of the inn and Traveler’s Rest. He also needed to get back to his guns, which he’d foolishly left in their room. Ben bolted for the door.
His knees were knocked out from underneath him, and he felt flat onto his stomach. A stray nail burrowed into his thigh. Ben’s palms swept uselessly over the dirty floor as he was dragged backwards and flung into the corner. Stars danced in front of his eyes as Bo towered over him.
“Thought you could take me down?” Bo’s shirt was disheveled and a new rip had formed in his trousers, but he laughed quietly as he cracked his knuckles.
“I knew you were a fool, even when I was barely conscious after that bear attack. You’re the sort of man who thinks everyone is good, aren’t you? A little church boy?”
Fire and fear burned inside Ben. He was at an inn in the middle of nowhere, but he was also back at the edge of that cornfield. His lower abdomen throbbed where the bayonet had punctured his skin and sliced into his guts, thrusting downward, mining the life out of him.
His guilt won most days. It kept him from reacting, from saying a word to anyone even when they were wrong. It was better to let the world move around him, because any movement from him would only cause death and destruction.
But as Bo hovered above him like a cat playing with a mouse, the other side of Ben was winning. It was the part of him that wouldn’t give up on life, the part that could act quickly and do whatever was necessary to win or protect those he cared about.
It was the part of him that was a killer.
Bo’s big hand curled into Ben’s shirt, twisting his collar as he picked him up from the floor.
He grinned as he held Ben easily against the wall.
“My brother is going to have a lot of fun tearing you apart. There’s no reason I can’t have a little fun first, especially since you’ve been trying so hard to keep this quiet. Mighty nice of you.”
Sometimes the only way to win was to fight dirty. Ben had reminded himself of that when he fought off the mountain men. The Kincaid brothers were even more dangerous opponents, so Ben didn’t feel an ounce of shame as he shoved his hand forward and pressed his thumb into Bo’s bad eye.
The big man screamed. He let go of Ben to clutch at his face.
Ben heard footsteps in the hall. Someone had finally heard them, and he was about to be outnumbered. He dove for the hammer that had tumbled from the toolbox earlier, wrapping his hand around the smooth wooden handle.
“You piece of shit!” Bo thundered, coming at him swinging. “He’s in here, Cutter!”
Ben couldn’t stave off the punches with his left forearm. He felt Bo’s power as it slammed into his chest. It cracked into his jaw, making his vision spin around him. Ben had just enough wherewithal to fling his arm behind him and swing the hammer forward.
It smacked into the center of Bo’s bald forehead with a crack that vibrated up Ben’s arm. Bo's eyes slowly rolled up into his skull, and he crashed to the floor.
The door slammed open behind Ben. He raced to the window, but a gunshot exploded and something hot pierced his lower back. Ben’s legs gave out. He fell to the floor next to Bo, his ears ringing and pain shooting through his body.
“You!” Cutter snarled as he grabbed the back of Ben’s hair and lifted him from the floor. “I thought we were done with you.”
His hair popped and snapped at the roots, but enough of it held that Cutter was able to drag Ben across the floor. Ben tried to get his feet under him, but his legs refused to work. He pushed at Cutter’s leg and clawed at his hand.
“My boy!” Mama screamed, her skirt swirling past them and leaving the air smelling like old frying oil. “He killed my boy! My baby!”
Cutter stopped, yanking so hard on Ben’s hair that he pulled his head up to face him. “You hear that? Do you think that was worth it? Because you’ve got one hell of a price to pay for killing my brother, boy. It’s one I’ve been wanting to charge you for a while now.” He raised his fist.
It hit Ben’s face like a freight train. The bones in his nose crunched and shattered. Blood filled his mouth. The world tunneled before him, flowing away like water down a drain and leaving only blackness behind.
“Don’t you worry, Mama,” Ben heard Cutter say over the rushing sounds in his ears. “I’m gonna take care of him once and for all.”