Chapter 27
Hattie gasped awake. Her eyes darted around the darkness that surrounded her. It only took her a moment to remember where she was and why. Ben had found this little inn, a refuge from the weather, from the Apache, from the mountain men. He’d tried to bring them to safety.
And even after ensuring that Hattie had a roof over her head and a meal in her belly, he’d still tried to be such a gentleman and insisted that he make himself uncomfortable all night.
She smiled at him, his face just visible in the bit of moonlight that crept through the dirty window. He breathed deeply, his brow twitching every now and again as he dreamed. Ben told her about his sins, but he looked so innocent.
And he truly looked so much like Oscar. It was no wonder she’d come onto him as they’d gotten into bed, though Hattie’s cheeks burned as she remembered what she’d done.
She wasn’t exactly a lady, not the way Mama had wanted her to be, but neither was she a loose woman who would wrap her arms around any stranger.
Ben just made her feel different. She’d been awful to him, and she’d made his life difficult, but he was still trying to help her. Every now and then, there was a soft look in his eyes that made her wonder what might have happened between them if things were different.
Hattie slowly rolled onto her back, smirking at the idea. Papa was mad enough she’d intended to marry a rich boy from the wrong family. What might he have said if she’d wanted to marry an orphan, a man of good heart but no means?
She forced her eyes shut, knowing she needed her rest. It refused to come, leaving her in misery for hours until she finally drifted off again.
Her dreams haunted her. She was back home again, standing in the kitchen.
Cutter and Bo were there, guns at the ready and preparing to kill her family one by one.
Mama and Papa stood in front of the stove, holding hands and accepting their fate.
Ingrid stood next to them with her doll clutched under her arm, its dress matching hers.
“No!” Hattie screamed, trying to stop the massacre that she knew was coming.
But neither of the Kincaid brothers fired. Hattie was the one holding the gun. The metal was cold and hard in her hand. The sights settled on her father as she curled her finger around the trigger. One by one, she killed them.
Cutter and Bo laughed. They laughed so hard they clutched at their bellies and slapped their knees. Then Cutter pointed behind Hattie.
She turned just in time to see Ben walk into the kitchen.
Confusion moved through her. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Hattie wanted Oscar. She wanted Oscar to come and save her from this awful thing, to make everything okay again.
As she moved toward Ben, she tripped. Looking down, Hattie saw Oscar was there, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, his dead eyes staring up at her.
Hattie looked from Oscar to Ben and back again. She was so lost and so scared. She tried to speak to Ben, but no real words would come out of her mouth. Instead, she lifted the gun in her hands and pointed it at Ben’s chest.
He put up his hands and took a step forward until the barrel was pressed against her chest. “Go on, Hattie. Kill me like you killed everyone else. What will it matter? What does any of it matter?”
She screamed soundlessly. The trigger fired and the hammer fell, and she was unable to stop the bullet. They were all dead, every one of them.
The kitchen came apart around her. Pieces of the wall ripped off the house and flew away. The legs fell out from under the kitchen table, and it clattered to the floor. Doors flew off the cupboards and smashed into the windows.
Her life was falling apart; her home being torn into pieces. Hattie pressed her hands over her ears. Wind whipped her dress, but the force that chewed up the house wasn’t strong enough to take her as well.
She woke with a start as something slammed into the wall. Hattie lay stiffly on the bed, trying to decide if she’d dreamt the sound or if she’d actually heard it.
Then another slam sent a jolt through her body, followed by a high-pitched wail. Heavy bootsteps thudded past the closed door.
What the hell was happening?
Hattie shoved herself upright and realized that Ben was gone.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. Hattie didn’t know what waited for her on the other side of the door. She only knew that something, somehow, had gone terribly wrong.
In her stockings, she crept to the window and peered out. The morning sunlight sparkled in the snow, and the sky was a pale shade of blue. It was a day as pretty as a painting, except for the large man stomping through the snow and out to the old barn.
He dragged something heavy behind him, a dark figure that churned up the snow and left a ribbon of pink in its wake.
Hattie stared at the view for a long moment before she finally understood what she was looking at. The figures outside weren’t random. Ben was the one being dragged through the snow. By Cutter.
She stepped back before Cutter had a chance to turn around and see her through the window. Hattie clapped her hand over her mouth. A scream rose up from deep within her, but she couldn’t let it out.
Did they know she was here? Were they coming for her next? How had the Kincaid brothers found them? Parts of her nightmare were coming true right before her eyes. Her heart pounded, and her breath came so quickly that it made her dizzy.
“Okay,” she whispered, clawing desperately at hope and sanity. “I’ve got to get out of here before they find me. Where are my boots?”
She yanked them out from under the bed and fumbled with the laces.
Her fingers shook and refused to cooperate, as though she’d never put on a pair of boots before.
Next, Hattie took her coat from the wall hook and shoved her arms in the sleeves.
The buttons gave her enough trouble that she gave up on them.
There would be time to deal with them later.
Hopefully.
She tucked her pistol into her belt. It was cold through the fabric of her dress, but her body was so hot with panic and fear that it didn’t matter.
Ben had left the rifle leaning in the corner.
Hattie had already used it a couple of times, and the worn wood felt right in her hands when she picked it up.
She slowed as she grabbed the extra ammunition and put it in her coat pocket. It wasn’t Ben’s rifle, not really. It was Father Tillman’s, he’d said.
A wave of guilt mixed with her terror. Hattie paced between the window and the door, clutching at her hair.
What was she going to do? How was she going to get out of this?
She’d been running from the Kincaids, from her old life, for weeks.
No matter how hard she tried, she never seemed able to get away.
And now, they had Ben. Sweet, kind Ben who believed he was the opposite. He’d done so much for her, even when she hadn’t deserved it. He’d been caught in her mess simply because she’d shown up at the orphanage and he’d been kind enough to open the door.
She ran her hand down the rifle’s barrel. Once Cutter was done with Ben, what then? What about all those wonderful people back at St. Thomas? Would they truly starve over the winter as Ben feared? Cutter wasn’t the kind of man to just take someone down and call it good enough.
If he was, then he wouldn’t have murdered her whole family.
That meant he’d be heading back to St. Thomas. The weather and the trip wouldn’t stall him. What would he do to all of those people? Innocent, good people who’d tried to help her.
And then there was Ben. He hadn’t left her behind, nor could she leave him.
Resolved but still trembling, Hattie cautiously turned the knob and opened the door just wide enough so that she could peer out. Dark streaks of blood marred the hallway. It’d soaked quickly into the unfinished wood.
Panic rose in her chest and threatened to cut off her breath. The situation felt impossible, but the only other choice was to hide in her room until they inevitably found her.
She opened the door a little wider, checking for anyone else before she stepped out. A screeching sound emanated from the common room. It was awful, and it was so loud that it hurt her ears. It made Hattie want to turn around and run, but there was no place to run to.
Pressing her back to the wall, she slowly moved down the hall until she could look around the corner and into the common room. A bald man lay on the floor. A horrific wound caved in the front of his bald head. Bo!
“My baby boy!” An old woman crouched over him. Hattie guessed this was Mama, who ran the place. Now she understood just whose mama she was.
She was the source of the awful screaming. Mama threw back her head, her disheveled gray hair streaming down her back as she howled.
Another man hovered nearby, looking rather uncomfortable. He was the one who’d been in the common room when Hattie and Ben had arrived. Judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t expected to be pulled into such family drama.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he said quietly as he patted Mama on the arm.
She threw his hand away from her. “Don’t you touch me! Can’t you see what’s happened?”
“Um…” The man backed away a few steps and sat down.
That’s one Kincaid brother I won’t have to worry about.
She wondered what had happened, but there was really only one other person around who could’ve ended Bo’s life. And now Hattie had to get to him before someone ended his.
She could get to the little back porch area where she and Ben had washed up the previous day if she darted across the entrance to the hall and toward the back of the house. Hattie waited, barely even daring to breathe.
“I’ll, um, light a fire,” the other guest finally said. He headed to the fireplace, and Mama’s head turned to watch him.