The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [81]
“Where are Clint and Lester?”
“None of your business.”
“Are they even alive?”
Simon buried his fingers into her flesh. “Bein’ sassy won’t save you, so you best shut up. I did good by you, and you owe me.”
“How did you ever do ‘good’ by me?”
“Made sure you had food in your belly.”
“But you stole and killed people to get it,” she said, sounding braver than she thought. “I’d rather have died.”
“Don’t think I didn’t want that to happen. Having you gone would have meant more for the rest of us.”
“Then leave me alone.”
“Brave talk for a stupid fool.”
I’m not a fool, and I’m not stupid. A burst of courage swept through her. “What about Lizbeth? Why didn’t you settle down with her?” She’d heard Clint and Lester laughing about him sneaking over to Lizbeth’s when her husband was gone. Lizbeth’s husband liked to hunt more than he cared for his wife, so Simon took care of what she needed. At least Simon claimed so.
“I got tired of her.”
“You killed her husband and abandoned her with your baby. Explain that to me.”
He sneered, and the pressure increased on her arm. One more bruise to remind her of what he could do if he put his mind to it.
“Why didn’t you put that life behind you and work at being respectable?”
“You mean livin’ poor while other folks did good? No thanks.”
“Lizbeth didn’t care about money. She cared for you. Told me so.”
“She killed any feelings I could have had for her,” he said. “When I shot her old man, she acted like I was an animal. I did what was best for her and the baby. But she didn’t look at it that way. The look in her eyes made me sick. Come to think of it, she looked at me the same way you do.”
“Have you beaten her too?”
He released his hand from her arm and shoved her across the room and onto the floor. Her head hit the table leg. Simon stood over her, his legs spread on each side of her body. For a moment she thought she’d black out completely. A vigorous throbbing in the back of her skull threatened to make her ill. Simon’s silence meant his anger was about to explode. She knew well. Some scars never healed.
She and Lizbeth did have one thing in common—a loathing for a man that they’d once tried to love.
“Mind you, girl. You owe me. I have a job for you, so don’t try runnin'.” He kicked her in the ribs and left her. His boots thudded across the porch and down the steps.
She took a sharp breath praying her ribs weren’t broken. When the pain slowly equaled the hammering on the back of her head, she prayed Simon, Clint, and Lester were stopped. She didn’t understand any of her brothers, but she didn’t want them dead … just stopped.
CHAPTER 37
I’d hoped to find signs of your ranch hands.” John swung his leg over his horse and walked to the edge of a rocky peak. From there, a man could see for miles. He lifted binoculars to his eyes. “They hid their trail pretty good.”
“No sign of them at all.” Oberlander wiped the sweat streaming down his brow and joined John. “All we have is a string of unanswered questions, dead bodies, and rustled cattle.” He swore.
Sure glad Wirt will be courtin’ Mama instead of Victor Oberlander.
Wirt took a long drink from his canteen. “John here thinks those two weren’t smart enough to steal cattle and drive them out of the area.”
“Good point,” Oberlander said. “I always thought they were two knots short of a noose.” He laughed. “Didn’t even know how to count their pay.”
“Somebody could have been using them. But unless we can locate their bodies or bring them in for questioning, we have nothing.” Wirt dismounted and joined John and Oberlander.
John continued to scan the area with his binoculars. Elk, long-horned sheep, and cattle roamed the free range area.
“Do me a favor and tell me you see those two. Or at least the cattle,” Wirt said.
John handed him the binoculars. “See for yourself. Not a sign.”
Wirt sighed. “I may need to wire for help.”
“I’m against