Instead, Randall went on with his story as if it were a fond memory. “Killing Ma and Pa, Oliver set us up on easy street with that. The school gave us the only education we’d had, fed us, and kept us warm in winter and dry in the rainy season. Ma and Pa’s house hadn’t done that.”

“And only at the price of your parents’ lives,” Win said. Again she spoke mostly to herself, but this time Randall slid the hand he had around her waist to her opposite arm and twisted it.

“Ouch, stop.” She deliberately said it loud enough her father could hear. She was curious what he’d do.

“Leave my girl alone, Randy. She’ll be easier to tote along if she’s not hurt.”

Randall loosened his grip with a cruel laugh. “The girl’s never had a switch taken to her. She’s got a mean mouth, and I don’t like it.”

“Might not be too late to teach her some manners.” Pa’s eyes met Win’s, and there was only evil. “I’ve a mind to take her along with us. She can do the cooking. Be a proper daughter now that she’s a widowed lady.”

Ignoring those words to keep herself from crying, Win looked at Rachel. Unconscious this whole time. It struck Win suddenly how unlikely that was. Yes, she was exhausted. Only just up from a week in bed, and during that time, she’d eaten and drank only what sips they could urge down her. It made sense she was weak to the point of collapse. A normal woman would be. But Rachel was tough. The type of woman to carry a knife in her boot and maybe worse.

The type of woman to dig deep and stay conscious, and also perhaps to feign unconsciousness, waiting for her chance to fight.

Win faced forward so no one would see that suspicion—and hope—on her face.

With or without Rachel, Win planned to fight these men who had hurt Kevin.

God, please, please, please let him be alive.

She very much hoped it was with Rachel, but Win would fight nonetheless.

The horses were slowing. Win suspected it was because they were tired. But she also noticed the wide trail into the rough country had narrowed and was climbing.

She was watching intently, wondering if a spot in the trail would take all Randall’s attention, and she’d have her chance to leap from the horse and vanish into the woods.

She saw a bird fly high overhead. It looked like a pigeon. After a few minutes, she saw another, flying in that same straight-arrow direction. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she quietly waited and saw a third one.

Then no more.