While he stepped back, Morris stepped forward. Leaning down to her, he urged, ‘Tell him what he wants to know, Bridget. He’s in a mood to see me flay the skin off your back.’

For a second or two she really believed he was worried for her. The moment swiftly passed when she remembered what he had done. ‘You killed a woman for money,’ she accused. ‘Then you let Fanny and the boy be taken for it.’

‘I mean it, Bridget. If you cross him, he won’t show you any mercy.’ Glancing back at the farmer, Bob seemed afraid. ‘You don’t know him.’

‘What? Like I don’t know you?’

‘I’ve always loved you, Bridget, you must believe that.’

‘Then let me go. Let me find Ruthie.’

Befuddled with drink, something snapped in his mind. ‘Oh!’ He began to smile. ‘Of course… Harry’s brat… the snooper. She saw me with a woman and thought it was the end of the world. But she daren’t tell you, not when I asked her not to. Besides, the woman meant nothing to me… they never do. Not like you.’ His features hardened. ‘Run off, has she? Well I never. And what makes you think I care whether you find her or not?’

So, that’s what Ruthie was worried about. Now it all began to make sense. That was why she had run off. She was frightened to tell Bridget, but not Billy.

‘What was it like with him, Bridget? Making Ruthie… was it more exciting than with me?’ Bob’s eyes hardened. ‘Is that why you’ve grown cold on me… because you think he’s a better man?’

Turning her head away, Bridget was shocked when he flicked the whip before her eyes. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch!’

‘That’s it!’ From the back of the stable where he was swigging booze, the farmer egged him on. ‘Show her you mean it, Morris. Loosen her tongue. Find out if there was anyone else with her.’ The first stripe of the whip fell across her shoulders, slicing her blouse, making her scream with pain. ‘Well? You prefer him to me… do you?’

‘Yes, I do! Harry is twice the man you are, and I love him.’ To the delight of the farmer, Morris raised the whip once more. ‘You weren’t lying when you said the girl was his… were you? Were you lying, damn your eyes?’

‘Kill me,’ she said quietly. ‘But it won’t change the truth.’ The pain seared her back and her senses were fading; she truly believed this was her last hour on God’s earth, but it didn’t matter what happened to her. What mattered was Ruthie, and Harry, and all the lost years. ‘Harry is Ruthie’s father, and I’m proud of that.’

Tired of the time it was taking, Meaker stepped forward, shotgun in hand. ‘Enough!’ he yelled. ‘If you haven’t got the guts to do it, then get out of the way. She’s playing us along. There was no one else with her.’