The Bone Roses by Kathryn Lee Martin

Author:Kathryn Lee Martin [Martin, Kathryn Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-88-275-7514-7
Publisher: The Parliament House

Chapter Twenty-Five

I don’t know much time passes before a comforting hand finds my shoulder. The once quiet kitchen floods with a muddling of complaints and grievances about a certain “blond-haired bastard” and a word to describe the Kingdom that nearly sends Sadie up a wall.

He didn’t shoot them. I glance up in time to see Colton shut the door behind him and lean his shoulders against it with a relieved sigh. He let us live. He had the clear advantage and yet we’re alive.

My hands rest flat against the floor, my head bowed, sending up a heartfelt praise for whatever miracle got us all across those ten yards that should have been our last.

I look to Colton, who offers up a comforting wink, immediately shying back when Tracker curls his lip into a warning snarl.

We’re anything but safe though. I don’t know what Colton did to save my family out there, but we’re alive. Henny needs us alive.

The woodstove door’s hinges shriek, spilling fiery light into the living room as Tracker stirs the coals and draws thick black curtains over the windows. His foot bumps my almighty weapon—an egg whisk—and he picks it up, examines it for a second before tucking it into his jacket pocket.

“Rags.”

I try not to blush, embarrassed for the both of us and look away.

“Go bring some blankets.” His eyes turn to Colton and he bares his teeth. “You go help.”

“Yes sir.” Colton nods and falls in step behind me.

I hurry out of the kitchen and up the stairs, thankful that he didn’t say anything about my inability to retrieve the rifle and do as I was told. Right now, I think he’s just happy that no one got killed.

That we’re safe for now.

A floorboard squeaks under my boot.

My hand traces the wall, checking and rechecking to make sure the doors are secured. They are, placing another fragile barrier between us and Henny. I feel around in the darkness shrouding the bathroom for the limited surplus of blankets we acquired over the years.

“Jesus Christ and the twelve apostles that hurts,” Jericho’s shout rises from the living room.

A loud slap follows. “Don’t you take that name in vain.”

“I wouldn’t if you’d hurry up.”

“You want to keep all of your fingers? Do you?”

Jericho yelps again.

“That’s what I thought. Tracker, go get me some hot water and a cloth.”

His heavy footsteps pass by the stairs and into the kitchen. I try to ignore them, rooting around for blankets on the bathroom shelf. The bone roses shift to my left hand as I reach for the blankets with the other. Colton holds his hands out and accepts the ones I give him, following me to the living room.

Sadie and Jericho sit on the couch while Frank holds a small candle over the preacher’s right hand. Blood stains the flesh so badly you can’t even see its pale color underneath. Sadie continues to examine the wound.

I put the blankets on the couch and watch the woman work. Tracker soon returns with a cloth, our sewing kit, bandages, and a pan of cold water, which he sets on the woodstove to boil.

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