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  “Um, okay…too much information,” Sam balked, looking pale. He released Grace and she was immediately in Danny’s lap before she’d even had a chance to position herself properly in the bed.

  “Thanks, Melissa,” Danny said while fending off kisses from Grace. “I’m not too concerned about my future modeling potential.”

  Patty was impressed, again, with the woman’s resilience. Danny was most definitely a fighter and she was glad to have her in Mercy. Though it was too bad she’d been injured. They could really use her help patching up the rest of their patients, which reminded Patty that she hadn’t seen Russell anywhere. She assumed the priest would have come immediately and offered assistance upon hearing of the attack.

  “Chloe,” she called out when she saw the teen approaching. “Do me a favor and go find Father Rogers. He should be at the church. Tell him I sent for him. We really need him here.” Chloe glanced over at Ethan, her face falling.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ethan volunteered. “I’m not much good here, anyway.”

  Chloe smiled and Patty was relieved to see it. She’d been worried about her since the girl arrived on her doorstep, bloody and traumatized. Patty knew she was in shock and it had taken over an hour before Chloe could even stop shaking. Being around all the chaos in the clinic really wasn’t the best place for her, so the errand would accomplish two things.

  “I’ll meet you back here, Dad,” Ethan said to Tom before the two walked away.

  “Let’s go talk with the leg-guy,” Bishop said, standing. “Maybe he has some information that’ll give us a better idea of when to expect more company.”

  “He might not be that talkative,” Patty said, glancing at Melissa.

  Melissa sighed again, a clear sign of how tired she was. “You all know how low my medical supplies are right now. When I was trying to treat the two…desperados, or whatever you’re calling them, I had several people object to my using any medication on them.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Sheriff Waters said, shrugging. “Why waste it?”

  “Well, being humane aside, they might be able to tell you more if they’re alive and not in unbearable pain,” Patty snapped. She could tell that the sheriff and probably Bishop were going to try and argue with her, but Tom shut them down.

  “Give the guy some morphine, Melissa,” he instructed, while holding a hand up to placate the other men. “Unless you guys wanna buy him a few drinks, it’s probably the quickest way to get him talking.”

  Patty chuckled as she backed away, leaving the group to debate the finer points of interrogation. She had to admit to being disheartened earlier in the day. First, it was the news of the attack, then the fact that Tom had led the march in the wrong direction, and finally the lack of humanity in deciding how to treat their prisoners. However, after seeing how they all looked up to Tom and followed his lead, she knew she’d made the right decision. She could have never handled the situation at the ranch, and mistakes or not, Thomas Miller was Mercy’s best chance of remaining free.

  Chapter 8

  CHLOE

  Mercy, Montana

  “It seems too quiet out here,” Ethan said as they neared the end of Main Street.

  Chloe looked back at the empty farmers’ market they’d just walked through and nodded in agreement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the streets so bare, especially in the middle of the afternoon. While it was still overcast and breezy, the storm had moved on, leaving behind some debris and large puddles. “People are spooked.”

  “I don’t blame them.” Ethan ran a hand gingerly along his hairline, wincing as his fingers brushed one of the scratches. “I’m spooked, too.”

  Chloe tried to ignore the heavy feeling settling into her stomach, except she’d never been very good at pretending things were okay. Because they clearly weren’t, and Ethan had been seriously off since the first time Chloe spotted him earlier with his dad. He was…evasive. Wouldn’t look her in the eye. She got that he was freaked out and everything. If anyone could understand how he was feeling, it was her, only that didn’t really matter if he wouldn’t talk to her.

  “You gonna tell me what happened?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

  Ethan’s step faltered slightly but he kept walking, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean, tell you what happened? You were there, Chloe. You saw it.”

  “I did more than see it,” Chloe challenged. “I killed a guy before I ran away, Ethan. I’m pretty sure he was the one we listened to the whole afternoon while he died a slow and painful death.”

  Ethan jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and continued to keep his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. “Yeah. I, um…didn’t look at the first guy I shot, but I know he died.”

  “I thought you just clipped someone in the leg.” Chloe stole a sideways glance and saw that he’d gone pale. He was breathing fast and his jaw was clenched so tight that he was sure to crack a couple of teeth. “Woah!” she said, taking him by the arm and forcing him to stop.

  “No!” Ethan gasped, tearing his arm free and backing away. Raising his hands, he held them out like he was trying to talk someone down off a bridge. “Just…let it go. I…can’t,” he swallowed hard, his eyes wide and fearful.

  Chloe recognized a panic attack when she saw one. She’d been fortunate enough not to suffer from crippling episodes herself, but she had a friend who did frequently. “Ethan,” she said gently, not moving. “You’re okay. You need to take a breath. Just breathe with me and you’ll feel better.” Slowly, she inhaled through her nose. “Like this.”

  Ethan focused on her mouth and began to mimic her motions, closing his eyes after releasing two shuddering breaths and taking a third.

  “That’s good.” Chloe moved closer and gripped both of his hands in hers. “You’re not alone, Ethan. We’ll get through this. In the old world, we’d be put in therapy and probably medicated. Now, we’ll just have to do the best we can, together.”

  “The nightmares were just starting to go away,” he whispered, opening his eyes. The pain Chloe saw was so deep it was staggering.

  “They’ll go away again,” she reassured him. “Tell ya what. Let’s make a pact that we’ll tell each other about our dreams every morning. That way, if we talk about them and acknowledge what it means and stuff, we can work through them faster.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked, already visibly relaxing.

  Chloe shrugged. “Because I’m smart. I read things.”

  Ethan eyed her suspiciously. “You’re making it up.”

  “Does it matter? Seriously, though, I read that talking about all the crap you’ve gone through, and the recurring dreams associated with it, helps your brain process the information.” Chloe gave his hands an extra squeeze before dropping one of them, and then tugged on the other to get him moving again. “And we’ve both definitely been through some crap.”

  Ethan was silent for about half a block. “You were the first person I talked to about Decker and Billy and what happened with them. I did feel better afterward.”

  “See?” Chloe attempted a smile and was encouraged when he returned it. “Spreading the burden out makes it easier to carry.”

  Ethan raised his eyebrows at her. “Now you just sound weird.” He moved closer so that their shoulders bumped and he grew serious. “But weird in a good way.”

  Chloe laughed lightly, her own intense emotions becoming more manageable. She hadn’t allowed herself to unpack the experience yet and examine it from all the different angles, the way she normally would. When that happened, she knew it’d get ugly and she was going to need someone to turn to. Bishop, Sandy…even Crissy would be totally supportive. She knew that. But…there was something about having shared the experience that made Ethan the only person she could really talk to. Like, in a way that made sense.

  Chloe squeezed his hand again and drew strength from the contact. In some bizarre way, the two of them now shared a bond that was both d
eep and horrible.

  As they passed by City Hall, she considered distracting Ethan later with a “shopping” trip to the basement. She still wanted to show him the mysterious Q-Code, especially considering the latest developments.

  “I saw that Crissy was finally reunited with Trevor,” Ethan said, his voice sounding stronger as he talked about someone else.

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “We’ll be lucky to get her away from him long enough to help finish the hay. Honestly, though? It might be better that way. Even though Crissy got inside the house right after the shooting started and they never saw her, she’s pretty traumatized.”

  “Dad said we’ve already got volunteers to start standing guard at the ranch,” Ethan said, his face pinching up again. “Which is good, but I doubt it’s necessary. Dillinger wouldn’t bring his soldiers in on that trail, especially not after today. Bishop agrees. He thinks the corporal will come right up Main Street and make his demands.”

  “What’ll happen when your dad says no?”

  Ethan smiled broadly then, and Chloe wasn’t sure she liked it. “The same as the last time he tried to steal from us, only this time he’ll have more backup.”

  Madeline Stokes, the church pianist and all-around busybody, interrupted their conversation by banging open the front door of the church and bustling down the steps as they approached. Chloe wouldn’t have guessed the woman could move that fast. As she turned in their direction, Madeline looked flustered and was absently pulling at her loose hair and touching her throat at the same time.

  “Miss Stokes?” Ethan called to her when she kept walking without acknowledging them. “Is everything okay?”

  Pausing about ten feet away, Madeline glanced over her shoulder at the church. “I, um…lit some candles. For those who lost their lives today.”

  Chloe waited for more of an explanation for her odd behavior, but Madeline simply shook her head at them and walked off without another word.

  “That was strange,” Chloe observed, watching her shuffle down the road.

  “Miss Stokes has always been a little off,” Ethan explained. “I mean, who would want to set up a vigil for a bunch of guys that came here to kill us?”

  Chloe figured Ethan was probably right, except her gut was telling her there was more to the story. She couldn’t shake the feeling as they climbed the steps and entered the large chamber. Expecting to see several candles lit, she was surprised to find the interior of the church dark, except for the filtered light coming through rows of stained glass windows.

  As they approached the alter, Chloe could smell the telltale acrid odor of recently extinguished candles. A lot of them.

  “Father Rogers!” Ethan called to the apparently empty nave. When there was no response, they headed for a partially open door to the side of the chancel. Ethan entered, while Chloe settled for poking her head inside. It was some sort of fancy office and there were several bookcases and ornate robes hanging up. “He isn’t here,” Ethan said to her, stating the obvious.

  “Well, we tried.” Chloe quickly walked back to the center of the church, in the middle of the pews. She didn’t know why, but the place gave her the creeps. She had spent her fair share of time in churches and they usually had the opposite effect. “We’ll let Patty know he isn’t here.”

  “Let’s try the apartment first,” he suggested, walking past her and toward the back, where there was another opening opposite the office.

  “Apartment?” Chloe frowned. “In a church?”

  “The priest almost always lived in the church way back when,” he explained with a grin. “Although, since they built the house behind this one, the apartment is usually used for Sunday school.”

  Chloe looked questioningly at him as they entered a dark hallway. Two doors on the right designated them as bathrooms, while the other doors on the left were marked for age groups…probably more Sunday school classes. “You sure know a lot about this place.”

  Ethan stopped in front of another door at the end of the hall and smirked. “Grandma Miller always made sure I came to church on Sundays when I was here for the weekend, and I’ve spent every Christmas break in Mercy. I might have been in a Christmas play or two.” He paused with his hand raised to knock. “I wish I could have made it to the memorial for Father White last night, but we had too much work to do.”

  They both jumped back when the door abruptly jerked open. Father Rogers stood in the entrance, backlit by several burning candles. “I thought I heard talking out here.” While his voice wasn’t accusatory, it also wasn’t friendly.

  “Father Rogers!” Chloe said, moving forward and in front of Ethan. “Mayor—I mean, Patty is looking for you. They need you at the clinic.”

  “Chloe, right?”

  Chloe nodded once, thinking it was a strange response. “Yeah. We met before at the clinic. This is Ethan, he’s—”

  “You’ve got to be Tom’s son,” Russell interrupted, reaching out past Chloe to shake his hand. “Or I suppose I should say Mayor Miller, now.”

  “Yes, Father,” Ethan answered hesitantly after taking the offered hand.

  Father Rogers stepped back and ushered them inside. “You look just like him. Come in, I was just making some tea.”

  Tea? Chloe followed Ethan into the small kitchen area. It was too hot in the room, thanks to a strong fire in the woodstove. There was a teakettle on it, and the pastor went about getting more tea cups while he continued to speak.

  “I heard that the men your father went after ended up at your place.” Turning from the cupboard, Father Rogers set two cups on the table between them, not bothering to inquire if they even wanted any tea. “Tell me, how many people ended up dying today?”

  “Eight,” Ethan said flatly. “No one from Mercy.”

  “Hmm. I would have thought there would be more.”

  Chloe frowned at the man as he poured the water. He almost sounded…disappointed. What kind of priest was he?

  “I heard you’ve already suffered a rather unfortunate series of events,” Father Rogers continued, turning to Ethan and holding out one of the cups.

  Ethan hesitated before taking it, staring back at the older man with a puzzled expression. “Yeah. I, uh, guess you could say that.”

  “Don’t be modest,” Father Rogers countered, tsking as he sat down in one of the chairs. Chloe took the other cup when he didn’t offer it to her and remained standing.

  “What?” Ethan asked, glancing over at Chloe.

  “You see, Ethan, while I’m technically not a Catholic priest, people still have a need to confess their sins and that often times involves discussing the sins of others they’re with.” He took a small sip of tea and stared at Ethan over the rim of his cup. “I would imagine that after what you went through with Decker and Billy, today may have stirred up some bad emotions. Tell me, what was it like to be a part of taking a man’s life? How did it feel?”

  Chloe was stunned into silence. She stared open-mouthed at Ethan as he first looked confused, and then angry. “Sam,” he muttered, before slamming the cup back down on the table.

  Chloe knew Sam was rather religious and that he’d been to the church more than once already. He must be Catholic. While she couldn’t blame Sam for trying to unburden his soul or whatever, she was totally baffled by the priest’s violation in sharing it. Chloe wasn’t Catholic, but even she knew that confessions were like, the ultimate secret.

  “I’ve upset you,” Father Rogers said, staring intensely at Ethan.

  Setting her cup back on the table with enough force to spill the liquid, Chloe finally processed what had been said, and reacted accordingly. She’d never liked the guy, except before it was because she could tell he was being fake. This? Well, it was like the façade was gone, and she really didn’t like what was behind it.

  “We need to go,” she said loudly.

  “So soon?” Father Rogers grinned at her, finally looking away from Ethan.

  His gaze was disturbing, and Chloe backed into
Ethan as she met it and refused to turn away. There was a calculated coldness there, like a scientist with its subject instead of a sympathetic priest.

  “Not soon enough,” Ethan replied, and Chloe was impressed with how controlled his voice was. “Should I tell Patty that you’re busy?”

  “Oh, but I am,” Father Rogers called after them as they retreated back into the hall. “I have a much larger flock to tend to.”

  Chapter 9

  DANNY

  Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

  “Thanks for getting me,” Danny said, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the wagon. “Except I don’t know if I agree with the decision that the wagon would be better for my head than horseback.”

  Tom grinned and then pulled on the reins, slowing them down. “Sorry, there’s a lot of branches and other stuff in the road from all the wind.”

  It was growing dark, and Danny was having a hard time not being fearful of every little sound and movement she saw from the woods that lined the road. For as much of a fuss she made with Melissa about not wanting to stay the night at the clinic, she was glad that Tom was with her. “It was nice of your mom to bargain my release with the doc.”

  “She can pretty much talk anyone into whatever she wants,” Tom said. He glanced at Danny with a look of concern. “I hope it was the smart thing to do, though. My mom’s right that there are plenty of us to keep a close eye on you, and a nice bed, but what if you do have a concussion?”

  “Honestly, Tom, even if I had a major head injury, there isn’t a thing Melissa could do about it with the equipment and meds that she has.” Danny pushed the gauze up out of her eyes again. The bulky bandage was wrapped all the way around her head and kept falling down into her face. She was okay with leaving it there for a few days, though. It was better than looking at her mangled ear. Not that she really cared about how it looked…her hair would cover most of it up. It was more the reminder that she almost had a bullet in her brain. Like, less than a half an inch away from it. She shuddered slightly and wrapped her arms around herself.