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Linette shook her head. “I simply don’t know. The man is thin except for a pronounced potbelly, and his skin has a distinct yellowish hue.”
“You mean jaundice?”
“I fear so.”
Jaundice! She’d heard of it. Always spoken in dark tones. A slow, certain death. Often the sufferer would bleed to death or lose his or her mind, dying in confusion. “Does Brand know?”
“I doubt it.”
“I guess it doesn’t make much difference, does it?” Sybil forced indifference into her voice. “They’ll either hang or rot in jail. Dying in a clean bed might be a mercy. An undeserved one.”
Linette dried her hands and turned to her. “Do any of us deserve mercy? From God or man?”
“If we live a good life we don’t need mercy from man, and if we seek God’s forgiveness He offers His mercy.”
“But it’s so undeserved. And I fear none of us can claim we have not offended another.”
Sybil tried to protest, but then thought of her secret. Wasn’t she being untruthful in her own way by hiding behind a pseudonym? In talking to Brand with a view to gleaning information for a story without telling him her intention?
Linette turned to meal preparation, and Sybil helped. A little later, Slim came in to relieve Eddie, and Linette served the meal. They ate in silence, as if each of them was struggling to believe the recent events.
Grady studied the sober faces around him. “Is it true? Is Brand a bad man?”
Linette and Eddie exchanged glances, while Mercy and Sybil waited for their answer.
Silent communication passed between the couple. How Sybil envied their love and security. Would she ever enjoy something similar? To her disgrace, she allowed herself to admit she’d given a few thoughts to Brand being like Eddie. How wrong she’d been.
Eddie took Grady’s hands. “It would seem he is part of an outlaw gang.”
Grady looked around the table, saw the same message in the nod each person gave him. He shook his head. “You’re wrong. He’s not a bad man. He can’t be. Not when Dawg likes him so much.”
No one could argue with that.
Grady’s lips quivered. “Why are you all being so mean to him?”
The boy dashed out the back door.
Linette pushed herself to her feet, then looked about at the dishes to be cleaned up. She glanced upward. “They need to be fed.”
Sybil made up her mind. “You go after Grady. I’ll feed the prisoners and then we’ll clean up.”
Mercy insisted on accompanying her upstairs, and Sybil didn’t mind. She couldn’t imagine facing Brand. Yet she knew she must in order to erase the false memories of the Brand she thought she had known.
She stepped into the room, Mercy on her heels. Slim sat at the doorway, leaning back in a wooden chair, a rifle across his knees. Mercy handed him a plate of food.
Slim dropped all four legs of the chair to the floor, snagged another chair and pulled it close.
Mercy sat at his side.
Slowly Sybil shifted her gaze, saw Brand’s father. At their campsite she had considered him big and menacing. She hadn’t taken note of the condition Linette had pointed out. Now, though, under the gray woolen blanket, he looked thin and sallow. Yellowish, just as Linette said.
“I brought dinner.” Sybil held a plate of food in each hand.
Brand took one plate, his wrists still bound with thick ropes, and set it on the nearby table. But he didn’t eat.
She felt his awkward waiting, but rather than relieve it, she turned to his father. “I brought you food.”
He regarded her unblinkingly. “Don’t think I’ll be needing food where I’m going.”
“I’m sure they’ll feed you adequately in jail.” She hated the judgmental tone of her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Brand had deceived her and this man had ordered her held captive. She had every right to judge him for that.
Mr. Duggan gave a faint laugh. “No doubt the food will be better than we deserve.”
She again offered him the plate.
He shifted, moaned. The blood drained from his face, leaving his skin even more yellow. He pulled the plate closer.
She stepped back to wait, and flicked her gaze to Brand. “I don’t know who you are.” Every word dripped with anger, frustration and a thousand drops of pain, disappointment and shame.
