Her father jerked the knot tight, pulling her off balance with the action. "I'm doing what needs to be done. They made their bed. They betrayed us. Now they get to lie in it."
McPharland's voice lost a bit of its fury. "She’s your daughter. Your flesh and blood."
Jedidiah's laughter was bitter, mocking. "You've gone soft, Mick, letting sentiment cloud your judgment. There’s no other way. This ends here, today. One way or another. No loose ends."
She could barely breathe through her panic. Especially with the rope cinched so tightly around her chest.
Her own father was about to kill her. And Jess too.
God, help us!Nothing but a miracle could save them. They were at the mercy of a man who possessed none. God had kept Sampson alive. Maybe He would choose to protect her and Jess too.
Her father jerked her backward, and she scrambled to find footing as he half-dragged her to another stall. Then he shoved her hard, sending her sprawling onto dirty straw. When she hit the ground, pain lanced through her shoulder.
She struggled to sit up, to see what was happening outside the stall. What would they do to Jess?
The rope was cinched too tight, and she couldn’t get her balance. Frustrated tears blurred her vision as she strained, desperate for some glimpse of Jess, to know what was being done to her.
Outside the stall, she could only hear silence, broken by the distant sound of gunfire and the ragged gasps of her own breathing.
Until McPharland's voice cut through the stillness like a knife. "Don't touch my daughter." The words came low, dangerous, filled with a cold fury that sent shivers down her spine.
"Fine, if you want her to come with us, she can." Her father sounded hesitant now.
A flicker of hope sparked to life in her chest. Maybe there was still a chance for Jess, a way out of this nightmare. She finally pushed herself up on her knees and peered through the cracks in the stall door.
McPharland stood with the rifle pointed at her father, his face a mask of cold fury. "The thing is…" His voice came low and dangerous. "…I'm not sure I want you coming. I knew you were ruthless, but a man who would take his own daughter's life? That's not someone I can have around."
Jedidiah's eyes flashed with disbelief. "What are you saying, Mick? We're in this together. Always have been."
McPharland shook his head, the rifle’s aim never wavering. "Not anymore. I can't let you do this, Jed.”
Grace's pulse pounded. She hardly dared to breathe. Was this really happening? Was Jess's father actually standing up to hers?
Father’s expression shifted from surprise to calculation. "You're making a mistake, Mick." His voice had turned deceptively calm. "We're so close to getting everything we've worked for. Don't throw it away over some misguided sentiment."
McPharland's jaw clenched. "It's not sentiment. It's about having a line you don't cross. Hurting your own child…that's too far, even for the likes of us." His tone was hard as flint. “Sorry it has to end this way, but I have to protect my daughter. And yours too, even if you won't."
The gun exploded.
The deafening blast thundered as powder clouded around him. For a moment, everything seemed to still, the world holding its breath in the aftermath of the shot.
Then her father crumpled to the ground, his body hitting the earth with a dull thud.
CHAPTER21
Ascream caught in Grace’s throat as she stared at her father's prone form. Blood seeped from his chest, staining his coat in a wide crimson circle. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Couldn't move.
Dimly, she heard McPharland speaking, his voice low and urgent as he addressed Jess. "I won't make you come with me. You can stay with Coulter if that’s what you really want. But you can come home anytime.” He paused, gaze flicking to the barn door. “I have to leave before that shot brings people. I’ll take my men back, and I won’t bother the Coulters again. I give you my word."
Jess murmured something Grace couldn’t understand, and Grace forced herself to blink. To come out of this stupor so she could do something. Say something.
She barely caught the flash of Jess’s father as he sprinted past her. He slipped into the stall that led to the corral. And then he was gone.
Jess appeared in front of her, hands resting on Grace’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
Grace forced herself to focus on the question, then shook her head. Not outwardly. Inside, she couldn’t tell how bad things were. Could a person be numb and in agony at the same time? Cold had settled in her bones.
Gil would be here soon, surely. He must have been distracted when her father and McPharland slipped into the barn, but he couldn’t have missed the gunshot.
