For a little while, Rider forgot about his troubles and simply had fun. He had known Deadshot for a while now and had never seen him smile or laugh so much. Maybe there was a lot more to the bounty hunter that he kept hidden.
Overall, it was one of the best days Rider had ever had, despite the circumstances, and to top it off, he had learned so much. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be as good a shot as Deadshot, but he was feeling optimistic.
Even if he couldn’t shoot like Deadshot, he would be able to protect himself and hopefully assist in getting his motherand sister back. Deadshot kept telling him that the odds of his mother and sister still being alive were slim to none, but Rider chose to believe that they were still out there somewhere. He had to.
That night, he slept well.
For the first time in a long time, his dreams weren’t plagued by images of that night, and when he woke up in the morning, he felt refreshed and ready to get going. Deadshot actually laughed at his enthusiasm, and Rider hoped that the dynamic between them was shifting.
Deadshot had said it would take them another three to four days to get to the closest town, and Rider was absolutely fine with that. He was hoping that as they traveled, Deadshot would teach him more.
“You really need to give that animal a name,” Deadshot said as they trotted over open plains.
“You’re probably right,” Rider agreed. He had been thinking about it, too. He had had Quincy’s horse for a while now, and he had come to love the animal. There was no way that he was ever giving him back. It was his horse now, and he deserved a good name. “What do you think of Atlas?” he asked.
Deadshot looked the horse up and down. “It suits him.”
“Atlas it is then,” Rider stated, patting the big horse on his shoulder. “How old do you think he is?”
“Not sure,” Deadshot replied with a shrug. “But he’s still relatively young.”
Rider liked that. It meant that he would have the animal as a companion for years to come. “He’s a Mustang, right?”
Deadshot nodded. “Sure is, and a fine one at that.”
“You think Quincy tamed him?”
“I don’t want to lie to you, kid. I have no way of knowing if Quincy tamed him, but it really doesn’t matter. He belongs to you now.”
“How did you get Bullseye?” Rider asked, still trying to get Deadshot to tell him more about himself.
Deadshot shook his head. “You really never keep quiet, do you?”
“I think we both know the answer to that,” Rider replied with a laugh, hoping that Deadshot wouldn’t get angry.
Deadshot joined in on his laughter. “My ears are never gonna be the same.”
“Come on then, tell me about Bullseye,” Rider encouraged, and finally, Deadshot gave in and revealed something more personal about himself. It was only about his horse, but still, it was progress.
Chapter 23
Isabelle sat on the floor watching her daughter. She had lost track of time, and if it wasn’t for the men bringing them food, she wouldn’t even have known whether it was day or night. What she did know was that they had been there for quite a while. It had to have been three, maybe four months. Days and nights had started bleeding together, and nothing mattered anymore. Any hope that she had left had disappeared, and the only reason she was trying to be strong was to keep Sarah going.
If it wasn’t for her daughter, Isabelle would have found some way to end her life. Such thoughts had never before crossed her mind, but they were in hell. Their bodies were broken, and their spirits were gone.
The men mostly brought the food at the same times every day: one meal in the morning, one at noon, and one in the evening. She knew she should be grateful that they weren’t allowing them to die of hunger, but starving would have been preferred to the alternative.
After Quincy had assaulted Sarah for the first time, he started coming by more often. He never did it in front of Isabelle. He always took Sarah to his room. He had never touched Isabelle again, and none of the other men had tried to touch Sarah. For that small mercy, Isabelle was grateful. There were a lot of men, and during their time there, more had joined. They all shared Isabelle, showing up at her and Sarah’s room whenever they wanted to and doing unspeakable things to her.
Isabelle hated every single one of them with a passion. She wished painful deaths upon them, but the men remained healthy and alive. The only thing that had changed was Sarah’s condition. During the last couple of weeks, she had started feeling ill, especially in the mornings. She had vomited on more than one occasion, and what confirmed Isabelle’s suspicions that her daughter was with child was the fact that she had missed her last monthly period.
“Please, no, Ma,” Sarah cried. “I can’t be.”
Isabelle pulled Sarah into her arms and hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry that any of this happened to you.”
Sarah pulled out of her arms and wiped her face. It didn’t help because she couldn’t stop crying. “He’s a monster. I can’t have a monster’s baby.”
“The baby is innocent in all of this,” Isabelle replied, hoping to give Sarah some comfort. “Quincy might be evil, but thebaby isn’t. There are many horrible people out there who have amazing children.”
