Jack’s body tensed as he waited for Ottilie’s reaction. He could cope with anything but her pity. He refused to be pitied by anyone, least of all a woman like Ottilie.
Her blue eyes softened, and she rested a hand on his forearm. “Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” Jack asked, still looking for signs of pity.
“For trusting me. Henry doesn’t know the truth, does he?”
“No one does, except Brandt. And that’s because the same thing happened to him.”
“You were both indentured to the same man?” she asked.
“Not exactly. Wardell was Brandt’s stepfather.”
“What?” Ottilie’s body jerked visibly. “But how could his mother allow her husband to inflict such cruelty on her son?”
“She was a frail and sickly woman,” Jack explained. “Wardell bullied and beat her into submission until Brandt was old enough to step between them and knock Wardell out cold.”
“Good for him.”
“But men like Wardell don’t take kindly to being humiliated, and he didn’t let it go unpunished. He waited a few days before surprising Brandt with his bullwhip.”
“How awful.” Ottilie breathed shakily. “Were you witness to it?”
“No, all that occurred well before I arrived in Texas. By the time I got there, Brandt and Wardell had come to an understanding. Brandt accepted the beating without retaliation and allowed Wardell to recover his bruised pride for his mother’s sake. But he made his stepfather understand that he would kill him if he ever laid a hand on him or his mother again.”
Ottilie lowered her lashes. “I’ve misjudged him.”
“Yes,” Jack said. “He’s a good man. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
She looked up. “What do you mean?”
Jack rubbed the forehead. “After I ran from the plantation, nothing could force me back. I didn’t care if Wardell beat me to death. I found out later that Brandt convinced him to put me to work on the cattle ranch instead. He offered to train me, and since Wardell wasn’t the type to waste what he paid for, he agreed. The ranch was only a short distance from the plantation—but a world of difference existed between the two. Brandt was a talented rancher and a lonely kid, so he took me under his wing, nursed me back to health, and taught me everything I needed to know about ranching.” Jack chuckled. “He was a good teacher, and I became a dang good cowboy.” He said in the American accent he’d learned to perfect but never adopted permanently.
“But you were only playing at it, weren’t you? You’re an Englishman at heart.”
“True. I never stopped yearning for home, and I never could have made it back without Brandt’s help. I knew if I stayed close to him and out of Wardell’s way, I would have some protection. Brandt kept his head down, but he never forgot what that monster did to us. He waited for the right time, and when it came, he got revenge. We both did.”
“What did you do?” Ottilie asked in a frightened whisper.
Jack’s thumb circled the rim of his glass. He could still hear Wardell’s screams as Brandt crushed the man’s injured shoulder under his boot…
He saw Brandt lean down and unclip the bullwhip from Wardell’s belt before using the tip of his boot to roll the wretch onto his belly.
“Move them horses,” Brandt instructed Jack. “I don’t want those geldings catching any of this.”
Jack took both horses by the reins and led them away. He turned to watch Brandt walk several paces back, raise the bullwhip, and bring it down with the full force of his arm across Wardell’s back. Wardell’s screams echoed in Jack’s ears.
“That one’s for me.” Brandt pulled back his arm and raised the whip again. “An’ this one here is for Jack.” He cracked the whip, and Wardell’s body convulsed in response to the second blow before it went limp.
Jack didn’t flinch. As far as he was concerned, Wardell deserved a lashing to the death.
“He still breathing?” Jack asked.
“Hell yes, dying’s too good for him. I hope he suffers good an’ long.” Brandt looked down at Wardell’s limp, bloody body. “I told you I’d get you, didn’t I?” Brandt spat. “Now, you can stay here an’ rot in the dirt or crawl back to your worm hole. Either way, I don’t care. Cause as soon as we’ve helped ourselves to them bags of gold you got stored in that old water well yonder, we’re done here.” A groan escaped Wardell’s lips, and Brandt snorted. “That’s right, you old miser. We know your secret.” Brandt kicked him in the ribs with the tip of his boot and spat on him for good measure. He clipped Wardell’s bullwhip to his belt and strode toward Jack and the horses.
“What are you going to do with that thing?” Jack motioned to the whip.
“Burn it,” Brandt said…
