“Do you realize—”
“Don’t argue with me on this, Nate. We may have only one shot. A woman’s life is on the line. Hit me. Please.”
“No!”
“You’d do it if I was a guy.”
“Probably. But you’re not a guy.” Boy, didn’t he know it….
“Quit being so damned sexist! I want you to hit me. And make it visible. A black eye, a bruised cheek, a split lip. Otherwise, you’ll just have to do it again.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I’m not.”
His scowl deepened. “I really have to do this?”
“We’re running out of time!”
“Son of a bitch.” He doubled his fist and pulled back to swing, but when she flinched, he lowered his hand. “It’s no use. Even if I were angry, I couldn’t hit you.”
“Nate, Martha’s counting on us! We’re all she’s got.” Tears gathered in her eyes. She knew what it was like to be alone, to have no one when she needed a friend. She wouldn’t abandon Martha or anyone else. And she wouldn’t risk her own life without a cover she could sell. “Pretend I’m a man. Come on, you big pu**y. Hit me! Or maybe I’ll really fall in love with you. Then where will you be?”
“I can’t!” Shaking her off, he started around to the driver’s side. He wasn’t going to do it. If she wanted the evidence of injuries, she’d have to make it happen herself.
Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes closed and yanked the door open, hitting herself in the face so hard it knocked her to the hot pavement. She lay there blinking up at the sky and saw stars even though it was only midafternoon.
“Shit,” she muttered. That door had felt like a sledgehammer. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but the pain radiating through her skull made it difficult to think.
Nate was beside her in a second. He helped her to her feet, then pulled her into his arms. “You’re one crazy chick,” he whispered, holding her tight. “Are you okay?”
She’d split her lip, just as she’d wanted. She could taste the blood, feel it begin to swell. “I’m f-fine.” She was tempted to laugh at how rattled she was. She’d been involved in some fights but, thanks to her martial-arts training, she’d never taken such a direct hit. “Thanks for n-nothing,” she teased.
“I never dreamed you’d… Just hang on. The fog will clear in a minute.”
She tested her jaw and, fortunately, found that it worked. “Wow. Maybe I was a little too determined.” She added a weak laugh but her head was still spinning and her stomach threatened to rebel.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” But she no longer had the strength to stand on her own. So she stayed where she was, her face against his chest. She was bleeding on his T-shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He actually brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought you out here,” he said. Then he tilted back her head to check the damage and cursed again before helping her into the truck.
The bumpy ride jarred Sarah to the bone. She sat rigid in the passenger seat, trying not to think about Martha slumped over behind her. To the casual observer, it probably looked as if her friend was sleeping. But Sarah knew better. After she’d led Martha around to the back of the store, Bartholomew had grabbed her and covered her mouth with a handkerchief. A few seconds later, Martha’s eyes had rolled back in her head and she’d sagged to the ground. Obviously, there’d been some chemical on the white linen. Sarah guessed it was the chloroform they used to fumigate the grain in the storage bins, which worried her. Chloroform was dangerous. If Bartholomew had used too much, Martha might never wake up….
“When will she come around?” she asked, nibbling at her bottom lip while watching the minute hand on her watch move slowly toward seven.
Bartholomew paid no attention. He pulled off the highway and tied Martha up. Then he started driving again.
“Bart?” For some reason she couldn’t call him “Brother.” He didn’t feel like her brother. Right now, she couldn’t respect him at all.
“What?” He acted as if he hadn’t just ignored her.
“When will she come around?”
“It doesn’t last long. Ten or fifteen minutes.”
“It’s been nearly twenty.”
“She’ll be fine.”
He didn’t seem to care one way or the other, which increased Sarah’s panic. This didn’t feel like God’s errand as he’d said it was. This felt like the bitterest of betrayals. “How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“What if she’s not fine?”
“If God has taken her, that’s His will.”
But it wasn’t God who’d done this.
“That was even easier than I hoped,” he muttered with a glance at Martha’s prone body.
It wouldn’t have been easy without her, Sarah thought. Martha’s hair and clothes were unkempt, and she’d lost weight, suggesting she’d been severely unhappy since the stoning. Most people would be unhappy after being torn from their loved ones. But the second Martha had spotted Sarah, her eyes had lit up and she’d rushed forward to clasp Sarah in a tight hug—
What have I done? Sarah asked herself. But deep down, she knew. Being part of the Covenanters was no longer about faith and testimony and building a unique and wonderful place. Somewhere along the line they’d lost all that, if they’d ever had it to begin with. This was a farce, the greatest lie she’d ever been told. She had to figure a way out—not only for herself but for Martha.
She studied Bartholomew. With both hands firmly on the wheel and his gaze fixed on the highway, he didn’t react, even when Martha began to regain consciousness. But the moment Sarah heard her friend stir, she went weak with relief. At least Martha wasn’t dead. At least it wasn’t too late to correct this terrible mistake.
Martha groaned and Sarah reached back to put a hand on her leg. She hoped to extend some comfort, to communicate that everything would be okay. She was going to do something about this, something she should’ve done long ago and would have, if she hadn’t been wearing religious blinders. She’d wanted to believe in the ideals she admired—wanted to believe so much she’d ignored the fact that Ethan was using religion to manipulate her and everyone else.