A grin spread across his face. “Revenge,” he replied. “If it weren’t for you wasting space in this town, things would be different. Tim wouldn’t have made such a foolish decision to go against me, and Charlotte wouldn’t have been distracted by your strange type of charm, if it can be called that.”
“Then kill me and get it over with. But be forewarned that the marshal will know exactly who did it. You’ll swing from the highest tree in Weston, and most everyone will come to watch. I regret I won’t be in attendance, since I reckon it’ll be good entertainment. I can just imagine it, the noose tightening around your lily white neck and your tears dampening the rope before it repays your cowardice with death.”
Simon drew back his fist and punched Max so hard that he almost fell unconscious again. His head hung forward, and blood from his nose dripped onto his trousers. Though his voice sounded far away, Max heard Simon say something that sent a chill down his spine.
“I’ll be sure to relay your brave words to Tim as I beat him bloody and Charlotte when I fuck her in all three holes.”
*
Tim and Charlotte arrived at the house previously owned by Simon, and Charlotte felt her spirits sink as they neared. At any other time, the sight of children playing in the grass and a mother humming while hanging laundry would have been pleasant, but to Charlotte this meant only one thing—Max wasn’t there.
Tim came to the same conclusion at the same time because he said, “We’ll keep looking.”
He dismounted and spoke to the woman hanging laundry. He asked if he might look in her barn briefly, and the woman granted the small favor. Shortly after peeking inside, Tim walked back to Charlotte and the horse, shaking his head. He remounted.
They rode in the direction of town silently, each knowing that the other was deep in thought about where else Simon might have taken Max. The horse clipped along on the path at a cheerful pace that belied the misery of their journey. As they rode, Charlotte had an idea.
“Tim, I just remembered something. The day I was evicted, Simon informed me of a room for rent in a house. I can’t think why he would tell me about it, since it’s not in his nature to be helpful.”
“You’re right about that,” Tim replied. “Maybe he owns the house. Where is it, do you know?”
“A mile west of town, according to him. He described it as a green cottage with a white picket fence.”
Tim turned the horse around. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up, Charlie, but I think you might’ve figured out where Simon is keeping Max.”
Tim and Charlotte elected to walk the last quarter mile to the house in order to limit the chance of being spotted. The cottage could be seen in the distance. As they neared, it became clear to Charlotte that Simon’s description of the place had been exaggerated at best. The green paint peeled away from the wood, and nearly every white fencepost was broken or crooked. Weeds grew tall and thick along the path that led to the door.
A weathered barn stood a few paces away, and the door to it was open. Tim and Charlotte crouched behind a collection of tumbleweeds and observed the house and barn for a long while. Charlotte’s legs cramped from the position, but she didn’t dare shift lest the noise give away their presence. After what seemed like hours, they saw exactly what they’d hoped to see—Simon exiting the barn and walking to the house. As soon as he closed the door of the house behind him, Tim and Charlotte exchanged a look that they each read perfectly, and they crept at a light jog to the barn together.
Charlotte covered her mouth to stifle a scream when she saw Max’s slumped, unconscious body tied to a beam. They rushed to him. Tim pulled out a knife from his pocket. He sliced the twine above Max’s purple fingers as Charlotte observed with horror the caked blood in his dark hair.
“Quick,” Tim whispered to Charlotte. “We have to get him awake and out of here.”
“Max, darling,” Charlotte said through her tears. “Wake up.” She placed her palm on his hot forehead and trailed her fingers down his bruised cheek. He didn’t move.
Tim lightly slapped his face on the side that wasn’t bruised and shook his shoulder, to no avail.
“How will we get him out of here? We can’t carry him,” Charlotte said in a frantic whisper.
“No,” Tim agreed. He drew the gun from its holster on his right hip and said, “You keep trying to wake him. I’ll stand by the door and watch for Simon.”
Tim took his post by the barn’s door and Charlotte searched for some clean water. She found a bucket half full of water and sprinkled some on her tongue to test it. Clean enough. She hauled it over to where Max sat and ripped off a strip of her petticoat. After soaking it in the water, she proceeded to dampen Max’s face by pressing the cloth against his skin. He moaned and moved his head a little but still didn’t open his eyes. She soaked the cloth again and held it to a cut on his lip. His mouth opened and he began to suck the water from the cloth thirstily.