Cured by Bethany Wiggins Page A

loosely in his hand and pointing at the ground. Everything seemed to slow down, like the universe had taken a deep breath and was holding it
.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Dad asked. The afternoon sun gleamed off his white, sleep-messy hair
.
    The man’s hands tightened on my chin and forehead, twisting my neck to the side just a bit and pulling my back against the front of his body. “All I want is for you to fix my tooth so I don’t die from infection. If you agreeto that, I’ll let your son go. But first I want your promise that I will walk away from here alive.”
    â€œAre you a raider?
” Dean asked.
    â€œWhy else would I ask you not to kill me?” The old man took his hand from my forehead and held it forward, showing his branded palm. Dean cursed and gritted his teeth
.
    â€œWe have helped raiders before.” Dad’s fingers twitched on his gun. “There is no need to hold my son’s life for ransom.”
    â€œWord is,” the raider said, “that one of my boys came to you for some work a little bit ago, but he never came back.”
    I shivered. I knew exactly who the old man was talking about. Dad paled. “He didn’t give me a choice. If my patients cooperate, they walk out of here alive—that’s a promise. But if they try to steal from me, or harm my family, we have no choice but to kill them. That promise stands for you as well.”
    The raider released me, and I fell to my hands and knees at his feet, too weak with fear to move. Air swished across my face, and the raider was on the ground beside me, eyes round with shock, and Dean straddling his chest. Dean shoved the barrel of his rifle into the man’s mouth and put his finger on the trigger, his eyes flashing with rage. He looked insane
.
    â€œIf you ever—EVER—touch my little brother again, you’ll be eating my bullets, old man!” He shoved his gun deeper into the raider’s mouth, making him gag and squirm. “Do you understand me?” Dean yelled so loudly that I flinched. The raider gurgled something. “Good. Because I don’t feel like blowing your head off in front of him.” He removed his rifle from the man’s mouth and then jerked him to his feet
.
    â€œPut this on over your eyes,” Dean said, pulling a red bandana out of hispocket and chucking it at the man. The raider did what Dean asked. Guided by Dean and Dad, the raider walked into the house
.
    A moment later, Josh came outside and helped me to my feet. Face grim, he brushed off my book and handed it to me. I sat down on the front porch and stared at Josh’s back as he kept watch. I was too wound up to read
.
    Two hours later, the raider was escorted out of the house. On the front porch, he pulled the bandana from his eyes and looked at Dean. “If you ever get bored here,” he said, “come and find me. I’m always looking for boys like you. I can promise you food and women.”
    â€œGet out of here before I break my dad’s promise not to hurt you,” Dean growled
.
    â€œSuit yourself.” He winked and smiled at me when he passed, showing me a silver front tooth
.
    â€œYou want your gun or not?” the cowboy asks, his silver tooth flashing.
    I dart forward and grab the gun. It is warm from his hand. I stare at the cowboy and wonder if he recognizes me. His smile widens to a grin and he shrugs, showing me both of his open palms. They are scarred from one side to the other, with no visible circle brand. But I don’t need to see the brands to know the truth: we have just walked into the enemy’s hands.

Chapter 8
    I raise my gun and point it at the cowboy. He smirks and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the booth. His boot starts tapping against the floor. “I don’t think you got it in you to shoot a man point-blank, Freckles.” I swallow and try to hold my gun steady.
    Bowen stands but doesn’t