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Page 296
Will's expression darkened. "Where my mother died? If that is what you wish."
"It is ordained." Thorn felt himself smile wryly. "But let me ask one thing, and I wish a truthful answer. A condemned man deserves that at least, does he not?"
"What is it?" Will sounded suspicious.
"Miss Walker. Mariah. Is she a friend of yours?"
"No." The young man spoke with no hesitation, and his tone indicated puzzlement. "How would I know her? I first saw her here at the inn, working for you." He hesitated. "She is a brave woman. In the face of Nahtana and the rest, she showed little fear. Even threatened them with the doomed fate of Indians, though they did not seem to understand. She kept our spirits from faltering . . . much. But, no, I did not know her before. Is that important to you?"
His voice took on a hard tone, as though he would change his mind if Thorn indicated his knowledge of Mariah was important. His hatred would require that.
But Thorn shrugged. "I was merely curious. She seemed to know how you felt about me."
"I made that clear while we were in captivity. I think she hoped . . . well, your helping to save us did not change my mind about what I planned. You should have saved my mother instead."
"I understand." Thorn poured Will more rum. "Get your strength back. Someday soon we will see about our duel." He left the common room.
Outside, night had started to fall. From beyond the palisade, Thorn heard the sound of an owl, and he stopped to listen.
It came again. It sounded real. Thorn doubted the Indians would return for a while, and it was not their calls that he heard.
He peered into the smokehouse. The fire smoldered as it should.
He closed the door behind him and sat down in the heat, inhaling the aroma of curing meat.
Mariah had been right about Will. She had not met him before. The lad wished to kill Thorn.

 
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