said, and meant it. His memory of Father Salazar backing away from him in the execution chamber this morning returned, along with a flash of fire to Luke's gut.
"Go with God, my son," the priest had said.
So far, so good . Luke reached up to drag his fingers through his hair, surprised to find his bald scalp instead. He'd almost forgotten....
"Should I go with you?" Sofie asked quietly, meeting Luke's gaze.
They hadn't been separated all day, except for those few terrifying moments after she'd fallen during the storm. "If you want–"
"No, please," Dr. Wilson interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I really need Dr. Sofie here to help." He shot her a pleading look. "Please?"
"Dr. Sofie?" Her face reddened and she turned her gaze on Luke. "Of course, I'll do what I can. If only I could remember..."
"I understand." Dr. Wilson faced Zeke. "I'm sorry I can't go with you to the cemetery, but..."
"It's okay, Doc. I understand better'n most, I reckon."
Luke gave Sofie's hand a reassuring squeeze, hoping he could pull off this priest thing to Zeke's satisfaction. The old boy might have brought Luke and Sofie here against their will, but he was grieving and deserved whatever comfort any of them could offer.
Then Luke could run for his life.
He faced the grieving man, resigned to do whatever he could. "Let's go."
Without looking back at Sofie, he followed Zeke through the back door. "They took the missus over to the pastor's house for washin' and layin' out."
Luke's blood turned icy. "Zeke, if you have a pastor, and you aren't Catholic, then why do you want me to perform your wife's funeral?"
Zeke paused and shoved his hands into his pockets. Without looking at Luke, he gazed toward the mountains and said, "Pastor died last week, Padre, and his wife the next day."
What the hell kind of epidemic was this? Luke remained silent as they started walking again, angry with himself for not demanding more information before endangering Sofie and himself this way. If this was something other than smallpox, entering Redemption could prove as big a mistake as following that punk into a liquor store eleven years ago. Almost.
But Sofie...
Dammit, forget Sofie.
When Zeke started walking again, Luke followed in silence. This man's wife was dead, and all he wanted was a few moments of Father Salazar's time. So be it.
But once the funeral was over and darkness fell, all bets were off. Luke Nolan would hit the road again. Fast.
Determined, he kept pace with the lanky widower, until he stopped in front of a modest house built of stone. Zeke knocked once and removed his hat, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Candles burned on an upright piano across the room, and a small woman rushed toward them, tears trickling down her cheeks. Her red hair was piled high on her head, and like Mrs. Fleming, she wore an old-fashioned black dress that went to the tops of her shoes. Luke's earlier suspicions about Redemption being some sort of religious cult or retreat returned.
No electricity, no cars, old-fashioned clothes, so many non-immunized citizens... The evidence pointed toward something bizarre.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Judson," the woman said. "Fanny was one of my favorite people."
"Thanks, Miss Dora." Zeke lowered his gaze as the woman patted his hand reassuringly. "Lots of folks set quite a store by my missus."
"A priest? How fortuitous." Dora turned her attention to Luke and held out her hand. "It was good of you to come, Father. I'm Dora Fleming." She wiped her tears away.
Like mother, like daughter? "I'm...I'm Father Salazar," Luke said, still cringing inside each time he uttered the
"Go with God, my son," the priest had said.
So far, so good . Luke reached up to drag his fingers through his hair, surprised to find his bald scalp instead. He'd almost forgotten....
"Should I go with you?" Sofie asked quietly, meeting Luke's gaze.
They hadn't been separated all day, except for those few terrifying moments after she'd fallen during the storm. "If you want–"
"No, please," Dr. Wilson interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I really need Dr. Sofie here to help." He shot her a pleading look. "Please?"
"Dr. Sofie?" Her face reddened and she turned her gaze on Luke. "Of course, I'll do what I can. If only I could remember..."
"I understand." Dr. Wilson faced Zeke. "I'm sorry I can't go with you to the cemetery, but..."
"It's okay, Doc. I understand better'n most, I reckon."
Luke gave Sofie's hand a reassuring squeeze, hoping he could pull off this priest thing to Zeke's satisfaction. The old boy might have brought Luke and Sofie here against their will, but he was grieving and deserved whatever comfort any of them could offer.
Then Luke could run for his life.
He faced the grieving man, resigned to do whatever he could. "Let's go."
Without looking back at Sofie, he followed Zeke through the back door. "They took the missus over to the pastor's house for washin' and layin' out."
Luke's blood turned icy. "Zeke, if you have a pastor, and you aren't Catholic, then why do you want me to perform your wife's funeral?"
Zeke paused and shoved his hands into his pockets. Without looking at Luke, he gazed toward the mountains and said, "Pastor died last week, Padre, and his wife the next day."
What the hell kind of epidemic was this? Luke remained silent as they started walking again, angry with himself for not demanding more information before endangering Sofie and himself this way. If this was something other than smallpox, entering Redemption could prove as big a mistake as following that punk into a liquor store eleven years ago. Almost.
But Sofie...
Dammit, forget Sofie.
When Zeke started walking again, Luke followed in silence. This man's wife was dead, and all he wanted was a few moments of Father Salazar's time. So be it.
But once the funeral was over and darkness fell, all bets were off. Luke Nolan would hit the road again. Fast.
Determined, he kept pace with the lanky widower, until he stopped in front of a modest house built of stone. Zeke knocked once and removed his hat, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Candles burned on an upright piano across the room, and a small woman rushed toward them, tears trickling down her cheeks. Her red hair was piled high on her head, and like Mrs. Fleming, she wore an old-fashioned black dress that went to the tops of her shoes. Luke's earlier suspicions about Redemption being some sort of religious cult or retreat returned.
No electricity, no cars, old-fashioned clothes, so many non-immunized citizens... The evidence pointed toward something bizarre.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Judson," the woman said. "Fanny was one of my favorite people."
"Thanks, Miss Dora." Zeke lowered his gaze as the woman patted his hand reassuringly. "Lots of folks set quite a store by my missus."
"A priest? How fortuitous." Dora turned her attention to Luke and held out her hand. "It was good of you to come, Father. I'm Dora Fleming." She wiped her tears away.
Like mother, like daughter? "I'm...I'm Father Salazar," Luke said, still cringing inside each time he uttered the
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