The reverend heard people come and people go. But he was in too much pain and suffering, too much humiliation to call out. Lauters had beaten him good. Beyond his shattered nose, nothing seemed to be broken but his pride. But he hurt all over. His face was a swollen purple and yellow mass of bruises. One eye was closed. He was missing two teeth. There was a lump on top of his head the size of a baseball and his nose was a bloody flap.
He didn't want anyone seeing him like this.
He heard the doctor come and go. He heard Lauter's wife and her cousin come and go. He was thankful that neither tried to look for him. To be seen like this…it was unthinkable. They would ask questions and how could he answer? If he said who did it, Lauters would expose him for what he was.
The reverend couldn't allow that.
There were only two possible choices: Either get out of Wolf Creek and give up all he had worked to build for so long or get rid of the man who had done this to him.
Kill Lauters?
It was unthinkable, yet it was exactly what he was thinking-kill the bastard. But how? How in God's name could he kill a man who was both handy with a gun and his fists?
The reverend wasn't sure. But it had to be done.