Yet sitting by John, I couldn't help thinking this was where I needed to be at the moment instead of racing around the countryside to find Running Bear.
"Uncle!" Philip's voice drew my attention. He rushed into the room, to John's other side. "What is it? Are you dying?"
"Show some respect, Philip. He's not dying," I snapped.
"Peace, children," John said. "I am dying, but it will not be today. When I am gone, you must care for my Josie, Philip."
"Of course, Uncle."
"Find her a suitable husband."
"I give you my word, John, that I will not allow her to marry any man who would shame the family. I will keep my eyes on her every action."
His statement sent a chill through me.
"Don't you worry about me," I urged and squeezed John's hand. "Worry about staying strong."
"Yes, my sweet Josie." John's eyes closed. His breathing remained steady, if shallow.
Unwilling to deal with Philip, I stayed at the side of my adopted father. Philip left a few minutes after John fell asleep. I studied John's haggard face, surprised by the intensity of the pang of longing that went through me.
What would it have been like to have a father as good as real-Josie's?
I frowned and ran my thumb over the loose, wrinkly skin of his hand. Checking my phone, I sent Carter a quick note to let him know I hadn't had any nosebleeds yet today. His response was fast.
Good. I almost have a solution.
Impressed by the genius, my doubt about him - triggered by my last interaction with the sheriff - was once more called into question. I hated overthinking anything. I would rather trust my intuition and my faith in humanity, but it was really hard to determine what was going on here. After the three days trapped in the house, I was restless for answers, to find what was in the bottom of the well, to talk to the Native American twins and uncover what the catalyzing event was that I was here to prevent.
Hell, I'd talk to Fighting Badger again, if it meant I learned something new.
But mostly, the same instinct that didn't want me doubting Carter also wanted me to talk to the sheriff, the sole person here who seemed to know something I really needed to. If only he didn't hang people at the drop of a hat …
"Miss Josie," a man said, entering.
I looked up. He was middle-aged, slender, and dressed in black, carrying a black bag. He rested the bag on the bed beside John and touched John's face.