Chapter 22: Mad MaggieMargareatha woke to a mountain spring day spewing sunlight through the cracks in the shack's dingy, crowded interior. She focused sleep-bleary eyes on the opposite wall six feet away and sat up thinking about how much she wanted to sleep and how little she was able to sleep. When had she gone to bed? Dawn was starting to break when she stumbled in here. Jethro Collins didn't really want her sleeping in the storage shack, but screw Collins. He owed her for all the time she once spent on his inept attempt at keeping records for Red. Then she remembered why she couldn't sleep and doubled over clutching at her middle and groaning, “Why, God? Why them?”
The hurt inside was like it had been for months: a red hot iron claw raking up and down with a burning that never subsid
