Excerpt from Barbed Wire Heart by Tess Sharpe, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Beyond him, in the barn, I can see the blood pooling, fast and dark on the ground next to what's left of Ben's head. It lolls to the side, his open eyes facing me. He looks confused. Like he expected Daddy to let him go.

I swallow hard.

It's way worse up close.

Daddy looks at me, his 9mm still raised. Then he looks over his shoulder at Ben and the expanding puddle of blood. Daddy steps to the side, blocking my view of Ben's face. "Baby," he starts. "How long…" He stops. "Sweetheart," he tries again. "I—"

I keep staring at the blood, because even though I've helped Daddy field-dress deer, it's never been this much. It's dark and thick, like paint. But it smells sharp, like copper, like life, soaking into the ground.

"Harley-girl," Daddy says, gentle, the voice he uses when he reads me stories in bed.

I'm going to throw up again. I grit my teeth and manage to swallow the bile down this time, my throat working furiously, sweat popping out on my face. I sway on the spot, and then Daddy's hands are picking me up around the waist and I go limp, I don't even try to fight.

I'm too scared of what this new—no, this old, hidden—Daddy will do if I try.

He's silent the whole time he carries me up to the house, up the stairs. He sets me on my bed and pulls my boots off, and I just sit there shaking and let him. He swaps my vomit-stained clothes for one of my sleep shirts before pushing me gently on the shoulder so I'll lie back on the bed. I think about Ben's blank eyes, and for the first time in my life, I shrink from Daddy's touch, but he doesn't notice. I expect him to leave after he tucks me in, but he stays sitting next to my bed for a long time.

It's only when he stands up after what seems like hours later when I get the nerve to say it. Daddy's silhouetted in the doorway, about to shut the door, when I blurt it out: "He told you what you wanted. You didn't have to."

I hear his sigh, but I can't see his face, hidden in shadow. He leans against the doorway, his shoulder pressing against the frame. "A life for a life," he says. "Only way, Harley-girl."

A life for a life. Ben's life for Momma's.

"Does that mean you're not going after Springfield?" I ask.

Daddy shifts from foot to foot in the doorway. "I have to," he says.

"But—"

"He took your momma away from us," Daddy reminds me gently.

As if I could forget.

"But you said you wouldn't hurt Ben's family."

Daddy straightens, rising from the doorframe. He looks huge, like a shadow himself. I still can't see his face, but when he speaks, just two words, it's like gravel: "I lied."

Two

June 6, 7 a.m.

Each morning, I walk the land.

I take a rifle, slung over my back, because there's always trouble of the animal or human kind brewing. I switch up my routes every few days. I can't cover all six hundred acres. Some mornings, all I do is patrol the border fences that run along the north end, the slap of canvas against my legs like a heartbeat. Duke's jacket is too big for me, but I wear it anyway, the sleeves rolled up three times so my hands are free.

This morning, I hike deep into the forest, Busy at my side. She bounds ahead of me, her whip of a tail lashing back and forth, snub nose glued to the forest floor, sniffing out the trails of deer and mountain lion.

I walk behind her, the crunching of my feet across branches and dry pine needles mingling with the squawks of the magpies waking up. The air is crisp in my lungs and the ground is steep, my foothold steady. Each step draws me closer, red dirt crumbling beneath the pressure of my boots as I climb.

Excerpted from Barbed Wire Heart by Tess Sharpe. Copyright © 2018 by Tess Sharpe. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.