Chapter 3Waking was an odd concoction, relief and aches rolled into a dull throb that settled in Ben’s bones. He opened his eyes without weariness, as he did every morning, but failed to recognize his surroundings for several moments. It wasn’t until his gaze settled on the man sprawled in a nearby chair that he remembered the events of the previous day. Being cut down from the tree. The jolting ride to the presidio. An evening both blurred by the sharp pain suffusing his body and sharpened by the joy at being free to fight Cullen another day.
All due to the kind spirit of Father Alonzo.
Ben had little exposure to clergy, though his father had talked often about his faith, especially right before his death took him away. From his stories, though, Ben had always envisioned men of the clot
