Ambush At Dry Gulch. Joanna Wayne

      Slugging her for simple mistakes like scorching his shirt when she was ironing it or not scrubbing the kitchen floor as clean as he wanted it. Always hitting her somewhere the bruises could be hidden beneath her clothes.

      On other occasions, he wouldn’t tell her what she’d done wrong but would lock her in a room for days with only tepid water to drink. And yet she’d stayed with him. Now he was back again.

      “I can’t believe he has the gall to contact you,” Carolina said, “much less to keep harassing you. On second thought, knowing Thad, of course he had the gall. What did he say?”