"You're full of it," Thelma said.
"The question isn't whether you're a liar, the question is whether you're lying about Wesley being dead. And the consensus is, yes."
"Well, you'll just see." She scooted backward to get out from under the shelter. "Let's go. Come on. You'll see."
"No hurry," Kimberly told her.
"Well, maybe I'm in a hurry." No longer crying, she now seemed to be in a huff. "Nobody's gonna believe me, and you're all gonna keep on treating me like some kind of a leper till this is settled."
"Nobody's treating you like a leper," Kimberly said.
"You're not a leper," Billie said.
"You're a traitor," Connie said.
"That's exactly right," Kimberly said. "A traitor. But we're giving you the benefit of the doubt because you're my sister."
"What benefit of the doubt?"
Kimberly paused a moment, then said, "We probably ought to execute you."
"What!"
"Kill you. The way I see it, you committed a capital offense when you helped him escape from our ambush. If you weren't my sister -- and Dad's daughter -- I would've probably killed you by now."
Thelma suddenly looked as if she might throw up. "You're kidding," she murmured.
"Do you think so?"
Connie smirked and said, "I don't think she's kidding."
"We're being easy on you," Kimberly went on. "We're giving you a second chance. But you'd better not be lying about Wesley."
"He's dead and I killed him! I'm not lying about that! If you don't believe me, let's go right now!"
"Maybe tomorrow," Kimberly said.
Which took us all by surprise.
"Or the day after tomorrow," she added.
We all stared at her.
"Shouldn't we get it over with?" I asked. "I mean, it'll be really nice to know for sure. If he is dead, we won't have to worry about him sneaking up on us . . ."
"I'd sure like to know," Billie said.
Thelma brightened. She obviously had the impression we were on her side. "See?" she said. "They're for going now."
"We haven't heard from Connie yet," Kimberly said.
Connie grimaced. "I'm not going anywhere. Are you kidding me?"
"Is it okay if we leave you here?"
"Alone? I can't stay here alone. This whole deal might be a trick. Maybe the minute you're gone, Wesley comes out and gets me."
"Don't worry," Billie told her. "We won't leave you by yourself."
"I'm not going with you looking for his body. I can't. I'm too . . . I feel like shit." She fixed her eyes on Thelma. "Thanks to you, you stupid fuck."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry. Can't tell you how much 'sorry' helps the throbbing pains in my head and neck and shoulder and arm and . . . I'm one big fucking pain from head to toe, thanks to you. So don't give me 'sorry.' Piss on you."
Kimberly held up a hand. "We won't make you come with us," she said. "Not in your condition. And it'd be stupid to leave your mom or Rupert behind to protect you. We don't want to be splitting up our forces like that. What I suggest is that we stay put. We wait a day or two before we go out and . . ."
"A day or two!" Thelma blurted. "That's ridiculous!"
Kimberly raised her eyebrows. "He isn't going to walk away, is he?"
"No! Of course not!"
"If you hadn't busted up Connie with that rock, we could go right now."
Thelma scowled.
"So we'll wait until Connie can travel?" Billie asked.
"Yep."
Billie smiled. "That sounds like a pretty good idea."
"Thanks."
Connie, an oddly sly smile on her face, added, "It'll give Wesley time to die."
We all looked at her.
"We don't really believe she killed him," Connie explained, "but we know he's badly hurt. Maybe he's not getting better. Maybe he's getting weaker all the time, and has some infections setting in. I mean, that could happen to me, you know? Which is what made me think of it."
"It won't happen to you," Billie told her. "You're going to be fine."
"Yeah, I guess. I'm not too worried. But I have all you guys son of taking care of me. Wesley doesn't have anyone. We've got Thelma, so she isn't there to help him. Long as we've got her, he's on his own. If we give him enough time, maybe he'll just waste away and die without us ever having to touch him again."
"That's right," Kimberly said. "But even if he isn't wasting away, it might screw him up if we don't come looking for him right away."
"He'll think something went wrong," I added.
Billie grinned. "Something did go wrong."
"You're all crazy," Thelma said. "He's dead."
"He'd better be," Kimberly said. "That's another thing about our waiting period -- it'll give you time to reconsider. Maybe you'll want to change your story."
"There's nothing to change."
"You'd better think about that. If you didn't kill him, you'd better let us know before we pay a visit to his body. If we get there and find out you've led us into a trap, there's gonna be hell to pay."
"I'm not lying."
"In the meantime, we can't exactly treat you like one of the gang. Go get some rope, Rupert, would you?"
"From the tomahawks?"
"No, we'll need to keep using those. Bring over what's left of the hanging rope."
"What're you gonna do?" Thelma asked.
I'd started to scoot out from under the shelter, but I didn't want to miss anything, so I stopped.
"Tie you up," Kimberly answered.
"Tie me up?" Thelma sounded shocked.
In a calm voice, Billie explained, "You're his accomplice. What do you expect?"
"I killed him."
"Yeah, right," Connie said.
"Rupert," Kimberly said. "The rope?"
"Oh. Okay." I went ahead and left them. I ran across the sand, found the remaining length of rope among the supplies, snatched it up and hurried back toward the shelter.
Approaching it; I heard Thelma complaining, ". . . stayed out in the jungle by myself, if I'd known you were going to treat me like a criminal."
"Maybe so," Kimberly said.
"You should've," Connie said.
"You want to do the honors?" Kimberly asked me.
"Sure." I ducked under the roof.
"Go ahead and tie her hands in front, for now. We'll see how it goes. If she gives us any trouble at all, we'll put 'em behind her. Do you hear that, Thelma? You don't want them behind your back, do you?"
"No."
"Then you'd better cooperate."
I knelt in front of Thelma. She glowered at me and held out her hands. I bound them together, wrapping the rope around her wrists, going in and out between them in a figure-eight pattern. I made it tight enough to keep her secure, but tried to avoid cutting off her circulation.
When I was done, a lot of rope was left over.
I picked up the hanging tail. "What about this? Should we cut it off? I could tie it around her feet, or . . ."
"Maybe just let it hang," Billie suggested. "That way, we'll have something to grab hold of if she tries to run."
"A leash for the bitch," Connie said.
"You're all just horrible," Thelma said. "How can you do this to me? I know I made a little mistake, but . . . I'm all beat up. It isn't fair. You saw what he did to me. How can you tie me up? I saved you. I saved you all from Wesley, and . . . you're treating me this way. You're horrible."
"Why don't we put a gag on her?" Connie suggested.
"No!"
"Then do yourself a favor," Kimberly said, "and stop whining."
Thelma shut her mouth and turned its corners down.
Soon after that, we broke up. Thelma wanted to lie down, so Kimberly, Billie and I led her over to her sleeping place. We helped lower her onto the bed of rags. She curled on her side. With her tied hands up close to her chin, she looked like she was about to start praying. But then she plucked up the end of a beach towel -- one of the several towels we'd brought along on the picnic -- and covered her face with it.
"Don't get up without asking," Kimberly told her.
"Go away and leave me alone," Thelma said through the towel.
Kimberly crouched beside her. "Look," she said, "cut the attitude. We're being damn nice to you, under the circumstances."