Tim heard the whine of a dog. MacNeil’s voice had an edge of impatience. “They shall have a meal and a good night’s sleep. They’ll have a spell of bread and water back in Richland Jail.”
“If I had my way I’d break their spirits now.”
“Good night, Kane.”
Kane mumbled sourly. There was still enough light so that Tim could see the dark shapes of the man and his dogs as they moved into the gathering dusk.
Tim heard the slam of MacNeil’s front door. He lowered the window and turned down the lamp and opened the door a crack.
The light in the hall was dim, but he could see the guard lean forward in his chair, his pistol pointed at the crack. “You can come out now, hands in the air.”
Tim did as he was told. The guard said, “Now stand there by the door.”
Red was stirring about inside his room. His voice came loud. “I’m coming out.”
Red winked at Tim. The prisoners walked down the staircase ahead of the guard. Their host waited for them in the hall.
“Good evening,” he said. “Did you rest well?”