He heard Red’s voice. “That you, Tim?”
“Yes.”
“If they don’t let us out of here, I’m afraid I might be sick.”
Tim reached into the pocket of his blouse and brought out a couple of blackstrap molasses cakes. “Eat one of these.”
Red took the leathery cake and mumbled thanks.
The door of the railroad car slid open. Tim breathed deeply.
The old man’s voice rose above the others. “Get out of the cars.”
The prisoners climbed stiffly from the cars and formed loose ranks along the platform. “This place smells like an orchard in early spring,” Tim said.
“A sinkhole would smell like heaven after that trip.”
“Quiet,” the scar-faced sergeant said. “The captain is mean as the devil tonight. Your welcoming committee isn’t here.”