Morgan caught up to Finn and grabbed Sophie’s reins. When he leaned over, he spoke as loudly as he dared. “When the time comes, Finn, you listen to me.”
Finn’s widening eyes were the only indication that he heard.
Jane watched Marcie tear two of her tea towels into long strips. She knew what he would do with them, and she warned Rabbit not to fight. He sat there like a stoic, accepting the restraints as Jane was ordered to bind his feet to the chair legs and then bind his hands to the spindle rail at his back.
Marcie stuffed part of his handkerchief in Rabbit’s mouth when Jane’s hands began to shake. He finished off binding the gag with the last strip from the towels and checked Jane’s work.
“There’s no reason we should be disturbed by the boy carrying on, and it’ll make that other fella crazy. Shall we go, Mrs. Longstreet? There’s five minutes waiting for you on the other side of paradise.”
Bile rose in Jane’s throat. “You said ten. You agreed to ten minutes.”
“What I agreed to is that ten minutes with me gets you five. You want ten, then you have to give me twenty. You think you can bring me up twice? There’s a whore in Rawlings who could do that, but I think she gave me the pox.”
Rabbit started to wrestle with his bonds. The chair jerked and bounced on the floor. The table jumped.
Jane shook her head. “Rabbit! Stop. Ten minutes. I can get us ten minutes. It could mean everything.” She bent and waited for him to meet her eyes. “You will not cry.” She kissed his forehead and brushed back his hair at the temples. “Whatever you hear, you will not cry.” She forced a smile. “You will get a stuffy nose and not be able to breathe. I am buying ten minutes so we can all breathe. Do you understand?”
He nodded. He closed his eyes when Jane used one corner of her apron to dry his wet lashes.
“That’s it, Rabbit. Keep your eyes closed.”
He did, and when he could stand it no longer, he opened them. Jane and Marcie were gone.
Finn’s route got them to the back of the bank without incident. It had also been his idea to ride in pairs as they approached because folks who might see them would have little concern about two riders. Four at once would have made people pay attention. Finn and Gideon were standing at the back door before Morgan and Dix dismounted.
Gideon rattled the door. “It’s locked but seems like it doesn’t have a bar, or someone forgot to bar it. That was careless.” He stepped aside and took a lock pick out of his vest pocket and handed it to Morgan. “You’ll need this. How many minutes left, Dix?”
Dix had to hold out his pocket watch at several different angles before he caught enough light to make out the position of the hands. He announced there were fifty-eight minutes remaining at the same time Morgan was opening the door.
Gideon gestured for Morgan to precede them. He got a good grip on Finn’s collar and pushed him forward. “We’ll go in together,” he told the boy. “Dix, you separate the horses like we talked about and keep an eye out here.” He closed the door.
“Matches?” asked Morgan. “I can’t see a damn thing.”
“I put them in Finn’s pocket. Go ahead, boy. You light one.”
Finn felt around in his coat pockets, found them, and struck one against a wall. “How about that, Mr. Longstreet. I didn’t even feel him put ’em there.”
Morgan did not waste a moment or his breath admonishing Finn about being too impressed by Gideon’s sleight of hand. He was already moving to the interior door that led into the lobby. Behind him he heard a heavy thud followed by a string of colorful curses from Gideon.
“We’re all right,” Finn called to Morgan. “It was just the iron bar that should’ve been across door. Your brother found it.” He hunched his shoulders as Gideon squeezed harder around the back of his neck. “Ow, mister. It ain’t my fault it fell on your foot. I didn’t knock it over.”
“I could’ve shot you. Shut up and keep going.”
Finn averted his head as he lit another match. He and Gideon hurried after Morgan.
“Blow it out,” Morgan said when they came up behind him in the lobby. “No more until we get to the manager’s office. There are no windows in there. Come on. We only have to get past the tellers’ cages. You can make them out well enough.”
Morgan swore under his breath as he came up on Mr. Webb’s office.
“What is it?” Gideon asked.
“It’s locked. I need the pick again.” He held out his palm. He was conscious of every second that ticked away until Gideon put the pick in his hand. Putting his shoulder against the door, Morgan inserted the pick and carefully twisted it. He felt the lock give. The knob turned in his hand.
“Give me the pick,” said Gideon. He pocketed it. When his hand came up, he was holding his gun. “Go on. What are you waiting for?”
Morgan realized he was holding his breath. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Then he opened the door.
Jane paused outside the open doorway to the room where Max was being held. She felt Marcie’s hand at the small of her back, urging her forward, but she resisted. Max was lying on the bed, staked out as though for human sacrifice. They had taken his boots. His hands and stocking feet were tied with strips from one of the sheets that Max had helped her take down from the clothesline. It did not seem possible that it had only been a few hours ago. Until Gideon made his announcement that they were guaranteed no more than one hundred minutes of life, time had passed very slowly indeed.
