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shoulder and frowning like some petulant kid.
    “I found it! You can’t have it! It’s mine!” Emmett shook his head and
backed away, his eyes wide and focused only on Cotton. That was his mistake.
The other guards fell on him like a pack of wolves, but showed a lot less
mercy.
    Hank stood and watched the men beat Emmett into submission, knowing all
too well that if he tried to help the feeble minded man he’d get twice the same
as punishment.
    Cobb was smiling now, a tight little slash of sadistic pleasure. He
didn’t let it show too often, but his penchant for violence was always there.
Hank figured it was half the reason he was a guard, it gave his nastier
tendencies a place to express themselves.
    “Now, look what you did, Emmett. Time for you to go explain why you’re
acting like a baby to the warden.”
    Emmett shook his head, his face already swelling and one eye blackened
shut, on the verge of tears. Cobb and two more guards hauled him away, while
the rest of the prisoners and their keepers watched.
    While all eyes were on Emmett and the guards, Hank glanced down at the
treasure he himself had found, and then hastily shoved it into his pocket. The
fine links of the chain were silver and the centerpiece, a medallion of the
same precious metal, was studded with at least five small emeralds that were as
clear and beautiful as a glass of ice water.
    Hank started digging again, his skin suddenly cold. He didn’t know how
the necklace had gotten there and he didn’t much care. He just knew he’d have
to find a way to keep it safely hidden away until his sentence was up. A piece
like that could make a man’s destiny go in all new directions.
    The work went on and Hank kept digging, losing himself in the labor.
If he focused on the task at hand, he could resist looking at the fortune he
had sitting in his pocket.
    Sweat cut lines through the dust that adhered to his skin, but in time
the guards called everyone in from the field and loaded them back onto the
trucks. Nearly everyone was quiet after what had happened to Emmett earlier
and especially after Pritcher got his head blown off. Best to keep quiet and
not draw attention to yourself.
    Or maybe it’s more than that.
Maybe some of these guys are so quiet because they found things in the field,
too.
    The thought wouldn’t leave Hank alone as he looked at the other
prisoners in the truck. They weren't just tired, they were still. Quiet and
careful. The more he thought about it, he could easily believe they were
hiding something. Even the guards seemed to notice, a few of them sitting
straighter than usual, gripping their weapons tighter than they normally did at
the end of a work day.
    Guilford was as warm and welcoming as an outhouse after a flood. Home sweet home . Hank ate his meal in
silence and watched the prisoners around him do the same thing. There was only
one source of distraction in the camp during the meal of bread, water and what
was supposed to be beef stew: Emmett kept up a litany of screams and howls from
the Hole. Most times the noises he made were almost funny, but this time the
poor bastard sounded so miserable that it frayed at the nerves.
    The entire prison was jittery and anxious. It had been a weird couple
of days. A violent couple of days.
    The Hole was a miserable little cell in the ground, smaller than a root
cellar and befouled by human waste that had nowhere else to go. No one ever
wanted to stay in the place, which was exactly why the warden used it as a
method of punishment. When the meals were done and the guards watched Hank and
the rest of the prisoners head for their cells, Emmett started begging for someone,
anyone to help him get free. No one dared.
    Emmett’s howling kept on until after the sun had set, and Hank did his
best to adjust to the sounds. He closed his eyes and settled in on the cot
provided for him and he even wrapped the thin pillow around his head in an
effort to block out the noises.
    Eventually he managed