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mouth told her that no one was going to baby this
prisoner. Lora realized he needed to be as stern with
himself as he was with her. She left without an argument.

    Sean told himself that he wouldn't be able to eat a
thing, but one taste of the eggs and bacon on the plate,
and the food disappeared like magic. He was sitting back
on the cot, the tray still beside him, when Duncan came
back.
    He unlocked the cell door and signaled Sean out with
his gun. Once by the desk Duncan handcuffed one of
Sean's wrists and closed the other cuff around a ring on
the wall.
    "Have a seat." The older man directed him to the chair
that sat beneath the ring. It wasn't the most comfortable
position, but Sean took little notice.
    He watched the sheriff take a seat behind the desk and
draw some papers out of a drawer.
    "What's your name?"
    It was the first of many questions, including everything Sean knew about the robbery and those involved.
It occurred to Sean that this man might be his ticket out
of here, so he didn't lie or try to protect his accomplices. He was quiet and somewhat respectful, but his anger at
Hartley made him feel like a kettle on the verge of a
boilover.

    After an hour's worth of questioning about Hartley,
the cabin, and the robbery, Duncan asked where Sean
was from.
    "Santa Rosa."
    "North of San Francisco, right?"
    "Yes, sir."
    The men stared at each other for the space of a few
heartbeats.
    "Where are your folks, son?"
    Not even his anger could hide the pain in the younger
man's eyes as he answered. "My mother is dead and last I
knew, my father," Sean's jaw tightened on the word,
"was in Hawaii."
    Duncan didn't reply to this right away. Sean was
unaware of how swiftly the other man's mind was moving. Angry or not, this kid knows he's done wrong, regrets it,
and knows he's going to have to be punished. The thought
startled Duncan.
    "How'd you meet Hartley?"
    "We met in Tulare. He sort of appeared out of nowhere
and offered me a job. I was tired and broke and he
bought me supper. Then we just sort of struck out together. How did you know it was Hartley?"
    "His style never varies. Middle of the night, dynamite, young men as accomplices."
    "He's robbed this bank before?" Sean was shocked.
    "Three times," the sheriff replied dryly.
    What a fool he'd been to think that Hartley had been
honest with him about anything. He'd certainly left him
fast enough when the bullets started to fly.
    "This is a reasonable time to warn you that you probably don't have a chance."

    "What do you mean?"
    "Only that the owner of the bank is tired of the robberies and believes that if they make an example of you,
Hartley will never be back. You see, he waits long enough
between robberies to make everyone relax. Just about the
time Witt pulls his night guards off duty, or has just one,
Hartley hits again."
    Sean assumed that Witt was the banker. He also figured
out that he had been the man who had not wanted to wait
last night. Wait for what? Sean had asked himself. Now he
knew they had been speaking of his hanging. Suddenly
Sean wished he hadn't eaten any breakfast.
    Duncan had been correct in assuming that Sean had
resigned himself to spending some time in jail, but Sean
had never considered being hanged. His calmness
abruptly disappeared, and the faces of his sisters sprang
into his mind. What would Kate and Marcail say? Would
they ever even know?
    Sean stood, his panicked heart hammering the walls
of his chest before he looked down at his cuffed wrist.
Duncan's heart turned over at the look of terror that
passed over his prisoner's eyes. He then watched in
fascination as the young man visibly worked at calming
himself. Sean sat back down and swallowed with difficulty, but when he spoke, his voice was even.
    "I have a sister in Santa Rosa. If I give you her address
will you contact her after-"
    "Let's not rush things," Duncan told him softly. "I just
wanted to warn you. If and when I need to contact