In the barn, he flags over a man—it’s the potbellied referee. Got a pair of eyeglasses sitting low on his bumpy nose. Reading glasses. Wayman calls to him: “Charlie, got one here.” Charlie holds up a finger as he stares over his nose at a clipboard.

“Where’re your boys?” Atlanta asks. “Your nephews.”

“They’re not cut out for this,” he says with a sniff. “Bird’s too frail. More sparrow than sparrow hawk. And Bodie, well. Bodie’s maybe a little too cut out for this. I figured he needed some time to himself.”

The ref—Charlie, apparently—comes over with a choke chain, moving toward Whitey.

Whitey no likey. He lowers his head, shows his teeth. Charlie pauses.

Wayman just laughs. “Thatta boy. That’s the fighter spirit for which I paid most handsomely.”

“What’s going on?” Atlanta asks.

“Need to put the dog in a cage,” Charlie says, real matter-of-fact.

“What? I didn’t agree to that.”

Wayman claps a hand on her shoulder—less gentle than the shake. Feels like she might collapse under his hand like a jacket knocked off its hanger. “Miss Burns, this is how it’s done. The fighting dogs can’t be wandering around. They wait in the cages till the Show starts. Safest place for the animal is in one of those cages.”

She seethes. “Until the fight, you mean.”

“Now, you’re not having second thoughts about this, are you?”

“And what if I am?” Her body, starting to tremble at his touch, quivers with the fear that she made a big mistake.

“Then I’d say it’s too late for all that because here you are and here I am, and we had a deal that I’d hate to see fall apart at the last minute. My disappointment would be keenly felt.”

“No second thoughts,” she says.

“Good. Charlie, give her the choker, let her take the dog over.”

Charlie squints at her from behind those reading glasses, sizes her up, then hands her the bundled chain. She waves it off, instead going over to an open cage and calling Whitey over with a quick whistle. The dog complies, keeping an eye on the others as he walks over.

She scratches him behind the ear. “Into the cage,” she says. “I won’t let anybody hurt you. I promise.”

Whitey licks her face.

Then he steps into the cage.

Seeing him in there about chops her heart in half. A log split under a heavy axe.