Brackett seemed to have awakened fully. He swrung his legs out of the bed and set his feet on the floor. “How do I know you’re doin’ this for Farley? How do I know you’re not here to take the money and light out with it?”

Andy reached into his shirt pocket. “Got a letter from him to you. He was aimin’ to send Shanty, but I’ve come instead.”

“Shanty? That darkey?” The thought seemed to puzzle Brackett. He unfolded the letter but could not read it in the poor light. He reached toward a lamp.

Andy said, “I wouldn’t light that. Might cause the guards to come in and see what’s goin’ on.”

Brackett tried holding the letter close to the window but still could not read it. “I’ll have to take your word. I reckon if you weren’t honest, Shannon wouldn’t have put up with you for so long.”

He pulled a pair of trousers over his bare legs and half buttoned them. “The money’s in the parlor, hidden in the back of a drawer.”

“I hope you can get it without rousin’ up the guard on the porch.”

Brackett’s weight made the floor squeak more than it had under Andy. Andy stood in the hallway, his back to the wall beside the parlor door, and watched the guard. The slump of the man’s shoulders indicated that he might be asleep, but Andy knew he could not count on that.

He heard the desk drawer slide, wood dragging upon wood. It rattled as Brackett reached inside. Andy heard the drawer being closed again, slowly and carefully.

All the caution went for nothing, because Brackett knocked something off of the desk. It crashed on the floor. Andy’s heart leaped.

He heard a woman’s startled cry from one of the bedrooms. The guard jumped to his feet, pistol in his hand. Mrs. Brackett came into the hallway, carrying a lighted lamp. Andy desperately signaled for her to blow it out, but it was too late. The guard stood in the front door, eyes wide.

Andy recognized Buddy Oldham.

Jeremiah came out of the parlor. Buddy took a quick glance at him and jumped off of the porch. He turned and fired a wild shot into the hallway. He shouted, “Git him, Clyde. It’s F’arley Brackett!”

Andy realized that in his confusion Buddy had mistaken the father for the son. Both Oldhams fired again. Elnora Brackett gasped and dropped the lamp. It smashed, spreading kerosene on the floor. Flames hungrily followed the flow.

Clyde Oldham shouted, “We got him. Shoot! Shoot!”

A dozen shots exploded from the darkness, smashing into the walls.

Bethel rushed from her bedroom and gasped in horror. She ran to her mother, twisted on the floor. Andy helped her drag Elnora away from the flames.

Jeremiah hobbled to the door, waving his arms. “Stop firing! You’ve hit my wife!”