“Now, you shut up. Don’t make a sound.”

It was a huge mistake for him to tell her this, because it implied that whoever heard her would want to help her. It was also a huge mistake on his part to think his threat would be enough to silence her. She drew in a huge breath and then let it out in one ear-ripping scream. And she made it a word, so none of the people she imagined might hear her could write it off as an owl or a train or anything but a human. “Heeeeeelp me!” she shrieked.

The rain stopped.

After a second’s shock, he backhanded her, but she drew in another breath, keeping her feet with some difficulty, and she yelled, “Help! Help!” She fell.

Lights came on maybe ten yards from where the truck was parked, and there were sounds, and then a man dashed out the back door, a thin man, with a rifle in his hands. In his other hand he held a big flashlight, and he shone it on Fiji, now sprawled on the wet ground, and her captor, who was bending over her with his fist raised.

“Price! What the hell you doing!” the man barked. She could tell he was older by his voice and the way he walked.

And she heard a woman’s voice, too, calling, “Bart? Who is it?”

“Mamie, it’s Price, and he’s hit some woman.” The older man shone the light directly in Price’s face. “Son, this is low, even for you.” He drew closer.

“Here, young lady, let me help you up.” The new arrival bent over to assist Fiji, who felt ridiculously embarrassed to have a man of his age helping her. She felt the reflex of shame that she was a round woman and not a skinny one, and therefore harder to get off the ground. But Bart Eggleston was stronger than he seemed, and soon she was on her feet, mud and grass plastered to her clothes, her hair soaking wet. And still handcuffed.

Price Eggleston was ominously silent while this was going on. Fiji had not known him long, and she’d evaluated him as being not too bright. But he’d been leading a pack of men, and she should have factored that in, she realized.

He said, “Mom, Dad, this doesn’t concern you. This woman is not a Christian and she doesn’t support our cause. There are certain things I have to do that I’m not proud of, and this is one of them.”

“You have to throw a poor young white woman into the dirt and keep her out in the cold?” his mother said caustically. Price’s mother had very black hair and dark eyes, but she was a pale woman. Probably doesn’t tan because she thinks she might be taken for a Mexican, Fiji thought.