He heard the governor say, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Caleb?’ his father called, his eyes searching. He soon found his son and rested his eyes on him, a smile on his face. Caleb found he couldn’t hold his gaze and looked away.

His father shouted, ‘Caleb! The Cahills are coming. Alright? I’ve pissed them off.’

The governor stepped closer to silence his father. The two men stood in heated discussion, but Caleb couldn’t hear the details.

At last his father got back in his car and spun the wheels into the gravel and took off in the opposite direction. As he drove away he stuck an arm out the window and waved at Caleb.

The governor stomped over to him and ordered him out of the group as the other prisoners watched. The governor said, ‘Get going, you lot. I’ll catch you up in a bit.’

They moved off, the car rumbling beside them, the guards within looking disgruntled. The governor stood before Caleb and said, ‘You hear your father say Cahill is coming back for you?’

Caleb stared him down. ‘And you’re going to let him again.’

‘Not after how he threatened Eve we’re not,’ the governor said. He raised his eyebrows and then his shirt and motioned with his eyes. Tucked into the front of his pants was a pistol. ‘I shouldn’t have done it.’

Caleb said nothing. Then, ‘Why did you then?’

‘It wasn’t the money,’ the governor said.

‘You should be in here with us.’ Caleb kept his voice down. ‘You’re just like us. Heard a thousand guys say that exact thing.’

The governor nodded. ‘Yeah. Eve getting her weapon out . . . I’ve been thinking about it all night. That was my doing. I let that bastard in.’

‘We’re all excuses.’

‘I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.’

They walked on to catch up with the rest of the men. Caleb thought of how different his father had seemed. Desperate. As if he risked everything to be here, to warn his son. The distance with which he’d always held himself gone. And Caleb, in the light of his father’s declaration, felt capable of something. Capable of forgiveness. Maybe of himself.

There was no taking back what he’d done. Instead, now, he could choose to spend what remained of his life on something worthwhile. And finally, some semblance of clarity coursed through him. A burden relieved from his shoulders with this new revelation. There was hope yet for him. Redemption.

They had come upon a house. Turning to the governor, he said, ‘I gotta take a dump.’

‘Go, then,’ the governor said.

‘Where?’

‘Over there,’ the governor said. ‘In those trees. I’ll wait here.’

‘You got toilet paper?’

‘Why would I have toilet paper?’

‘In case one of your prisoners needs to take a dump. Like right now.’

‘Use a leaf.’

Caleb glared at him and walked down the slight embankment, balancing with his good arm held out. The dew had made the grass slippery. His terror of Cahill, the possibility that he might arrive at any time, made his bowels tighten. He kept looking up at the road for cars. Not that he knew what Brendan drove.