“Do you think feeling bad is enough? You were a part of this whether you shot him or not.”

He digs the toe of his boot along a crack in the porch floorboards. “That’s why I’m trying to make amends. I may be Sheriff’s number two, but I don’t like his politics. I don’t mind rustling criminals, but I can’t abide this. Taking you to see your ma is the only decent thing I can think of to make up for what I did.”

I dig deep for more fury, but the wellspring runs dry.

Then it dawns on me. If Clay’s not our enemy, he might be useful. A plan hatches. I look down the road toward town. “You said you want to help us, right?”

Clay stands straighter, thumbs in his belt loops. “Yeah.”

“Good.” My mind’s still reeling. I take a few steps across the porch, swivel on my heel and face Clay again. “Where they keeping my family?”

Clay’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Now hold those flyin’ horses of your’n. There’s one thing you gotta understand.”

“No,” I say curtly. “There’s one thing you gotta understand. I’m getting my mama and auntie out of there ‘fore the Breeders come. I don’t care what I got to do. I’m not letting those monsters take ’em.”

Clay rubs a hand over his head, mussing short brown hair. “Sorry, chief, but Breeders are coming tomorrow. And don’t nobody get in their way.”

I stare out over the dusty landscape of our yard until my eyes light on my mother’s garden. “Then we go today.”

He shakes his head. “Now wait a minute—”

I point my finger at his chest. “You want to make up for what you did? You helped lock ’em up. You get ’em free.”

He screws up his mouth and begins worrying the chipped paint on the porch rail. “I’d be strung up or kicked out with nothin’.”

I shrug and wave my hand at the desolation that used to be our family farm.

Clay rubs his smooth palms over his face. “Ah, God. This is crazy. You understand what you’re asking me to do?”

I nod.

Clay blows out his breath. “Fine. I’ll help you bust ’em out, but Sheriff can’t know I had a hand in it.”

For the first time, I let a smile slink up my face. “Deal.”

Clay stares at my expression for a lingering minute. With my hate no longer clouding my judgment, I realize how reckless I’ve been with my secret. My breasts are bound tight, but I’ve done nothing to disguise my voice or the rest of my features.

Clay punches my arm. “God, you sure do got balls for a bender. Wait, do benders have balls?”

I give him a cold stare.

He waves his hand dismissively, a blush climbing up into his cheeks. “Never mind.”

* * *

In the back of the Jeep, the ruts in the road feel like craters. Ethan and I lie across the back seat, covered in a large canvas that’s got us both sweating. Clay’s driving. Every time the Jeep slows, I expect the townies to rip off our cover and arrest us.