I thought I was free.
The ruse had worked, they bought that I’d stolen a boat from
the boathouse. By the time I crawled out from the mud underneath it, they must
have been miles downstream.
I didn’t bother to clean off the mud, I just threw off what
few scraps of material clung to me and began to walk as fast as I could
upstream. There was a farmstead over the hill, one that I knew had contacts
with the railroad.
Then I heard the crack of a revolver, and pain blossomed across
my back.
And I was freed.
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