CHAPTER TEN
Gathering himself, Ezra drew his pistol and eased back the hammer. He held his breath, counted to three, and, putting his shoulder against the flimsy entrance, smashed through the door.
There came a frightened yelp from the far corner. Taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom, Ezra picked out the shape of a man cowering against the wall.
“It’s all right,” he said, putting his gun away. He took a step forward. The man yelped again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
“It’s too late,” the man said, his voice like that of a terrified child, high-pitched, brittle at the edges. “You can’t make me. You can’t …”
“Can’t make you what?”
The light coming through the door made little impression on the gloom, but it was sufficient enough for Ezra to see an oil lamp set upon a s
