CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Somewhere from within the depths of the guesthouse a clock chimed out the hour, sounding Bessy like a death knell. She didn’t count the hour, knowing only that time dragged and, with each ponderous minute that passed, her situation grew darker and ever more miserable. She sat straight-backed, the ropes cutting into her wrists. She’s struggled against them but Hanson’s handiwork was too good. With Ira’s escape, the truth of it all might come out. She chided herself for not acting sooner. Hitting Bourne was only the start of it. Employing those two scoundrels, trying to deceive Reece, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Destry and Turner, those miserable curs, had been beavering away at the plans for months, possibly years, just waiting for the right moment. An
