Chapter Twenty-Five: JailRiodelgado shimmered in the morning heat. Nestled amongst the mountains, in a large hollow rather than a valley, the few squat adobe houses stood silent. No one was at home. Everyone had gone to the plaza to see the hanging.
Standing on Salvador's shoulders, Luis could just make out the village square between the bars of the tiny window set high up in the wall. They were in the basement, below the level of the street, and he had to crane his neck to get a good view of the frantic activity of men preparing the gallows, hammering and sawing timber.
People's voices, raised in excitement, mingled with the creak and groan of carts as market owners prepared their stalls. A party atmosphere developing despite the early hour, anticipation thick in the warm air. He couldn
