By Peter B. and Art Intelli
Chapter Five: Trial by Sun
The Texas sun showed no mercy.
By midmorning, Peter’s shirt was soaked through and caked with the red grit of the land. Iron chains clinked and dragged with every labored step — the ankle shackles heavy, the transport belt tight around his waist, locking his collar and wrists in a web of rusted links.
The twins had not spoken much since dawn. They simply watched. One from horseback, the other from the shade of a fencepost, arms crossed, aviators hiding any flicker of expression.
Peter dug.
The hole was pointless — not for a post, not for irrigation — just a pit in the earth, three feet wide, three feet deep, then deeper still. Blisters tore open across his palms. His shoulders screamed. The collar bit deeper into his neck every time he bent forward.
