He bit back a groan as he climbed out of his bunk. But he was better off than Hank Cushman. At least he was still alive. The Kid was aware that more prisoners than usual were looking at him as he and Schofield filed into the mess hall with the rest of the men from their cell block. He tried to ignore the added scrutiny, but Schofield said quietly, “Looks like you’re famous today, Waco.” “I reckon,” The Kid agreed. Infamous was more like it, he thought. He was the man who killed Hank Cushman. Hunger got the better of curiosity as the men settled down to eat, but every now and then The Kid caught somebody staring at him. He heard whispers behind his back, too, and wondered if any of Cushman’s cronies were going to try to settle the score for their friend. Crawling into the wagon taking him to the cotton fields, The Kid noticed Cushman’s friends were no longer part of that job.
