On the fifth try two fingers curled around the key ring, supporting the swinging hand precariously. The guard remained slumped, motionless, against the bars.
Moving dexterously, three fingers gripped the key ring while the thumb and index finger inched the ring off the peg. The keys jangled against the floor. Jason watched in fascination as the hand dragged the keys across the floor like a crippled spider. Ferrin’s eyes were intent with concentration.
Ferrin reconnected the hand, picked up the keys, and pulled his shirt on over his head. Hastily reaching through the bars, he began trying keys. The gated section of the bars swung open. Ferrin scooped up the guard and hauled him into the cell. The man suddenly thrashed out of his grasp and twisted to lunge at Ferrin, who kneed the guard in the gut and shoved him to the floor. Ferrin pounced onto the man, hooking one arm around his neck in a choke hold while the other covered his mouth, muffling his protests. The man squirmed and lurched, desperate to break the hold, but Ferrin held firm as the guard’s face reddened.
After the man lay limp, Ferrin maintained the stranglehold for a moment. “This one likes to play possum,” he said. “Even when he’s locked in the cell his shouts could bring trouble.”
Ferrin rolled the guard onto his back and squatted beside him, staring. After a few seconds he swatted the man between his legs. The guard did not flinch. “He’s out for now,” Ferrin said, exiting the cell with Jason and shutting the door. He tossed the keys to Jason, who began stabbing keys into the lock of Rachel’s cell.
“I wondered what all the groaning meant,” Rachel said.
“Ferrin is a genius,” Jason replied, inserting the correct key and opening her cell.
“Should I finish off your friend?” Ferrin asked, jerking his head at Tad, who stood glaring at them, hands fisted around the bars of his cell.
Jason frowned. “I can’t see killing him while he’s at such a disadvantage, all penned up.”
Ferrin raised his eyebrows. “Chivalrous. You realize he will continue to hunt you once he gets free. His presence means he has taken a vow to see you dead. Were your situations reversed, he would end your life without a twinge of remorse.”
Tad spat through the bars.
“No,” Rachel said. “Don’t kill him. Not like this.”
Tad smirked.
“She’s right,” Jason said. “It’s one thing to act in self-defense. This would be something else.”
“It’s your neck,” Ferrin said. “You want out?” he asked the bearded man in the cell with Tad.
“No. I’m only in for another day. I caused a public disturbance. Matter of fact, would you mind giving me a knock on the head so the constable don’t blame me for not raising an alarm?”
“Come to the bars,” Ferrin said. He trotted over and punched between the bars, striking the man square in the eye. The man stumbled back and sat down hard, cupping a hand over the injury.
“Why doesn’t Tad raise an alarm?” Jason asked.
“He can probably guess what I would do in self-defense,” Ferrin said. “Give me the keys back.” After unsuccessfully trying a couple keys, Ferrin unlocked a closet and retrieved their belongings. Jason wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. The closet contained no additional weapons. Ferrin crossed to a desk, reached underneath, and pulled out a loaded crossbow that had been cunningly suspended on hidden hooks. “I like to keep my eyes open when people don’t think I’m watching,” he said. “They might have other arms stashed someplace, but we have no time to search. The guard we subdued was unarmed. Let’s see if we can get out the front door. Keep your knife handy.”
Jason gently placed his thumb over the flower-shaped trigger, ready to eject the blade. Moving cautiously, Ferrin guessed the door key on the first try. He turned it and thrust the door open. A startled guard turned around. Ferrin leveled his crossbow at the man. “Make no sound. Come inside.”
The guard, holding a crossbow at his side, hesitated. “Move now or die,” Ferrin stated coolly.
The guard came inside. “Lay down your weapons. Knife, too.” The guard put his crossbow on the table, along with a leather belt connected to a sheathed long knife.
Ferrin escorted him over to the cell where the other guard lay unconscious. Ferrin tossed the keys, and Jason unlocked the cell. Ferrin shoved the guard inside. “Kneel and hold still,” Ferrin insisted.
The guard complied. Ferrin struck a measured blow to the back of his head with the heel of his hand. The man slumped to the floor.
“Is he out?” Rachel asked.
Ferrin nodded without checking him. Jason had a suspicion Ferrin had done this before.
Ferrin crossed to the table and buckled the belt with the long knife about his waist. He handed Rachel the other crossbow.
“Does it have a safety?” Rachel asked.
Ferrin glanced at the weapon. “To fire, slide this lever back, then use the trigger. Come.”
The trio slipped out the front door into the night. “Walk carelessly,” Ferrin advised. “No reason for us to look suspicious. We are merely escaped fugitives about to steal some horses to avoid a death sentence.”
They strolled down a side street. Ferrin held his crossbow casually at his side. Jason clung to his poniard, keeping it under his cloak. Rachel hid her crossbow likewise.
At a signal from Ferrin, Jason and Rachel ducked into a small livery stable. A horse snorted and stamped. Ferrin put a finger to his lips. “You ride horses?”
“Only twice,” Jason whispered, not mentioning that once was a pony ride at a circus as a child and the other walking single file along some trail in Arizona for a couple of hours on a guided excursion.
“I’ve ridden quite a bit,” Rachel said.
Jason rolled his eyes. Of course she had!
Ferrin forced open a rickety closet door. Two of the horses started whinnying. Jason held his poniard ready as Ferrin saddled and bridled a big gray mount. Next Ferrin prepped a smaller white horse. He then bridled a roan with a long, thick mane, slightly shorter and broader than the first horse.
Ferrin led the gray horse out of its stall. He handed Jason the reins, nodded for Rachel to retrieve the white horse, and went to retrieve the roan. Jason patted the sleek neck, smoothing the fur.
“What do you think you’re doing?” exclaimed a gruff voice. Jason turned to see a man entering the stable clutching a hoe like a weapon. He had messy hair and an open shirt that revealed a hairy chest.