“I want us both to live,” Caleb corrected. “If you win, I’ll split the purse with you. Half. Five thousand dollars. Enough to buy your freedom papers and still have money to start over somewhere far from here.”
Benita’s laugh was short and sharp. “Freedom papers don’t stop a rope. They don’t stop a man with a gun.”
Caleb’s face tightened because she wasn’t wrong.
“No,” he admitted. “But they’re something. And you deserve… something.”
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