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A bunch of people who’d used skin color as an excuse for putting others in chains weren’t likely to intermarry with the local population in the colony. That had left them with a somewhat limited courtship pool.

“How the hell did you two end up involved in this?” Adam demanded.

“The bosses offered triple rates,” Lessard replied. He took a piece of jerky off of the plantain leaf that Adam was using as a plate and shoved it in his mouth.

Charlie shrugged. “Laura wants a new shed. And how do I know the old boss is gonna show up on the wrong end of a rifle?”

“You got a plan, then?” Lessard asked from around Adam’s jerky.

“I’m still working on it,” Adam replied.

“You won’t get far without a knife,” Lessard warned.

“I don’t suppose I could borrow either of yours?” Adam tried.

Lessard spat. The look that Charlie flashed Adam would’ve withered fruit on the vine.

“Yeah, I thought as much.” Adam sighed. “What’re the chances you could steal me one?”

“No chance,” Charlie retorted flatly.

“Aww, come on,” Adam countered. “It’s not like the pair of you aren’t capable of swiping a knife without getting caught.”

“Maybe without getting caught,” Charlie returned crossly. “But not without somebody noticing their knife is gone. And who you think they gonna figure took it?”

“Probably the guy without a knife,” Lessard pointed out helpfully.

“The Frenchman and I are not the ones with the guns out here,” Charlie protested. “We get caught taking some boy’s knife for you, you think they going to keep us around for decoration like your bakra self?”

“Lessard’s a bakra,” Adam protested with a wave at the ruddy-faced Canadian.

“Lessard’s not a bakra,” Charlie returned. “Look at him.”

Lessard flashed Adam a gap-toothed, tobacco-stained smile.

“When they’re about to drag you out into the bush and shoot you, maybe I’ll get you a knife.” Charlie took an irritated puff on his cigarette. “Maybe.”

“Our boy here still has that favor,” Lessard noted. His eyes glittered with dark mischief.

Charlie’s head swiveled. He pinned Lessard with a glare.

“That’s right,” Adam said slowly as a grin spread irresistibly across his face. “You said you owed me one when I got you out of that trouble with your wife.”

“After this idiot tried to climb the lighthouse when he was drunk as a rat and broke his arm,” Lessard added with a dark chortle.

“It was a protest,” Charlie shot back.

“You were going to hang your underpants from the flagpole,” Lessard retorted. His eyes began to water as he snorted at the memory.

Charlie straightened and looked down his nose at his smaller, more grizzled companion.

“I am a sixth generation Belize man, and I have no vote in the elections,” he retorted, jabbing his cigarette to make the point. “How does that Union Jack do me any good? Maybe we’d all be better off with the underpants.”

“Sure. Tell that to Laura,” Lessard returned with another wheeze.

Charlie glowered at Lessard, and then shifted the glower to Adam.

“Aarait,” he snapped. “You still got your favor. You wanna use it for a knife, what do I care? But when you do, your raass better be ready to run.”