El closed her eyes and drew into the corner against the rock-clay bank and the rough boards. She could hear water dripping inside the mine shaft, could smell the dankness, feel the cold air being drawn through the cracks between the boards; she could picture Hollie as she had seen her running up the road in her yellow dress, breaking free, running, the yellow dress pressed against her thighs, starlight sliding along her arms and legs, flowing over her long gold hair, white-faced, doe-eyed, and frightened. She opened her eyes and gasped, alarmed by the sounds of a struggle close at hand. They had reached the railroad tracks, and Emmett was blocking the way. There was nowhere for Hollie to run except out onto the bridge.