Howdy

As the truck rounded the last corner to face them, Alain signalled to Hugo to dowse the lights. In the sudden dense darkness, the others heard the distinct sounds of conflict: heavy thuds, muffled oaths and the grunt of effort. When the lights came back on, Brontë was sitting on one wriggling form, while Alain stood over two others, sprawled semi-conscious on the floor.

As Joe watched, Hugo ran over, peeling the wrapping from a hank of what looked like washing line, and handed it to Alain, who began to truss the supine figures.

‘Help me with this one,’ said Brontë. ‘He doesn’t seem to understand his current situation.’

‘Well, howdy stranger, said Hugo, relishing a chance to try out yet another idiom. ‘What brings you to these parts?’

The man tried unsuccessfully to buck Brontë from his back, but only succeeding in trapping his arms beneath him. Hugo grasped the end of another roll of rope and got busy.