Sonny stepped back. “Thank you.”
“There’s three houses right off 1847, the farm-to-market that goes north and south.”
“I know it.”
“Aldo lives in the last one before the curve. Most likely a couple of goats grazing out front.”
“I appreciate it,” Sonny said. He grabbed the doorknob again.
“I meant it,” Betty Maxwell said. “I can help you with that prosthetic.”
“I‘ll think about it.”
“Well, I guess that’s progress.”
Sonny nodded and looked Nurse Betty in the eye. She’d meant what she said. He was sure of it. “You’re Vern Maxwell’s girl, aren’t you?”
Betty returned the nod, as a curious look fell across her face. “I am.”
“You haven’t lost a dog lately have you?”
She shook her head. “Only dog we’ve got these days is Old Max, and he’s too blind to wander off and be lost.”
“I hit a dog the other day and Pete Jorgenson said he might be one from Vern’s line.”
“Well, I suppose there are still some of them around, at least with that blood in them. Is it all right? The dog you hit?”
“He’s out in the truck, waiting on me.” Sonny glanced out the side glass of the door, to see if Blue was still there. He was. Hadn’t moved an inch. “I named him Blue. Pete said he wasn’t as mottled as most of Vern’s. He’s almost blue in the light of day. That’s what I named him, Blue. Seems smart. Always underfoot. Likes to be with me wherever I go.”
“Well, that sure sounds like one of daddy’s dogs. They were loyal as the Royal Guard. At least that’s what daddy always said. I hope he’ll be all right. I assume it’s a he?”
“It is. A he, I mean. Pete seems to think he’ll be all right. Might end up with a limp, but he should be able to do most things like he always did.”
“Well, it sounds like you like him.”
“I do.”
“I‘m glad of it. A man like you could use a dog like Blue.”
CHAPTER 18
They were parked behind an abandoned barn. The front of the stolen car faced north, hidden behind a pile of rusted barrels, farm tools, and old mule harnesses. The car was a big Buick, long as a keel boat, as fast as a top-dollar race horse, and as pretty as a movie star. It was maroon, the color of blood on a dark night.
Eddie couldn’t resist stealing the Buick as they fled Shamrock after the robbery. It had been sitting in front of a house that was bigger than a movie theater and just as fancy. Probably belonged to one of the owners of the gas wells outside of town. Eddie liked the hood ornament, a chrome likeness of Mercury with wings and a fine hat, leaning forward, into the wind, into the future; a fast runner going somewhere, getting there before anyone else—getting away.
Tió had told him it was Mercury as they sped away in the darkness. “It’s a Roman god, Eddie.”
“How do you know this stuff?” Eddie asked.
Tió shrugged and looked away. The mechanics of his mind were a mystery to everyone. Even him.
They’d driven out into the flat, treeless, nondescript wonder that was the Panhandle of Texas with the headlights off, navigating a country lane by the sliver of a moon that hung overhead. Carmen had sat in the passenger seat, quiet, too, as far away from Eddie as she could get. The smell of her own sweat disgusted her.
“Mercury is the patron god of luck, Eddie. And of travelers, trickery, and thieves. He will look out for us. You’ll see,” Tió said.
“I‘ll keep it, then,” Eddie had answered, meaning Mercury and not the car. Once they’d found the barn, a place to hunker down for the night, Eddie had sent Tió out looking for another car to steal. One that wasn’t so noticeable.
Eddie had climbed into the back once he was sure they were safe. He nearly had to beg Carmen to join him, but she relented, gave in without much of a fight.
Where else was she going to go?
The backseat was like a big soft couch that had been bolted into a red velvet cavern. The fabric looked like it had never been touched by human hands, and it had a fragrance of newness that was foreign to Carmen’s nose. She had never seen anything so plush and expensive. It made her nervous to touch it, like she’d get in trouble if she scarred it in any way, left a mark on something, even by accident. She didn’t like being a thief.
“Relax,” Eddie said. There was no hint of gentleness in his voice. The word was a hard command, and there was no way Carmen was going to relax. Something in Eddie had changed since the shooting at Lancer’s Market. He leaned in and tried to kiss her, pushed his hand up under her soiled dress like he had a right to. “I need you,” he whispered. “I need you to be with me.”
Carmen withdrew, pushed away his hand, and tried to melt into the velvet. “No.”
Eddie recoiled like he’d been slapped. “No? What do you mean, no?”
“Not here. Tió will be back any second.”
“He just left.”
“I don’t want to, Eddie. I want a bath and a place I feel safe. I don’t want to sleep in this car, and I don’t want to—make sex with you in this car.”
“You can’t go home. Not now. If that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I know.”
The windows were down. and the night air drifted in and out, the breeze steadier and cooler than it had been in the day but still tinged with warmth and the oppression of summer. There were sleeping cows close by, but they were mostly quiet. A gentle moo here and there drifted upward in the distance. Cows didn’t smell as bad as pigs would have—at least there was luck in that. Only the insects buzzed about outside the Buick. They were a distant chorus of low-pitched notes, rising and falling like a high-pitched snore, hundreds of bows wafting over tight violin strings. The urgency of spring was over. They didn’t want to make sex, either. It was too late in the season.
Eddie pushed up next to Carmen and pulled her in as close as he could. “I won’t make you do anything else you don’t want to.” His voice had changed. It was the sweet Eddie, the one that she had followed out of her house and into the life she now had. He had charmed her before by flashing his little-boy eyes at her, allowing her to see that he wasn’t always tough, always machismo. Sometimes when he touched her it was as if he were the softest, sweetest boy in the world. Those times bewitched her. His spell was solid, making her wonder if he were a male bruja.
A train cried out in the distance, its whistle echoing across the flat land like a sad moan. The cargo was mostly broken men, hobos, going to nowhere in particular, leaving behind the lives they knew, because they no longer existed. Newsreels showed cops crabbing into the railcars with clubs, cracking kneecaps, banging heads. Some men just stood there and took it.
“Promise?” Carmen looked into Eddie’s face. His eyes were half open, dreamy brown orbs offering an invitation to believe every word he said was the pure truth, believe that every breath he took was just for her. She could’ve crawled right inside of him, then, fallen deep in love with him all over again, but she looked away just as he edged closer for a kiss.
Eddie pulled back. “You’re still mad.”
“I just want to go to sleep, Eddie.”
“Fine. Have it your way,” he said, pushing away from her. He opened the door, jumped out, and slammed it behind him. The red velvet vibrated under her thighs for a brief second, a tremor, a warning of things to come if she continued to push him away.
Carmen listened to him stalk away into the weeds, strike a match on something, and light a cigarette. She listened until she couldn’t hear him anymore.
She hoped he would keep walking until he fell off the edge of the earth, but she knew that wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t go that far. She could still feel his eyes on her, his angry face all aglow in the orange light of the cigarette. And she was certain that he would come back for her. Just as certain that the Roman god on the front of the car was no more real than the God in the church was. He hadn’t protected her, rescued her,
saved her from anything. Things were worse now than they were before.
A tear streamed down her cheek, and the darkness and aloneness that she felt left her feeling more lost than she’d ever been.
Tió came back in the middle of the night with a plain black Model A Ford that was more than a couple of years old. “It’s all I could find, Eddie.” The four-door sedan was missing a right front fender, and the paint was scratched up, like it had been run through a barbed wire fence day after day for the last year.
“It’s a turtle, you idiot,” Eddie said, with a slap to the side of Tió’s head. The crack of the slap echoed on the cool night breeze like a gunshot.
“Ouch.” Tió stepped back, rubbing his temple. “I did what you asked, Eddie. Why’d you hit me?”
“Why do you think?”
Carmen was half awake, laying in the backseat of the Buick, trying to ignore the conversation, trying to pretend it was part of a bad dream, even though she knew it wasn’t. She could see the two of them standing opposite each other, silhouettes that looked like mirrors made of ash. Even in the daylight, it was hard to tell the two of them apart. Until they opened their mouths or you looked into their eyes.
“It’s got a 201 CID 3.3 liter engine, and the 4 I4 transmission is a three-speed sliding gear manual. It goes real fast, Eddie. Drive it, you’ll see.”
“I don’t know what the hell you just said, but it’s not gonna be fast enough. Not up against those new Fords the coppers are driving these days. They’ll run us down in a flat second if we come up against any of ’em.”
“I can boost up the acceleration, tinker with the carburetor.” Tió quit rubbing the side of his head and stared at the car he’d brought back like it was the worst piece of junk he’d ever seen.
“I don’t know why you can’t do one goddamn thing right.”
“It’s all I could find, Eddie. I didn’t want to lead no one back here.” Tió lowered his head. “I‘m sorry, Eddie. I‘ll go get another one.”
“No,” Eddie said. “This one’ll have to do for now.”
It grew silent then. Even the insects slept, tried to sleep, or waited for another outburst. But none came. The silence remained. Eddie walked around the Model A silently, like he was about to buy a new horse.
A few minutes later, Eddie slid into the backseat of the Buick, eased behind Carmen, and pulled her to him. She stirred and faked a whimpering snore. Surprisingly, it was enough to ward Eddie off, enough to keep his pants buttoned.
They slipped away from the barn in the Model A just before the horizon started to turn gray with new light. A lone robin called out in a hoarse morning voice, announcing the coming day, hoping for a response. None came, at least that Carmen heard.
The clatter of the Model A‘s engine took over everything within earshot once Eddie punched down the accelerator, propelling them down the road, away from the barn, at a quick rate of speed. Tió was right; the Ford was fast, but not as fast as the Buick had been. That car floated down the road so fast that all the air jumped out of its way and made a happy wind from its tail.
A cloud of dust roiled behind them, and Mercury, the hood ornament from the Buick, tumbled to its side and fell into Carmen’s lap. She picked it and put it on the floor. It was heavier than she thought it would be.
“Be careful with that. It’s our good luck charm.”
Carmen was in the passenger seat next to the door, opposite Eddie. There was miles of room between them, and the attitude was cold, even though the windows were all rolled down, pushing around hot air. Tió sat in the back, like usual. He always acted like he wasn’t listening, which meant that he was.
It didn’t take long for morning light to eat away at the darkness of the night. Clear blue sky pushed up in front of them for as far as the eye could see, offering a typical day, if that were possible, and a clear view of the road ahead.
Sleep had been fitful for Carmen, and she was hungry and in need of a bath. They all were. “Can we stop and get some breakfast?” Carmen asked Eddie.
He shook his head. “Not until we’re out of Texas. I don’t want to chance it. There’s a little greasy spoon in Madge, just the other side of the state line. We’ll stop there.” They were heading east on State Road 203. Madge was a few miles inside of Oklahoma.
The sun peaked over the horizon. The top curve of it looked big and red. Carmen had to look away. She knew why Eddie wanted out of Texas—it would be harder for the cops to arrest them—but she didn’t want to leave all she knew behind.
“I don’t like that place,” Tió said. “They always cheat us, and their gravy’s always runny.”
“Nobody’s gonna cheat us now, Tió. We got money and we got guns. Get somethin’ else if you don’t like the gravy.”
“I just want breakfast,” Carmen said. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
Eddie cast Carmen a hard side glance, then looked up at the rearview mirror. “Nobody’s gonna get hurt. I promise.” He pushed the accelerator to the floor. The Model A lurched forward with a cough, then roared ahead.
Carmen looked over her shoulder to see what had got Eddie’s attention. A black car was speeding toward them, catching up from behind, leaving a plume of dust that looked like it could have come from an explosion. Her heart began to race when she turned back to Eddie, who had a worried look on his face.
There were no flashing lights on the car, but most police cars in the Panhandle didn’t have the new bubbles that some of the big-city police cars had. Some Texas Rangers still drove their own cars, so it was difficult to tell if the black car was a police car, a Ranger, or just someone in a big hurry.
“I don’t want to go to jail, Eddie,” Carmen said.
“Nobody’s gonna go to jail.” Eddie looked up at the rearview again, only this time he wasn’t interested in the car. He looked at Tió. “Get the shotgun and be ready, all right?”
“They’re getting closer, Eddie, and there’s two cars, not one,” Tió said. His voice was jittery.
In the blink of an eye, the first car was nearly on their bumper. A loud, hand-cranked siren suddenly whined loudly, joining the rushing wind inside the car. The sound made Carmen’s eardrums hurt.
“Push ’em back, Tió.” Eddie’s eyes were glued to the road ahead. He was driving directly into the glare of the rising sun, into the promised land of Oklahoma.
The temptation to pray was strong for Carmen, a habit when things got bad. Only now the habit made her mad and sad at the same time.
“I don’t want to kill no cop, Eddie,” Tió pleaded. “They hang you for that.”
“Shoot the fuckin’ tire out, Tió.” It was a scream matched by the siren and the wind.
Carmen pulled her knees up on the seat, hugged them, and looked out the back window. She could see the driver of the car waving wildly, ordering them to pull over. He wore a brown felt campaign hat. The kind the county police wore.
Tió grabbed up the shotgun, leaned the barrel out the window, aimed it downward, and pulled both triggers. In a move that belied his experience and knowledge of guns, he pulled the gun inside, popped the shells out, and pushed two more inside with such ease that the whole exercise looked like it only took a second, two at the most.
The pursuing car slowed, pulled back, as the second car caught up with it. They were driving bumper to bumper. One man was giving the other an order. Tió hadn’t hit the tire—he’d hit the radiator. The first car was spewing steam, losing power, falling back into a brown and white cloud of nothingness.
“We’re almost there,” Eddie said.
The klaxon siren had died away. All Carmen could hear was her heart beating, matching the constant bang of the cylinders in the engine.
Eddie looked over at Carmen, pulled a pistol out of nowhere, and held the butt of it out to her. “Take it.”
She shook her head. “I‘ve never shot a gun, Eddie.”
“All you have to do is pull the trigger.”
“I don’t want to.”
<
br /> “You have to. Just shoot it at the same time Tió shoots his. You don’t have to hit anything. They need to know we’re serious.”
“I don’t want to. You promised you wouldn’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”
Eddie dropped the gun on the seat between them, then grabbed Carmen by the collar of her dress. “You want to die? Do you want to go to prison?”
Tears streamed down Carmen’s cheeks. “I want to go home.”
Tió held the shotgun in his lap. He’d quit paying attention to the road, and the car behind them. He was focused on Carmen. “I told you we didn’t need no girls, Eddie.”
Nobody had time to respond. The second car had caught up to them. It rammed them from behind. The collision broke Eddie’s grasp on Carmen, and she nearly fell off the bench seat.
The Model A veered wildly to the right, and Eddie had to fight with all of his strength and skill to keep the car from spinning out. “Shoot, Carmen, shoot.”
Tears and sweat rolled down her face as she watched Tió ready himself. He popped the barrel of his shotgun out the window, but didn’t have time to pull the trigger.
The driver of the car pulled his trigger first. The eruption was deafening, as was the scream that came from Tió as he tumbled back into the seat. Glass shattered inside the Model A as the window exploded.
Carmen screamed and knew she had to react; it was the only way she was going to survive. She stuck the pistol out her window, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger.
The explosion of gunpowder burned inside her nose and made her cough. When Carmen blinked open her eyes, she saw the windshield of the car behind them had shattered, and she watched in horror as the car spun out of control and slammed hard into a lone fence pole.
Eddie slapped the steering wheel and began to honk the horn. “Hello, Oklahoma. We’re free! We’re free!”
The fence post had been a state-line marker. Texas cops couldn’t follow them into Oklahoma. They had no jurisdiction there. Clyde Barrow had made everyone aware of that.
“You all right back there, Tió?” Eddie asked as he continued to celebrate.
A Thousand Falling Crows Page 13