likely to stop you.'
'What happened?'
'Killed in a gun battle with the sheriff and his deputies. Hell, I think half the town put a bullet in them before they were finished. The righteous are terrible in their wrath, Johnny.'
'So I've noticed,' Dillinger said.
'Obviously I couldn't start riding around in it. That would have caused talk. Seeing's you got eyes for it, Johnny, I'll make a deal with you. It's yours for twelve thousand dollars.'
Dillinger smiled and slapped his hand. 'Doggone, you got it.'
'One thing you'll need from that Ford is the battery. The one in the Chevvy couldn't be flatter.'
Dillinger drove the Ford into the barn beside the Chevrolet, then got a wrench from the tool kit and removed the battery. It was only five minutes' work to substitute it for the battery in the other car, then he slid behind the wheel, pulled the choke and applied the starter. The Chevrolet's engine started instantly, purred like music.
As he got out, the old man was already transferring his belongings from the Ford. 'Anything I've forgotten?'
'You could say that.'
Dillinger lifted the rear seat of the Ford, revealing a shot-gun and two automatic pistols.
'You going to war, Johnny?' Doc asked.
They stowed the shotgun and pistols along with the rest of the arsenal under the rear seat of the Chevrolet. 'That's it,' Dillinger said.
The old man shook his head. 'No, the Ford, Johnny. That's got to go.' He nodded across the track to the swamp. 'In there.' He slapped the car on the roof with the flat of his hand. 'Seems like a waste, but when a man gets too greedy, he can end up on the end of a rope.'
Dillinger reached in and released the handbrake, then went round to the rear, and they got their shoulders down and pushed. The Ford bounced across the track, gathered momentum and ran away from them down the slope, plunging into the dark waters below. They stood there watching it disappear, Dillinger lighting a cigarette and offering the old man one. Doc shook his head and put his empty pipe in his mouth, chewing on it until the roof of the Ford had disappeared under the surface.
'That's it.'
They went back to the barn and got into the Chevrolet, and Dillinger drove back to the farm, braking to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. He started to open his door and Doc shook his head.
'You've got to get moving, Johnny. Let's cut it now.'
'Whatever you say, Doc.' Dillinger held out his hand.
Doc said, 'I want you to know I'm going to take your advice. I'm going south to the Florida Keys with money in my pants and it's all thanks to you.' He got out of the car and closed the door, leaning down to the window. 'I'm going to get some warmth into my old bones before I die and that's thanks to you as well, Johnny.'
Dillinger smiled. 'Good luck, Doc.'
He drove away through the rain and the old man stood there listening to the Chevrolet's sweet sound fade into the distance. Then he trudged across the muddy yard to the barn and opened the doors. An old Ford truck stood inside. He started it with the handle and drove it across to the front of the farm and went inside.
When he reappeared, he was carrying a suitcase and the briefcase, no more. He put them into the cab and went back up the steps into the living room. The hound dog moved restlessly beside him. It was very quiet, only the rain humming on the roof.
'Quiet, Sam,' he said gently. 'We're leaving now.'
He took out his pipe, filled it methodically from his worn tobacco pouch. Then he picked up the photo of his wife in the silver frame and slipped it into his pocket.
He struck a match on the side of his shoe and put it to the bowl of his pipe, then took the cowl of the oil lamp on the table and touched the match to the wick. It flared up and he reached forward and very gently turned it on its side. It rolled, coal oil spilling across the table and dripping to the floor, tongues of flame leaping up.
'Why, damn me, Sam,' Doc said to the hound. 'We appear to have a fire on our
'What happened?'
'Killed in a gun battle with the sheriff and his deputies. Hell, I think half the town put a bullet in them before they were finished. The righteous are terrible in their wrath, Johnny.'
'So I've noticed,' Dillinger said.
'Obviously I couldn't start riding around in it. That would have caused talk. Seeing's you got eyes for it, Johnny, I'll make a deal with you. It's yours for twelve thousand dollars.'
Dillinger smiled and slapped his hand. 'Doggone, you got it.'
'One thing you'll need from that Ford is the battery. The one in the Chevvy couldn't be flatter.'
Dillinger drove the Ford into the barn beside the Chevrolet, then got a wrench from the tool kit and removed the battery. It was only five minutes' work to substitute it for the battery in the other car, then he slid behind the wheel, pulled the choke and applied the starter. The Chevrolet's engine started instantly, purred like music.
As he got out, the old man was already transferring his belongings from the Ford. 'Anything I've forgotten?'
'You could say that.'
Dillinger lifted the rear seat of the Ford, revealing a shot-gun and two automatic pistols.
'You going to war, Johnny?' Doc asked.
They stowed the shotgun and pistols along with the rest of the arsenal under the rear seat of the Chevrolet. 'That's it,' Dillinger said.
The old man shook his head. 'No, the Ford, Johnny. That's got to go.' He nodded across the track to the swamp. 'In there.' He slapped the car on the roof with the flat of his hand. 'Seems like a waste, but when a man gets too greedy, he can end up on the end of a rope.'
Dillinger reached in and released the handbrake, then went round to the rear, and they got their shoulders down and pushed. The Ford bounced across the track, gathered momentum and ran away from them down the slope, plunging into the dark waters below. They stood there watching it disappear, Dillinger lighting a cigarette and offering the old man one. Doc shook his head and put his empty pipe in his mouth, chewing on it until the roof of the Ford had disappeared under the surface.
'That's it.'
They went back to the barn and got into the Chevrolet, and Dillinger drove back to the farm, braking to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. He started to open his door and Doc shook his head.
'You've got to get moving, Johnny. Let's cut it now.'
'Whatever you say, Doc.' Dillinger held out his hand.
Doc said, 'I want you to know I'm going to take your advice. I'm going south to the Florida Keys with money in my pants and it's all thanks to you.' He got out of the car and closed the door, leaning down to the window. 'I'm going to get some warmth into my old bones before I die and that's thanks to you as well, Johnny.'
Dillinger smiled. 'Good luck, Doc.'
He drove away through the rain and the old man stood there listening to the Chevrolet's sweet sound fade into the distance. Then he trudged across the muddy yard to the barn and opened the doors. An old Ford truck stood inside. He started it with the handle and drove it across to the front of the farm and went inside.
When he reappeared, he was carrying a suitcase and the briefcase, no more. He put them into the cab and went back up the steps into the living room. The hound dog moved restlessly beside him. It was very quiet, only the rain humming on the roof.
'Quiet, Sam,' he said gently. 'We're leaving now.'
He took out his pipe, filled it methodically from his worn tobacco pouch. Then he picked up the photo of his wife in the silver frame and slipped it into his pocket.
He struck a match on the side of his shoe and put it to the bowl of his pipe, then took the cowl of the oil lamp on the table and touched the match to the wick. It flared up and he reached forward and very gently turned it on its side. It rolled, coal oil spilling across the table and dripping to the floor, tongues of flame leaping up.
'Why, damn me, Sam,' Doc said to the hound. 'We appear to have a fire on our
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