Chapter 34

Karen

Dishes done ... washed, dried and put away ... it had been a particularly onerous chore, lasagna always burns to glass and it took a bit of work to scrape the cheese off the pan.

“Consuelo? Where did the guys go?”

“The garage,” she said, “To smoke.”

“Vile nasty habit, I’m glad Hairy doesn’t.” I said, “Your truck is gone.”

“Wonder where they went?” Consuelo said.

I stepped out to the mud room, Edgar’s hat was gone. I opened the converted icebox with the GE compressor top and looked inside.

“We’re out of beer,” I said, “Bet you a buck they went after more.”

“Never bet against a sure thing,” Consuelo said.

She looked at the beer fridge and the white enameled wood cookstove.

“Antiques ... where did you find the stove?” she asked me.

“That was in the garage,” I said. “The Warm Morning stokers and the beer fridge were in the bunkhouse. There’s still a bunch of old stuff out there.” I waved at the little two room shack in the north east corner of the fenced in yard.

“Really?”

“Wanna see?”

“Sure,” Connie said.

We walked over to the little house. A van was turning around at the corner of the esses. It stopped, couple of guys popped out and looked right at us.

I had a feeling. They jumped back in the van and started driving slowly back towards our drive.

“Connie ... back to the house ... NOW!” I said.

We started to run ... the van sped up.

I heard the gate at the drive crunch.

“Can you shoot?”

Connie said, “Yes.”

“Will you shoot?”

She hesitated, “Umh.”

“Never mind,” I said. I popped open a shelf drawer and took out Hairy’s Smith. Ever since his 1911 had jammed, Hairy had converted to wheel guns. “Behind the door is a rifle, the magazine is in it. Get it please.”

It’s a good quarter mile of bad road, is our drive. I’ve been meaning to get some gravel delivered and spread out ... but I hadn’t ... yet. That old van bounced and shuddered, banging and clattering down our horrible drive at just under the speed of sound ... that drive is a chore at a walk. They made the bunkhouse turn and slid to a stop at the trash burning barrel.

Both doors popped open and a longhaired tall man wearing a duster stepped out of the drivers side. A short fat guy stepped out of the passengers side. He was carrying a silver piece.

“Shit!” I said to no one in particular. “Hairpipe John! I killed his brother.”

“What?”

Hairpipe pulled out an odd looking lump and pointed it at me. I couldn’t tell what it was but I recognized the hole. He didn’t say a word ... just ... Grinned.

BLAAAAT The entire mag ... Blaat. What a waste.

The first round parted my hair and clipped an ear ... the rest of them would have killed a flock of birds ... if a flock had been flying overhead.

Idiot! I steadied ... and put one right between his eyes. I shot is buddy in the gut.