all the way back to that stable you come from in Kentucky. And you’d better believe it.”
Jack’s face couldn’t be more startled if she had punched him hard.
He put his shoulders back. “Yes, ma’am.”
Eyes closed on the couch, Kriegel chuckled. “Wonderful! I’ve found them!”
Quietly, smiling to himself, Fletch said, “You all better believe it.”
“Ruinin’ your life the way you done. Takin’ a potshot at a woman just doin’ her work. Handsome boy like you? The way you play that guitar? What’s the matter with you anyway, boy?”
“Ah …” Clearly Jack had never been laced out by a Southern woman before.
Carrie continued, “What you doin’ here anyway? Never got in touch with your father all the years of your growin’ up, the minute you get in big trouble, runnin’ from the law, you show up here in the middle of the night, draggin’ these ugly messes behind you? What you want, boy?”
Jack glanced at Fletch. “Ah …”
She waved her hand at him. “I’ve heard and seen enough of you already. You guys go get some eggs.” She looked at the obedient Kriegel asleep on the divan. “If that bag of manure moves one flap, I’ll blast his parts all over the cornfield.”
Fletch said to Jack: “She will. You’d better believe it.”
O UTSIDE , J ACK A SKED , “Eggs? How far is the store?”
Fletch ambled toward the barns.
Although the sun was just above the horizon, it already made steam rise from the puddles.
As he crossed the road, Fletch heard Emory’s truck coming down the hill. That truck hadn’t had a complete mufflerin recent memory and could be heard well before being seen.
Jack walked beside Fletch.
“Who’s she?” Jack asked.
“Carrie.”
“You two married?”
“No.”
“You going to get married?”
“These days you marry a woman and two lawyers. Beds just aren’t that big.”
Jack said, “She doesn’t hesitate to rush in where fools would fear to tread, does she?”
Fletch said, “When Carrie twangs, you’d better listen.”
Jack pointed across the home pasture at the cottage. “No one lives there. I checked last night.”
“I can’t figure out how you found this place so exactly yesterday,” Fletch said. “Runnin’ from the law. Through a storm. You’ve cruised this place before, haven’t you? Scoped me out.”
“Yes.”
“As the man answered, when a friend told him he has passed his house the day before: Thanks.” Most of the cattle on the hills were visible cropping the fields. Later, once the sun was higher in the sky, they would disappear in the deep shade of the trees. “What crime put your Kris Kriegel in jail?”
“When he first came from South Africa,” Jack said, “in a hotel in Washington, the chambermaid, bringing in a mint for his pillow, or something, opened the door of his room just as he finished strangling a girl from some escort service. He was caught red-handed. Bare-assed and red-handed. Red-assed.”
“How long has he been in prison?”
“Five, six years.”
Fletch led Jack into the dark cool of the barn. “What’s this ‘The Reverend Doctor’ stuff?”
“I believe he has a Ph.D. from someplace. A real one.”
“Subject?”
“History, probably. Sociology? I don’t know.”
“And ‘The Reverend’ part?”
“I think he gave himself that while in prison. Sent five dollars for a certificate to someone advertising in the back of a magazine, or something.”
At one of the barn’s stalls, Fletch slipped the bit in Heath-cliffe’s mouth, the bridle and reins over his head. He fastened the buckle. “And what’s your relationship to him?”
Jack said, “I’m his lieutenant.”
“I see.” Fletch led Heathcliffe out of the stall.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked. “How far is this store? Do you think you’re getting away?”
“I’m going up the hill to get your two other traveling companions. Want to come? There’s another horse there.”
Jack was trying to stay close to
Jack’s face couldn’t be more startled if she had punched him hard.
He put his shoulders back. “Yes, ma’am.”
Eyes closed on the couch, Kriegel chuckled. “Wonderful! I’ve found them!”
Quietly, smiling to himself, Fletch said, “You all better believe it.”
“Ruinin’ your life the way you done. Takin’ a potshot at a woman just doin’ her work. Handsome boy like you? The way you play that guitar? What’s the matter with you anyway, boy?”
“Ah …” Clearly Jack had never been laced out by a Southern woman before.
Carrie continued, “What you doin’ here anyway? Never got in touch with your father all the years of your growin’ up, the minute you get in big trouble, runnin’ from the law, you show up here in the middle of the night, draggin’ these ugly messes behind you? What you want, boy?”
Jack glanced at Fletch. “Ah …”
She waved her hand at him. “I’ve heard and seen enough of you already. You guys go get some eggs.” She looked at the obedient Kriegel asleep on the divan. “If that bag of manure moves one flap, I’ll blast his parts all over the cornfield.”
Fletch said to Jack: “She will. You’d better believe it.”
O UTSIDE , J ACK A SKED , “Eggs? How far is the store?”
Fletch ambled toward the barns.
Although the sun was just above the horizon, it already made steam rise from the puddles.
As he crossed the road, Fletch heard Emory’s truck coming down the hill. That truck hadn’t had a complete mufflerin recent memory and could be heard well before being seen.
Jack walked beside Fletch.
“Who’s she?” Jack asked.
“Carrie.”
“You two married?”
“No.”
“You going to get married?”
“These days you marry a woman and two lawyers. Beds just aren’t that big.”
Jack said, “She doesn’t hesitate to rush in where fools would fear to tread, does she?”
Fletch said, “When Carrie twangs, you’d better listen.”
Jack pointed across the home pasture at the cottage. “No one lives there. I checked last night.”
“I can’t figure out how you found this place so exactly yesterday,” Fletch said. “Runnin’ from the law. Through a storm. You’ve cruised this place before, haven’t you? Scoped me out.”
“Yes.”
“As the man answered, when a friend told him he has passed his house the day before: Thanks.” Most of the cattle on the hills were visible cropping the fields. Later, once the sun was higher in the sky, they would disappear in the deep shade of the trees. “What crime put your Kris Kriegel in jail?”
“When he first came from South Africa,” Jack said, “in a hotel in Washington, the chambermaid, bringing in a mint for his pillow, or something, opened the door of his room just as he finished strangling a girl from some escort service. He was caught red-handed. Bare-assed and red-handed. Red-assed.”
“How long has he been in prison?”
“Five, six years.”
Fletch led Jack into the dark cool of the barn. “What’s this ‘The Reverend Doctor’ stuff?”
“I believe he has a Ph.D. from someplace. A real one.”
“Subject?”
“History, probably. Sociology? I don’t know.”
“And ‘The Reverend’ part?”
“I think he gave himself that while in prison. Sent five dollars for a certificate to someone advertising in the back of a magazine, or something.”
At one of the barn’s stalls, Fletch slipped the bit in Heath-cliffe’s mouth, the bridle and reins over his head. He fastened the buckle. “And what’s your relationship to him?”
Jack said, “I’m his lieutenant.”
“I see.” Fletch led Heathcliffe out of the stall.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked. “How far is this store? Do you think you’re getting away?”
“I’m going up the hill to get your two other traveling companions. Want to come? There’s another horse there.”
Jack was trying to stay close to
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