The train leaves at 10 AM. Two one-way tickets wait for us. The money earned by working for Joe paid our way home.
I have never worked so hard in all my life. All summer in that blazing hot sun that dries out your skin, leaving you with arms and legs like shoe leather. Your mouth so dry you may as well have it full of cotton balls.
But we did it. Hank and I thought about Mick as the train left the station.
“…the click when the bullet leaves the gun.” Hank closed his eyes as he thought.
“I heard when the bullet hit the bone.”
“You stop, you did not.”
“I think we left a shoe. Those nasty shoes he wore. I think one is still by the tree.”
“You stop, we did not.” Hank jumped out of his reverie. “I was careful.”
This thought worried us all the way, like a bad tooth. I stepped off in K.C., finally rid of the trouble. I heard when the bullet hit the bone. Too bad Hank didn’t hear the click.
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