As James and Angie drove the short distance to Manning’s, Marshall and George were almost to the door of Sully’s when Lampkin pull up beside them.
“Bentwood! Borden!” Lampkin yelled louder than necessary from the car. “Neither one a‘ya listen real good do ya’? I thought I told ya both last night to stay out’a town for a while.”
George turned to face the car, but was silent, his head lowered. Marshall was still facing down the sidewalk toward the pool hall, head up, jaws clenching and unclenching.
Lampkin watched them a moment then said,” Look, I don’t feel like messin’ with ya’ll tonight. I want ya to go on home right now. Don’t stop anyplace, not the pool hall, not the soda fountain, not anyplace. Ya hear me?”
“Yessir!” George said. Marshall was silent.
“Bentwood! You hear me?”
Marshall hesitated almost long enough for Lampkin to repeat his challenge then he started walking and just as he got to Sully’s, he abruptly angled off and began striding down front street toward the edge of town and home. George watched Marshall a moment then nodded at Lampkin and took off to catch up with him.
They walked silently in the shadows of the oak trees which grew along Front Street and were only visible briefly every few seconds for the length of the street. Even the lights of an approaching car didn’t illuminate the boys as they trudged out of town.
If their minds hadn’t been elsewhere, one or both boys might have noticed the black Ford sedan driving slowly down the street as being identical to the one they had last seen Prichard and Lawrence in. It helped, of course, being Saturday night and unseasonably warm, that there were a number of people still in town taking advantage of the stores’ late hours.
“Ya think they said anything to the cops?” Lawrence asked Prichard from the driver’s seat.
“Not a chance.” Prichard answered. “Borden ain’t got the guts.”
“What about the other’n?”
“I asked around and found out about him.” Prichard said. “Name’s Bentwood and he’s had nearly as many run ins with the cops as we’ve had. So, he ain’t gonna say nothin’ either. Slow down, ain’t that him.”
James and Angie were oblivious to everything around them as they sat facing each other across a green checked table in the front window of Manning’s. Since leaving the theater, the relationship had advanced to the hand-holding stage and their were heads just inches apart as they sipped from the same frosted Coke. Completely lost in each other’s eyes, neither was saying anything.
“In there with that girl,” Prichard pointed. “Ain’t that Bentwood? Pull over.”
Lawrence did as Prichard demanded and angled the car into the curb just past Manning’s. Prichard rolled down the car window so he could see better, but James was facing away from him and he could only see the girl. He sat a moment then opened the door and started to step out but then turned back to Lawrence.
“Ya got that pistol ya won in that poker game?” He asked.
“Yea it’s in the glove box.”
“Is it loaded?” Prichard said as he opened the glove compartment and saw the Smith and Wesson .38.
“Sure it’s loaded,” Lawrence said, his eyes widening. “Bill, ya not gonna shoot him with all these people around are ya?”
“Just keep the car running!” Prichard grabbed the pistol, shoved it into his pocket and stepped out leaving the door open. He glanced around quickly and not seeing any cops, moved quickly to the drug store’s door.
In the back of his mind, James heard the door open and the accompanying bell which jingled when anyone went in or out. He didn’t really pay any attention to the sound, however, until he suddenly realized that someone was staring at him.
He looked up and saw a man a few years older than himself, staring at him as if he knew him and yet at the same time not sure. The man seemed frozen, his left hand on the half open door, his right hand shoved into his coat pocket.
Prichard wasn’t sure if it was Bentwood or not. He looked different from the night before. He stared at him for a moment longer then a voice called from behind the drug counter.
“Can ya close the door, son,” Bill Manning, the ancient owner of the drug store said. “Lettin’ the cold in.”
A chill ran up James’ spine as the man continued staring at him. Angie, seeing James’ expression and hearing what Manning had said, turned toward the door. She felt the chill in her spine as well.
Prichard glanced down at the girl when she turned in her seat then back at the boy across from her. He hesitated a split second longer then swung the door fully open and was gone.
“Let’s go,” Prichard said as he slid back into the car, tossing the pistol back into the glove box.
“Not him?” Lawrence asked.
“Still breathin’, ain’t he? Let’s go. We’ll find ‘em later.”
James and Angie both stared at the man as he got into the black car. They noticed another man was driving. They watched as the car pulled back onto the road and turned the corner at the end of the block heading east toward the Ridge.
“Who was that man?” Angie asked James who was still turned in his chair looking out the window.
“I don’t know,” He said when he turned back to face his date. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Well, he sure acted at first like he knew you.”
“I know, but I don’t know who it was. Maybe he thought I was Marsh. People are always getting us mixed up.”
“Maybe,” Angie agreed. “I’m just glad he’s gone. I didn’t like his looks.”
“ I didn’t either,” James said suddenly very worried about his brother.
Even though he knew Marshall could take care of himself, he also knew there were people around who would kill others for a nickle. That had looked like that type of man.
James saw that it was only 9:45 and he still had over an hour to be with Angie, but he was worried about his brother. For all he knew, the pair were now looking for Marshall.
James knew George was with him so he wasn’t alone if they did find him. But, he also remembered Marshall telling him that in a real fight, his friend was basically worthless.
“Why even you hit harder than George does,” He once told him. “Talks big, but he can’t fight for spit.”
So, if the man was looking for Marshall and if he found him, it was essentially going to be two against one. And while James didn’t see the other man in the car, he was likely as old as the one who had come into the drug store and so they were both a good deal older than his brother and possibly more than a match.
“Angie,” James said quietly. “I know it’s still early, but do you mind if I go ahead and carry you home? I think that man is lookin’ for my brother. So I need to try to find Marsh and warn him just in case. I’m sorry, but do ya mind?”
“No, that’s fine,” Angie smiled. “You need to let Marshall know about that man. We can go to the show and have a soda another time.”
“How about next weekend?” James said. “We can try again next Friday night if ya want to.”
“Ok,” Angie’s smile widened. “We’ll talk about it next week. But go ahead and get me home so you can find your brother.”
James walked Angie to her door and thought a moment about trying to kiss her good night. He thought better of it, though, and simply gave her a hand a squeeze in both of his. Once she had closed the door, he trotted to Thomas’ car and took off in search of his brother.
Even though he hadn’t done anything, George was silent until they were nearly half-way to the Bentwood place. He could tell that his friend wasn’t in the mood for idle chat anyway, not that he ever was. Finally, Marshall spoke.
“You tell Sim what happened last night?” He looked at George.
“No.” George said after a moment.
“Well, when ya gonna tell ‘im? Prichard and Lawrence ain’t gonna just forget about it. Ya better talk to ya brother and figure out what ya gonna do and ya better do it quick. Those guys ain’t playin’, George.”
George wasn’t sure what he could say to give Marshall a satisfactory answer, so he decided not to say anything. Marshall took his silence to mean that George wasn’t listening.
“Are you hearin’ me?” Marshall stopped and stared at his friend.
“Yea, yes,” George said quickly. “I know it’s serious and I know they’re not playin’. I’ll talk to Sim tomorrow and we’ll do something. I promise.”
Marshall was about to respond when the lights of a car came over a rise in the road behind them some 200 feet away. From the sound of the engine Marshall could tell it was an older car and he could also tell it was slowing down.
Determined not to be taken by surprise, he looked at the side of the road for something he could use for a club if needed. He spotted an unbroken quart whiskey bottle, picked it up by the long neck and held it behind his back as he turned to face the car.
“Who is it?” George whispered, facing the car with Marshall who didn’t answer.
When the car was some fifteen feet from them, Marshall suddenly realized it was his brother’s Model A so he tossed the bottle back into the bushes.
“Marsh,” James said as he pulled up beside his brother.
Marshall reached for the car door and jerked it opened as anger about the theater row suddenly washed over him again. He reached in for his brother, but James leaned back almost touching the passenger door and hurriedly shouted at Marshall.
“Marsh, this man was lookin’ for ya I think. I think he thought I was you.”
Marshall had crawled in after James when the words seemed to register, and he froze.
“What’d you say?” He asked, holding James collar in both hands.
“I said there was a man lookin’ for ya. I don’t know who it was, but I think he thought I was you.”
“What’d he look like?” Marshall demanded stepping back out of the car.
James described Prichard and the car and told him of the other man driving the car.
“Do you know who they are?”
Marshall looked at George who, James noticed, had suddenly turned ashen. Marshall then nodded in answer to James question as he turned back to his brother.
“The guys me and George had a run in with last night.”
“What happened?”
Marshall stared at his brother a moment deciding what to tell him, if anything, then thought better of it.
“You’re better off not knowing.” He said in a tone of brotherly love and concern James was unfamiliar with. And att the same time it was a tone that didn’t invite argument. “Just stay clear of ‘em if you see ‘em, Jim.”
James started to ask another question about the men, but Marshall interrupted him.
“What happened to ya date?” He asked. “It’s not even ten yet.”
“I took her home,” James answered as he stepped back up into the driver’s seat of the Ford. “I was afraid those guys would find ya and I wanted to warn ya. And I didn’t want Angie around in case something happened.”
James slammed the door shut then asked,” Ya’ll want a ride home.”
Marshall started to say “no,” but when George blurted out “yes” and ran around, opened the passenger door and climbed in. Marshall reluctantly got into the back seat.
None of them spoke during the ten-minute ride to carry George home other than George saying, “Thanks” when he stepped out in front of his house.
“Ya sure ya don’t want to tell me what’s goin’ on,” James finally said as they came within sight of the of their house.. “I might be able to help.”
Marshall grinned as he thought of the clumsy attempt at fighting his brother had made just an hour or so ago.
“Naw, Jim. Like I said, you’re better off not knowin’.” Marshall said still smiling, then he slapped his brother lightly on the arm. “Besides, ya got a girlfriend now ta take care of. I gotta make sure ya stay outa trouble so ya can marry her and raise ya a mess’a kids and live happily-ever-after like in the storybooks.”
James looked at his brother and started to tell him that his relationship with Angie was far from a girlfriend situation yet, but he just smiled as Marshall once more got a laugh at his expense.
This time, though, he even began to laugh with his brother as they turned into their driveway. After all, he thought, Marsh just might be right and not even know it. Maybe Angie and I are destined to be together, he thought. Who knows? Marsh just might be right.