“She's eighteen,” Ma Chester told him. “But I guess she's never grown up.”
Dillon couldn't stand any more of it. He went outside. The hot sun was fast drying the heavy dew. The ground was steaming a little, and a faint white mist, extending as far as the eye could see, hovered just above the ground. The air smelt good and he was glad to get away from the staleness of the shack.
He walked over to the car and glanced inside. The back seat was stained dark with Myra's blood. He wrinkled his nose a little. This was a hell of a morning.
Over the way he noticed a well, and he went over and drew a bucket of water. Then, finding some rags under the front seat, he began sponging the mess away. He had just got through and had got rid of the water when Roxy came out.
Dillon looked at him. “I'm goin' to go nuts in this dump,” he said. “Just wait until that chiseler comes out here.... I'll kill him.”
Roxy sat on the running-board of the car and lit a cigarette. “Hell,” he said. “It's somethin' to be safe, ain't it?”
“That loony gives me the creeps,” Dillon muttered, shoving the back seat into place.
“Aw, she's okay.... She's just a kid really.... You look on her as a kid. She ain't goin' to worry you.”
Chrissie came out just then. She edged over to them. “You've made the seat all wet,” she said, looking into the back of the car. “Why have you done that?”
Dillon turned away. He spat on the ground. As he moved off, Chrissie said, “I don't like him,” to Roxy.
Roxy grinned at her. “He's all right,” he said. “I guess he's got somethin' on his mind.”
Chrissie looked puzzled. “What?” she said. “How do you mean, somethin' on his mind?”
Roxy scratched his head. “You know,” he said; “he's worried about something.”
“Is that all?” She lost interest. “When are you taking me for a drive, Mister?”
Roxy said, “I can't take you now. Maybe tomorrow. But not just now. What do you do with yourself all day?”
She stood looking longingly at the car. “Aw, not much,” she said. “I play... I like playing best.”
Roxy eyed her over. He thought it was tough for a fine-looking broad to be so simple. “Well, let's play at somethin', shall we?” He felt a little embarrassed, but he was sorry for her.
She looked at him as if making up her mind whether he'd be worth playing with. Then she nodded.
Dillon had made a circuit of the shack and was standing watching them. A curious gleam came into his eye.
“Take her down to the river,” he said. “Get her to swim.” He said out of the corner of his mouth, “Get her goin'. She might be worth lookin' at.”
Roxy's face went a deep crimson. “You lay off that,” he said angrily. “This kid's simple, see? I ain't standin' for any of that stuff.”
Dillon stood looking at him, his face sullen. “Aw, go an' play dolls,” he sneered. “You give me a pain.”
He stood looking after them as they wandered away into the woods.
After two days on the farm Dillon was nearly crazy. He was nervous of walking too far from the thick woods. He was sick of sitting inside watching old man Chester, or listening to Ma Chester singing her son's praise.
Roxy, for something better to do, had turned his attention to the farm. Dillon was too lazy to do that. Chrissie followed Roxy about like a dog. She had got over her first shyness and Roxy quite liked her. She was amused at most things he said, which flattered him, and she helped him with the work on the farm.
He was quite startled at her strength. She would think nothing of shifting heavy sacks or logs of wood, that made Roxy sweat to move. Under his directions, put in the simplest way, she carried out quite a programme. Sometimes she got bored and began to fool, then Roxy took her off for a walk.
Dillon watched them contemptuously. He made no attempt to join them. Roxy never discussed her when they were alone. Chrissie went to bed around eight o'clock, arid Roxy and Dillon played cards monotonously into the night.
It was Sunday, and Dillon was jittery. Joe Chester was coming out, and he'd have news. Cut away from the radio and the newspapers, neither of the men knew what was going on. Even Roxy couldn't get up any enthusiasm to play with Chrissie. He hung around the shack doing odd jobs, his eye on the dirt road.
It was after ten o'clock when Joe turned up. He came bumping along the dirt road in a new car. He looked mighty pleased with himself.
Chrissie was the first to spot him, and she lumbered down the road to meet him. Joe stopped the car and let her get in.
Dillon and Roxy watched them. Dillon said, “We gotta get this punk alone.”
Roxy said, “Sure... we'll get him all right.”
It was some little time before Joe could get round to them. Ma Chester and Chrissie were all over him. Even old man Chester wakened up and had something to say. By the time Joe shook them off, Dillon was in a vile temper.
The three of them walked into the wood, and when they were some distance from the shack, they sat down on the grass.
Dillon said, “Now come on, for God's sake. What's been goin' on?”
Joe gave him a worried look. “I don't like it,” he said, wagging his head. “The Feds are raising hell.”
“What you mean, raising hell? Got a newspaper with you?”
Joe shook his head. He seemed quite surprised at the idea. “No, I ain't got no newspaper,” he said.
Dillon looked at Roxy, his face dark with fury. “What a guy!” he snarled. “Came from town an' ain't got the goddam sense to bring a newspaper.”
Even Roxy was put out. “Why, Joe,” he said, “I guess that's dumb.”
“Dumb?” Dillon snarled. “Why...” he broke off, spluttering.
Joe looked concerned. “If I thought you guys wanted a paper, I'd've brought it.”
Dillon nearly struck him. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Listen, you bohunk,” he said at last. “We gotta have a radio up here, see? I gotta know what's goin' on. I'll go nuts in this dump if I don't get some information through.”
Joe nodded. “Sure, I'll bring one up when I get round again.”
Dillon said, “You'll bring one up right away.”
Roxy hastily said, “Well, come on, Joe, what's been happening?”
Joe looked glum again. “The Feds have been in to see me. They've been everywhere. They found the car you ditched not far from my place.... I guess that was a smart thing to do.”
Dillon demanded, “Do they know you've got this dump up here?”
Joe shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “I guess they don't. Look here, Mister, it ain't goin' to be good for me or my folks if they catch you here.”
“What the hell do you think I'm payin' you a thousand bucks for?” Dillon snarled.
“I was comin' to that.” Joe shifted his eyes. “I guess I had a bad bit of luck the other day. I lost that dough in a crap game.”