parry. I was perfectly safe as I lunged with the stick and drove it into him just below the ribs. He doubled up, offering me the back of his head, and I whipped my little pine tree across the base of his skull, not too hard, and he fell down unconscious.
I swung back and said casually, “Like I was saying, Frankie, turn her loose. Before I come over there and spank you.”
It had been a gamble, of course. I might not have tried it if Frankie had been holding a gun. Startled, he might have fired by mistake. But it’s hard to do serious damage with a knife by mistake. The kid was still standing, biting her lip against the pain of the nervous knifepoint in her back.
“You shouldn’t have done that, mister!” Frankie’s face was shiny. “Drop the stick! I won’t tell you again. Drop it or I’ll—”
“You’ll do what?” I said. “Kill her? What’ll that get you?” I spat on the ground between us. “I’ll tell you what it’ll get you, punk. It’ll get you dead. I’ve got longer legs than you and I know the woods real good. You so much as break the skin with that knife you’re holding and I’ll run you down and kill you. Now make up your mind. Turn her loose and I won’t hurt you. Make me wait any longer and I’ll take you apart and throw the pieces in the lake. Come on, Junior, don’t just stand there trying to look tough. You may be tough for here, but down around Denver where I come from, little boys like you don’t go out without their mothers.” I looked at him for a moment longer, and made a sound of disgust. I threw the stick away from me. “There. No stick. Now what are you going to do, Sonnyboy?”
It worked. Not only had I knocked his partner unconscious, I’d also hurt his pride. I’d belittled him in front of two females. Furthermore, even his limited brain was capable of understanding, at last, that nothing he did to Penny was going to help him get the truck he badly needed to get away. It was me he had to kill, and he stepped around her to do it.
He came in with the knife. Unlike Mousie, he knew enough to hold it like a sword, not an icepick, but that was about all he knew. He came in cautiously at first, but when I gave ground he gained courage and tried a rush. I did it strictly by the book, moving quickly to his right and using a circular karate kick to disarm him. It’s better to use the feet when dealing with a knife, since feet generally have shoes on them—in this case a fairly heavy boot, since I was dressed for camping.
The knife flew out of his grasp. The force of the kick spun him away from me, grasping his bruised hand. I kicked again, since I was in the footwork groove, and cut his legs out from under him. Then I stepped up and kicked him carefully in the head. I went over and got his knife and threw it into the lake. It wasn’t worth saving: one of those crude imitation Bowies sold to the kind of hunters who think they need a big knife for protection from deer and rabbits.
I picked up the instrument Mousie had dropped and went over to where Genevieve stood with her arms about her daughter.
“I guess this belongs to you, ma’am,” I said, holding out the long-bladed kitchen knife.
She patted the little girl on the shoulder and came forward to face me. There was a funny little pause. I put out of my mind all thought of the jug of acid I’d discovered in the trailer. Like Greg’s death, or Elaine’s, it had no real bearing on my mission here, which was to gain this woman’s respect and friendship, and help her get wherever she wanted to go.
I had time to think that it couldn’t have worked out better. Running into a pair of escaped prisoners had been a wild coincidence, but it had given me a chance to do my stuff—and whether Genevieve Drilling thought me a private dick or a secret agent, she couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of obligation, I reflected, that might form the basis of a very satisfactory relationship.
She said, “You’re quite a
I swung back and said casually, “Like I was saying, Frankie, turn her loose. Before I come over there and spank you.”
It had been a gamble, of course. I might not have tried it if Frankie had been holding a gun. Startled, he might have fired by mistake. But it’s hard to do serious damage with a knife by mistake. The kid was still standing, biting her lip against the pain of the nervous knifepoint in her back.
“You shouldn’t have done that, mister!” Frankie’s face was shiny. “Drop the stick! I won’t tell you again. Drop it or I’ll—”
“You’ll do what?” I said. “Kill her? What’ll that get you?” I spat on the ground between us. “I’ll tell you what it’ll get you, punk. It’ll get you dead. I’ve got longer legs than you and I know the woods real good. You so much as break the skin with that knife you’re holding and I’ll run you down and kill you. Now make up your mind. Turn her loose and I won’t hurt you. Make me wait any longer and I’ll take you apart and throw the pieces in the lake. Come on, Junior, don’t just stand there trying to look tough. You may be tough for here, but down around Denver where I come from, little boys like you don’t go out without their mothers.” I looked at him for a moment longer, and made a sound of disgust. I threw the stick away from me. “There. No stick. Now what are you going to do, Sonnyboy?”
It worked. Not only had I knocked his partner unconscious, I’d also hurt his pride. I’d belittled him in front of two females. Furthermore, even his limited brain was capable of understanding, at last, that nothing he did to Penny was going to help him get the truck he badly needed to get away. It was me he had to kill, and he stepped around her to do it.
He came in with the knife. Unlike Mousie, he knew enough to hold it like a sword, not an icepick, but that was about all he knew. He came in cautiously at first, but when I gave ground he gained courage and tried a rush. I did it strictly by the book, moving quickly to his right and using a circular karate kick to disarm him. It’s better to use the feet when dealing with a knife, since feet generally have shoes on them—in this case a fairly heavy boot, since I was dressed for camping.
The knife flew out of his grasp. The force of the kick spun him away from me, grasping his bruised hand. I kicked again, since I was in the footwork groove, and cut his legs out from under him. Then I stepped up and kicked him carefully in the head. I went over and got his knife and threw it into the lake. It wasn’t worth saving: one of those crude imitation Bowies sold to the kind of hunters who think they need a big knife for protection from deer and rabbits.
I picked up the instrument Mousie had dropped and went over to where Genevieve stood with her arms about her daughter.
“I guess this belongs to you, ma’am,” I said, holding out the long-bladed kitchen knife.
She patted the little girl on the shoulder and came forward to face me. There was a funny little pause. I put out of my mind all thought of the jug of acid I’d discovered in the trailer. Like Greg’s death, or Elaine’s, it had no real bearing on my mission here, which was to gain this woman’s respect and friendship, and help her get wherever she wanted to go.
I had time to think that it couldn’t have worked out better. Running into a pair of escaped prisoners had been a wild coincidence, but it had given me a chance to do my stuff—and whether Genevieve Drilling thought me a private dick or a secret agent, she couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of obligation, I reflected, that might form the basis of a very satisfactory relationship.
She said, “You’re quite a
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