Whisper Town by Patricia Hickman Page B

may as well leave. We can stay
     at that same inn if we get there before midnight.”
    “Take this food with you, honey. We have more than we can eat.” Fern’s mother had a tone of resignation.
    “We’ll not have to stop for food this go-around,” said Florence.
    “I want to pay for your gas,” said Mrs. Coulter. She held out several bills.
    “It’s not necessary,” said Fern.
    “Let me do something, for goodness’ sake! You always have to be so much like your father?”
    “I love you, Mother.” They kissed. Fern accepted the money.
    “Angel, you can come and stay with me anytime. You’re a perfect guest. You too, Mrs. Bernard.”
    Florence and Mrs. Coulter exchanged pleasantries. Angel and Fern loaded up the luggage. Fern’s brother insisted on checking
     out Jeb’s pistol, so Angel retrieved it for him. “I practice-shot it before,” she said.
    “You good with a revolver?” he asked. His name was Buddy.
    “Not as good as my brother. But a lot better aim than Miss Coulter.”
    “That I believe. Sis was always better on the archery range.”
    “Your family has a nice house,” said Angel. “Is that your wife?” She had had trouble matching up all of Fern’s brothers with
     their women.
    “Esther. We married six months ago. Otherwise I’d be setting my sights on a girl as pretty as you.” He winked at Fern.
    “You don’t have to say that,” said Angel.
    “It’s true. Fern, I sure wish you’d wait until morning. But I guess you’ll be safe here with young Annie Oakley.”
    “She wasn’t afraid of Bonnie and Clyde. I guess if we meet up with Dillinger, she’ll stand up to him too,” said Fern.
    The Coulters all stared at one another.
    “She’s not lying,” said Florence. “About Bonnie and Clyde.”
    “They seemed decent enough people, I thought,” said Angel.
    “Don’t tell me anything else,” said Mrs. Coulter. “Fern, you stay away from gangsters. My heart can’t take much more.”
    Fern said her good-byes and ushered Angel and Florence off to her idling car. “Look at that streak of pink sunset breaking
     through. It’ll be a pretty night for driving.”
    “That Nigra girl’s sleeping in Angel’s bed?” asked Willie.
    “I could give her yours if your conscience is bothering you.” Jeb was tired from hauling wood. The families with enough cash
     for wood had almost bargained him out of business. “Ida May, go wash up the dishes. Don’t leave Lucky to do all the work.”
    “You already got people griping about a little one; now you got a big girl from Tempest’s Bog living here too,” said Willie.
    “She’s not from Tempest’s Bog.”
    “Not that I care.”
    “Of course you don’t.”
    “Her family care that she’s here?”
    “I thought you didn’t care.”
    “I don’t. But where’s her family anyway?”
    “Hope. Her minister brought her here. You got any more questions?”
    “When’s Angel and Miss Coulter coming home?”
    “Not that you care.”
    “I don’t care.”
    “I miss them too. Women shouldn’t be on the road without an escort in this day and age.”
    “Who’d want to mess with Angel? She ain’t the best-looking girl and she’s not bright or nothing.”
    “Willie, you got anything nice to say about anyone?”
    “I got a B on my spelling test today.”
    “Jeb, Lucky is the same color as Myrtle.” Ida May stood at the door wearing an apron that touched the floor.
    “Thank you, Ida May. You finished with the dishes?” Jeb asked.
    “I’m drying. Lucky is a good dishwasher.” She turned and joined Lucky at the sink.
    “When I grow up, I’m only going to have one child and give him all the attention he wants,” said Willie.
    “Sharing space makes you humble, Willie.”
    “It’s dark out. Mind if I go and check my coon traps?”
    “It’s cold. Get on your coat.” He watched through the window, watched Willie’s waving lantern swinging back and forth through
     the woods. Willie was good on his own. He never worried