“Get goin’…. We might get company pretty soon.” Even Dillon was slow off the mark. He put the Thompson in the car and they both walked slowly to Joe. They got him into the river. Standing on the bank, they watched the water close over him. The current was strong. They could see the rush of water in the moonlight. Joe would be taken care of for a little while.
Dillon reached forward and washed his hands in the river. He wiped them dry on the grass.
“I guess he ain’t goin’ to talk no more,” he said, staring out across the swiftly moving river.
Roxy stood just behind him. In spite of the close night, he felt cold. His eyes were on Dillon’s back. He suddenly shivered a little.
* * *
The next two days drifted by. Both Roxy and Dillon were on edge. They did not talk about Joe, but he was on their minds all right. On the morning of the third day it came as a little stabbing shock when Ma Chester said during the morning meal, “Joe’s comin’ out today. He promised to bring me some stores. I guess he’ll be along pretty soon.” There was a lot of pride in Ma’s voice when she said it.
Roxy glanced up and looked across at Dillon. Then he pushed his plate away and got up. “Maybe he’ll bring a newspaper,” he said with difficulty.
Ma Chester began clearing the table. “If Joe said he’d bring a newspaper, he’ll bring a newspaper. Joe is that sort of a guy. I always say you can rely on Joe.”
A thin, mirthless smile went over Dillon’s face. He followed Roxy out into the open. They wandered away together.
“Think the cops’ll come on out here?” Roxy said quietly.