* * * * *
He was sitting quietly on the edge of the rear seat when the Nevada Highway Patrol cars drove up next to them. Barbara Wilson had stopped screaming, but she was still sobbing on Malone's shoulder. "It's all right," he told her, feeling ineffectual.
"I never saw anybody killed before," she said.
"It's all right," Malone said. "Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll protect you."
He wondered if he meant it, and found, to his surprise, that he did.
Barbara Wilson sniffled and looked up at him. "Mr. Malone—"
"Ken," he said.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Ken—I'm so afraid. I saw the hole in one of the men's heads, when you fired—it was—"
"Don't think about it," Malone said. To him, the job had been an unpleasant occurrence, but a job, that was all. He could see, though, how it might affect people who were new to it.
"You're so brave," she said.
Malone tightened his arm around the girl's shoulder. "Just depend on me," he said. "You'll be all right if you—"