October 1925

Jack sank gratefully into the pillows. "A bed. Finally." He closed his eyes. It didn't matter he needed a bath, and food could wait. All he wanted was sleep. A poke in the back from Rose ended that dream. "Get up," she said. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "You need a bath," Rose said. "Jack, you're filthy."

"Can't I sleep first?"

"Not if you want me sleeping with you," she said. In a softer tone she added, "You'll feel better once you're clean. I'll get us some dinner, and then we can sleep."

"Alright."

It was the nicest hotel in town. After the week they'd had Jack saw no reason to care about the expense. Rose agreed. Why try to be anonymous? They weren't there for business. She wanted rest, empty days away from their car, nights spent in a bed and not on the cold ground. Autumn had found them, and as pretty as the changing leaves were, she missed the summer nights.

They had a private bathroom, thanks to their deluxe accommodations. Jack was glad he didn't have to rush. His clothes were stiff with dried mud and sweat. Oil stained his pants. He tossed them in a heap; they would have to go. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. Oil and dirt were smeared across his face. His hair was greasy. The bandage on his hand was now grey; if he wasn't careful the cut would soon be infected. It was stupid of him to get hurt like that. He knew better. It was only fixing the car; how many times had he done it before? And yet, this time was different. His fixes only help for a few miles, and then something else went wrong.

Jack scrubbed until his skin was pink. The water was almost black. He drained the tub and leaned back as it filled again, the hot water soothing his sore muscles. It had been weeks since they had taken hot baths. They washed in lakes and creeks even after it was too cold. It just seemed easier, and then the car-Jack pushed the worry out of his mind. They would figure something out.

"For someone who didn't want a bath, you do appear to be enjoying yourself," Rose said.

Jack grinned. "I'll enjoy myself more if you get in here with me."

"A tempting offer."

"You need a bath too, Miss," he said.

"Are you calling me dirty?" she said haughtily.

He shook his head, no longer sleepy. "No, Miss."

The look in his blue eyes was like a kiss; it left Rose's heart beating faster. Jack watched as she slipped out of her clothes. He reached for her as she stepped into the tub. "C'mere."

She settled in his lap. His chest pressed against her back; his arms encircled her. She tilted her head back and kissed him. Steam rose from the water; the air smelled like peach soap, the same soap Jack caressed her skin with, kneading the knots from her shoulders as he went.

Rose closed her eyes and breathed slowly. He washed her hair, gently massaging her scalp. Why did it never feel this good when she did it herself? She heard the tub draining. Fresh, hot water followed. No doubt they'd pay extra for all this hot water, but Jack didn't care. Neither of them cared. Didn't they choose this life so they could have nights like this?

His voice was low, almost a groan. "Rose."

She turned to face him, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Yes, Jack?" she said coyly. He leaned in to kiss her, but she moved back with a laugh. He was wet and slippery, hot from the water. She didn't know if the flush on his cheeks was from desire or the water. She nipped his neck gently, earning a ragged sigh. Rose felt him wanting her. She looked into his eyes and kissed him eagerly, shifting her body. His hand found her hips and did the rest.

….

The sheets were soft and cool. Rose curled up against him and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her damp curls spread out across the pillow. "Tell me a story," she said.

Jack's eyes were half-closed. "You aren't tired?"

"I can't fall asleep yet."

"And you want a story?" he said.

"Please, Jack."

"Alright." He propped his head on his hand and draped his other arm over her. "Once upon a time there was a boy-"

"Named Jack."

"Are you telling this story?" he asked playfully.

"Sorry," she said. "Go on."

"His name was Jack. I planned that," he said. "And he was in love with a girl who had eyes like the ocean and skin like rose petals. He took his Flower Girl off to a life of adventures."

Rose yawned. "What kind of adventures?"

"He showed her how to live under the sky. The stars were their bed each night. When they woke up there'd be new flowers growing around them. They wanted to be near her."

"I don't believe that," she said.

"She was a Flower Girl," Jack said. "A real one. Part girl, part flower. It was hard to tell which one she was more off, and he was afraid the flowers would take her back one day."

She yawned again. "Did they?"

Jack watched her eyes close. Her breathing slowed. He kissed her. "Not yet," he whispered.

…

"I've fixed everything I can think of," Jack said. "Nothing works. What's wrong with it?"

Simon wiped his hands on a rag. "It's shot," he said. "Nothing to fix."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this car's dead," Simon replied. "You'll get a few more miles, but that's it. I could do some work on it. I could definitely use the money, but it wouldn't help."

"It's only a couple years old," Jack said incredulously.

"And clearly been driven through all kinds of weather," Simon said. "You've put almost a million miles on this thing. What'd you do, cross the country a few times?"

"Sort of, yeah," Jack said. He sighed.

"Look, you might as well get yourself a new car," Simon said. "Save a lot of time and money."

"Thanks. Can I leave it here a while?"

"Sure," Simon answered.

…

Jack found Rose standing outside a flower shop. "They can't have you back," he said, placing a kiss on her hair. She looked at him curiously. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What's wrong with the car?" she asked.

"What isn't wrong with it?"

"It's that bad?" she said.

"We might as well get a new one," Jack replied. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"Plans change, remember?"

"I remember," he said.

"Speaking of," Rose said. "I overheard a rather interesting conversation while I was waiting for you."

"Really?"

"It seems a Mr. Caulfield has come into town to make a large deposit at his bank."

"Go on," he said, intrigued.

"He's supposed to be carrying at least $1,200," she said. "From the sale of land. He doesn't trust banks very much. He has an appointment with his personal banker, Mr. Williams, at two o'clock tomorrow."

"And until then he's just carrying all that cash?"

"That's what he said."

"You don't think he could be pulling a job, do you?" Jack asked. "This is awfully convenient."

"I wondered that as well. He can't take us, though, can he? We'd figure it out," Rose said.

"Probably, but then again, maybe we've been at it so long we're getting arrogant," Jack said. "I'd hate to lose this. I'd hate getting worked even more."

"What do you want to do, Jack?"

"Let's figure out the car and see what happens next," he said.

….

Spending cash for a new car was never an option. They couldn't try their usual method of doing business for a car. Their old one wasn't in good enough shape, and they weren't in a hurry to leave town. Especially not with a potential catch on the lines.

"This was supposed to be a vacation," Jack said. He got the box of stationary supplies out of his suitcase.

"Work intrudes," Rose said.

"And we can't put off getting a new car. Even if we don't take that guy I don't wanna be stranded here."

Being without a car, for even a few hours, made Jack nervous. They had to be able to leave at any time. His heart beat too fast, but he couldn't stop it. He tried to breathe slowly, but that only made him dizzy. Rose took the book from his hands. "Jack, sit down," she said gently. She brushed the hair away from his face and kissed his forehead. "Calm down Darling-Jack. It's alright."

"I just—"

"I know," she said.

"I'm sorry, Rose."

"Don't be. Let me take care of this," she said.

They had several check books. A few were connected their various bank accounts; those bore their real names along with false addresses. The others were used strictly for business. Some were blank. Some were done in the style of payroll checks. Some looked so much like government bonded checks even an expert would have trouble telling the difference at first. They bought them from printers. They placed legitimate orders on behalf of real banks and business—without their knowledge, of course. They used common supplies from a stationary store to make the others.

They didn't use checks often. It was risky. They mostly kept them for any jobs that might call for them. In small towns like this, checks were still a bit uncommon, but they were also looked at with respect. A check meant more than just money; it also meant prestige. It signified a man with too much cash to carry around, and that was a man to take seriously.

Rose took a blank payroll check from the box. She worked slowly. Everything had to be perfect. She filled in the information for a lumber company based in Kentucky. It was close enough not to arouse too much suspicion, and yet far enough away no-one in town would be familiar with it.

She made it out to Jack for $509.95. She wrote another to herself for $343.67. That would buy them a new car. They'd sell the old one for whatever they could get.

….

"Afternoon." Jack grinned down at the teller. She was young, no more than twenty. She blushed as she smiled. "Good afternoon," she said.

A slight Southern accent slipped into his voice. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed. "It's been real pretty lately."

"Would you mind cashing this for me?" he asked, sliding the check over to her. "I know it's outta state, but I'm on my way to see my mama, and I didn't have time to cash it back home." His blue eyes were so honest and clear. May just wanted to get lost in them. "We're not supposed to, but this one time won't hurt," she said.

Jack smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Outwardly he was at ease, but he didn't relax until he was away from the bank, the money in his pocket. It felt odd not having a car to go back to. Rose was coming from her errand at the other bank when he rounded the corner. She flashed him a smile, and he knew everything had gone well.

"Shall we buy a car?" Rose said.

He held out his arm for her to take. "Let's," he said.

…..

There were a few lots in town. They didn't have the luxury of driving to each one, so they settled for the nearest. It was a fairly prosperous place with a less than honest salesman on duty. Rose touched Jack's arm when she saw him, and he nodded just enough for her to see.

"Afternoon folks," Conrad said jovially.

"Afternoon," Jack said.

"You looking to buy?" Conrad glanced at Rose, who wore a polite expression; her arm was still in Jack's. He dismissed her.

"Maybe," Jack said. "Don't know yet."

"Let me show you what we got then."

They followed Conrad around the lot, listening while he detailed the reasons each car was a bargain at twice the price. "Take this one here," he said. "It's barely been driven. It's practically new." It was a 1916 Ford, and Jack knew it had been driven just as much, if not more, than their old car. "Maybe," Jack said. "It doesn't look so good to me."

The one he wanted as a 1923 model. He squeezed Rose's hand as they passed it, and she agreed. Conrad knew nothing of this, of course. Judging from their clothes he thought they were country people who recently came into money. He took Jack for a man trying to sound smarter than he really was.

"What about this one?" Jack said, going over to the car next to the one he wanted.

"Oh, that's a good choice," Conrad said. "In fine shape."

"What do you think?" Jack asked Rose.

"You know I don't know anything about this," Rose said demurely. "It's your decision."

"I don't know," Jack said. "Is this price right?" The sticker said $125.

"It's right," Conrad said.

"I would've give that much for it," Jack said. He casually walked over to the next care. Its price was $200. "I'd maybe give $150 for this one."

"I couldn't go that low," Conrad said. "I'm selling it at a loss already."

"How do you figure?"

"Just look at it," Conrad said. "Solid engine. Good paint job. New tires. It's worth at least $250."

"I only see $150 here," Jack said. "And that's being generous."

"Maybe we shouldn't argue with the man," Rose said. "He seems to know what he's talking about."

"I can handle this, Gladys Jane dear," Jack said. "Look, we're obviously not gonna make a deal," he said to Conrad. "We may as well go."

"Not so fast," Conrad said. "We can talk."

"No, you've said what you had to say."

Jack and Rose turned to go. Conrad watched, expecting them to turn around again. When they didn't he called out, "Wait. $150, you said?"

"$125," Jack replied without bothering to turn his head."

"I can't do $125."

Nonchalantly Jack turned. "I thought you said you couldn't do $150?"

"$150's as low as I can go," Conrad replied.

"No. I want a spare set of tires and $130," Jack said.

They stared at each other as Conrad considered the offer. "I can do that."

…..

The car drove like a dream. It was bigger than their old one. They could both stretch out across the backseat. "And a bargain at twice the price," Rose joked.

"Especially when she was worth at least $250," Jack said. "Who was he kidding? This was the only decent car on the lot. I think he had it just to get people interested."

"Then why did he given in?"

Jack shrugged. "He probably didn't pay much for it. If he paid anything."

"Do you think it's stolen?" she asked.

"Not anymore. We got the papers. It's all legal now. New license plate, probably new paint too."

"Someday I'll stop being surprised," Rose said.

"Don't do that," Jack said.

He drove to a garage near the hotel. "It runs great already," he told the mechanic. "Make it run better by tomorrow. Do whatever you have to. I want it to fly." He handed the man a wad of bills. "By tomorrow."

"He thinks you're an outlaw," Rose said as they walked away. "Some kind of gangster. I guess that makes me your moll."

Jack took her hand. "You're my wife. No matter what, you'd never be anything else to me."

"Why are you so concerned with how it runs?"

"I don't want it breaking down all at once like the last one did," he said. "We're gonna stay on top of things this time."

….

They sat in the hotel lobby for an hour after lunch waiting for Mr. Caulfield. "There he is," Rose whispered.

"You can tell he's got money. He thinks he's hiding it," Jack replied. "Probably in his pocket right now."

"Are we going to do anything?"

"You want to?" he asked.

"If you do."

"Towns too small for him to be pulling a job," he mused. "There aren't many unfamiliar faces. People act like they know him."

"But they don't know us," Rose pointed out. "That might be a problem."

"Could be. Does it make you nervous?"

Rose shook her head. A familiar spark was in her eyes. "I think we can do it."

"But what are we gonna do?"

She could tell from his expression Jack wanted to come up with an elaborate scheme. Nothing thrilled him more than finding a new way to do business. "Simple is best right now, Jack," she said. "We don't want anyone chasing us."

"You're right," he agreed reluctantly.

"Should we drop a wallet?"

"Yeah," he said. "That'd work."

…

They kept an eye on Caulfield for the rest of the day. People were always coming up to him. He sat in the lobby with a little notebook. Sometimes they went to his room. "He didn't get that money from selling land," Rose said. "He is doing business, just not our kind."

"But what's he doing?"

They watched as Caulfield went outside. "Let's follow him," Rose suggested. Keeping a safe distance, they slipped out the back door after him. He went behind the hotel and through the trees, stopping at a dilapidated old barn. He disappeared inside and came out a few minutes later with a large, clearly full sack. He walked slowly, holding the sack tightly. "Let's see what's in there," Jack whispered.

The door opened easily, revealing a dim room clogged with bottles. "He's a bootlegger," Rose said, shaking her head in disbelief. "That insipid looking little man."

"That's his cover," Jack said. "I'll be that talk about money was a code to let people know he's got goods ready to sell."

"Do you want to give up?"

"Do you?" he asked.

"It's a much bigger risk now."

"Or less," he said. "He can't go to the cops."

"We've never done business with a bootlegger," Rose pointed out. "Or any other criminals. If he finds out, he might do anything. What does he have to lose?"

"We can forget this and just take a few days off," Jack said. "We got plenty from the checks."

Rose sighed. "I don't quite want to let it go."

"Neither do I," he admitted.

"We'll be careful," she said.

He nodded. "I'll think of somethin good."

Jack didn't know how much he would come to regret his confidence.