Lunch goes off splendidly. Ma's home cooking is the first thing they've eaten since Joplin that isn't out of a can, and the first home cooking any of them have had in months. Harold asks for seconds before anyone else.
After, Gwen produces her camera from the picnic basket. It's the same brand as the one Courtney lost in Joplin and the sight of it makes her wince, but Duncan encourages her to take some pictures with his family. They all pose together as Harold photographs them. Duncan calls Alejandro out of the frame and takes a picture of just the girls. Then Gwen yanks the camera from his hands and shoves him in Courtney's direction.
"God, Duncan, do you always look like you want ta shit a brick?" Gwen jokes as he and Courtney pose. "Bonnie, give him a kiss. Get him ta lighten up."
Duncan glares venomously at his sister as Courtney obliges, kissing him with a smile for the camera.
The time ticks by and soon, it's four o'clock. The flowers Courtney had picked for her mother have begun to wilt in the car, so she gives half of them to Ma, who promises to put them in a place of honor. The boys, Harold included, find a half eaten baseball in the muddy riverbank and begin tossing it around, Scruffy yipping and darting between their legs.
Heather tries to strike up a conversation with Gwen about the latest in fashion, but from what Courtney overhears, Gwen has less in common with Heather than she does. Gwen smiles simply as Heather informs her of all the things wrong with her wardrobe and keeps smiling without a word as Heather grows more and more irritated by Gwen's lack of participation in the conversation—which only makes Gwen smile wider.
Courtney stays on the picnic blanket with Ma, trying not to move too much and upset her stitches. She drinks the remainder of their wine straight from the bottle and checks the time obsessively as they all wait.
"This spot's a pain in the rump to find," Ma says knowingly. "Why, Gwenith and I drove around for hours the first time tryin' to figure out where the devil it was."
Courtney nods slightly and keeps turning her wedding band anxiously.
"My boy give ya that?" Ma asks, taking Courtney's hand in hers and admiring the ring.
"I... It's not..." Courtney says, staring at her hand. "It's...complicated," she finishes lamely.
Ma turns their hands over so that the more weathered hand is on top. It has neither a wedding ring nor any indication that there ever was one.
"Ain't it always?" Ma says, giving her a gentle squeeze.
After a beat, Courtney squeezes back. Then she pulls her hand back and stands.
"Thank you for waiting. We should go. My mother's not coming."
Without acknowledging Ma's confusion, Courtney makes her way across the road to the Ford. Tears prick behind her eyes, and she rubs them away.
Scruffy barks nearby. Turning, Courtney finds the dog trailing behind her, staring expectantly.
"I'm sorry," she says to the animal. "I should be going. I don't want to get anyone in trouble."
Scruffy whimpers and moves towards her. Courtney backs herself tentatively against the car door, but the dog only nuzzles her hand, requesting a pet. Courtney obliges with a tentative scratch behind the ears.
Duncan jogs over to her, his slacks and hands muddy. "Hey, you alright, doll? Ma says ya wanna go."
"This was wonderful, Duncan," she says, looking at Scruffy, "but my mother's not coming. We can go."
Duncan takes her hand off Scruffy's head and holds it tight. "Ya sure? We ain't passin' through Dallas again for a while."
"I'm sure," she murmurs.
Duncan kisses her forehead, then calls to Al that they should start packing up. Courtney keeps her head down and her eyes on her shoes.
Scruffy tries to nuzzle himself under Courtney's hand again. He begins a whine but cuts off mid-sound. His ears perk. He turns his head to the road, motionless.
Duncan and Courtney turns as well, listening. A car motor rumbles in the distance. Duncan puts a hand on his Colt, and Courtney holds her breath. A car turns the corner and comes into view.
It's not a police car, and it's not Justin's truck. Courtney remains still for a moment longer, before moving towards it. Duncan holds out an arm to stop her.
"We ain't got a clue who that is."
"It's my mother or it's coppers in disguise," Courtney says flatly, "and if it's law, you've got a better shot if I distract them."
Duncan frowns, considers, then lowers his arm. Courtney glances back at the picnic blanket. Al and Heather are both inching towards their guns. Harold has one hand on Ma's shoulder, the other turning over the keys to the Ford. Gwen is watching the car with a surgeon's intensity.
Courtney swallows and walks towards the vehicle.
The car stops a good distance away, and Courtney stops too, still unable to see the driver. She shifts, reaching for her gun.
"...Bonnie?"
Courtney half-sobs, half-laughs. "Mama!"
Forgetting her newly stitched wound, she runs to the car. Mrs. Bons steps out with a stony expression, leaving the engine running. Courtney throws her arms around her mother.
"Mama! Oh, Mama, it's so good to see you! I thought you wouldn't—"
"Are you safe?" her mother demands, pulling back to look Courtney over. "Did they hurt you?"
"No, Mama, I'm fine. I'm just so happy you came. I got you flowers—oh, god damn it, they're still on the picnic blanket..."
Mrs. Bons winces at the language, but Courtney brushes it off, pulling on her mother's hands.
"C'mon, we saved you a plate of food. I want you to meet everyone."
Courtney's mother doesn't budge. She runs a hand down Courtney's cheek, then lets her blank facade crumble into relief.
"Oh, darling," Mrs. Bons says shakily, and pulls Courtney into a hug. She squeezes her tight and—
"Gah!" Courtney shouts, jerking back. She presses a hand to her side.
Mrs. Bons stares.
"It's...alright," Courtney insists, breathing through her teeth. "It's just a bad bruise, Mama."
But when Courtney pulls her hand away, blood is speckling through her blouse. She covers it again just as quickly.
Her mother's mouth presses into a tight, flat line.
"Bonnie. Get in the car."
Courtney stares. "What? Why? You just got here."
Mrs. Bons grabs Courtney by her arm and pulls her toward the car. "Promise or no promise, I won't stand by another minute and let you throw your life away because you can't see that you're being manipulated!"
Courtney pulls back. It hurts her side. "Mama, don't be like this. I told you, I'm fine."
"Fine?" her mother accuses. "This is your definition of fine?"
She yanks Courtney's blouse up to see the line of stitches trickling blood through the bandages, her stomach a zigzag of red lines. She almost dislodges the gun from Courtney's waistband.
"It just nicked me!" Courtney says, pulling the blouse back down. "Duncan took care of it right away, and his sister—"
"Duncan Clyde?" her mother clarifies, eyes hard.
"Yes," Courtney snaps. "He took care of it, and I want you to come—"
"Courtney Bons," her mother hisses, "I am not getting within ten yards of that murderer. And if you had any God-given sense still in you, you wouldn't either!" Hands on either side of her daughter's face, Mrs. Bond pleads, "It's not too late to turn back now."
Courtney takes a step back, eyes flashing.
"Don't call him a murderer," she whispers.
"What happened in Joplin aside—"
"They shot at us first! That officer was trying to kill me. Duncan saved my life."
"Is that what he told you?" her mother growls.
"No, that's what I'm telling you," Courtney says. "It was self-defense."
"And the other nine dead officers?" Mrs. Bon asks, voice icy. "And the Joplin county sheriff? Did Duncan Clyde tell you that was self-defense too?"
Courtney blinks. Nine? No, she only saw him pull the trigger on the officer in front of the car. One officer. Everything else was—
Bottles on a fencepost.
Courtney's stomach flips over on itself. She's going to be sick.
"What caliber bullets were they, Mama?"
"What?"
"The police officers," Courtney demands. She swallows thickly, voice shaking. "Were they killed with Browning Automatic rounds? ...Were they .38s?"
"Can you hear yourself? It doesn't matter." Her mother grabs her by the arm again. "What matters is that man has a body count in the dozens, and I'm not going to let him add you to that list!"
"There a problem, Mrs. Bons? Yer food's gettin' cold."
Courtney's mother drops her arm like it's burning and backs up a solid two yards away. Duncan comes up behind Courtney and wraps an arm around her shoulders.
"You a fan of peach cobbler, ma'am?" he asks cordially. "Because my ma makes a hell of a damn good peach cobbler."
Mrs. Bons glares at Duncan. "You."
Her eyes cut to Courtney, but Courtney doesn't return the gaze. Instead, she finds herself leaning on Duncan, lightheaded. Her vision starts to spin.
"Baby, did you tell yer ma we saved her a plate of food?" Duncan asks.
Courtney nods dumbly.
"What have you done to my daughter?" Mrs. Bones hisses.
The pleasantness in Duncan's tone doesn't flinch. "Why, I've taken your daughter on a grand tour of the ole U.S. of A., all the way from Louisiana to Illinois. I've opened her eyes to the wonders our president and all his men have wrought on us poor folk, and I've taught her how to take it back for herself."
Courtney buries her face in Duncan's shoulder and blinks her eyes rapidly, struggling to breathe. Bottles on a fence post... Nine dead officers...
She's going to have a panic attack. She hasn't had a panic attack since she was eighteen. Being held hostage and handcuffed and shot hadn't brought it on. Yet here she is, a hair's breadth away from collapsing into a pile of ragged breathing and raw nerves in front of Duncan and her mother.
"You're a monster," Mrs. Bons accuses.
Duncan tips his hat at her. "That I may be, ma'am. But I promise ya, it ain't got no reflection on how I treat yer daughter. I ain't risked Bonnie's life for a single dime. Not till she was ready. Why, we've had our shot at some grand ole scores, and I decided against 'em. For Bonnie's safety."
His words pull Courtney back from her spiral. They clear the echoing in her ears.
"What?" she murmurs, looking up at him.
But Duncan's entire focus is on Mrs. Bons. "You know, Bonnie's always talking about settling down and living near you when all the heat on us clears."
Mrs. Bons bristles. Behind them, Scruffy barks. Their crew and Duncan's family are still by the picnic blanket, no doubt watching this unfold.
"You won't live that long," Mrs. Bons whispers.
Courtney feels Duncan's breath catch, though nothing in his demeanor changes.
"Mama," Courtney begs, turning to her mother, "please, have lunch with us. Enjoy this time we have together."
Mrs. Bons turns away sharply, a hand over her mouth.
"Why?" she whispers. "Because we might not get another chance? Because next time I see you, you could be on a slab?"
Duncan hesitates, then reaches into his pocket to pull out a few bills. It's all the money they have.
"Mrs. Bons," he starts, holding the money out, "yer daughter and I—"
"She's not my daughter."
The ground under Courtney's feet disappears.
"Mama? Mama, don't say that..."
"My daughter would come home with me," Mrs. Bons says, brokenly. "My daughter knows right from wrong. She knows what God gave her and what the Devil's work looks like." She straightens and looks Courtney straight in the eye. "You are not my daughter."
Mrs. Bons gets in her car. Courtney rushes to the window.
"Mama, don't go," she begs. "It doesn't have to be this way. I'm still the same person! I'm still your little Bonnie."
Mrs. Bons puts the car in reverse without looking at her daughter.
"You come home, Courtney," her mother says, "or you are dead to me."
"Mama, please—!"
Duncan yanks Courtney back as Mrs. Bons' car jerks into motion, reversing down the road.
"No!" Courtney shouts, fighting to escape Duncan's grip. "No, please! I can't let— She can't— Mama! Mama!"
The car three-point-turns and takes off down the road at full speed.
Duncan turns Courtney around in his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers. "It's gonna be okay."
"No," Courtney cries into his shirt. "No… How could she? How could she?"
"I'm so sorry, baby."
Courtney collapses against him, sobbing. He rubs her back, and holds her carefully. Her side is still bleeding.
"Duncan?" Gwen's voice calls, hesitant.
"Give us a moment," Duncan says.
Scruffy barks once. He snarls and keeps snarling.
"Duncan," Gwen says again.
Courtney looks up with bleary eyes at the tone of Gwen's voice. She's staring down the road Mrs. Bons came in on. Scruffy is staring in the same direction, baring all of his teeth. Duncan and Courtney look that way.
Mrs. Bons and her car are gone. Instead, under the rustling of wind in the trees, another car can be heard coming down the road, precisely in their direction.
Gwen swears.
"You weren't expecting anyone else, were you?"
Author's Note: Another chapter and another GORGEOUS image by CID-Vicious for "Clippings"! Here is a preview of 32 as a thank you for your patience:
"Anything goes south, the law can't hold me for long. No criminal record," Gwen says, looking between her brothers. "Shake a leg. Take Ma and hide. I got this."
"We can outrun them," Duncan insists.
"And let them use Ma and me as bait?"
Heather opens the back seat for Scruffy to jump in and scowls at Courtney. "That all depends on what exactly Bonnie's mother told them."
"Mama wouldn't…" Courtney whispers to herself. "She promised…"
"Clyde!" Harold calls. "What's the call?"