It takes Harold a little longer than Heather to get back on his feet. The Asian woman is swearing and reacquainting herself with her firearms and making Courtney's life miserable before Harold can even get a word out without coughing. He needs a further round of stolen medicine before he can get on his feet, and even then Courtney has to help him around.
The first day that Harold can open his own canned breakfast, Duncan has an announcement at the kitchen table.
"Been thinking," he says tightly. "About doing jewelry."
That gets everyone's attention.
"What brought you around?" Al says, slowly putting his glass of water back down.
Courtney doesn't meet the glance Duncan throws her way, focusing on her own can of beans.
"I did some research while ya'll were laying about," he says. "Our odds ain't any better, but neither are our options. We're at the point of desperate measures." He crosses his arms. "But if we're going to do it, we're going to do it right. Low profile. Low as possible. That means camping."
Everyone groans.
"We can't do another week out in this cold," Heather says angrily. "That's not a complaint, it's a fact."
Duncan glares at her. "We move on jewelry first sign of spring. We've made it on small hits all winter, we can make it a few more weeks."
Courtney finishes with her can. Immediately, she reaches for the last beer bottle in the cabinet. "And then?"
"Then," Duncan says, "if all goes well, we head back to Texas. The Barrow boys might still have enough good faith to get a couple of fancy rocks sold through Mexico. We drop off money with Ma and Gwen, and then we take a nice long leave of absence from the papers."
"That even plausible?" Heather asks, looking at Duncan and Al.
"I don't see why not, amor," Al replies, putting an arm around her. "All goes well, we could buy another apartment. Maybe un perrito?"
"Why? We already have three dogs over here," Heather says, nodding to her brother-in-law, Courtney, and Harold. Duncan smirks while Courtney scowls.
Harold clears his throat and taps his fingers on his coffee cup. "Not to interrupt your plans for a second honeymoon," he says, his voice still raspy, "But won't we still be out runnin' from the coppers like we are now?"
Duncan shrugs, tipping back in his chair. "The coppers are only chasing us like they are 'cause we're a hot ticket. If we have the money to get far outta here, break our usual patterns, maybe I could walk into a department store for myself again. Imagine that."
"Well," Harold concedes, thoughtful, "I've never been out west. Maybe we could stop by California."
"Ah, we could visit my mother-in-law," Al says cheerfully.
"Not if you want to remain married we won't," Heather retorts.
Courtney rolls her eyes and walks over to the table, bottle of beer still in hand. "We can't afford a bottle of decent liquor, let alone a long vacation or a damn house."
She sits down with the others as Duncan says, "Fancy rocks fetch a fancy price, doll."
"Enough to go our separate ways," Al muses, "just for a little while."
"Agreed," Heather says, eying Duncan. "I'm sick of looking at all of you."
Courtney expects Duncan to laugh at what must be a joke but he mulls it over. "How long's a while?"
"Long as we feel like," Al elaborates.
Duncan thinks that over a little longer. "If that's what ya want, Al. Heath?"
"Fuck yes."
"Alright. Then Courtney, Harold, and me'll keep doing what we do," Duncan says. "A three man team is still a team."
"Um, well," Harold falters, "if Al and Heath are taking some down time, I'd like to visit my Ma and Pa in Louisiana. If that's fine with all of you!" he quickly adds. "I just haven't seen them or written to them in God knows how many months…"
Duncan frowns. He looks over at Courtney, raises a brow. "You got somewhere better to be too?"
Courtney takes a drink instead of answering, then addresses the whole table. "So what, then? We do jewelry and it's bye bye for the Barrow Gang?"
"It's a pause, chica," Al says. "With so much heat on us, our best bet is scatter to the four winds and disappear for as long as a copper's memory lasts."
"Don't worry," Heather drawls. "We won't send you back to mommy dearest in Dallas."
Courtney starts to line up a reply when Duncan gets up from the table, draining the dregs of his coffee.
"It's decided, then," he says. "Heath, I want you out searching first thing tomorrow. Anything that lies between here and Dallas is fair game. Soon as we know where, we start dry runs. Until then, we'll need regular hits. My last one was a dud. Next one's on you, Al."
"You got it," Al says.
Duncan points to Harold. "We're not going to need a fast car," he says. "We're going to need the top of the line. We won't need to swipe it until closer to the heist, but I'll sleep better knowing we have one in our sights. Understood?"
Harold nods.
"And me?" Courtney says, praying she won't get stuck on a nothing job.
"Until we pick our target, you're helping me find the best roads back to Dallas from here." Courtney begins to protest that that's bullshit, but Duncan quickly talks over her, elaborating, "As soon as we have our target, I want you tailing the workers and owners. I want to know their schedules and their hobbies, what they do and when. Coppers and store owners and gas station workers I got down like the back of my hand. I need to know how these people'll react to a gun in their face." He looks at Courtney intently. "I'm trusting ya with that."
Well, she did say she wanted more responsibility.
"Fine," she says. "I'll find out when they feed their cats and how they comb their hair and all that."
"Wonderful." Duncan thumps his empty can of beans on the table with finality. "Everyone pack up. I was finished with this safe house three weeks ago."
The rest of the winter goes by in a blur for Courtney. They have some close calls on smaller jobs, with Trent Hamer and the Bureau a hair's breadth behind them. The first time, a gas station owner confesses mid-robbery that Hamer's team had questioned him just that morning. The second time is closer.
Courtney's on watch by the back door of a grocery store when the bureau police cars start pulling up at the front. She doesn't know who could have called them faster than the local police, but she runs in and warns the others as quickly as she can. As the policemen begin to light up the store and the Barrow Gang runs to Harold in the car, Courtney turns around to fire and finds Trent Hamer ducked behind a car, close enough to see the color of his eyes. He doesn't look at her, his aim focused on Duncan, who he nicks in the elbow with a bullet. But as she shoots at his car horn, distracting the officers with the involuntary blast of sound, and the Gang drives away, Courtney turns back one more time and locks eyes with him.
She knows she should stick her gun out of the car and keep shooting, all the others are, but her arm stays glued at her side. There's something in Trent Hamer's expression that reminds her of the way Justin used to look at her. Something in the way he stands, like he knows he should be shooting at Courtney too, but can't bring himself to do it. Then Trent turns to answer the plea of a wounded officer and Duncan snaps at her to help him tie a tourniquet around his arm before he loses too much blood.
The Barrow Gang are always faster, always smarter. Courtney wonders how long that'll be true.
Soon enough, they start taking the same route they had before Heather and Harold got sick, but add on the job of working out this one, completely different, heist.
Heather finds several possible targets, which leads to several hour-long debates between the five of them as to which is most suitable. In the end, Heather's primary choice, a small jewelry shop in Kansas, owned by a man in a wheelchair and his extended family, is the target.
Duncan leaves the smaller hits, the gas stations and grocery stores, to Al and Heather. He spends his days and nights obsessing over the roads. The best way to get in and out and far far away. It's imperative, he tells her one night, that they get to Dallas as soon as possible and vanish once they have the valuables fenced.
Harold locates only a handful of top-of-the-line Fords, but does find a nondescript beat-up truck while they camp in the woods of State. He fixes it up enough to run and Courtney takes the car, which operates a little differently from a Ford, and uses it to keep tabs on the wheelchair bound owner, a Mr. Meade, and his family. She learns their habits and hobbies, and watches them, invisible, as they close and open their store, go to their home, and live their lives. The owner's daughter, a plump dark-haired girl named Sadie, rides to work every day on a tan horse. It reminds Courtney of the horses on Justin's father's farm.
As Courtney is sitting in the truck across the street from the Meade home, eating her second can of beans for the day, she sees a figure approaching the car from the corner of her eye. She subtly spreads her dress over the revolver on the seat beside her and acts surprised when Sadie Meade knocks on her window.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" the girl asks irately.
"Um, do I need help?" Courtney asks back.
Sadie's face scrunches up like she trying to look intimidating. "You've been sitting out in front of my house for the better part of the day. You seem to be needing some kind of help."
"Ah'm so sorry, how rude of me," Courtney says, laying on her Southern accent. She puts aside the can and spoon and wipes her hands on her dress, before offering Sadie a handshake. "Ah'm Isabel Hinton, Kansas police department."
A beat passes in which Courtney's not sure if Sadie buys her act.
"You got a badge?" Sadie asks, and shifts the sawed-off shotgun she's holding at her hip.
"Wouldn't be a very good copper if Ah did," Courtney bluffs, sweating a little. "Yer daddy gave us a ring a few days ago. Said he thought someone was following him. Wanted someone looking out at his house for a night or two"
Which was not a lie. Mr. Meade spotted her car a few night ago through the window. She started to drive off, but not before hearing him call for his wife to get a police officer on the phone, a gentleman whose name she didn't quite catch.
Sadie still doesn't look convinced. She's still holding the shotgun in a close-range, easy-to-blow-Courtney's-head-off position. Her look of intimidation looks a little more like suspicion.
"Have we met before?" Sadie asks slowly.
"Don't think so," Courtney answers, leaning back in her seat and resting her hand over her dress, an inch off from her gun. "Ah just moved here from Dallas, Texas."
Unexpectedly, Sadie's expression turns into a smile and she forgets to be intimidating. "Dallas you say?" She shifts the shotgun comfortably over one shoulder. "My best friend is from Dallas!"
Courtney's fingertips brush against her gun through cloth. "Really? So far away?"
"Well, we've never met in person. We're pen pals, see. Been best friends for over ten years, sending letters and pictures back and forth." She snaps her fingers. "I must have seen you in one of the pictures Katie sent. Dallas is a small, small town."
Smiling a little easier, Courtney says, "Yeah, ya could say that."
"Well Officer Hinton," Sadie says, offering the handshake she never took before. "My family sleeps a little safer knowing a Dallas girl is keeping an eye on us."
Courtney's hand leaves the gun and shakes Sadie's. "Ya'll have a nice day now."
Sadie swings the shotgun across her portly shoulders and walks back to the house, whistling. Courtney puts the beans aside under her seat, and puts the car in drive. She practices driving until the adrenaline chases the guilt away.
Finally, the morning of the heist arrives. They have their full ammunition from an armory nearby. They have the schedule of the workers, and the plan to get away. Everything is practiced a dozen times and well-oiled, and Courtney still feels like throwing up as she packs up their tent and camping supplies, but she plays along. No one is looking forward to doing the deed. They're all waiting on the release of having it done.
"What if it doesn't work out?" she blurts as she hands Duncan the rolled up tent. He shoots her a look.
"Don't tell me yer gettin' cold feet on me, darlin'," he says, terseness in his voice.
"Not cold feet," she muses. "I'm just...concerned."
"I suggest you quell those nerves," he warns, putting the last bag into the Ford and closing the trunk.
"Look, I know we've run down everything to the bone, but—"
"So nothing should go wrong," Duncan finishes for her. He cups her cheek. "We'll be fine. And then we all get a little vacation. Don't tell me yer not looking forward to waking up every morning without Heather screeching, or Harold's barely-there pajamas? It'll be just me and you."
Courtney turns away from him.
"Maybe I don't want it to just be me and you," Courtney mutters. "We're all— We're a group. We shouldn't be splitting up like this."
"Dollface—"
"I'm serious." She steps away from him to look him better in the eye. "I think you need to talk to Al and Heather, they're the ones that need the real convincing. Harold will do whatever we tell him. We could all take our vacation together, like after Tulsa. We were fine, before..." she trails off, twisting the wedding band around her finger.
Duncan sighs and steps close again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not gonna ask Heath and Al to come with us," he says quietly.
"Why?"
"Al and Heather are big kids, Courtney," he says. "They were doin' fine without all this, and I reckon they'll do just fine again."
Courtney scowls. "It doesn't bother you that we're splitting up."
"It don't," he says with a tone of finality. He kisses her temple before moving away. "I smell breakfast, and it ain't smelling too burnt. Want to join me?"
Courtney shakes her head. Duncan shrugs and joins his brother and sister-in-law.
With a bitter taste in her mouth, Courtney watches him try the breakfast Heather made and not gag it out. Heather looks impressed before telling him something with a smirk. Then Duncan does choke on it. His sister-in-law laughs at his expense while his brother playfully punches him in the shoulder. They hadn't been like that in months.
Sourly, Courtney meanders over to Harold who sits by the propped up hood of the car.
"Mornin' Miss Bonnie," he greets, spitting on a rag and cleaning his glasses.
"Morning," she mumbles back, taking a seat beside him. "Are you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," he answers.
Courtney crosses her legs.
"Duncan was telling me that he wanted us to travel after the heist. I know we're going to need a spiffy driver for that. You're more than welcome to join us," she says, giving him her most charming look.
"Gee, that sounds mighty swell," Harold says.
Courtney smiles.
"But I can't," Harold finishes, looking down as he methodically wipes his glasses in circles. "I haven't seen my folks in ages. And with everything that's going on, my stress is through the roof," he says, chuckling to himself.
Courtney purses her lips. "Are you sure? I hate to think about leaving you all alone, Harold. It can't be too safe. You'd be safer with me and Duncan."
Harold looks down at his hands, turning the thick-rimmed spectacles over.
"I appreciate you always looking out for me, Miss Bonnie," he says warmly. He affixes the glasses back on his face. "But I wouldn't give up a vacation right now for all the diamonds in the world. I'm sorry. I'll be more than happy to jump back in when the heat dies down." He looks to Courtney with a promising grin.
"Alright," Courtney says, standing up slowly. "As long as you're sure. You be careful out there."
"I will."
"And Harold?"
"Yes, Miss Bonnie?"
"Don't screw today up," she says. She turns away before she can decide whether she meant it as a joke or not.
Her stomach is a nauseas wreck. Everyone's splitting up and nobody seems to care about how bad of an idea that is. Courtney drags herself over to Heather and Alejandro to get some breakfast.
"Where's Duncan?'
"Clyde went off to take care of business in the woods," Al says. "Heisting with a full bladder is not fun."
"Any more liquor?" Courtney asks, opening up her flask.
"Good morning to you too, Sunshine," Heather says. "There's a bottle left, but save some for the rest of us."
"We'll get more later for celebration," Al says with a nod. "Have some breakfast."
Courtney ignores him and fills up her flask, looking to the pan on the fire, her stomach churning at the thought of food.
"Don't look so wary, Chica. I watched Heather make it and can guarantee that it's safe for human consumption." Heather rolls her eyes and spoons some on a makeshift plate before handing it to Courtney.
"How aren't you nervous?" Courtney asks, taking a bite. The food isn't terrible. "Are there drugs going around camp today?"
Heather smirks. "Are we not allowed to be in a good mood?"
"You aren't," Courtney quips. "I'm pretty damn sure that's illegal." She looks to Alejandro. "You're not nervous?"
He gestures to his stomach. "Nothing but butterflies. The moment we get into it, it'll go away."
"You're probably right," Courtney says, finishing up her food.
"He is right. Go splash some water on your face, you look...well, more hellish than you usually look," Heather says.
Courtney rolls her eyes and takes a swig from her flask to wash down the food before getting up to take Heather's advice. She takes a walk through the blossoming spring woods to the nearby stream and splashes her face. It doesn't make her feel any better.
She heads back to finish up packing the last of their things, but pauses when she hears Al and Heather's voices, talking discreetly to each other from behind the car. Courtney hates how badly she wishes that maybe they were having second doubts.
"—you really think it'll work out?" she hears Heather ask.
"I have a good feeling about this one."
"What would you want to do?"
Al whispers something completely in Spanish.
"I know I didn't hear that right," Heather answers, but it's lacking her usual bitterness. "We haven't even done the heist."
"Por que no? Like I said, I have a good feeling about this one." Courtney hears a kiss punctuating his words.
"No babies until we're in the clear," Heather admonishes. "We've talked about this."
"We'll be in the clear tonight," he says suggestively with another kiss.
"That's not the clear I'm talking about," Heather says darkly.
Al sighs but says nothing.
"Look," Heather starts again. "Nothing's certain as of yet. I'm not one for getting my hopes up."
"No. You wouldn't be you if you were," Al says, a smile in his voice.
Courtney hears another set of footsteps approaching and then Duncan's voice.
"Anyone seen Courtney? We need to get going."
Courtney sneaks away and walks quietly for a few moments before coming back out of the woods. Regret lodges itself in her ribcage for telling Duncan to go through with this jewelry heist. Nevertheless, she puts on a smile as she walks towards Duncan and bums a drag out of his cigarette. Harold honks from the driver's seat of the car.
"Ready to go."
Author's Note: It's the most wonderful time of the year! MGB Time!
For those who were wondering, 2018 was a much better year for me. I am back on the writing horse at last and working on my original novel. I've learned so much about writing in doing so, that the rest of MGB is going to be a blast to knock out of the park. Here's to 2019!