Jill said that, about how Leo was the one to be worried about, more so than the bigger guy.

"Why?" I demanded, breathless as we hustled across the back parking lot.

She didn't answer, but focused on walking fast, and I reached out to tug at her arm. "Why?!" I asked, raising my voice. "Why is Leo

more to be worried about than that big ape?! Because of the gun?"

"No. Not because of the gun," she said, and then came to a halt right at the corner of the steps leading into the bar. She gave me a hard look. "He just is, Harlie."

Then she squared her shoulders a bit and said, "You stay out here."

"You don't tell me what to do!" I snapped.

"Fine," she said, narrowing her eyes at me a bit. "I'll bet anything that one of the brothers inside told you to stay out." She paused for

affect, and raised eyebrows. She took my silent glare as proof, and added, "Right. I thought so." She shrugged. "It's on you. It's you that'll

face their wrath for going in there-"

"You're gonna have your own wrath to face!" I said. "Brian's not happy-"

"I'm sure that he's not," Jill said. "But I doubt if he cares enough to use up too much of his energy raking me over the coals-"

"You might be real, real surprised," I informed her. And, I liked seeing the look that passed across her face real quickly. A look

of possible concern about Brian's impending anger-

"I'm not Brian's little sister," Jill said, recovering her usual aplomb. "He doesn't have any say-so about whatever it is that he thinks

I'm doing or not doing-"

"How about Daniel, then?" I jabbed. "Do you care what he thinks? Does he have any say-so-"

Before I could finish, Jill's face paled. I mean, paled, right there outside The Rusty Bucket bar. Her paleness flashed into hurt. I saw that

she was hurt, really hurt, and concerned, at the thought of facing Daniel. I wanted to enjoy it. And, I did, for a moment. Then, I felt bad for her. I don't know

why, but I did.

She shook her head, just slightly, as if she was shaking me away, and looked around the corner towards the front of the bar again.

"I'm going inside," she said. She gave me another hard look. "You'd be better off staying outside. But-you do what you want." And, then, she was gone

around the corner and thru the doors that boasted a jingle of bells as she went in.

7

The doors closed behind her, and I stood for a moment, debating what to do. I went to peer into the nearest window. It was dirty and dusty, though,

and I could make out very little looking in. People, moving around, but it was hard to tell who was who, or which of them were Crane and Brian-

Or Jill. Or Leo. Or Chess.

There was music playing, loudly. A Johnny Paycheck song. The one about him being the only hell his Mama ever raised. There was loud talking, too.

Laughter. Yelling. Or what seemed like yelling. I went to another window, on the other side, which was higher. I found a milk crate, cracked and tossed

aside, and I set it upside down, and stood on it, to look in.

Swiping at the window with the sleeve of my shirt helped a little. Still not real clearly, though.

I was trying to peer in enough to see Brian or Crane, or even Jill, but as I took one teeny step forward on the crate, just a teeny one, and one of the cracked places on

the crate finished snapping off. That leg went thru to the bottom of the crate, and I was lopsided. My leg hurt, too. I looked down and

saw a dribble of blood.

"Great," I hissed, debating about trying to stand on what was left of the crate again. There was crunching as somebody approached, and then

the boot steps came to an abrupt halt.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Brian demanded, staring me down, from his spot on the sidewalk.

He looked plenty mad, and I gave him a rueful shrug. "Just trying to see what was going on," I attempted to explain.

Brian was there, next to me, in just a split second. Lifting me upwards, his hands under my arms. Out of the cracked crate, and setting me

back on my feet.

"I told you-" he began.

"Jill's in there," I interrupted, pointing inside.

"We looked. She's not."

"She is now," I said. "She was walking in the alley-" I pointed over towards the direction of where the trucks were parked. "With the skinny

guy. Leo. And then he went inside."

"Alright," he said. "I'll get her. You go back to the truck."

"That Leo's in there," I repeated. Unnecessarily.

"I heard you. Go on."

"But-Jill says he's the scary one-the one you have to watch out for," I said, in a rush. "He has a gun, remember?"

"I remember," he said.

"Where's Crane?" I worried.

"He's up the street somewhere-he'll be along in a minute."

I hooked my fingers thru one of Brian's belt loops in an attempt to get him to stay where he was. I know it sounds dumb, and I guess

that it was, but, even though Brian could take care of himself, I didn't want him to face off with Leo. Now that Jill had told me he

was the dangerous one of the two men, I was remembering with a shiver that there had been something sinister in his eyes.

"Quit," Brian ordered, prying my fingers loose.

"I don't want you to get hurt-"

"I'm not going to get hurt. Now quit."

I lowered my hand, reluctantly, giving him a worried look.

"Get to the truck," he ordered, in a very no-nonsense, you'd best listen sort of a tone.

Old habits die hard. Or, don't die at all. I turned on my heel to obey him, (the heel belonging to the foot on the leg that was dripping blood) and

went back across the parking lot to our battered pickup.

I muttered to myself all the way, and once there, I sat on the running board, jiggling my leg in nervousness. After a few minutes of that, I stood up,

pacing beside the truck, and wondering what time it was, and what in the heck was happening inside The Rusty Bucket.

How was Crane going to do, if things were getting rowdy and scary inside? Crane's no lightweight by any means-he just wasn't as

tough as Brian-although marriage and no bar hopping or carousing had probably softened Brian up a lot...

I couldn't take the suspense, it was just asking too much for me to sit here and wait-

I started walking towards the bar again, determined to look inside-and see for myself what was happening, or maybe overhear-

Before I was halfway there, though, Crane appeared, and then Jill, followed by Brian. I stopped walking, wondering what was

going on now, and taking quick measure of my brothers to see if either one of them was dripping blood, or limping, or anything like that.

They looked, at that brief moment, not too bad-mussed up, and then I saw small cuts on Crane's face.

"You okay?" I asked him, as he approached me, swiftly.

"Fine. Let's go," he said.

I peered at Jill. She was the one who looked like she'd been in a tussle-her blouse was hanging out of her jeans, and her hair was

messed up.

I opened my mouth to question her, but, before I could utter one word, I was caught up in a sudden grip on the back of my jacket.

"Parking lot is not the truck," Brian growled, and towed me along towards the truck, not letting up on his grip.

"I was worried-" I began.

"Save it," Brian said, still in a growl.

We were at the truck by now, and Crane ushered Jill into the center part of the seat and then slid in behind the steering wheel.

Brian took the spot by the other door, and hoisted me in, not very gently, or very gracefully, until I was in, too, half sitting on one of his

knees, and half leaning somewhat precariously into the dash of the truck.

"I still think-" Jill was saying, sounding breathless.

"You can share the rest of your half-cocked ideas later," Brian snapped. "Let's just get out of here."

Before Jill could respond, Crane was pulling out of the parking lot, like fast, and I saw fat Chess coming out of the front of the bar. Now, he looked

worse for wear, indeed he did. The front of his shirt was ripped wide, and he was holding his fat stomach as though in pain.

He shook his fist and was yelling-and catching every other word, it was something directed at Jill-about her being a blanking bitch-

Then he hollered at Brian thru the open truck window.

"I'll see you, real soon, cowboy!" he yelled, threateningly.

Despite myself, I turned to look at him out the back window of the truck as we were roaring away. It was scary, but it was hard to look away.

He was still yelling, because I could see his mouth moving.

7