Runaway Bride

The warm spring air rushed through the fur of the band members as they motored down the road. With Cape Girardeau behind them, they had enough money to get them at least to Memphis. Their next obstacle was going to be the river itself. At some point they would need to cross over and that location seemed to be across from Memphis. Sy was checking the map though, trying to add up the miles of different routes to see if they could save a couple gallons of fuel or a few hours of time. It was now June 23rd, meaning they had about a week to get to New Orleans. In a newer car this wouldn't be any trouble, but the Empress was old and tired. If anything went wrong with her or if they got stuck somewhere along the route then it was likely they were going to miss the contest.

Zib knew this, of course, and his job as the driver was to find the right pace. If he drove the car too hard then it was likely to break down, but if he drove too cautiously then they might not make enough progress and fall behind the daily distance they needed to cover. Going a hundred or more miles per day was doable, but not the most comfortable thing in the world.

Coming to an intersection, Zib was unsure of which route to take. "Which way do we go?" He asked, looking at Sy who was briefly able to stop wrestling with the map in the wind. Sy looked at the intersection and then found it on the map. Matthews was to their west and the river was far off to their right. A slight jog in the road turned out to be the reason for the confusion.

"Hang a right then take a left just beyond those trees." Sy said, pointing at the new intersection a few hundred yards away. Zib did as he was told and navigated the confusing crossroads. But soon enough they were Southbound once more. With a straight road ahead of them, the next town was a few miles off. Seeking to shave a couple of minutes off their journey and give them all a little bit more time to find food in town, Zib put the car into high gear and got the Empress up to her top speed. She was very unstable at forty-five miles per hour.

"Zib, watch out!" Sy said as he sat upright in the seat, pointing through the dust at a figure trying to wave them down. Zib immediately saw who Sy was pointed at and slammed on the brakes. It was a young woman dressed in white who was standing in the middle of the road trying to wave them down. The other members of the band hit the back of the front seat with a loud "thud". Ben, J.J. and Mozzie were half asleep, still resting from their late night.

"Jesus Christ!" Mozzie yelled as he stabilized himself and sat back down in the seat, holding his face with one hand.

"Ow! The hell happened!" J.J. asked, annoyed.

"That's a great way to get yourself ran over, Miss. Have you lost your mind?" Sy said as he leaned out of the car while the woman came around to his door. He looked her up and down then quickly put together all the clues. She wasn't just in a summer outfit, this was a wedding dress.

"Sorry. Where are you boys headed to?"

"New Orleans, what's it to you?" Zib said, shifting the car into neutral.

"I need to get out of here, mind giving a gal a lift?"

Zib and Sy looked at each other and then to their band members in the backseat. Sy shrugged his shoulders, but Zib was shaking his head. They couldn't afford to pick up hitch hikers. Still, instinct told Sy that this woman would have a good reason to want to get out of this place.

"Alright, but you owe us an explanation." Sy said.

"Dammit, Sy. We can't possibly—" But the woman was already in the car, wedging herself between Mozzie and J.J. while Ben tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. Between all the instruments and gear, the sixth person in the car made the Empress feel uncomfortably small.

"Fine…" Zib said, putting the car into gear and accelerating.

"So what's a young bride like you doing out here?" J.J. asked while the car picked up speed.

"I'm trying to get as far away from here as possible. Both my family and my fiancé's family are forcing me to marry."

"He's that bad to you, huh?" Sy said over his shoulder.

"Oh, Junior isn't the problem. He's nice enough, but his family are a bunch of crooks and criminals!"

"And your family isn't giving you a say in the matter? Why?" Zib asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"They want to marry into money. You see, Junior's daddy doesn't just make his money from the state. He's a dangerous and powerful man."

"Don't tell me he's going to try tracking you down, is he?"

"Well… I guess I did bolt away from the wedding. I locked the door to my room so I do have a head start, but we need to get to Hickman Ferry. Mr. Lattus will take us across there."

"Lady, we can't take detours for hitch hikers. We're going South, not East."

"What if he sees me?"

"Try not to worry, alright? It's not our first time sneaking through a town." Zib said over his shoulder. Now miss…"

"My name is Sally."

"Miss Sally, why don't you take off the big white hat and try not to stand out so much? If you're scared enough of this family that you're willing to hop in with a band of complete strangers, then I guess we can at least get you across the river."

They were now near the outskirts of New Madrid. Unfortunately, Zib wouldn't get the chance to lay low because he was soon being trailed by a police car.

"Don't pull over, keep going!" Sally insisted, but Zib slowed down and pulled to the side of the road.

"Sorry, ma'am, but this old thing isn't going to outpace that sedan. Like I said, don't draw attention to yourself. I probably missed a stop sign or something." Zib explained.

"No, you don't understand. That is Junior's father!" She said, but it was already too late. Zib looked in the mirror as an aged and rotund sheriff in a wide-brimmed hat approached the vehicle. He had a reptilian smile on his face and didn't seem to be in a hurry. Another car approached from the opposing lane before pulling forward and blocking the model T in place.

"Is there a problem, offi—" Zib tried to talk his way out of the situation, but he was quickly pulled from the car and kicked in the ribs. Before anyone else could move, the sheriff unholstered his pistol and threatened Zib with it as he writhed on the ground, vomiting up the morning's booze.

He looked down at Zib with a smile while everyone else froze. "Boy, you're in a heap of trouble."

New Madrid

The sheriff kept up his smile before making eye contact with his would-be daughter-in-law. "Called in some old friends, honey?"

"Sheriff Beford, please. They had nothin' to do with this! I almost threw myself in front of them to get a ride. That one at your feet didn't even want to give me a ride."

"Oh, is that right? Well, I'm nothing if not reasonable." The sheriff holstered his pistol before having his two deputies lift Zib up. "Hold him for the night, process him like anyone else coming through town to make trouble, and bring the lovely bride with you. Oh, and find her some proper clothes, we're going to need to clean that dress tonight so it's all white and shiny again in the morning."

"Wait, what are you doing with Zib?" J.J. asked as another deputy forced Sally out of the car.

"Call it insurance. Now, you boys go find some quiet spot to rest for the day and overnight. You look tired. Darn tired. Once my son and this lady are married tomorrow morning, you're all free to leave. Unless you want your friend to be stuck in New Madrid for a while."

Zib was roughly thrown into the back of the police cruiser by two of the deputies while a third that was riding with the sheriff put Sally in the car with a little more finesse. As the car rolled away, Zib glared at the woman. "Thanks a lot."

Sy and the rest of the band soon found themselves alone on the road outside New Madrid. "Well shit…" Ben said, looking at the dust trail of the police cruisers.

"Wait, so what happens when that sheriff finds out that Zib missed his court date?" Mozzie asked Sy who then realized with horror the consequences of what would happen.

"Dammit, he's going to get hauled back to St. Louis as soon as they confirm who he is." Sy said, hopping into the driver's seat.

"So what's the plan?" Ben asked. He was thinking of anything he could but there weren't any good options.

"I guess for now we better just lay low like Zib was suggesting." Sy said, putting the car into gear.

"We better think fast. I imagine they'll figure out that Zib is a wanted man as soon as the office in St. Louis opens up in the morning."

Sy motored the car down the road before turning left near the outskirts of town. Down by the sloughs and cemeteries the band found a little shack. "That's the place." Mozzie said, "We used to come down this way when visiting family."

"That's the local club?" Ben said in disbelief. "Makes your cousin's place look like a baseball stadium."

"Yeah, it ain't much. The music and everything are in the field out back."

Putting the car in park, the band disembarked and stretched out their wearing limbs and backs. Sy knew that this was going to be a problem one way or another for their plans and he was kicking himself for ever letting that woman in the car with them. "What the hell was I thinking?" He said under his breath.

"You were trying to do the right thing." J.J. said over his shoulder, apparently hearing Sy. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Sure, but we're still stuck here until that sheriff let's Zib out." Ben replied, fishing around in the car for anything to eat.

"We're just going to have to make the most of it." Mozzie said as he pulled some of his written music out of the back. "Like I said back in St. Louis, at least we can make money on the way down there. Now that we know what the locals are into these days we can start working on our sound. Sy, why don't you go find the owner of this joint while the rest of us unpack. I remember he was some old guy. Really dark fur."

"No need." A dark furred cat in his thirties said as he approached from around the backside of the building.

"You know the owner?" Sy asked.

"I am the owner. Well, the new one anyway. The old man passed away a couple years ago, I'm his son. Who might you folks be?"

"We're the Dixie Drifters!" Sy said, shaking the cat's hand. "I'm Sy, the big guy over there is Ben. J.J. in the bowler is our trombonist and Mozzie with the bowtie is out pianist."

"I'm Alvin LaForge, pleased to meet you. You must play the saxophone sitting in the front seat?"

"Actually, Zib plays the Saxophone. He's not here because just outside town we ran into some trouble—"

"Beford." Alvin guessed.

"He has a reputation?"

"More than a reputation. Some of us have been trying to get the bastard fired for years but he pretty much runs the town. Always talkin' about respect for the law, but it's his law we need to respect. What'd he bring your friend in for? Ran a stop sign? Didn't signal?"

"We actually picked up a hitchhiker." Sy said, looking down in shame. "Runaway bride."

"Oh… Well shit, you're lucky he didn't take you all in at once."

"You think he'll come back for us?" J.J. asked with a worried look on his face.

Alvin laughed at the thought. "Nah. The field folk don't take kindly to the man who jails their kin every other weekend over something stupid like not getting off the sidewalk for one of the high-class women in town. You'll be fine so long as you stay outside city limits and away from the main roads."

"For now we don't have much choice but to stay put. You wouldn't happen to be needing a band for tonight, would you?" Mozzie said as he approached Sy and Alvin.

"Well, I think we can make room for you. I'll tell you what, there's a guitarist around here who could use some musicians to help him out."

"Guitarist? We happen to be in the market for a guitarist." Sy said.

"You might not want this particular guitarist though." Alvin added. "He's a kid who rolled into town last week. Says he wants to learn the blues but he hasn't figured out how to play that old Stella of his. By himself he sounds tone-deaf and choppy so both he and my customers would appreciate a band to back him up."

Sy looked at the band and saw they weren't terribly enthusiastic about the idea. But at the same time they needed somebody to give them that unique sound of the delta, and this kid might be their only option.

"Mozzie, how about you and I go meet this kid and see if he's as bad as his reputation makes him out to be." Sy said before turning to Alvin. "Where can we find this guy at?"

It was a short walk down the road to the riverbank. Here the Mississippi had grown significantly since they had left St. Louis. The water was over three thousand feet across and roiled like a cauldron of pea soup. Just like Alvin said, there were signs that someone had made a camp along the riverbank. A few yards upstream the distinctive hum of the blues radiated out from a lone figure sitting on a log with a suitcase and coat nested behind him. The cat immediately felt the presence of two strangers near him.

"And who might you be?" The cat said, never looking up from his guitar as he attempted to tune it.

Mozzie cleared this throat. "Uh, hi, I guess. Alvin said we could find you here."

"Is it time to get ready for tonight?" The cat replied.

"Well, not quite." Sy said, stepping in front of Mozzie. "We're in a band from out of town who found themselves in a pit of a situation. Alvin said you might be interested in playing with some other performers and we could really use that blues sound."

"That blues sound, huh? You mean like this?" The cat then played a tritone before attempting to use his fingers as a slide but the guitar instead sounded a bit sloppy. This guy was a beginner. When the cat finished, he looked at the two strangers. "It's not my best, but I've been getting better."

Mozzie looked at Sy with a disapproving look, but Sy was keen to press forward. "How'd you like to come back to the club with us and meet the rest of the band?"

"I guess I can't sit around all day. Alright." The guitarist replied before shoving off of the log and slinging the guitar on his back. He had nothing on him but that guitar, a suitcase, and a cheap suit that had seen better days.

"So, when did you start playing the guitar?" Mozzie asked as they walked back down the road.

"My brother taught me when I was a young 'in. Then started up again after my Virginia died this year."

"My God, that's horrible!" Mozzie said. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife."

"Well, the good Lord giveth, and the good Lord taketh." The cat said with a heavy sigh. "Anyway, who are you two?"

"I'm Mozzie, the pianist. And Sy here plays the trumpet."

"A brass band? Well, been a while since one of those came through town. The name is Robert." The cat said, sticking his hand out for the two cats to shake. "Robert Leroy Johnson."

Cat with Twelve Strings

Zib found himself being shoved into a cell in the back of the local jail by two deputies while Sally was given a bit more courteous treatment. Even so, she too was locked in to the next cell over. One of the deputies smiled. "You always gotta make a scene, Miss Sally, don't ya? When are you gonna learn your place?"

"My place ain't here." Sally spat back.

"Well, I don't think Bedford would agree, and what he says goes. Now, you just sit tight here and we'll come around soon with some more comfortable clothes." The deputy had a smile on his face as he left the jail. The only one still around now was the guard outside on the porch.

Zib was annoyed and angry at this development. "Dammit, Sy!" He muttered under his breath. "And I suppose I should thank you too for getting me stuck in this situation." Zib growled. "We got places to be but here I am, waiting for a damn wedding! You have any idea what this—" Zib caught himself when he turned around and saw Sally crying face down on the bunk.

"Ah shit. Hey, look I'm not really all that mad at you. That Bedford seems like a real piece of work."

"I'm not crying because of you." Sally said, lifting her head up and wiping tears away from her eyes before laying back down with her head pointed away from the wall. "I can't get free of this damn town! I'm sorry to have gotten you in this, but you don't know what it's like to be trapped in some little run-down town miles from anywhere exciting. I have to get away, and you were my best option."

Zib lit a cigarette before sliding down to the ground with his back against the bars separating the two cells. "Actually, I know the feeling."

Sally scoffed. "What? You talk like some big city guy, you dress like one too."

"I came from Milwaukee. Yeah, it's a damn sight bigger than this little dump of a town, but it was cold and isolating. When I was old enough, I did exactly what you tried to do today. I hitched a ride South and the rest is history."

"Oh…" Sally said with some remorse in her voice. After a while, her curiosity forced her to keep conversating. "So… why were you going to New Orleans?"

"There's a music contest." Zib said, staring up at the ceiling while watching the cigarette smoke rise up into the lights. "It's our last chance after a life of performing to make it big in the music scene, but this setback could be a problem. Especially if that bastard Sheriff decides to keep me here longer than he says."

"So what's the plan then, music guy?"

"Music guy?" Zib huffed. "My name is Zib. While I'd rather not be here, it looks like I'm going to be your future father-in-law's hostage till you get hitched.

"Ugh, that man's a real piece of work." Sally growled, ears back from imagining all the different things Bedford had done as a sheriff. Being part of that family was going to be a waking nightmare.

"Congratulations, I guess?" Zib said with a smirk.

"I'd rather you save that for when we bust out of here."

Zib scoffed at the notion. "Look lady, I'm a man of many talents, but breaking out of jails isn't one of them."

"What about your friends?"

"Sy? Well, he might come up with something to redeem himself for this mess. The others? I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Robert gave it his best trying to keep up with the others but it was clear he was rusty with that old guitar. He was missing notes in his chords and could barely keep up with a fast tempo. In fact, Robert was speeding up and slowing down while trying to get a more "organic" feel for the music. "This is going to be a rough night." J.J. said to Sy as the two of them watched from the back of the club, hiding under the shade of the outdoor fence. Sy didn't say anything back and when J.J. looked over at their interim leader it was clear that Sy was lost in his own thoughts.

As the two of them sat there and watched Mozzie do his best to give Robert lessons from the pianist's classical training, a stranger walked into the club with a guitar in hand. He wasn't a particularly big cat but he possessed broad shoulders under the well-worn suit. J.J. instantly noticed that there was something unusual about the guitar. It's head was long, it's body was big, and there appeared to be more than the usual number of strings. The cat noticed the two band members on stage with Robert then made himself at home near the bar before slinking into the back where the fence offered the same shade that J.J. and Sy were using.

As the man sat down and propped the guitar up against the fence, he tipped his hat to J.J. before leaning back against the fence with a drink tucked away inside a brown paper bag.

"A little early to start drinking, don't you think?" J.J. commented.

"Oh, dis? This here ain't no whiskey or rum. Just a Coca Cola." The man said before sipping on it and pulling the bag down to reveal the red logo. "The syrup helps stand the heat."

"Huh…" J.J. said to himself before shrugging his shoulders and going back to listening to the mediocre notes coming from Robert up on stage. After a few minutes, the new guest started tuning his own guitar. J.J.'s ears picked up notes that seemed too high pitch for such a big instrument. "Say mister, that's an oddity of a guitar you've got there. Is it custom?"

"Custom, ha! No, but it is unique. Ya see, dis here's got twelve strings. Makes me sound like a whole band!" The stranger said before strumming the guitar a few times. The sound was loud, had depth, and possessed a chime-like quality. Every pair of strings harmonized with each other like a set of tuning forks an octave apart. Quickly muting the instrument, the man set it back down and waited for his turn to practice on stage. Before Mozzie's practice session was up, the cat with the twelve-string guitar leaned over and spoke to J.J. "That one your guitarist?"

"I… guess." J.J. replied knowing full well that this Robert Johnson wasn't exactly doing the Dixie Drifters any favors.

"Dat boy needs to work on his chords… among other things." The stranger said to J.J.

"Yeah, but beggars can't be choosers. We aren't actually a blues band."

"Oh? What do ya play then?"

"We've been playing ragtime and swing jazz for close to a decade now. We call ourselves the Dixie Drifters."

"And ya found out that music ain't that popular out here in the sticks, so y'all in the market for a guitar man." The cat concluded.

"Exactly. We weren't even trying to make a stop here, but we ran into some trouble with the sheriff and now our band leader is stuck down in the county jail."

"That Bedford has a reputation…" The cat replied with a growl under his breath. "I been in and out of all kinds of jails, that one is a real piece of work. Seems to like me well enough though."

"Maybe you could go down and talk to him—"

"He wouldn't listen to a dark cat from Louisiana. Dat sheriff runs this whole place. What he says, goes."

"Yeah, we got that impression." J.J. said before looking up at the sky. "Wouldn't be a problem except we need to get to New Orleans."

"New Orleans, huh?" The man said with a low voice. "Well, let me think on it a spell while I get warmed up."

As the Dixie Drifters moved off stage, the cat climbed up onto the platform and adjusted the mic. After a couple of practice strums, a baritone tremolo echoed from the speakers. The slow thumping strumming pattern lead the cat along as he began.

"My girl, my girl…"

The singing broke Sy out of his thoughts and it became clear immediately that he wasn't just listening to any old musician. Like that Tommy Johnson they had ran into, there was something unique about this cat as well. He went on to sing two more songs before calling it a well-done practice session before the evening. He evidently also decided that he had earned a stronger drink because the cat with the twelve-string guitar poured rum into his Coke bottle.

"Hell, that was something, mister!" Ben said as he tuned his upright bass.

"Nah, could always be better. But thanks."

Alvin arrived and clapped his hands together. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Ledbetter himself. Was wondering when you'd drop by again."

"Alvin, old friend!" Ledbetter said as the two shook hands. Alvin then turned to the small band with a smile on his face. "This right here is mister Huddie Ledbetter, but folks just call him Lead Belly."

Bachelor Party

"So you boys gotta get to New Orleans for a contest? Shit, I should head there myself."

"Don't even think about it!" Sy said with a smile. "If you're there, we might lose."

"Besides, it's supposed to be for bands." J.J. added. "But we aren't going anywhere without Zib."

"I also don't like leaving that lady in the jail either." Sy said, much to the annoyance of the rest of the band.

"Oh come on, Sy! That kind of thinking is exactly how we got in this mess!" Mozzie said, running his hand through his scalp in frustration.

"What? Would you want your daughter or sister to get married off to some creep's son?"

"It's none of our business what goes on around here." Ben said. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but its not like we're in a position to help."

"Why don't we bust them both out?" J.J. suggested.

"No, absolutely not! Maybe if Ethan or Rocky's cousin were here, we might have a chance, but we've got no weapons, no leverage, nothing to work with." Mozzie said.

"Well now, let's not be too hasty to throw away that idea." Lead Belly said. "I got off death row three years ago by performin' for the governor of Texas. Maybe I could do the same for the sheriff."

"No offense, friend, but Bedford doesn't exactly have a likin' for our kind in these parts. You'd just be one more drifting bum." Alvin explained, skeptical of the idea, but then relented. "However, Junior has a liking for the old folk and blues…"

Lead Belly smiled. "That'll do. All we need is to make a distraction, then have these boys get their friend out of the jail."

"Wait! I'd like to come too." Robert said, packing his guitar away.

"Now why would you want to do that?" Sy asked. "What's being proposed is dangerous."

"Wouldn't be the first time I ended up in a cell." Robert retorted.

"And no offense, but you ain't exactly what we're looking for in a guitarist. We need someone who's…"

"Good." Mozzie added. "We need someone more like Lead Belly with us."

"I'll get better." Robert replied, brushing off the concern.

"In a week?" Ben said skeptically.

"I just need to get down to Clarksdale, Mississippi." Robert said, winking. Lead Belly gave off a gruff scoff. "Don't be messin' with what you don't understand, boy." He advised. But there was no convincing Robert.

As the sun was setting behind the town, Beford busied himself with filing paperwork for the end of the day while his son, Junior, sat bored on the lounge seat at the front of the office. He muttered to himself about the day's activities.

"The nerve of that woman, walking out and runnin' from a wedding I set up. Insulted my town, insulted my boy, insulted me. But I'll set it all straight, alright."

The younger cat's clicking of the pen annoyed his father and Bedford snapped at his boy. "Would ya stop that racket before you give me a migraine!" He growled. "This day has had enough complications."

"Aw pa, it'll all go just fine." He said. "Just wish Sally would see things our way."

"Thirty-two and still naïve. God, can't believe I'm already marrying ya off." He said in disbelief. But rather than a fatherly tenderness for how fast his son had grown up, it was a bewilderment at how his son could possibly think that Sally was going to change her mind over some pathetic excuses and empty promises.

"Still, our families will be mighty powerful in the area. Daughter to a large plantation owner, and son to the county Sheriff who owns a good piece of the county."

A knock on the glass window of the office drew both their attention to the front. "The hell does this guy want?" Beford growled.

"Evening mister Bedford!" A dark cat with a twelve-string said through the glass. "I hear your boy is getting married."

The younger Beford immediately recognized the musician. "Pa, that's Lead Belly!"

"Why he called that? Cause he got a belly full 'o lead already?" The sheriff joked.

"Nah, I got it workin' on a chain gang, mister sheriff." The cat replied, apparently hearing them both through the glass. Junior immediately got up to let the cat into the office.

"Mr. Lead Belly, it's an honor to have you here." The younger cat said.

"Honor is mine, boy. I heard through the grapevine you're getting' married."

"That's right, sir. Tomorrow morning."

"Well, I wanted to pay my respects by hostin' you and the weddin' party to a concert out at Alvin's."

"Alvin? Why the hell would we go there?" The sheriff said. "We ain't exactly friends."

"Dat's true, sheriff. But dat's also why he sent me here. Ya see, he wants to make amends for past wrongdoings. He told me Junior here used to stop by as a child and it would be good to get on the sheriff's good side again with a celebration of sorts. Not only does mister Alvin want to pay you his monthly dues personally but he is also giving you and your deputies all the under the table drinks they can stomach.

"I see. Well, I reckon if he's payin' for it then we are obliged. And it would be nice to get this wedding paid for early using his Alvin's monthly bribe money. Fine, I suppose junior can have a bachelor party of sorts."

"Great idea, pa!" Junior said.

"Of course it's a good idea, it's mine ain't it?" The sheriff replied, taking the idea as his own. "Go get ready. You can tell Alvin that the local department will be showin' up at the club for a good time in thirty minutes."

"Oh he'll be quite pleased, mister sheriff!" Lead Belly said with a smile before turning around and heading down the street.

As the sheriff closed the door, he walked over to the jail and informed his deputies. "Boys, looks like junior is having himself a party. I want you all to keep your eyes peeled in case there's some funny business going on in my town. Clyde, I want you to keep watch over our guests in the jail." The sheriff explained. Clyde took his usual seat, the old deputy wasn't much for parties anyhow.

"You convinced him?" Alvin said with a surprised look on his face.

"Yessir, indeed. Seems the name Lead Belly carries some weight 'round these parts." Lead Belly said with some level of pride for his own cunning. "Now it's up to you boys to get your friend out of the cell."

"We'll need to get the keys." Mozzie said as they packed up the car.

Alvin knew exactly who to look for. "The old deputy on the force is named Clyde. He will likely be the one watching the place while everyone is out here. Take the keys off him and you'll be home free."

"I guess that'll work." Sy said. "But we also got to get far enough away before they figure out what happened."

"You'll want to go to the Hickman ferry a few miles from here. Take the next road further north and then head straight for the river. The old man there should still be awake when you arrive and he'll take you across for a minor fee."

"And if he's asleep?" J.J. asked while climbing in and helping Robert up into the back of the Empress.

"Then we'll see you all in the morning while you await trial." Lead Belly said. "Now you boys better get a move on, the sheriff is liable to show up any time."

"Thanks a million, we won't forget this." Sy said as he fired up the old model T. Checking the gauges they had enough gasoline to go quite a ways and the headlights were just adequate for the task at hand. Just as the Dixie Drifters pulled out, headlights down the road heralded the arrival of the local law enforcement. Sy backed the car into a field and allowed the police cars to pass him by before he pulled out again and headed to town. After enough distance had been covered, Sy switched on the headlights and proceeded at speed toward the jail.

Hickman Ferry

Sy pulled the car in behind the jail where the darkness of the back alley would hide the Empress as well as a model T could be hidden.

"You ready, boys?"

"Yeah." The three say in unison.

"Good, this is going to be risky, but it is just one guy. Don't hurt him or nothing. And Robert, you just keep watch." Sy ordered.

Inside the jail, Zib attempted to light a match for a cigarette on the concrete wall but wasn't getting anywhere. Frustrated, he flicked the little match across the cell.

"Here." Someone said, extending their lighter into the cell. Zib looked at the little flame and then followed the hand and arm up to the face of his jailer.

"Uh, thanks." Zib said before lighting his cigarette and then leaning back against the bars of the jail.

"So, yer the fella who thought he could run off with Sally over there?" He asked.

Zib scoffed. "Yeah, right. No, I'm just the fool who listened to his friend."

"Shame to hear that." The jailer said. "I was under the impression you were trying to rescue the lady."

Now it was Sally's turn to scoff. "I don't need no rescuin'! I just need to leave this little town and find better prospects."

"You know, Beford and the rest of his gang have gone to an impromptu bachelor party. Hosted by a club owner named Alvin and this guitarist named Lead Belly."

"Lucky them." Zib said.

"Lucky you." The jailer then produced the keys and unlocked the cell before doing the same for Sally.

"Why are you doing this, Clyde?" Sally asked with worry on her face. "IF Bedford finds out—"

"If he finds out he'll do nothin' and say nothin' if he's got any sense about him." Clyde said, swinging open the door and gesturing for her to come out. "I hate that man as much as anyone and I've got enough dirt on the scoundrel to lock him up from not until judgement day. Now go, find your friends and get out of town."

Clyde then went to open the door for Zib and Sally as the two cats collected their things. As the door opened, Zib noticed that they weren't alone. Just across the threshold was Sy with a bottle in hand. Clyde turned and noticed his uninvited guest. Everyone stood in place, not quite knowing what to do. Clyde's eyes moved down the bottle in Sy's hand and Sy looked at the bottle. Clyde moved slightly and this sudden movement startled Sy who instinctively hit Clyde over the head with the booze bottle, shattering it as the jailer collapsed from the hit.

"Sy! He was letting us go!" Zib exclaimed, gesturing to the man on the floor.

"Sorry! I was expecting a fight!"

"With a bottle?"

"Um… hey, we're musicians, not fighters."

"Come on people, let's move!" Sally ordered as she shoved the two cats out the door.

"What about Clyde?" Zib asked.

"Oh, right…" Sally thought for a minute then spotted another empty bottle in Ben's hand.

"Let me see that for a minute." Sally asked before taking the intact bottle and rolling Clyde over. She then tucked the bottle under the jailer's arm before putting the key back.

"That'll do it. Let's go!"

"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" J.J. asked.

"He'll be fine. This isn't the first time someone's busted out of here."

Hopping in the car, it quickly became apparent that this vehicle was crowded. Still, it had four wheels and a working engine. Sally left her wedding dress handing from a tree limb and finished buttoning up a wool jacket while the car sped off into the night.

Sy, who was driving, called out over his shoulder to Sally. "Alvin said we should make for the Hickman Ferry!"

"Yeah, take the next road North then head for the river."

"Speeding" along at forty miles per hour, the Dixie Drifters quickly made their way through the broad fields and into the cover of the trees near the river. As the gang left town, Zib and Sally noticed a new member of the band.

"Hey, who's this?" Zib asked Sy.

"That, Zib, is our guitarist!" Sy yelled back over the whine of the engine.

"Robert Johnson, sir. Pleased to meet you!" Robert said, sticking out his hand.

"So you play guitar, huh?" Zib replied. "Well, it just so happens we need one. How'd you like to go to New Orleans?"

"The big city would be lovely! And we'll be going right past my home."

"Good, then maybe you can guide us down the 61." Sy said.

Half drunk, the entire sheriff's department showed up at New Madrid after the party. True to his word, Alvin had given them a great time and Lead Belly had entertained the whole force. The smile dropped from Bedford's face though when he entered the jail and found Clyde passed out with a bottle in hand.

"Junior, get the guns! Sally's escaped!"

"What?"

"You heard me boy. Guns! Now! The rest of you load up too, we gotta go hunting tonight."

The department loaded up into their cruisers and took off in pursuit. "Where are we going, pa?"

"Hickman Ferry. That's the fastest way out of here in that old model T."

A few miles ahead, Sy brought the car to a fast stop, slamming on the old, tired brakes. Mozzie immediately hopped out of the car and knocked on the door of the ferryman. After a few intense knocks, the floorboards on the other side of the door creaked and groaned as a large cat came to see who his late-night visitor was.

"If you need a ferry, you'll have to wait until morning. Too dangerous to navigate at night." The cat said.

"Normally I would agree, but we're kinds being pursued."

The cat didn't seem amused, but he did notice the little lady in the back of the car. "Sally, what in blazes are you doing out this late?"

"I'm running away from a weddin' Mr. Lattus. The sheriff is going to be hot on our trail."

"He's coming for you, is he? Fine, go load up, I'll get my lantern."

The car was loaded up in record time while Hickman fired up the diesel engine. The small motor roared to life as he threw the lines off and began to drift with the current. "Alright, you boys will have to be my eyes and ears. Look for anything in the river that could sink us."

The cats did as order and twenty minutes later the other landing on the Kentucky side of the river at Hickman. Looking back, the band could make out the dim lights of police cars as they swarmed the landing on the far side of the river.

"Well, shit. Looks like I'm gonna have to get a hotel tonight." Mr. Lattus mentioned.

"Thank you, Mr. Lattus. I won't forget this." Sally said as she pulled her jacket around her.

"If it pisses off that sheriff then I'm more than happy to help. You better get yourself loaded up, dear. We're going to get to the landing in two minutes."

"So where's the nearest bridge?" Sy asked as he climbed into the car's driving seat.

Nearest one north of here is in Cairo. Nearest to the south is Memphis. If you take the 51 South out of town you should be fine. Beford won't dare leave his domain lest he runs into trouble and the scrutiny that comes with it.

"What about you?" Zib asked.

"Me? Well, if he's fixing to shoot an old man for aiding and abetting fugitives then he'll have a riot on his hands. If Bedford is smart then he'll sweep all this under the rug."

The ferry ground to a halt on the shore and Lattus lowered the ramp to let the car off. Now on dry land once again, Sy motored toward Hickman to find the road South. Though they had deviated from the planned route, the gravel surface was like a moonlight river snaking its way South.

"Now, this still leaves the issue of our uninvited bride." Zib said as he threw an arm over the back of his seat.

"You can let me off in Union City. I have a friend there who will take me in."

"You heard the lady, Sy." Zib said as he gestured to the distant town on the horizon.

Stopping at a house on the east end of town, Sy got out to help Sally to the curb.

"Sorry for all the trouble, gentlemen. But you're my knights in shining armor." Sally complimented the motley crew of musicians.

"Just be glad Sy still has a heart." Zib said as he stretched and made himself more room in the seat while Mozzie climbed into the open spot in the back.

"Don't listen to him, Sally. I'm glad we stopped to rescue you even if things didn't go according to plan."

Sally then smiled and kissed Sy on the lips, shocking everyone but especially Zib. With a smirk, she turned to leave. "Keep that heart of yours, Sy. It'll serve you well. Good luck with that thing in New Orleans!"

Driving away, Sy once again found the road south and turned to take the 51 along the east side of the river. They'd have to stop in a couple of hours to rest but sometime the next day they should make it back into known territory. The grand city of Memphis!

But despite that good news, Sy couldn't help but feel guilty. "Hey Zib?"

"Yeah, Sy?"

"I'm sorry for getting you into so much trouble back there."

"Yeah, well, you came to bust me out. That almost makes up for it."

"What can I do to completely make up for it?"

Zib smiled. "Like the lady said, keep that heart of yours. There's enough kindness for both of us. And next time don't insist on picking up hitch hikers. We're a little crowded now."

"Will do, Zib." Sy said as Zib nestled himself on Sy's arm, trying his best to get as much sleep as possible.