Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye Read Free Page B

tell I was moving was in the feel of the earth scraping against my belly. I finally reached the mass of cantaloupe vines where three days ago Toko and I had been plucking, and which was now dried-brown and brittle-dead. This gave me good concealment, allowing me to raise myself a little on my hands and knees and crawl instead of wiggle. When I reached the end of the furrow near the rock marker I hurtled for the edge of the ditch, wanting to get those guns as quickly as possible. The ditch was wide but not deep, not more than two feet, and was used principally by the truck farms farther down the valley. I reached into the water, feeling for the package, groping for it with both hands. Then I touched it and yanked it up. It was a red inner tube that had been doubled and redoubled and then vulcanized, and tied to it was a pocket knife. I opened the knife and hacked at the tube and finally split it. There were two loaded pistols and two boxes of ammunition. The pistols were thirty-eight caliber revolvers, not my favorite gun, but favorite enough for right now. I stuck the guns and the boxes of ammunition inside my denim jumper and turned around and started crawling back.
    How much time had elapsed, I did not know; not much, perhaps two minutes, but certainly no more than three. This part of the plan there had never been any doubt about; I knew that I could bring this off, but from now on every passing second increased the danger and pulled tauter and tauter the thread of risk. Still, I had no impulse of panic I had the feel of this thing now; I had myself under perfect control. This was what I had been waiting for. I had told myself a thousand times that if the pistols were there I would no longer worry about Toko … I crawled back down the furrow and reached the canvas curtain of the wagon and crawled inside, dropping my pants and sitting down again, trying to make a noise with my bowels to prove that I had been there all the time. I looked through the crack at Byers. He was still standing there, but he was staring at the wagon impatiently. There was no uneasiness in his manner, just impatience. I grunted and groaned a few times and then reached for a piece of newspaper on the stack, and tore it noisily, but did not dispel any of his impatience. He was still glaring at the wagon. I stood up and brushed myself off, using another piece of newspaper to dry my forearms and rub off some of the mud, and adjusted the guns and boxes of ammunition inside my jumper so they would not be noticed, buttoned my pants and stepped out.
    ‘I thought maybe you had fell in,’ Byers said.
    You’re a bowel-watcher, I thought. You’re reviving a lost art. ‘It was that supper last night,’ I said. ‘I have a very delicate stomach.’
    ‘Everything about you is delicate, ain’t it?’ he said.
    Including my trigger finger, you peasant bastard, I thought. ‘I’m sorry, me-lord,’ I said.
    ‘For God’s sake, stop whining!’ he said. ‘Move along.’
    ‘I’m sorry, sire,’ I said, moving along.…
    When I got back to Toko he was stooped over, digging into a cluster of vines. He paused, not moving his body, looking up at me past his elbow. With my thumb I indicated that I had the pistols inside my jumper. He straightened up, holding in both hands a cantaloupe almost as big as a watermelon.
    ‘Ain’t that a beauty?’ he said.
    He moved over and stacked it with the others, and then came back to me and started digging in the same cluster.
    ‘How many was there?’ he asked.
    ‘Two,’ I said. I did not say anything about the boxes of ammunition. If anything went wrong, if he happened to get hit, it would be bad enough for them to find the pistol on him without also finding a box of ammunition. A box of ammunition is a hell of a lot easier to back-track than a pistol.
    I leaned over and started digging in the cluster with him. I switched my eyes around and made certain nobody was watching us and then slipped him one of the pistols. He