more than willing to help us out.”
“I only took that money because we had to pay off that doctor.”
T.Z. had been wounded in a failed attempt to rob a telegraph station. By the time they reached the small Nebraska town where Les had been working, T.Z. was nearly dead. There was a doc who’d fix him up and not report him to the law-for $500. None of them had the money, so Les was forced to pilfer it from the bank where he’d been working. Then he had to flee town with them before he was caught.
Now they were here again, dragging him once more into their web of failure and violence.
And now murder.
“I can’t do it,” Les said.
“He’s gone too respectable, T.Z.,” Neely said coolly. “You see, that’s what’s wrong with the capitalist system. You take Les here. Sure, he loves his brother. Sure, he’s grateful his brother helped raise him after the old man died. But now he’s got this comfortable job making comfortable money and seeing the banker’s daughter on the side-so he has to weigh one thing against the other-the things capitalism has given him against his love for his brother. And capitalism wins every time.”
By the time he’d finished speaking, there was real ire in his voice and his burly body shook with anger.
“You can go to Mexico,” Les said to T.Z. “I’ll start sending you a part of my paycheck.”
“Won’t that be nice, now,” Neely said. "Two or three dollars a month, I’d bet.”
“I’d send you everything I could,” Les said to T.Z., disregarding Neely. “I promise.”
Neely sighed. For the first time his battered face looked dusty and old. He seemed weary. “You always were a little naive, Les. You don’t understand this. The federal boys are dogging our tracks day and night. It’s just a matter of time. We need the money in the next couple of days. And we need to head for Mexico right away.”
“He’s not exaggerating, Les. He’s really not.”
“I just can’t do it.”
Neely waved for another round. “I’ll tell you what, Les. Before you say yes or no, just listen to our plan. That’s all we’re asking you to do. Just listen. Because I think you’ll see that you can help us without anybody ever knowing. All right?”
T.Z. said, softly, “All right, Les? Just listen. All right?”
So the next round of beers came.
And Les, of course, listened.
CHAPTER NINE
In the summer streets you could hear the sound of great and earnest hammering, as if some colossal monument were being built.
Actually, it was many monuments-floats for the Fourth of July parade three days hence.
On his way to work, Les went down an alley to an open area behind the Empire Hotel. In the morning sunlight, on a field of deep green grass, young people laughed and chattered but kept working diligently at their tasks-making from paper and papier-mache tributes to the the Civil War, to the rich Iowa farmland and to dozens of local merchants-there was a banner for Turechek’s grocery store; a big shoe inside of which would stand a waving girl for Lyoran Brothers shoe store; a large depiction of several kinds of baked goods for the C. K. Kosek bakery; and there were at least fifteen more.
As he watched them, Les felt an unlikely envy. He wished he were one of these kids-an eighteen-year-old boy flirting with a cute city girl as they worked side by side toward the lazy summer’s biggest event. Looking forward to stolen kisses in the prairie moonlight…
But he had a slight hangover and was still tired as he recalled last night talking to T.Z. and Neely…
And his innocent images of innocent romance faded as he recalled how he’d stolen to save his brother’s life… and how they were using his stealing against him now-
So he could help them take the money from
“I only took that money because we had to pay off that doctor.”
T.Z. had been wounded in a failed attempt to rob a telegraph station. By the time they reached the small Nebraska town where Les had been working, T.Z. was nearly dead. There was a doc who’d fix him up and not report him to the law-for $500. None of them had the money, so Les was forced to pilfer it from the bank where he’d been working. Then he had to flee town with them before he was caught.
Now they were here again, dragging him once more into their web of failure and violence.
And now murder.
“I can’t do it,” Les said.
“He’s gone too respectable, T.Z.,” Neely said coolly. “You see, that’s what’s wrong with the capitalist system. You take Les here. Sure, he loves his brother. Sure, he’s grateful his brother helped raise him after the old man died. But now he’s got this comfortable job making comfortable money and seeing the banker’s daughter on the side-so he has to weigh one thing against the other-the things capitalism has given him against his love for his brother. And capitalism wins every time.”
By the time he’d finished speaking, there was real ire in his voice and his burly body shook with anger.
“You can go to Mexico,” Les said to T.Z. “I’ll start sending you a part of my paycheck.”
“Won’t that be nice, now,” Neely said. "Two or three dollars a month, I’d bet.”
“I’d send you everything I could,” Les said to T.Z., disregarding Neely. “I promise.”
Neely sighed. For the first time his battered face looked dusty and old. He seemed weary. “You always were a little naive, Les. You don’t understand this. The federal boys are dogging our tracks day and night. It’s just a matter of time. We need the money in the next couple of days. And we need to head for Mexico right away.”
“He’s not exaggerating, Les. He’s really not.”
“I just can’t do it.”
Neely waved for another round. “I’ll tell you what, Les. Before you say yes or no, just listen to our plan. That’s all we’re asking you to do. Just listen. Because I think you’ll see that you can help us without anybody ever knowing. All right?”
T.Z. said, softly, “All right, Les? Just listen. All right?”
So the next round of beers came.
And Les, of course, listened.
CHAPTER NINE
In the summer streets you could hear the sound of great and earnest hammering, as if some colossal monument were being built.
Actually, it was many monuments-floats for the Fourth of July parade three days hence.
On his way to work, Les went down an alley to an open area behind the Empire Hotel. In the morning sunlight, on a field of deep green grass, young people laughed and chattered but kept working diligently at their tasks-making from paper and papier-mache tributes to the the Civil War, to the rich Iowa farmland and to dozens of local merchants-there was a banner for Turechek’s grocery store; a big shoe inside of which would stand a waving girl for Lyoran Brothers shoe store; a large depiction of several kinds of baked goods for the C. K. Kosek bakery; and there were at least fifteen more.
As he watched them, Les felt an unlikely envy. He wished he were one of these kids-an eighteen-year-old boy flirting with a cute city girl as they worked side by side toward the lazy summer’s biggest event. Looking forward to stolen kisses in the prairie moonlight…
But he had a slight hangover and was still tired as he recalled last night talking to T.Z. and Neely…
And his innocent images of innocent romance faded as he recalled how he’d stolen to save his brother’s life… and how they were using his stealing against him now-
So he could help them take the money from
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