Read Online The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Six by Louis L’Amour - Free Book Online Page A

winning my safety now. I was in there, trying. “But some is better than none. They would help you make a deal…extenuating circumstances. Who knows what a good lawyer could do? We’ve only been collecting evidence on you, that you weren’t dead. We’ve nothing on the dead man in the car; we’ve nothing on your wife. They would be glad to get some of their money back and would cut a deal to help you out. You could beat the death penalty.”
    He sat very still and said nothing. He was crumpling the paper napkin in his fingers. I dared not speak. The wrong move or the wrong word…at least, he was worried, he was thinking.
    “No!” He spoke so sharply that people looked up. He noticed it and lowered his voice. “Come on! We’re getting out of here! Make one wrong move or say one word and I’ll let you have it!”
    He said no more about showing me the deposit from Reno. Had I thrown away my chance at life by pushing him too hard? Had I forced him to kill me? We got up.
    Maybe I could have done something. Perhaps I could have reached for him, but there were a dozen innocent people in that café within gun range. I wanted no one else injured or killed even though I wanted to save myself.
    We paid our checks and stepped out into the cool night air…a little mist was drifting in over the building. It would be damp and foggy along the coast roads.
    We walked to his car, and he was a bare step behind me. “Get behind the wheel,” he said, “and drive carefully. Don’t get us stopped. If you do, I’ll kill you.”
    When we were moving, I spoke to him quietly. “What are you going to do, Rich? I always liked you. Even when you pulled this job, I still couldn’t feel you were all wrong. Somewhere along the line you didn’t get a decent break, something went wrong somewhere.
    “That’s why I’ve tried to help you tonight, because I was thinking of you.”
    “And not because you were afraid to die?” he sneered.
    “Give me a chance to help you…I’d rather die than go through what you have ahead, always ducking, dodging, worrying, knowing they were always there, closing in around you, stifling you.
    “And now, of course, there will be this. Those people in the café saw us leave together. They’ll have a good description of you.”
    “They never saw me before!”
    “I know…but they have seen me many times. I’ve always eaten in there by myself, so naturally the first time I sat with somebody else they would be curious and would notice you.”
    Traffic was growing less. He was guiding me by motions, and he was taking me out toward Palos Verdes and the cliffs along the sea. The fog rolled in, blanketing the road in spots. It was gray and thick.
    “The gas isn’t like this fog, Marmer,” I said, “you don’t see it.”
    “Shut up!” He slugged me backhanded with the gun. It wasn’t hard, he didn’t want to upset my driving.
    “It isn’t too late…yet. You can always go with me to the company.”
    “You stupid fool, I’m not going to turn myself in.”
    “You should, because it’s only a matter of days now, or hours.”
    The gun barrel jarred against my ribs and peeled hide. “Shut up!” His voice lifted. “Shut up or I’ll kill you now!”
    Bitterly, I stared at the thickening fog. All my talking had been useless. I was through. I might fight now, but with that gun in my ribs I’d small chance.
    Suddenly I saw a filling station. Two cars were parked there and people were laughing and talking. I was not going to die! I was…I casually put the car in neutral, aimed for an empty phone booth beside the road, and jerking up on the door handle, lunged from the car. The gun went off, its bullet burning my ribs, the muzzle blast tearing at my clothes. I went over and over on the pavement, the surface of the road tearing my shoulder, my knees, my hands. There was a crash of metal, the sound of breaking glass, and then silence. I rolled over, turning toward the wreck. The people at the gas station