“Can we talk now?”
Brent Foxx stared across the table at his brother. He had just polished off a huge steak with some potatoes and biscuits and a pot of coffee. Now he poured himself a drink and addressed his brother.
“We’ve got to lay low for a while.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you killed somebody, that’s why!’Brian Foxx’ is not just a bank robber anymore, he’s a killer.”
Brent shrugged.
“You’re the one who wanted his name used.”
“Nobody was ever supposed to get killed, Brent. We agreed. It’s bad enough you like to beat up on people—”
“I explained all of that!”
“Never mind,” Brian said. “I’ve already decided. We’re not going to pull a job for a while. In fact, we’re gonna pull up stakes and move east.”
“East? To where?”
“Louisiana.”
“New Orleans,” Brent said knowingly.
“Yes. We pull our jobs in Arkansas and Missouri—”
“I don’t want to go east, Brian. I like it here.”
They locked eyes and Brian knew that if he flinched first he would be lost. It had become harder and harder to match his brother’s mad stare lately. Finally Brent’s eyes flicked away and then down to his plate.
“Sleep on the idea, Brent. We can talk about it in the morning.”
“Sure, Brian,” Brent said. “Sure.” He stood up.
“Where you going?”
“I’ve been on the trail a long time. I need a woman. You coming?”
“No, you go ahead.”
Brent paused and asked, “You mind if I use both girls?”
“You been on the trail that long?”
“Seems like it.”
“Sure, they’re all yours.”
“Thanks. See you in the morning, Brian.”
“Good night.”
Brent left the saloon with a spring in his step, like a little boy on his way to a candy store.
Sam came over, a small man in his thirties who had a special deal with the Foxx boys to provide them food and shelter whenever they showed up.
“Want another bottle?” he asked, claiming the empty.
“No, Sam. Thanks.”
“Coffee?”
Brian thought a moment, then said, “Yeah, coffee.”
He knew it was going to be one of those nights when he couldn’t sleep.