That’s right, that’s what they called me. Baby Boy Wabash. Unlike some bank robbers, I went out of my way to keep my real name to myself.
Since I was knocking over banks in boys’ clothes all up and down the western border of Indiana, the newspapers picked a name for me. Baby Boy because I was small, I imagine. Wabash because I didn’t stray far from the river when I was working.
It didn’t have much of a ring to it. But it wasn’t too bad. It emphasized who he was, and who I wasn’t.
Caleb tried again. “Please don’t make me hurt you. I don’t wanna make your mama cry.”
Aww, that was sweet. Like hell was I coming out, but I had to give him credit for trying. Sweat pooled in the small of my back and in the backs of my knees. Already, I was itching. If I didn’t get that poison ivy washed off soon, I’d be a sight at the church social. Even Caleb might manage some simple addition: Yesterday, I was chasing a bank robber through the woods. Today, my girl’s covered in bruises and blisters. Hmmm.
Nah, I was giving him too much credit. That was the beauty of being a girl going around in boys’ clothes. Nobody saw you. When I hitched rides, nobody warned me it was dangerous. Likewise, when I walked into a bank and ordered them to give me what was in the drawer, they did it. Now, fair enough, they probably did that in part because I jabbed the wood gun in my pocket at them.
Still, I knew what kind of attention a bandit got when she was a member of the fairer sex. Bonnie Parker looked real pretty sitting on the hood of that Ford Fordor, I had to admit. But she was shot dead on a lonely back road because everybody knew her too well and too many people wanted to take her and Clyde out.
Here’s the thing: I didn’t want to be famous. I just wanted to take care of my folks.
Mama thought I was off helping a lady doctor deliver babies. Daddy believed that too. Maybe it’s because they wanted to.
When I went to the bank and paid off our loan, I warned Mr. Shepherd not to come back to our door ever again. We were done doing business with his like. From here on out, we’d be keeping our savings in our mattress. Where it was safe. Where sons of bitches like him couldn’t lose it in one afternoon.
I was careful to never give Mama too much money. Sometimes I bought a live chicken or a canned ham and told her that was my payment. Quietly, I left ten-dollar bills in my neighbors’ mailboxes and back porch doors.
The funny thing is, the rumor never got around. Even while I Robin Hooded it up, the people in Swan’s Holler clamped down tight. It was like they were afraid if anyone knew they had money, it would melt away. Fool’s gold, mayhaps.
Caleb got tired of staring and waiting. Without holstering his gun, he started sideways down the hill. His path put him on course to step on me if he kept going. I had to run. There was no way to drag myself out of the way fast enough. Excitement gave in to fear.
This was the first time in three years robbing banks that I was close to caught.
Blood rushing in my ears, mouth dry as a desert, I didn’t have the luxury of weighing my options anymore. Closer and closer, Caleb stalked. So close, I smelled his cologne. My idiot stomach fluttered some. It needed to knock it off. This wasn’t the time or place to be sweet on Caleb Newcastle, no matter how good his sweat and skin smelled.
I figured my best bet was to scare the socks off of him and then run as fast as I could. Pressing hands and knees into the soft forest floor, I hitched back. Taking a deep breath, I popped up like a jack-in-the-box. Only my jack-in-the-box screamed like a banshee. Caleb shouted too, and pumped off another shot. Something hot streaked over my shoulder.
The time for rumination was over. Money washed and dried just fine. So did I. I bolted for the edge of the river. It was dark and green, shaded by the trees. Guarded by sharp stones all the way down.
With one held breath, I jumped.
It turns out that after you jump, you wanna change your mind.
Unfortunately, by then, gravity has done made up your mind for you. There was no backing up on this one. It was me and empty air. Plummeting. Falling. The river slapped me hard when I hit it. My ribs hurt, like I’d run too far. The strength drained from my arms and legs. They were weights, pulling me down.
I sank deep, swallowed by cold water the color of a patent medicine bottle. It tasted like medicine too, herbs and mud and all manner of things dying and living and doing what all ever in it.
At first, I didn’t even try to swim. My hips hurt like I’d yanked off both legs at the joint. Skin burning from hitting the water so hard, head dizzy and blank from terror, I floated down below. Beneath the surface.