“I don’t think this joint got a camera,” Walter said. “I think we could stand right up in the back if we wanted.”
“And what?” said East. “Just turn around and go out the way we went in?”
“That might work.”
The next, a pickup, held two men and a boy. A full gun rack in the cab. “Not that one,” Walter said.
“No.”
The following car showed up so suddenly, it seemed as if East had been sleeping on his feet. Impossible, but maybe. Walter touched his arm, and he saw. Light brown Ford with after-market mud guards and golden seat covers. An old black lady, alone.
“She looks nice,” said Walter.
“I ain’t making that lady get in a trunk,” East muttered.
The Ford pulled abreast and waited at the window. Suddenly Walter pushed through the hedge, the trimmed branches plowing at his clothes. He straightened his sweater and held his hand up in greeting. Like this was his great-aunt.
Crazy. East shivered. He had half a mind to run.
The old lady turned her head. Pouted, appraising him, through gold-trimmed glasses. Slowly her old power window whined down, and she said, in a high, chipped voice, painstakingly clear, “Do you two young men need some sort of rod somewhere?”
“Ma’am?” said Walter.
“I said, are you young men waiting for a ride?”
Walter said, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
The lady’s sunny expression dimmed a bit as she peered around Walter at East, still hiding in the hedge.
“You with him?”
“He’s my cousin, yes.”
A silent humph. “Well, come on.”
Walter pivoted, shaking his face at East. “Come on.”
East wavered, then squeezed through the hedge. Squeezed his eyes shut like a kid jumping into water. The little branches tugged and ripped at him. Walter was twice as wide, but he’d come through easier.
“One black lady in the whole state,” he whispered, “and you gonna steal her car.”
“She offered,” Walter hissed.
Across the roof of the car, the drive-through window folded open on a white girl with a round, pimpled face. “Good morning, Martha!” she hollered. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine, fine,” said the old woman. The cashier girl took the lady’s money cheerfully and handed her down a dozen-doughnuts box with a gold seal on top. “Have a nice weekend—till next time!” she shouted. Sparing Walter and East one odd glance.
East stood at the back door, and the locks hammered up. The old lady set the box of doughnuts next to her on the seat, and she peered out at Walter again.
“Was you coming?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Walter nodded vigorously. “Let me talk,” he murmured at East.
“You better,” East said.
Already Walter was taking the front seat, chirping his thanks. East lowered himself into the clean-swept interior. Extra rubber mats, one floral umbrella on the seat. The faint smell of lubricating oil. He reached for the belt; it clunked as he unrolled it. The old spring was soft and would barely click in.
In his pants, Ty’s gun. A spur.
“What is your name?” the lady inquired, not going anywhere, not quite yet.
“Walter, ma’am.”
Just like that, thought East, real name. Why not?
“A,” said East. “For Andre.”
“My name is Martha Jefferson,” the lady said. “And where are you two headed today?”
“We’ll just ride, ma’am,” Walter said. “If it’s all right.”
The lady paused. She had that grandmotherly pout for thinking. “In my experience, a young person doesn’t just ride. A young person has a good idea where he’s going.”
“We’ve been going, but we’re just stuck here,” Walter said. “We need to get along.”
“You in trouble?” said the woman, narrowing her eyes. “Or are you trouble?”
“We hope we’re not in trouble,” Walter said.
She laughed. This pleased her. “Are you runaways?”
“No, ma’am,” Walter said.
“Hoboes?” Her giggle a creak, like an old wooden chair.
“No.” Walter giggled back artfully.
“Are you college students?”
“Yes.”
“No you’re not. Too young!” But at last, with this interrogation, she put the car in gear. Old but not simple, East observed. “Are you robbers?” she asked merrily.
“No, ma’am,” said Walter again.
“Not here to rob me. Well, what, then?” Martha Jefferson said. Like sweethearts flirting, East thought.
“Together we could rob some other people if it helped you out.”
The old lady creaked with mirth. “Aw, no,” she said. “I be all right.”
Now she’d put her sauce on.
“This morning,” declared Martha Jefferson, “I am headed to the airport in Des Moines. I don’t know if that helps you. But I can take you to the highway if you don’t want the airport.”
“We would ride all that way with you,” said Walter. “With thanks.”
Formally, Martha Jefferson agreed, “Then I will take you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”