pecker.
No, there just wasn’t any honest way to do this deal, and frankly Duncan didn’t bet on losing any sleep over it.
Nothing to do now but let the truck get close and park. If he could get the coon into the barn, they could bushwhack him good.
“Stop the truck,” Jenks said.
DelPrego parked the truck a hundred feet from the barn and shifted into park. He left the engine running.
“Here’s how it’s going to happen,” Jenks said. “You guys get out the truck, see. Stand there by the open doors and watch me go toward the guy with the money. Be looking around in case he’s got some buddies. Lancaster, you can leave that.32 in your coat pocket. It’s small enough. Keep your hand in there like you’re staying warm. Keep hold of the gun, be ready to bring it out fast in case some shit happens. You hear?”
Lancaster shook his head. “I changed my mind.” He looked a little green, breath short. “Wayne? You changed your mind too, right? I want to go.”
Jenks ignored Lancaster, nudged DelPrego. “You’ll need to leave that scattergun on the seat, but the door will be open so you can grab it quick if you have to.”
“Right.”
“But your main job is to drive. Some kind of hell breaks loose, you come get me. I’ll jump in the bed so you can drive off quick. Slow down a little, so I can jump in the back.”
“You expect trouble.”
“Just being careful. Lancaster, you got to spray bullets at whoever’s causing the trouble. Keep me covered until I’m in the truck.”
“God. Sherman, look, I don’t want to shoot anybody, okay? I don’t think I can. You said all I had to do was sit in the car.”
“Sit in the car
“I have to pee.”
“Chances are he’ll give me the money and I’ll give him the powder and that’s that. So you two stay cool. Don’t twitch out on me. Keep your eyes open.”
DelPrego opened their car door, stepped out. Lancaster was frozen in his seat. Jenks slid out DelPrego’s side, walked around, and stood in front of the pickup. DelPrego leaned on the driver’s-side door, the butt of the shotgun on the seat within quick reach.
The barn door creaked open and Moses Duncan stepped out. He had a paper grocery sack under his arm. Jenks tried to eye him for weapons, but that corduroy jacket was so baggy, could have been twenty guns and a bazooka under there. Jenks waved, set the gym bag with the cocaine on the hood of DelPrego’s truck.
“Hey there, boy,” called Duncan. “You’re on time. Good. I got your money right here.”
“Let’s trade,” Jenks said.
“That’s fine. Come on in the barn and we’ll settle up.”
Jenks shook his head. “Out here in the open.”
“Hell, boy, I just want to get out of the wind.” Duncan frowned, rubbed his nose with his thumb. “Besides, I don’t know them two fellows you brought. Sort of makes a man nervous.”
“Look, dude, this is simple,” Jenks said. “You walk this way and I’ll walk to you and we’ll trade in the middle.”
Duncan looked back into the barn, turned again to Jenks. “Yeah, okay.”
They both started walking and met between DelPrego’s pickup and the barn. Jenks dropped the bag at Duncan’s feet.
Duncan smiled big. He was missing a molar toward the back. “Got your cash right here. Had to hit up a few folks to raise this kind of money, but I managed to scrape it together.” Duncan unrolled the top of the grocery sack, started to reach inside.
“Just hand me the bag.” Jenks grabbed it, started to pull it out of Duncan’s hands.
For a split second Duncan resisted, his smile wavering. “No problem. Count it if you want.” He released his grip and Jenks took the sack.
It had happened before that some slick criminal had hidden a gun in the money bag, gone in for greenbacks and came out with the heat. Jenks wasn’t taking any chances. He opened the bag, peeked inside.
DelPrego’s voice came strained and panicked from behind. “Sherman, look out!”
Duncan’s hand was halfway out from under his jacket. Jenks saw the pistol and leapt forward, tossed the bag of money into Duncan’s face, and grabbed at the gun. Duncan kicked him away, pulled the pistol, but Jenks was already swinging. He popped Duncan solid on the nose, pressed it flat. Duncan grunted and his pistol flew, landed behind him.
Jenks went for his Glock, and behind him DelPrego’s shotgun thundered.
Jenks looked up.
A lanky redneck in a blue plaid shirt fell through the open door of the barn’s loft. He tumbled in B-movie slow motion, ragged arms flapping in the air. He did a long slow flip and landed on his back in the dirt.
Explosions from the front window of the house. Shots.
Bullets chewed up the ground around Jenks’s feet, flew over his head, dotted the hood of DelPrego’s truck with metallic
DelPrego was in the driver’s seat and already screaming toward him.
Lancaster dropped the.32 onto the floor of the pickup. He squeezed himself as low and as small as possible. DelPrego slammed on the brakes too late, smacked Jenks in the upper thighs with the front bumper.
Jenks sprawled back, landed hard in the dust. “Fuck!”
Shots from the barn now. Duncan had recovered his pistol and was blasting wildly from the barn door. Most of the shots went high, but one shattered a headlight.
Jenks fired from his back, upside down over his head back at Duncan, didn’t hit anything but sky. Jenks shifted, shot at the house, shattered the glass of the front window into glittering shards.
DelPrego stuck the sawed-off shotgun out the window, fired it one-handed. The buckshot pellets scorched the barn door, but a few ventilated Duncan’s jacket under his left arm. Duncan’s scream was high-pitched, like a frightened animal’s. He ducked back into the barn, pushed the door closed.
Jenks groaned to his feet, hobbled around to the side of the pickup, and threw himself in the bed. He still had the gym bag in a tight grip. “Drive! Get the fuck out of here, man.”
DelPrego drove twenty feet then slammed on the brakes again.
“What are you doing?” Lancaster’s eyes were as big as dinner plates. Shots had erupted again from the house’s front window. “Keep driving.”
“I’m going for the money,” DelPrego shouted. “Cover me.”
DelPrego dashed from the truck, snatched the paper sack out of the dirt.
“Cover you? What?” Lancaster yelled after him.
Jenks raised his head from the back of the pickup, saw what DelPrego was doing. “Run, white boy. Move your ass.” He pointed the Glock at the house, unloaded the rest of his clip, the pistol bucking in his hand. More glass rained.
DelPrego jumped back in the truck, tossed the sack into Lancaster’s lap.
He slapped the truck in gear and fishtailed around, stomped the gas. He clipped Duncan’s mailbox as he made the turn out of the driveway. The mailbox made a hollow pop and spun off into the hedges. He hauled ass down the narrow dirt road, the plume of dust behind him like some kind of freak sandstorm. Each bump and dip almost tossed Jenks out of the back. He only slowed down when they finally reached the highway.
DelPrego pointed the truck back toward town, chest heaving. Lancaster still shook.
In the bed, Jenks lay flat on his back, looked up unblinking at the cloudless blue sky stretching wide and forever. After a few minutes he climbed to one knee and knocked on the little window in back of the cab.
Lancaster slid it open.
“Check the money,” Jenks said.
