“Yes.”
“You’re a woman.”
“Everyone seems to notice.”
“You sure you the sheriff?”
“Constable. Almost the same thing. I’m supposed to bring you out and they’re going to arrest you. That’s the way it has to be.”
“They’re gonna hang me. Cut my balls off first, make me suffer. I seen it done once. They even set the man on fire before they hanged him.”
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
“That’s what you say.”
“I got some men out there will help me see it don’t happen.”
“They gonna give me the ’lectric chair.”
“You’ll get a fair trial.”
“Colored don’t get fair trials.”
“You killed a man, Smoky.”
“Didn’t have nothing against that sheriff. He was a good man. Just wanted to watch a picture show. Ain’t never seen one. Ought to be able to watch a picture show. They could have a colored section. They could put a curtain up between us and them or something. Wouldn’t have to see our faces.”
“You don’t go with me, do it my way, Smoky, you will be lynched.”
“They’ll kill me anyway. Nice and legal.”
“Not with your pants down, cut up and tortured. Everyone seeing you humiliated. You want that?”
Smoky turned back to the movie. “I don’t regret that ole grocer none. And I don’t like mules either.”
Sunset eased forward, slipped into the seat behind Smoky.
“You let me finish the picture show?” Smoky asked.
“I can arrange that.”
“I’ll keep the shotgun till then.”
“I’ll tell them outside,” Sunset said.
“That ain’t a real mustache, is it?”
“What?”
“Not you. That fella, in the movie, he ain’t got a real mustache, does he?”
Sunset looked at the screen. “I think it’s painted on.”
“That’s what I thought. That’s supposed to be funny, ain’t it?”
“I’ll go out now, talk to them.”
“I had to start that thing up there, what’s it called, a camera?”
“Projector, I think.”
“Had to do that so I could see it from the first. Figured it out. I was always good figuring stuff like that out. I could have worked here.”
“I’ll be going out now, Smoky.”
“I rubbed my ass around in this seat real good, gave it a real dose of nigger butt, that’s what I did. Don’t tell them which seat. That way someone’s got to sit in it.”
“We’ll keep it between me and you.”
Sunset stood up slowly and walked out of the theater.
Rooster said, “Really think he’s gonna let you take him when that picture’s over? Whatever he’s been drinking, you been drinking some of it too.”
“Why don’t we have you get him a little picnic lunch when you go back in,” Morgan said. “Some chicken and light bread. Maybe some pie.”
“Might not be a bad idea,” Sunset said. “Hillbilly, go over to the cafe, see can you rustle up something already cooked. Tell them the law will pay for it. Have them sign a receipt or something.”
Hillbilly started slogging across the mud.
“Which law is gonna pay for it?” Rooster asked.
“Your town, your bill,” Sunset said.
“Can’t believe you’re gonna go back in there,” Morgan said. “And with a goddamn picnic lunch.”
“Beats a shoot-out,” Sunset said.
“I’ll go back in with you,” Clyde said.
“I don’t want to scare him, make him think I’m going back on my word.”
“Why don’t we show him an extra picture, maybe a cartoon,” Morgan said. “Hell, woman, why don’t you offer him a piece?”
Before Sunset could respond to that, Clyde hit Morgan on the jaw with his fist. Morgan did a kind of hop, twisted, fell face forward into the pile of mule dung, next to the dead mule’s ass.
“He was building up to that,” Clyde said, “and finally he got there.”
“Give him about half a minute,” Sunset said. “Then pull him out so he can breathe.”
“People seen you do that,” Rooster said. “They seen you hit an officer of the law, Clyde.”
“Yeah,” Clyde said. “Think they did. But since I’m kind of an officer of the law, maybe that evens it out.”
Hillbilly came hustling across the mud with a plate covered with a red-and-white-check napkin.
“I had to get this off of a fella’s plate. He didn’t like it none. I didn’t get nothing to drink. It’s just chicken and biscuits.”
“Let me have it,” Sunset said, and started back inside.
“What happened to Morgan there?” Hillbilly asked.
“Fainted,” Clyde said.
When Sunset disappeared into the theater, Rooster said, “I think Morgan has been in that mule shit for a whole minute or two now.”
“Reckon you’re right,” Clyde said.
“We ought to turn him,” Rooster said.
“I’m studying on it.”
Inside, Sunset gave Smoky the chicken and biscuits. He took it and ate, watched the picture. She looked at the movie but couldn’t hear it. Her ears wouldn’t listen. All she could think about was Smoky and the shotgun. She quietly pulled the pistol and laid it in her lap, her hand on it.
When the movie was over Smoky set the plate on the floor in the aisle, stood up and gave Sunset the shotgun.
“It ain’t loaded nohow,” Smoky said. “Was, I’d have shot myself. I just had them shells I used. I shouldn’t have shot the sheriff.”
“Let’s go on out, Smoky.”
“I did get to see me a picture show.”
“You did,” Sunset said.
“Maybe I ought to shut the projector off.”
“That’s all right. Someone else will do it.”
They went up the aisle, and when they got to the door, Smoky paused at the sheriff’s body.
“Happened so fast,” he said. “Brought the gun up and shot him. I didn’t even think about it.”
While they were pausing at the door, Sunset said, “Clyde. Hillbilly. Y’all come and help me.”
With Smoky between Clyde and Hillbilly, they walked him to the police car where Rooster stood, pistol drawn. Morgan was up, sitting on the sidewalk. There was mule shit on his face. Macavee was in the
