The Stake

from his usual seven-day work schedule. Fun being out with Pete and Barbara, wandering the old town, watching the gunfight on Main Street, having a burger and a couple of beers in the picturesque saloon. “I need to get out more, anyway, or I’d run dry.”

“Everything we do ends up in his books,” Jean explained, “but he still hates to be dragged away from his almighty word processor.”

“That’s what keeps a roof over our heads.”

Pete tipped his head back as if to carom his voice off the top of the windshield, the better for Barbara to hear. “Let’s take him to that ghost town.”

A ghost town.

A warm, pleasant tightness came to Larry’s chest and throat.

“You think you can find it?” Barbara asked.

“No sweat.” He turned to Larry, grinning. “You’ll love it. Just your kind of place.”

“It’s pretty spooky, all right,” Barbara said.

“He’ll be in hog heaven.”

“I bet you get a book out of it,” Pete told him. “Call it ‘The Horror of Sagebrush Flat.’ Maybe have some weirdos lurking around, chopping up everyone.”

Larry could feel himself blushing a little with the stir of pride that came whenever people started referring to his grisly novels. “If I did,” he said, “you wouldn’t read it.”

“Iwill,” Barbara assured him.

“I know you will. You’re my best fan.”

“I’ll wait for the movie,” Pete announced.

“You’ll have a long wait.”

“You’re gonna make it,” he said, nodding at Larry and narrowing one eye.

Barbara gave the back of his head a gentle whack. “He’s alreadymade it, dickhead.”

“Hey, hey, watch it with the hands.” He smoothed his mussed hair. The thick black hair was threaded with strands of gray. His mustache, with a lot more gray in it, looked as if it belonged on an older face.

“You’ll be a wizened, silver-haired old coot,” Larry said, “before they ever make a movie of one of my books.”

“Ah, bull. You’ll make it, mark my words.” He tilted his head. “ ‘The Beast of Sagebrush Flat.’ I can see it now. I’ve gotta be one of the characters, right?”

“Of course. You’re the guy driving.”

“Who’s gonna play me? Has to be someone suitably handsome and dashing.”

“Pee-wee Herman,” Barbara suggested.

“You about ready to die, honey?”

“De Niro,” Larry said. “He’d be perfect.”

Pete raised an eyebrow and stroked his mustache. “Think so? He’s kind of old.”

“You’re no spring chicken,” Barbara said.

“Hey. Thirty-nine. Hardly counts as one foot in the grave.”

“Before you start losing your eyesight, you’d better watch for the turnoff.”

“I know just where it is. Never fear. I’ve got a natural instinct for these things. De Niro, huh? Yeah, I like that.”

“You’d better slow down,” Barbara told him.

“Don’t get your shorts in a knot, huh? I know exactly where we’re going.”

The van swept around a curve of the two-lane blacktop and shot past a road that led off to the left.

“That was it, smart guy.”

He leaned against his door and watched the road recede in the side mirror. “Naw.”

“Oh yes it was.”

“They never listen to us,” Jean said.

“That wasn’t it,” Pete muttered, stepping on the brake. The van slowed. He pulled onto the gravel shoulder, stopped, cranked his window down and stared back. “You really think that’s it, honey?”

“If you don’t believe me, keeping going.”

“Shit.”

“Maybe we won’tbe visiting a ghost town today,” Jean said, sounding amused.

Larry turned in his seat and looked at her. Smiling, she rolled her eyes upward. That expression was as good as words. What’ve we gotten ourselves into? Like Larry, she always got a kick out of the good-natured bickering that went on between Pete and Barbara. But they’d seen the arguments turn nasty, and had occasionally overheard quarrels that sounded truly vicious coming from the couple’s next-door house.

“Why don’t we give that road a try?” Larry suggested.

“It’s not the one.”

“Prince Henry the Navigator,” Barbara muttered.

“Maybe we should flip a coin,” Jean said.

“Do you have a map?” Larry asked.

“Pete doesn’t believe in them,” Barbara told him, her voice pleasant. Amazing how she reserved the sarcasm for her husband. “It’s up to you, Peter. I’ve offered my opinion. Feel free to ignore it.”

“Oh, hell,” he muttered. He started to turn the van around, and Larry saw the look of relief on Jean’s face.

“If it’s the wrong road,” Larry told Barbara, “we hold you personally responsible.”

She bared her teeth at him, then laughed softly.

“That’s tellin‘ her, pal.” Pete turned the van onto the side road and stepped on the gas. He drove up the middle, ignoring the faded white line. There wasn’t enough left of the speed limit sign to read its numbers. The metal had been riddled with bullets. Some of the holes looked fresh, but many were fringed with rust. Pete pointed at the sign. “There’s some local color for you. Ol’ Barb’s reallygonna be in trouble if we not only take the wrong road, but get shot in the bargain.”

“We’ll duck if we see any bargain hunters,” Larry said.

“Ha! Good one! I hate to tell you, they’re in the backseat.”

“Can’t miss at this range,” Jean said.

“We’re dead meat.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Petey. You’re no bargain.”

“I know. I’m priceless. I’m also smart enough to know this isn’t the road to Sagebrush Flat. But here we are anyway.”

“It was a good decision,” Larry assured him. “In my vast experience, I’ve found it always wiser to go along with female advice.”

“That’s because it’s usually right,” Jean said.

“Either way,” he told Pete, “you can’t lose. First, you make them happy by doing what they tell you. That’s the main thing. Let them think they’re in control. They love it. Then, if it turns out they were right, everything’s cool. If it turns out they were wrong...”

“Which is usually the case,” Pete added.

“Do they know what thin ice they’re on?” Jean asked.

“If they’re wrong,” Larry went on, “then you have the pleasure of basking in the glow of superiority.”

Pete grinned and nodded. “Hey, you oughta put that in one of your books.”

“It wasin one of his books,” Barbara said. “If I’m not mistaken, a redneck cop spoke pretty much those very words in Dead of Night.”

“Yeah?”

“No kidding?” Larry asked, amazed that she had remembered such a thing.

“Don’t you remember?”

He’d quoted one of his own characters without even realizing it? Odd, he thought. And a little disturbing. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “If you say so, I guess it’s there.”