Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [116]
“Listen, Duane—”
Straightening, the boy wagged a finger at Luke. “Now, don’t tell me yer backin’ out ’fore I even tell ya the plan.”
“I’m not trying to back out, I’m just—”
He scowled. “Necker done tol’ me yer all gurgle and no guts, but I stuck up fer ya. Told him I know ya better than he does. I’m gonna be sorely disappointed if’n you turn out to be full o’ butter.”
Luke tensed. Necker still had doubts? Was that why he hadn’t been invited into the gang? What more did they want? “Lead the way. I’m all in.”
Duane clapped him on the back. “That’s it. Now grab two of them buckets over yonder and come with me. It’s a good hike out to Necker’s and we ain’t even made it to Charlie’s yet—though you stink to high heaven as usual. How ’bout letting me have a swill from yer stash?”
Patting the bib hiding his flask of water, Luke shook his head. “Sorry, Duane. I don’t share my coffin varnish with anybody. Not even you.”
“Well, come on, then. Let’s get this over with, ’cause if I don’t get me some neck oil soon, I’m gonna have to prime myself to spit.”
Necker slept awfully sound for a man living on the edge. Between Duane stirring up dust and the mice letting out squeaks, Luke had expected to be on the receiving end of a double-barrel shotgun. But nothing moved inside the little log cabin other than a tiny trickle of smoke from its chimney.
Duane looked at him. “You ready?”
He nodded.
Pointing to a window on the side of the cabin, Duane lowered his voice to a whisper. “That’s the one.” His smile grew wide. “It’s right over the bed.”
Luke couldn’t help but answer the boy’s infectious grin.
“We’ll have to move fast,” Duane continued. “Them critters aren’t gonna like being bounced around. If Necker hears, he’ll go straight fer his gun, but he’ll go round front ’fore he does any shootin’. So keep going, ’cause his missus’ll still be abed. If he catches us ’fore we make cover, he’ll know who it is and aim high.”
Luke set the empty buckets on the ground, his pulse picking up speed. “I’m ready.”
Opening the top of the cage, Duane poured mice into each bucket. Sure enough, the tiny creatures protested. Swooping up the buckets, the two of them raced to the open window and tossed the contents inside.
Horrific screams and a string of curses erupted from the cabin. They sprinted to the thicket, then dove to the ground when the shots started. Duane tried to hold his laughter but couldn’t.
“Duane Pfeuffer, you no ’count son of a pig keeper, I’m gonna knock yer ears down so they’ll do ya fer wings.”
The boy rolled to his back, laughter pouring from his gut. The sound echoed across the landscape and mixed with a woman using words so hot they’d burn her throat. The coarser her curses, the harder Duane laughed. “Who-wee, but that gal sure knows how to air her lungs.”
“You out there with him, Palmer, you lily-livered dog?”
“I am,” he shouted, then rolled to the right as more gunfire sounded. But he needn’t have bothered. Necker was clearly shooting into the sky. “Well, get back here and help me catch these godforsaken things.”
Scrambling to his feet, but keeping low, Duane half ran, half crawled in the opposite direction. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s get outta here.”
Luke needed no urging. When Necker realized they weren’t returning, the gunfire came a bit closer, but they pressed on until they were well out of range.
Three of the four eggs hatched. Georgie named them Edward, Alice, and Leopold. The children filed in and out, checking on the progress of the chicks. They watched Victoria and Albert take turns hunting for food. Grabbed their throats when they saw how far the monarchs inserted their bills when feeding the fledglings. And asked if birds ever ran out of bugs.
From her position at the switchboard, she could see them perfectly, though sometimes she used her opera glasses just to get a close-up look. Today was Day Five,