Public Enemies_ America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI - Bryan Burrough [19]
Two weeks later the two couples, accompanied by the teenage W. D. Jones, drove through the northern Louisiana town of Ruston, looking for a bank to rob. When W.D. stole a car, its owner, a local undertaker, and his girlfriend gave chase, forcing Clyde to take them hostage. After an all-day drive (which later served as a memorable scene in the 1967 movie), Clyde let the couple go. In the confusion, the homesick W.D. disappeared. Clyde and Bonnie finally found him on a Dallas roadside on Friday, June 9. That night the three drove to the Panhandle, heading toward a rendezvous with Buck and Blanche Barrow.
That Saturday night, Clyde was driving east on Texas Highway 203, a dirt grade rarely maintained by state construction crews. Six miles east of the hamlet of Quail, the bridge over the Salt Fork of the Red River had been destroyed. In the darkness Clyde passed the fallen danger sign at over seventy miles an hour. He didn’t see the ravine until it was too late. With no warning at all, the big Ford was suddenly airborne. It soared down the slope, rolled twice, and crashed into the sandy soil beside the shrunken river. For a moment, everything was still. Steam rose from the ruined car. Gasoline began to seep into the sand. Clyde, thrown from the wreck but unhurt, was the first to come to his senses. He pulled himself to his feet and smelled the gasoline. He realized the car could explode.
Just then two farmers, Steve Pritchard and Lonzo Cartwright, scuttled down the slope. They had seen the wreck from Pritchard’s porch above the river. Together they pulled W.D. from the backseat, groggy but unhurt. Pritchard noticed the guns and glanced at Cartwright, wondering what they had gotten themselves into. Bonnie, unconscious, was stuck in the front seat, her leg trapped by the crushed car door.
Suddenly, with an audible whoosh, the gasoline caught fire. Flames leaped all around the car and began to lap at Bonnie’s legs. She woke and began screaming. Together Clyde and the two farmers tried to pry her from the seat while W.D. gathered the guns and tossed handfuls of sand onto the fire. As they worked the flames grew higher, engulfing Bonnie’s legs, then licking at her head and shoulders. Her stockings began melting into her legs. Panicking, she screamed for Clyde to kill her. Clyde, ignoring the flames, wrapped his arms around Bonnie and, with the farmers’ help, finally managed to pull her free.
Her legs were badly burned. Clyde carried her up the slope to Pritchard’s ramshackle farmhouse, where his parents and Cartwright’s wife, Gladys, stood watching. Inside, Clyde laid Bonnie on a bed as the elderly Mrs. Pritchard inspected the burns. Bonnie’s entire leg, from ankle to hip, had been burned black, exposing the bone in several places. Her face and arms were blistered. “She needs a doctor,” Mrs. Pritchard said, quickly applying a salve to Bonnie’s wounds.
“No,” Clyde and Bonnie said in unison. “We can’t afford that,” Clyde went on. “Try and do what you can.”
Clyde stepped out onto the front porch and conferred with W.D., then ran back down to the car to retrieve their guns. The Pritchards milled about nervously, unsure what to do. Lonzo Cartwright didn’t know who these people were, but he was certain they were outlaws of some kind. When W.D. wasn’t looking, Cartwright slipped out the backdoor and ran across the fields toward a neighbor’s house, intending to call the police. “Where’d the other guy go?” W.D. asked after a moment.
“I don’t know,” Pritchard said. “He’s probably out back.”
Just then Clyde hurried up to the house, carrying a canvas bag full of guns. He, too, noticed Cartwright’s absence. “I could kick your butt for letting that guy leave,” he snapped at W.D. “Now keep an eye on these people.