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“What’s your hurry?”
“It’s late.”
“Not that late. Sit a spell.” Rusty tipped his head down toward Ledge’s barstool. “I want to talk to you about something.”
He didn’t need to ask Rusty what was on his mind, because he already knew. This confrontation had been inevitable since the day Arden Maxwell had turned up in Penton. He was surprised Rusty hadn’t ambushed him sooner. Now that he had, at least he no longer had to dread it. He sat back down, not in concession, but in order to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible.
But Rusty seemed in no hurry to commence. He swiveled around toward the group of young men who’d wrapped up their tournament and were counting out currency to the winner.
Rusty called out, “You boys having fun over there?”
They ceased what they were doing, but none answered.
Rusty homed in on one of them. “Well, lookee who we’ve got here. Hawkins. I thought you were in Huntsville. Dogfighting, wasn’t it?”
“Got screwed over by the system.”
“The system, huh?”
“Lousy public defender made me take a plea bargain. I got two years.”
“You’re already out?”
“Paroled for good behavior.”
“Good behavior, my ass,” Rusty said. “Won’t last. You’ll go back.”
Before the young man could retort, one of his buddies grabbed him by the arm and towed him out, the others hot on their heels.
As the door shut behind them, Rusty came back around on his stool, chuckling. “He ran a chickenshit operation out of an old barn belonging to his twin brothers. Whole tribe of white trash. Probably inbred. Name of Hawkins. Know them?”
“No.”
“Well, anyway, Dwayne there was born to be wild. Reminds me of somebody else I know.”
Ledge said nothing and kept his gaze forward, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rusty’s deliberately provoking grin as he called to Don, “Maybe I’ll have a Dr Pepper after all. And be generous with the ice.”
With smug amusement, he continued to stare at Ledge’s rigid profile while his drink was being poured. Don delivered it but didn’t tarry. Rusty discarded the straw and drank directly from the glass.
He emitted a honking burp without covering it. “Well? What about it?”
Ledge didn’t say anything.
“Don’t play dumb. You know what, or rather who, I’m talking about.” He leaned toward Ledge and lowered his voice. “They’re baaaaack. At least one of them is. Unfortunately, it’s not the old man.”
Rusty leaned in a little closer. Ledge recognized the transparent attempt to intimidate him and didn’t move a muscle. “What do you think about her coming back here to roost?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“No?” Rusty angled back and took another drink of his Dr Pepper, eyeing Ledge over the rim of the glass. When he lowered it, he said, “I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe whatever the hell you like. It’s a free country.”
Rusty barked a cynical laugh. “Nothing comes free. Who would know that better than a war hero?”
Ledge glanced down the bar toward Don, who’d been polishing the same highball glass for the past several minutes, shooting furtive, worried glances in their direction.
“Must say,” Rusty continued as his finger drew a trail in the condensation on the outside of his glass, “that was quite a scene she created in the supermarket.”
