"Reckon you big enough to make yo' Paw eat crow?"

"This crow he'll eat with relish," said Billy grimly.

"But there's something I want from you."

"Never did know the Cunninghams give anything away free," observed Dade.

"What is it?"

"I want the Ainslees out of here," said Billy.

"I don't want to feel there's folks like that dirtying up the place."

"The cops'll do that for you," said Dade.

"Why pick me?"

"Because I saw your face when Sherry-Lou said what she did about Leroy back at your place. Where do you suppose Leroy is now?"

"Easy. Hidin' out in Big Thicket."

"Think the cops will find him t here?"

"Them!" Dade spat derisively.

"They couldn't find their own asses in Big Thicket."

"See what I mean." Billy stuck nis forefinger under Dade's nose "I don't want that son of a bitch getting away. I'd be right thankful if he didn't."

Dade nodded.

"There's a whole passel of folks round here that don't like the Ainslees. Never have but never gotten stirred up enough to do anythin'. This might do it. As for Leroy well, if the devil looks after his own, so does the Lord. So let's leave it to the Lord." Dade spat again, and said thoughtfully, "But mebbe he could do with a little help."

Billy nodded, satisfied.

"That make you happy?" he said to me.

"It'll do for now." I was thinking of Robinson.

"Then let's go home."

I said goodbye to the Perkinses, and Dade said, "Come back some time, you hear? Big Thicket ain't all blood. There's some real pretty places I'd like to show you."

"I'll do that," I said and climbed up into the helicopter. I slid the door closed and we rose into the sky and I saw Big Thicket laid out below. Then the chopper tilted and there was nothing but sky as we slid west towards Houston.

Medical science made Debbie's wakening mercifully easy, and when she opened her eyes mine was the first face she saw. She was not fully conscious, lapped in a drug-induced peace, but enough so to recognize me and to smile. I held her hand and she closed her eyes, the smile still on her lips, and slipped away into unconsciousness again. But her fingers were still tight on mine.

I stayed there the whole afternoon. Her periods of semiconsciousness became more frequent and longer-lasting, monitored by a nurse who adjusted the intravenous drip.

"We're bringing her out slowly and smoothly," the nurse said in a low voice.

"No sudden shocks."

But Debbie did have the sudden shock of remembrance. In one of her periods of wakefulness her eyes widened and she gave a small cry.

"Oh! They… they…"

"Hush, my love," I said.

"I'm here, and I won't leave. It's finished, Debbie, it's all over."

Her eyes had a look of hazy horror in them.

"They…"

"Hush. Go back to sleep."

Thankfully she closed her eyes.

Much later, when she was more coherent, she tried to talk about it. I would not let her.

"Later, Debbie, when you're stronger. Later not now. Nothing matters now but you."

Her head turned weakly on the pillow.

"Not me," she said.

"Us."

I smiled then because I knew that she we would be all right.

I talked with her doctor and asked bluntly if Debbie would be able to have another baby. His answer was almost the same as Sherry-Lou's.

"Women are stronger than most men think. Mr. Mangan. Yes. she'll be able to have children. What vourwife has suffered, in terms of physical damage, is no more than some women suffer in childbirth. Caesarean section, for instance. '*' " Caesarean section is usually done more hygienically," I said grimly.

"And with anaesthetics."

He had the grace to look abashed.

"Yes, of course," he said hurriedly.

"She may need a great deal of care of the kind that is out of my field. If I could recommend a psychiatrist…?"

Sherry-Lou had said Debbie would need cherishing, and I reckoned that was my department; the cherishing that comes from a psychiatrist is of an arid kind. I said, "I'll be taking her home."

"Yes," said the doctor.

"That might be best."

I was hedged about by the law. The Cunninghams retained a good lawyer, the best trial lawyer in Texas I was assured. His name was Peter Heller and his only command was that I keep my mouth shut.

"Don't talk to anyone about the case," he said.

"Not to the police and especially not to newsmen."

One thing troubled him.

"The reef we're going to run on is that of intent," he said.

"You see, Mr. Mangan, you made certain preparations, way ahead of the event, to kill one of the Ainslees – and you did kill Earl Ainslee and, subsequently, Tukey. Now, we might just get away with Tukey because you could have had no knowledge he'd be there when you opened the door, but Earl is a different matter that was deliberately planned. That pitcher did not walk up into the roof by itself. The jury might not like that."

Ten days after we came out of Big Thicket Leroy Ainslee's body was found by the track of the Southern Pacific railroad.

Apparently he had been run over by a train.

"Where exactly did it happen?" I asked Billy.

"Just north of Kountze. Little town which might be described as the capital of Big Thicket."

'"Leave him to the Lord"," I quoted ironically.

"I got the pathologist's report," said Billy.

"Most of the injuries were consistent with tangling with a freight train."

' Most? " Billy shrugged.

"Maybe the Lord had help. Anyway the cops have written it down as accidental death. He's being buried in Kountze."

"I see." I saw that Texas could be a pretty rough place.

"It's best this way," said Billy.

"Oh, by the way, Dade Perkins sends his regards."

The case did not come to trial or, at least, not to the kind of trial we have in the Bahamas where the law is patterned after the British style. It went to the Grand Jury which was supposed to establish if there was a case to be answered at all. I never did get to the bottom of the intricacies of the American legal system, but I suspect that a considerable amount of string-pulling was done by the Cunninghams behind the scenes.

Because it involved kidnapping, a federal offence, the argument before the Grand Jury was not conducted by a local District Attorney from Houston but by a State Attorney from Austin, the State capital.

I was represented by Heller and, as far as I could judge, he and the State Attorney a man called Riker – had no adverse relationship at all. The whole hearing was conducted in such a way as to get a cool assessment of the facts.

There was a tricky moment when I was on the stand and Riker was interrogating me. He said, "Now, Mr. Mangan; you have stated that you made certain preparations and quite elaborate preparations involving a pitcher of water to kill Earl Ainslee."

"No," I said.

"I thought it would be Leroy Ainslee."

"I see," he said thoughtfully.

"Did you have anything against Leroy Ainslee?"

I smiled slightly.

"Apart from the fact that he was keeping me prisoner at gun point, and that he was keeping my wife from me nothing at all." There was a rumble of amusement from the jury.

"I'd never met the man before."

"Yes," said Riker.

"Now, to return to the man you actually killed – Earl Ainslee. He actually had you at gun point at that time?"

"Yes. It was a 12-bore shotgun."

Riker looked puzzled.

"Twelve ^hat?"

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It would be called 12-gauge here."

"I see. Did you know the gun was loaded?"

"I had been so informed. Robinson said buckshot."

"The mysterious Mr. Robinson said that?"

"Yes. I found his information to be accurate when Earl pulled the trigger."

"Earl fired a shot at you?"

"That's right. The buckshot ripped up the bed I was sitting on."