| The man who was singing sat in the front seat beside the driver. His name was Marshall Ratliff. He was twenty-four years old but had a mature face with careless good looks that hinted at recklessness and experience. The driver, who never took his eyes off the dirt highway before him, was Robert Hill. He was also youngin fact, he was the youngest man in the carand he was handsome, but his rounder, softer face looked more pouty than recklessly attractive. |
| In the back seat were Louis Davis and Henry Helms. Davis was tall and rawboned, with big hands and a reddish complexion. He was the only one of the four who did not wear a tie, but instead had his white shirt buttoned at the collar. He was in his late twenties but looked older. His face was open but unexpressive, as if he were not given to many opinions. |
| Helms, at age thirty-two, was the oldest and seemed even older than that. He looked down a lot, or "studied the ground," as people said, and his face had a dark cast to it. Most people, meeting him for the first time, instantly took Helms to be unfriendly, and some even thought he looked dangerous. He had been sleeping but Ratliff's singing had gradually wakened him, and now he stirred and asked, "Marshall, what the hell you singing for?" |
| Ratliff looked back over the seat: "I'm just trying to keep me and ol' Bob from goin' to sleep. Didn't mean to wake you up." |
| "Can't you sing something besides a goddam church hymn?" |
| Ratliff laughed, "That's what comes easiest, Henry, you know that the same as I do. Way we was raised; lots of churchgoin' and razorstrappin'." |
| Helms blew his nose and grunted, "Might as well sing away, I guess. Sleep alone ain't goin' to get rid of this head I've got anyway." |
| The car's headlights were jumpy as the big sedan moved over the dirt road. It was open, lonesome land with very few houses or lights to be seen anywhere, and it had been more than an hour since they had seen another automobile. |
| The car they were driving was a dark blue Buick, with fewer than two thousand miles on the odometer. It had gray plush upholstery with wood trim, and a folding footrest for the back seat passengers. The rear windows were equipped with roller shades, and there were cut-glass vases for flowers on the side posts. Altogether, it was a much finer automobile than any of the four passengers could have aspired to purchase, or all four of them together. So it had been stolen. |
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