Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

2

She looked up and down the street. There was only a youth in an apron sweeping the sidewalk. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to her at all.

Walking back toward the gas station, she stopped, smiled at her reflection in the window of the empty office and quickly pulled the piece of paper from her pocket. She slipped it under the door of The Daily News. With luck, she thought, they'd find it first thing in the morning.

Doogan Reynolds, the youth sweeping the sidewalk, was an employee of his father's paper. He saw her squat down and push something under the Daily's door.

Thinking it strange, he set the broom aside, took the keys from his apron pocket, and opened the door of the office.

There was a piece of folded white paper on the floor.

The penciled scrawl was barely legible. It looked like a three-year-old's writing. Before he read the second verse, his hands were shaking.

"Sheriff! Sheriff!"

Doogan stumbled into the small building at the end of Main Street.

"Slow down, son," the sheriff said. "You'll give yourself a heart attack."

Doogan shoved the note paper towards the old man. Reading it, a broad alligator smile snaked across the heavy-set man's face.

"Well, well. Looks like you better round up the boys. We're gonna have ourselves a turkey shoot. Tell me you saw which way the car was headed, Doogan."

Doogan shook his head, his long finger pointing East. He was also able to tell the sheriff the color of the car and the model. Boogey Ferrill had bought one just like it three months ago.

"Tell Sawyer and Hemp to get all the guns they can and follow me. I'll be takin' 471 and 8. Tell them to stay on the paved roads. Them two's smart. They ain't gonna be apt to drive down dirt roads. Too many of them ain't nothin' but dead ends out in the hollows."

"I will, sir," Doogan said. "Good luck."

"We're in the middle of the Depression. I'm hunting two of the most notorious law breakers by myself. I'm gonna need it," the sheriff said, slamming the door, and cranking the old Ford.