“I don’t know. What is today?”
“Thursday, the fifteenth.”
He whistled. “I’ve been here three days. I guess then it was three days there. I know you’re right about me leaving, but if nothing else, I need to know the possible charges. Think you can get one of those posters tomorrow?"
"If they come out, the sheriff said he’d bring one by the station. You do know though you should leave tonight.”
"I know you’ll think this is paranoid for sure, but I have a feeling they’d stop me.” He shook his head and she could see he was thinking something even worse.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. Forget it. Look, I will go because I don’t want you to be connected to this.”
“Wearing the toga? Looks good but doesn’t seem it’d get you very far.”
“I will wear Shorty’s, of course... falling apart though they are. I’ll hide during the day and walk at night.”
She knew he had no intention of going, only of separating himself from her. She shook her head. The obstinacy of the male, especially certain males never ceased to amaze her. “That is the dumbest idea I’ve heard yet from you—and that’s going some.”
He glowered at her. “I don’t like the idea of you being with me, maybe being caught with me. I didn’t want to drag someone innocent into this.”
“Weren’t you innocent?” she asked thinking maybe he did know why he had been taken—if he had.
He smiled and the smile was that heart melting one. “Nobody is innocent by my age, but I don’t think I brought this one on myself. I was just a fisherman up here and didn’t offend anybody unless it was fish—although since I do catch and release, maybe they spread the word.”
She rose, paced across the room. “I’m grown up and decide what I want to get involved with all by myself. Now I’d also like to know what has been going on up here. It’s my home.”
“I am not thinking clearly yet but I have a feeling you should get the hell out of Dodge, maybe even more than me.”
“This is my home, and you are turning this around. You are the one who has to leave.”
“If I could,” he muttered.
“You sound paranoid, New York.”
“Remember, it’s only paranoia if it isn’t based on anything,” he retorted. “Look, you helped me. I appreciate that but don’t want to drag you into something that could harm you. You have to think practically.”
“You have some nerve. You try to rob my station, threaten to kidnap me, get yourself shot, take my help and then you imply again and again I’m the one unable to use good judgment.”
He rose too, angrily wrapping the quilt more securely around himself. She saw the moment he realized that striking a pose of righteous indignation when wrapped in a quilt was going to be a difficult feat at best. She didn’t want to find this or him humorous, didn’t want to smile. She made herself frown. “You’re not taking this or me seriously.”
“At the least I’m not taking myself seriously.” He chuckled.
“This is nothing to laugh at.”
He gestured to his quilt. “You sure?”