Free Dotty’s Suitcase by Constance C. Greene

back.
    â€œWe’re not going back there, I can tell you that.” She jerked her head in the direction of the truck. “He’d skin us alive.”
    â€œWe’re not?” The wind caught his words and tore them out of his mouth. “What’re we going to do then?”
    â€œFirst we get rid of this.” She thrust her hand into the gaping suitcase, pulled out rolls of bills, and stuffed them inside her jacket. She did the same to Jud. His jacket was so filled with money he looked fat. “Here, put the rest in our pockets.” Miraculously she transferred the money from the suitcase to their persons without the wind getting any of it.
    â€œYou said nobody threw nothing out of that car,” Jud said, suddenly furious. His face stood out, crimson in the whiteness. “I figured us for pals. Pals share.”
    â€œI wasn’t going to keep it. You know I was going to split it with you. Besides, Jud”—she put her face up against his—“there might be about a thousand dollars in there,” she said in a whisper.
    Even over the sound of the wind she could hear him catch his breath. A thousand dollars. Or a million. Or a trillion. They were all one and the same. Money to buy new shoes for Daddy, or a new car. Or both. Things for Aunt Martha and Uncle Tom. A tiara and a lace veil the color of cream for the girls. A suitcase with her initials on it for herself.
    And with all that money surely she’d become pretty. All rich ladies were pretty. In the movies, anyway. There was no reason to think that riches didn’t bring beauty. Except for Olive’s grandmother. After a moment’s thought Dotty decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She undoubtedly had been beautiful when she was young. Or, at any rate, not so ugly.
    It was odd. Now that they were out of the truck and into it, the storm seemed less ferocious than it had. They began to walk. Dotty tugged the belt of her jacket as tight as it would go to keep the money inside. Then she did the same to Jud. She pulled on his belt until he hollered, “You’re cutting me in two!” They plodded on. It’s still Friday, Dotty thought. Probably the longest Friday I’ll ever go through. And it wasn’t over yet.
    â€œI think we should’ve stayed,” Jud mumbled. “Where it was warm. With him.”
    â€œHe would never have let us go,” Dotty said. “When it got light he would’ve killed us and thrown our bodies out and driven off and they’d never have found us. Animals would have eaten our bodies, and nobody would ever have known what happened to us.”
    â€œYou think so?” Jud’s eyes were huge. “I bet they’re worried about us. I bet they’re pacing the floor, up and down, up and down, wondering what happened.”
    â€œThe minute we get to Boonville I’ll call Mr. Evans and he’ll take the message to them.” Dotty pushed the thought of Daddy and the girls and her aunt and uncle out of her head. By now they would be frantic. She could hear Aunt Martha saying in her wry voice, “That’s Dotty. Act first, think later.” All the more reason for them to leave the truck and try to find a ride to Boonville. Or, second best, a ride home.
    Jud turned in a circle, batting his eyelashes to get rid of the snow that collected on them. “Do you think he’s following us?” he whispered. “Do you think he’s going to get us?”
    â€œNot if we keep moving.”
    â€œI sort of thought you liked him,” Jud said slyly. “At first.”
    â€œHe was mean clean through. Could’ve told you that.” Dotty stared at the ground. “Watch your step. Stay close to me.”
    â€œDidn’t you like him at first?” Jud wasn’t one to let up.
    â€œAre you crazy?” Her voice was loud and tough. “I sure wish we’d see a car. Keep moving.”
    â€œSuppose nobody