Free Come Easy, Go Easy by James Hadley Chase Page B

shoved him away from me.
    "Get out of here!" I said. "Hear me? Beat it!"
    He nearly fell over himself backing away. His face had gone yellow-green under his tan and his eyes popped out of his mean, thin face.
    "I'll fix you for this!" he quavered. "I'll tell Carl ..."
    "Get out!"
    He turned and walked fast to his car. The dog was already in it Ricks got into the car, slammed the door and drove off in a cloud of dust.
    I was worried. I didn't know how Jenson would react if Ricks complained. At least I would get my story in first, but I wasn't going to tell Jenson what Ricks had said about his wife. I was pretty sure Jenson wouldn't like that pan of it, coming from me.
    When they got back around midday and while I was helping Jenson unload the estate wagon, I told him Ricks had been here and had tried to borrow tools.
    "I had to get a little rough with him, Mr. Jenson. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I chased him out. If I did wrong, I'm sorry."

    Jenson grinned at me.
    "You did absolutely right. I should have warned you about him. That guy drives me crazy. I won't let him take a thing off the place. One time I used to, but I never got anything back. He's the biggest scrounger in the district. When my first wife was alive, he was never off the place. He came in for every meal, filled his car with my gas, borrowed my tools, borrowed money from my wife —he drove me nuts. After I married Lola, she fixed him. I haven't seen him now for a couple of months, but he'll turn up again. Don't let him have a thing if I'm not here."
    I was relieved I hadn't made a mistake so far as Jenson was concerned, but I had an idea I had made a mistake so far as Ricks was concerned.
    I told myself I would have to watch out for him. He could mean trouble for me.
    II
    Three weeks can seem a long time.
    With the sun coming up behind the distant mountain, turning the desolate desert into a crimson wasteland, and as I lay in my bed, looking out of the window, I thought back on the three week I had now been at Point of No Return.
    I now had a feeling of security. Farnworth, its stinking bunk-house and its brutal guards seemed a remote nightmare: some thing that had never happened. I no longer felt a twinge of fear every time a car came out of the heat haze and pulled up beside the gas pumps. I was fairly certain now that I had become a lost man to the police, and if I continued to stay out here in this lonely place, I would remain safe.
    Although Lola still didn't speak to me unless she could help it she now seemed resigned to me. I still found her disturbing and sensually attractive, but that didn't mean I even thought about doing anything about it.
    I had too much respect and too much liking for Jenson. I had known from the start that he was my kind of people, but as the days went by, and we worked long hours together, I found he was something a lot more than that. He was a man you just had to like: a simple guy with a kindness in his heart that made you react to him unless you were a sonofabitch like George Ricks.
    Jenson and I got along fine together. I soon found that although he was crazy about Lola, he yearned for male company. He liked to play gin rummy in the evenings while we waited for the late customer. He liked to talk about his past life and his ambitions, and from what I could see neither of these pastime interested Lola. I played a good game of gin and I was happy to let him talk.
    I soon discovered he was shrewd and smart. He had a surprising talent for turning rusty scrap into something he could sell at a profit. He had put the rotary cultivator in order and had sold it to a fanner for a hundred and fifty dollars.
    He was like a kid with excitement when he had pulled off the sale.
    "That's a hundred and thirty bucks profit, Jack," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "That's what I call a deal."
    Then one night when we had finished a game of gin, and Lola bad gone to bed, and we two were sitting on the veranda of the lunch room, waiting