country. Nor those of France. Nor those of Belgium. Nor the trick ones. That would be morbid.
I better just give her my love. But how the hell do you send it? And how do you keep it fresh? They can’t pack it in dry ice.
Maybe they can. I must inquire. But how do I get that condemned jeep engine to that old man?
Figure it out, he thought. Figuring things out has been your trade. Figuring things out when they were shooting at you, he added.
I wish that son of a bitch that is lousing up the duck shooting had a rifle and I had a rifle. We would find out pretty soon who could figure things out. Even in a lousy barrel in a marsh where you can’t maneuver. He’d have to come to get me.
Stop that, he said to himself, and think about your girl. You do not want to kill anyone anymore; ever.
Who are you feeding that to, he told himself. You going to run as a Christian? You might give it an honest try. She would like you better that way. Or would she? I don’t know, he said frankly. I honest to Christ don’t know.
Maybe I will get Christian toward the end. Yes, he said, maybe you will. Who wants to make a bet on that?
“You want to bet on that?” he asked the calling duck. But she was looking up at the sky behind him and had commenced her small chuckling talk.
They came over too high and never circled. They only looked down and went on toward the open sea.
They must really be rafted up out there, the Colonel
