Fedora Outlaw by Gary Whitmore - HTML preview

A young kid rushed out of the small office. While he ran over to Clark’s door, he admired the front end of the Cadillac.

“Fill her up,” said Clark.

“Yes sir,” replied the kid, then he rushed over to the pump and removed the nozzle.

While the kid pumped gas into the tank, Marge decided to do some roleplaying.

She scooted over next to Clark.

When the kid looked in their direction, she gave Clark a kiss on his lips.

The kid looked away to give them some privacy.

After the tank was filled, Clark and Marge drove away from the station without raising an eyebrow of suspicion.

Around the corner of the Frost Brothers department store, Carl parked the Ford in the parking lot of a closed service garage.

He turned off the engine and waited while he smoked a cigarette. He figured people would think that Ford was at the garage for repairs. It was a perfect cover as far as he was concerned.

Back inside the Frost Brothers department store, Dirk, Peter, and Peter continued walking alone, acting as potential customers.

None of the sales clerks were suspicious of the guys since Dirk Beaumont had never robbed a department store in his criminal career.

Dirk headed over to the Gift Shop on the street level.

Peter headed to the second floor to check out the Children’s Shop.

Jerome headed up to the third floor to check out the Coat Shop.

Up at the University of Texas in Austin, Wallace and Dr.

Evans finished his job interview tour. It was long, and Dr.

Evans ran him through the wringer.

“Well, you certainly know your physics,” said Dr. Evans while he and Wallace walked to the front doors.

“Thank you,” smiled Wallace, not knowing what to expect next. Dr. Evans stopped at the front doors and looked at Wallace. He hesitated for a few seconds. “We could use a professor to teach our Introduction to Physics course. Would you be interested?”

“I would love that,” he said with a smile.

“Good, Dean Albertson will take my recommendation since he’s retiring next month. I’m taking over his position, so

you can start Monday morning. Be here around seven-thirty, and I’ll introduce you to your class,” said Dr. Evans, then extended his hand.

Wallace shook Dr. Evans’ hand and looked forward to teaching in 1935.

Wallace opened one of the front doors and left the building.

Dr. Evans turned around and walked back to his office. He had a good feeling about Dr. Burns teaching a class.

Wallace walked through the campus with a spring in his step and forgot about wondering where his nephew could be at this second.

He walked out of the front entrance of the campus.

He whistled his way back to his room at the Austin Motor Court.

Back at Garden Ridge, Clark drove out the other side of town and went down the road. He and Marge had a great time chatting and getting to know each other better.

The Frost Brothers department store was closing. The cashiers cleaned their registers and took them to the manager’s office.

Dirk, Jerome, and Peter hid in the bathrooms.

There were three taps on one of the bathroom stalls. It was the signal. Dirk, Jerome, and Peter left their hiding places in the stalls.

They rushed out of the bathroom.

Dirk, Jerome, and Peter each had a Frost Department store shopping bag in hand as they lifted it before they hid inside the bathroom.

They headed to the manager’s office once they got to the mezzanine.

They entered the Manager’s Office, where Edward Sanders was busy ending the profitable workday. He counted the cash from today’s sales and documented it in a ledger.

Behind his desk was a safe where he stored the cash before taking it to the bank. Since the bank was closed today, he must

take it over on Monday morning. He had four clerks waiting in line with their cash register drawers in hand.

“May I help you?” asked Edward the second he saw Dirk, Jerome, and Peter rush inside his office. His mouth dropped; he was speechless and frightened when he realized Dirk Beaumont was paying him a visit. And it was not a social call.

Dirk, Jerome, and Peter whipped their Colt 45s from behind suit coats.

“You can help me by placing all that cash into our bags.

That includes the safe,” said Dirk while he walked over to Edward with his Colt aimed at the manager’s head.

Jerome approached the sales clerk in line while Peter guarded the door.

The manager reached under his desk. Dirk saw that movement and knew he was reaching for an alarm. Dirk whacked Edward on the back of his head with the butt of his Colt. Edward slumped down in his chair and passed out.

“No alarms or another one gets it,” threatened Dirk with glaring eyes.

The four sales clerks were scared shitless and shook with fear when they saw Edward on the floor in pain.

Jerome approached the clerks and opened his bag like a kid Trick or Treating at Halloween. “Treat, or we’ll give you a really nasty trick,” he glared at them to let them know he meant business.

The clerks were too scared to refuse, so they dropped all the cash from their register drawers into Jerome’s bags.

One of the female clerks passed out with fear and dropped to the floor.

Dirk chuckled, then reached under Edward’s desk to look for the alarm button but couldn’t find one. So he didn’t know why Edward reached under the desk but couldn’t care less.

He rushed to the safe and started shoving stacks of money into his shopping bag.

The door to the manager’s office opened, and five more sales clerks entered the office with their cash register drawers.

It took a few seconds for them to realize that a robbery was going down.

They stood frozen with fear the second they saw Edward and one of the other clerks on the floor.

“Your cash in here,” Peter said while he opened his shopping bag.

The five clerks immediately obeyed and emptied their cash drawers into Peter’s bag.

Wallace sat at a booth in Marvin’s Restaurant in Austin, eating an early supper. His thoughts were all on Dr. Evans and with an occasional quick idea on Clark’s whereabouts.

Meanwhile, back at the Frost Brothers department store, Dirk and his guys had just finished taking all the cash from the sales clerks.

Dirk yanked the chord for the telephone out of the wall, disabling any attempt to call the cops. He also took Edward’s office keys, and when they left, he locked the office door.

Dirk, Jerome, and Peter rushed down the mezzanine, smiling as if the heist was going down without a hitch.

But when they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, they were surprised.

They were greeted by twenty-five-year-old Spencer Adams, the security guard. He thought something odd was that none of the sales clerks left the manager’s office. So he was on his way up to investigate.

Spencer’s eyes widened when he met Dirk, Peter, and Jerome at the bottom of the mezzanine stairs. “Dirk Beaumont,” he said in shock when he recognized the famous outlaw.

Dirk saw Spencer while he reached for his 38 Special in his holster by his right hip. He wouldn’t let this guy get the drop on him, so he fired off a shot with his Colt 45.

Spencer’s eyes widened the second he felt the bullet penetrate his chest.

He dropped his 38 Special. It hit the floor. Spencer dropped to the floor. Dirk, Jerome, and Peter stepped over

Spencer’s body and ran to the front entrance of the department store.

Spencer gasped for air in extreme pain. He wondered what would happen to his wife, Kathy, and their daughter, Gail.

He took his last breath and died, never having the chance to enjoy life to its fullest or watch his kids and wife grow old.

Outside the front entrance of the Frost Brothers department store, Carl parked the Ford along the street with the engine idling.

“Hurry up,” he said, feeling like a sitting duck.

The front doors to the department store slammed open.

Dirk, Jerome, and Peter ran out with their shopping bags.

They ran over to the Ford and got inside.

Carl drove the Ford off down the street.

North of San Antonino, Clark, and Marge had the Cadillac parked on the shoulder by the grassy field. They waited and chatted some more.

Back in town, Carl drove the Ford through the streets and headed to the northern area of town. So far, the cops didn’t know the Frost Brothers department store was just robbed.

Edward and his clerks started pounding and screaming for help at the locked office door.

Clark and Marge heard a car approaching behind them a little while later.

They turned around and saw a Ford just like the one Clark stole. “They’re coming,” she said.

Clark started up the Cadillac and waited.

But the Ford drove past them as it was a young couple on their way home from visiting relatives in San Antonio.

Clark was about to turn off the engine when they heard another Ford coming down the road.

They both turned around and saw the Ford while it slowed down and then pulled off the road.

They watched while the Ford drove into the field and parked behind a clump of trees.

“Keep her running,” said Marge.

They watched while Dirk, Clark, Jerome, and Peter ran out from behind that clump of trees to the Cadillac.

Marge slid over to the middle of the seat when she saw Dirk approach the door.

The rear door opened, and Jerome, Carl, and Peter rushed into the back.

The front passenger door opened, and Dirk got into the front seat. “Get out of here,” he said while he closed the door.

Clark pulled the Cadillac on the road and headed off to Garden Ridge.

“How did it go?” asked Marge.

“Good, but the security guard tried to act brave,” said Dirk with a smirk.

“He got what he deserved,” replied Jerome, then chucked a little and patted Dirk on his shoulder for a well-done job.

It took Clark a few seconds, but then he remembered reading Dudley’s book about the security guard dying during this heist. He couldn’t care less about that dead security guard, as being with a famous outlaw from the 1930s was more important.

It was a quiet drive while Clark drove back to Garden Ridge.

Three hours had passed, and the San Antonio cops just learned of the robbery by Dirk Beaumont and his gang of the Frost Brothers department store.

Edward’s wife was concerned that she had not heard from him, and he would not answer her calls. This was unusual, so she called the police to investigate.

Clark drove the gang north toward Oklahoma. The gang was quiet while they reflected privately about today’s successful heist.

The sun started to sink below the horizon.

The gang was hungry, so after Clark found a field shielded from the road by trees, he parked the Cadillac out of view.

They sat in the field next to the car.

Marge made ham and cheese sandwiches for the gang from bread, meat, and cheese.

They had their supper and sipped on a little Moonshine.

And they got a chuckle when Clark gasped after his first swallow of the clear liquid whiskey.

After they ate, they found private spots by trees for a bathroom.

They hit the road and drove north into the darkening day.

Clark drove the car into the small town located southeast of Dallas.

The town was dark and quiet.

They pulled off into a service garage parking lot with cars parked outside. It was a perfect place since it was closed.

Jerome got the rubber hose stuffed under the passenger side of the front seat.

He used Clark’s help, and they siphoned gas out of the cars into a can.

They were able to fill the Cadillac tank.

They drove off undetected and continued their trek north.

Chapter 9

It was now two on Sunday, May 19, 1935. It was a clear night with a beautiful full Moon illuminating the countryside.

Clark drove the Cadillac down a dirt driveway that led to another abandoned farm in southeastern Oklahoma. It was located four miles north of the small town of Winston. That town was five miles north of the Ouachita National Forest.

There was one thing for sure, and that was that one could find tons of abandoned farmhouses in Oklahoma during these times. The Dust Bowl caused families to evacuate their homes and migrate to California.

Dirk had used this house in the past because there was a beautiful creek nearby for bathing or water for cooking. But when his gang had previously hidden at this farm, he paid the farmer good money to keep their mouths shut. They did, and that money helped them migrate to California for a fresh start in life. “Park in the barn,” Dirk told Clark.

Clark turned to the left and drove through the grass to the barn. The door was already opened, as it was about to fall apart.

Clark parked the car deep inside the barn to be out of view from the outside.

He turned off the engine.

Everybody got out and grabbed all the suitcases, Frost Brothers shopping bags, and the Thompson machine gun cases.

They walked out of the barn and then to the abandoned farmhouse.

The front door was locked, but that didn’t stop the gang.

Jerome and Carl kicked in the front door and entered the dark living room.

“Find a place to sleep except for Clark. I want him to take watch until breakfast,” said Dirk, trusting his newest member wouldn’t turn and run to the cops. After all, Jake Johnson was

now officially part of the gang and could be deemed an accessory to the Frost Brothers department store robbery. He also stole a car in Garden Ridge. Dirk had complete control of this kid.

“Here’s some protection,” said Dirk after he reached inside his suit coat and removed his Colt 45.

Clark was shocked when Dirk handed him his Colt 45.

“Thanks,” he said and looked at the Colt 45. The feeling of this weapon intimidated him a bit, so he slipped it into his right suit coat pocket.

Everybody cautiously walked around in the dark and eventually found the stairs that led up to the second floor.

Everybody went upstairs and found a place to sleep.

Dirk and Marge found the parents’ bedroom and were glad the bed with sheets and covers was still there.

They were soon stripped down to their underwear, slipped under the covers, and were soon sound asleep.

Downstairs, the house was spooky, dark, and quiet.

Clark sat on the worn and dusty couch. He wondered what he would do if the cops suddenly showed up to raid the house. He silently prayed that wouldn’t happen, and he didn’t like firing any pistol or rifle at a target, let alone at a human.

Clark was exhausted from driving and fought against falling asleep. He knew Dirk would wrath him if he was caught with his eyes closed, so he got up off the couch and walked around the first floor of the house to stay awake.

It was now six a.m. The sun was peeking above the horizon, marking the start of another Sunday morning. Many people in the area were rising out of bed to get ready for church.

Clark sat on the couch. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open and came close to falling asleep.

He caught himself nodding off a couple of times.

He heard footsteps coming down the creaky wooden stairs.

He got off the couch and headed to the living room doorway.

He saw a pair of sexy legs slowly making their way down the stairs.

She moved erotically down the creaky steps.

He smiled at that sight.

Marge got to the bottom of the stairs and saw Clark. She noticed he looked exhausted. “You need some sleep, Jake,” she said. “I know,” he replied, then yawned.

“I’m going outside to get wood for the fireplace,” she said.

“I’ll help,” said Clark, then yawned again.

“Okay, but don’t fall asleep on me,” she said lightly, then walked to the front door.

“I won’t,” he replied, following her outside.

They turned off to the left and headed to the woods. He yawned again.

They searched the woods for small branches and kindling.

After they scooped up what they needed for a fire, they walked back into the farmhouse.

After they lit the fire in the fireplace, Marge started brewing some coffee.

She cooked the rest of the bacon and eggs. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Dirk was the first one up and came downstairs.

He saw Clark on the couch about to fall asleep and Marge cooking bacon and eggs in the fireplace.

“Jake, go upstairs and get some sleep,” said Dirk while he walked over to the couch.

“Okay,” said Clark, then yawned while standing up.

While Clark headed out of the living room, Marge poured Dirk a cup of coffee.

“What do you think of our new guy?” asked Dirk as Clark was out of sight.

“He’ll do just fine,” said Marge, then she discreetly hid her smile from Dirk so he wouldn’t figure out that she took a liking to the newbie.

After Clark found Marge and Dirk’s empty bedroom, the other three guys woke up to the smell of bacon.

They headed downstairs while Clark drifted off to sleep.

It was ten that morning, and Clark was still asleep in the upstairs bedroom.

Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl cleaned their Colt 45s downstairs in the living room.

Marge sat on the porch on an old kitchen chair, smoking a cigarette.

Down in Austin, Texas, Wallace left the motor court and walked to the diner for breakfast.

After eating an excellent pancake breakfast, he wondered about town, snapping more pictures.

Then he walked upon the Austin First Baptist Church.

He stopped, remembering that church when he was a kid.

His parents and grandparents dragged him to it every Sunday morning in the forties and fifties.

He recalled the day the old white wooden church was torn down in 1962 to make way for a larger house of worship.

He hadn’t been back to that church since he graduated from college.

While he walked closer to the church, he could see everybody leaving the sermon and walking over to their cars.

Wallace stopped by the side of the road by the church entrance. His eyes widened the second he saw some familiar faces as they exited the church. Wallace watched these faces as they walked over to a black 1932 Ford pickup truck—a truck he knew all too well.

He waited and watched as the cars and pickup trucks started to leave the church’s dirt parking lot.

His eyes widened, and he got a little nervous when he saw his grandfather Victor driving the pickup with grandmother Alice in the passenger seat. Ernie sat in the truck’s bed on a clean blanket.

Victor stopped his pickup and glanced over at Wallace, standing by the side of the road. He stared at Wallace.

Alice stared at Wallace.

Ernie saw Wallace from the bed of the truck. “I like that suit. I’ll have to save up and get me one,” he said, glancing at Wallace while his dad drove down the road.

Victor gave Wallace a nod for a greeting.

Wallace replied with a nod.

Victor pulled out onto the road.

While Victor turned the pickup truck left onto the road, Wallace saw his young father well. He stared in awe at his dad, who looked so young and vibrant.

Wallace turned around and headed back toward town to return to the motor court.

Victor drove his pickup down the road with something on his mind. He glanced over at Alice. “You know something, that old man on the road back there sure looked familiar,” he said to Alice.

She glanced over at him. “I was going to say the same thing. I had this feeling he was kin,” she said.

“Kin,” said Victor then he thought about her reply for a few seconds.

“Yeah, that’s it. He felt like kin for some strange reason.”

Alice thought about Wallace for a few seconds. “I don’t believe we have any other kin we don’t know about here in town,” she said.

Victor thought about her reply for a few seconds. “Me neither,” he said.

Victor drove down the road, and they both forgot about Wallace after they were two miles from the church.

It was now two in the afternoon, and Clark woke up.

He stared around the room in a daze, not knowing where he was for a few seconds. Then he remembered he had gone back to 1935 and was now part of the Dirk Beaumont gang. He smiled as he got out of bed and got dressed in his suit.

He headed off back down the creaky stairs.

When he reached the stairs’ bottom, he heard chatter from the living room.

He walked into the living room.

Dirk sat on the couch, and Jerome and Peter slowly rocked in wooden rocking chairs.

The three empty Frost Brothers department store shopping bags were scattered on the floor.

“About time,” said Dirk when he realized Clark entered the living room.

“Hey,” said Clark while he walked over and sat on the floor.

He looked around the room for Marge.

Then he saw her out on the front porch smoking a cigarette.

Dirk reached inside his right suit coat pocket. He pulled out a small wad of cash. “We got sixty thousand from yesterday’s heist. Here’s your share. It’s small, but if you keep doing what you’re doing, the shares will start to get bigger,” he said, then held out the cash.

“The ones out there doing the heists get a bigger share since we’re in the line of fire,” added Jerome.

Peter nodded in agreement.

Clark took the cash and estimated it to be five hundred dollars. He was in awe because he could never earn five hundred dollars a day while slaving over greasy car engines.

The front door opened, and Carl entered with a toilet paper roll.

“Watch out where you step in the woods,” he said jokingly as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen. He left the toilet paper roll on the counter and returned to the living room.

Marge finished her cigarette on the front porch. The front door opened, and she entered the living room.

Clark watched her legs while she walked over and sat on the couch beside Dirk.

Carl removed a deck of cards from his front suit coat pocket. “Game of poker?” he asked Jerome and Peter.

“Sure,” replied Peter while he exited his rocking chair.

Jerome nodded, saying he wanted to play while he exited the rocking chair.

“How about you, Jake?” asked Carl while he shuffled the cards.

“Ah, sure,” replied Clark, who liked being treated like one of the guys.

Jerome, Peter, and Carl headed into the kitchen to play on the table.

Clark got up and followed the guys.

The game of poker got started, as this was often the usual entertainment to kill time while on the lamb from the law.

After playing two hours of poker, Clark never won a hand.

He, in fact, sucked at playing cards and received a lot of ribbing from the guys. But at least the numerous card games killed time.

Marge began making supper for the guys.

She gathered up more branches and kindled for another fire in the fireplace.

After the fire had started, she started cooking the baked bean cans.

Marge dumped baked beans onto the four plates and left Clark’s portion in the pot.

They sat around the living room, eating their boring supper.

“Man, I could use a thick fucking steak,” said Carl, sick and tired of eating beans.

“We’ll head to Memphis after the bank job on Wednesday.

We’ll party hard and eat at some nice restaurants,” said Dirk. He was also getting tired of beans, and the thought of a thick Prime Rib made his mouth water.

Clark thought about Dirk’s reply for a few seconds. He knew he couldn’t tell Dirk that day would be a disaster. But how could he save them and hopefully change their destiny to a longer life? He remained quiet while he ate his beans out of the pot. After dinner, Marge went to the creek to wash the plates, pot, and utensils.

Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl broke out the last two Mason jars of Moonshine.

They sat around the living room, getting drunk to pass away the time.

“Here,” said Peter while he handed Clark a jar.

Clark took a small drink and immediately started choking while his face turned beet red.

Dirk, Peter, Jerome, and Carl all busted out laughing with Clark’s red face and eyes that bugged out.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” said Dire between laughs.

“I’m going out to see if Marge needs help,” Clark said between coughs, then handed Dirk the Mason jar.

Clark walked away and headed to the front door.

Dirk took a drink of Moonshine while he watched Clark go outside.

Clark walked through the woods and headed to the creek.

He saw Marge kneeling down, washing the pot in the flowing water of the creek.

She heard small branches breaking and knew someone was walking up behind her.

She smiled and hoped it was that particular person.

“Need some help?” asked Clark while he walked closer.

“Sure, Jake,” she said, then smiled again, indicating that it was Clark. She knew none of the other guys would offer to help. Clark knelt down and picked up one of the dirty plates. He started washing it off in the creek.

“Did the guys break out a jar of shine?”

“Yeah, the last two.”

“Oh, I think Dirk is going to get some more when we get to Arkansas,” she said, then made one final rinse of the pot.

It took Clark a few seconds for what she said to sink into his head. “Did you say Arkansas?”

“Yeah, we’re going to Arkansas to hang out before Wednesday’s job,” she said while washing off one of the other plates.

Clark thought nothing of heading to Arkansas while he finished washing that plate.

It remained quiet while they washed the dishes in the creek.

Marge and Clark were finished. They gathered up everything and headed back into the woods.

They heard singing from the farmhouse after they came out of the woods.

“Oh no,” said Marge fearfully, thinking that would attract unwanted attention.

The closer they got to the house, the singing got louder.

“Drifting along with the tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, tumbleweed,” Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl sang out in unison but in four different keys. Harmony at its worst!

“I hate it when they sing. I’m glad we’re robbing banks and whatnot because they would never make a living being singers,” said Marge jokingly.

Clark gave a light chuckle while opening the front door for Marge.

“Thank you,” she said, then slipped into the house.

When Marge and Clark entered the living room, they saw Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl sitting on the couch, arm in arm, swaying back and forth.

“Drifting along with the tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, tumbleweed,” Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl sang out again in four other keys.

“Keep it down. You’ll have the cops here any second,”

Marge said in a scolding motherly tone.

“Shhhh!” Dirk said, then took another drink. We don’t want the cops to take away our shine,” he said, then laughed while he handed the Mason jar to Jerome.

Dirk got up off the couch. He staggered and swayed to Clark, almost tripping over his two feet.

“Hey, buddy. We missed you,” he said in Clark’s face, almost falling, overtaking Clark down with him.

Clark turned away as Dirk’s breath reeked of Moonshine.

He thought he might get drunk just off of his breath.

Dirk placed an arm around Clark. “I’m so, so glad I met you. You’re such a nice guy to have in my gang. Such a great mechanic and a good car thief. I have great plans for you, my

friend. Great plans,” he slurred, then walked away, staggered, and swayed back to the couch. He plopped his butt down on the couch.

Clark felt proud that Dirk thought highly of him even though he was drunk. He still believed it came from the heart.

“Guess I’m not getting any tonight,” Marge said under her breath, disappointed that Dirk had to get drunk again tonight.

She walked off to place the pot, plates, and utensils in the kitchen.

Clark walked away to the kitchen.

“Sing it again,” Dirk yelled while Clark and Marge put the pot, plates, and utensils back in her suitcase.

“Drifting along with the tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, tumbleweed,” Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl all sang out again in unison in four different keys.

“I’m really starting to loath that song,” she told Clark.

Clark smiled as he knew the feeling.

“They should be out soon,” she said. Then she looked at Clark and reached for her pack of Camels on the counter. She removed a cigarette and lit it, then grabbed the pack and offered a cigarette to Clark.

“Naw,” he said, then glanced back at the living room where the guys were now quiet.

“I’m going to head out to the barn and make sure the car is ready for tomorrow,” he said, wanting something to do to kill time. “I’ll go outside with you,” said Marge.

The two left the kitchen and walked outside from the kitchen door.

Marge just smoked cigarette after cigarette while she watched Clark look over the Cadillac. She had nasty thoughts run through her mind.

It was now ten after nine that night.

Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl were passed out from polishing the fall’s Moonshine. Dirk and Peter were slumped out on the couch, while Jerome and Carl were sprawled out on the floor. The empty Mason jars were on the floor.

Marge walked out the front door.

Clark watched her and got curious.

He gingerly walked to the living room window and peeked through the old, worn curtains. He watched as Marge lit a cigarette and stood on the porch, staring at the woods.

The full Moon provided enough light for him to spy on this goddess.

Marge smoked her cigarette outside and saw Clark eyeing her from the living room window. A smile grew on her face.

She walked off the porch and glanced over her shoulder at the living room window. Through the curtains, she saw Clark’s peering eyes.

She walked off toward the woods.

Inside the living room, Clark glanced back and saw that Dirk and Peter were still passed out on the couch, and Carl and Jerome were still passed out on the floor.

He sensed it was safe and gingerly walked to the front door.

The door squeaked as he cautiously opened it. When he looked back, Dirk and the guys didn’t stir.

He stepped outside the house to the front porch.

Clark walked off the porch and looked for Marge. She wasn’t in sight.

He glanced to his left. He saw the small red light in the woods while Marge drew a cigarette.

He walked off and stalked that red light, now moving deeper into the woods.

The woods were quiet except for the occasional red glow of Marge’s cigarette.

He could hear water flowing and knew he was getting closer to the creek.

Once he saw Marge standing on the grassy bank by the creek, he paused and hid behind a tree. The Moon illuminated her face, and she looked so beautiful.

She flicked her cigarette into the creek.

She slipped out of her shoes.

His mouth dropped open when he saw her slip out of her dress and stood there in her bra and slip. His heart started to beat faster.

He inched closer and hid behind another tree. He peeked around the tree and saw Marge pull her slip down and step out of it. She unsnapped her bra.

It dropped to the dirt. She slipped out of her panties and placed them on top of her bra.

Clark’s heart raced faster. He could not believe his eyes when he saw that goddess standing bare-ass naked in the moonlight. The moonlight showed off her bareback and the curve down to her bare butt cheeks. Clark could tell her cheeks were firm.

Then, to his surprise, Marge turned around, and he saw her front side.

He swallowed hard when he saw the moonlight show off her perky B-cup breasts. Then he glanced at her patch of pubic hair. “Fucking hot!” he whispered.

Marge started to whistle Jake’s Moonlight Serenade tune in his direction.

Clark was surprised and wondered why she whistled that tune. “Jake, are you going to join me or just hide and peek like a horny schoolboy?” said Marge, to Clark’s surprise, as he was a little thick-headed to realize it was meant for him.

It finally dawned on Clark that his cover had been blown, and he didn’t know what to do, so he decided it was worth taking a bullet.

He stepped out from behind that tree. He stared at her naked body illuminated by the moonlight. It was so wrong but felt so right.

He couldn’t resist this goddess.

He walked over to Marge and stood there, staring at her naked body. From her perky breasts down to her flat stomach, then down to her patch of crotch hair.

“You can’t take a bath with your clothes on,” she said, motioning for him to join her.

It took Clark a few seconds to realize this. “Oh,” he said, then removed his shoes and socks.

It took Clark a second to strip naked in front of Marge.

She grabbed his right hand and walked him into the creek.

Clark’s eyes widened in shock when they got waist-deep into the water.

“It’s fucking cold!”

She chuckled. “I know; look at my nipples,” she said, then looked down.

Clark could see her erect nipples in the moonlight, and he loved that sight.

“I know how we can warm up a bit,” said Marge.

Before Clark could reply, Marge moved closer and pressed her naked body up against Clark’s naked body. She kissed him.

The kiss turned passionate, and Clark forgot about the cold water and still got an erection.

She smiled when she felt it against her crotch hairs.

After a few minutes of kissing and their tongues darting in each other’s mouths, Marge and Clark walked out of the water.

They walked over to the grassy bank of the creek. He placed her on her back in the tall grass.

He climbed on top of her. She opened her legs, inviting him. He pressed his cock against her slit. She was wet, and he quickly slipped inside her. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She loved the feeling of him being inside her.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me, Jake,” she whispered into his left ear, then sucked on his ear lobe.

Clark started pumping and loved the feeling of having sex once again.

It’s been a couple of years for him.

He pumped faster. She moaned.

He pumped faster and couldn’t believe he was fucking Dirk Beaumont’s girlfriend.

She moaned. He pumped faster.

She moaned louder and raised her legs in the air. He pumped faster and grunted and moaned. “Ahhhhh!” Marge cried out, having an orgasm, and shot her toes up at the full Moon.

Clark couldn’t hold back any longer. “Ahhhhh!” he cried out, having his orgasm inside Marge.

He stayed on top of her, out of breath for a few seconds, then pulled out and got off her body.

He helped Marge to her feet and brushed the grass off her backside. But that was his excuse to rub his hand against her butt cheeks. They were firm.

“I’ll take a quick dip to clean up,” and stepped back into the creek.

Clark walked back into the creek, then splashed and wiped off her back and butt cheeks to get them cleaned.

They remained quiet while they got out of the water and started dressing.

After they got dressed, they remained quiet, walking through the woods.

“Dirk must never find out about this,” said Marge, and she sounded serious.

“I won’t say a word,” replied Clark.

“I like to try another man occasionally,” she said.

“With the other guys?”

“No. That could easily send Dirk into a hurricane of jealousy,” she said with a smile as she often dreamt about the other guys.

It was again quiet for them while they walked closer to the house.

“I’ll go in through the front door. You go around and slip in through the kitchen door,” she said.

Clark nodded, then ran off and headed down the right side of the house.

Marge waited by the edge of the woods and eyed the house. She couldn’t see any movement.

Inside the house, Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl were still passed out in the living room.

Clark quietly slipped through the back door into the kitchen.

He gingerly walked through the kitchen and then headed off to the living room doorway.

He saw Dirk and Carl still slumped over and passed out on the couch.

Then he saw Jerome and Peter were still sprawled out on the floor.

He gingerly walked through the living room, cautiously stepping over Jerome and Peter.

He found a spot on the floor by the fireplace. He wanted Dirk to believe that he also passed out from drinking Moonshine.

He lay on the floor and closed his eyes. He heard the front door squeak open.

He glanced up and watched while Marge gingerly entered the living room.

She gingerly walked through the living room and then headed up the stairs.

The wooded stairs squeaked while she softly walked up the stairs to sleep in one of the bedrooms.

Clark closed his eyes once her sexy legs disappeared out of view up the stairs.

He recalled his sexy moment with Marge naked by the creek. All he could think about was his sexual adventure with Marge. Oh, how he wanted to tell his buddy Roger about fucking her in the woods. But that would be extremely awkward, and Roger might believe Clark went off the deep end.

So Clark just lay on the floor and recalled that hot moment down by the creek while he drifted off to sleep. Marge went to sleep alone in the other bedroom. She knew that Dirk wouldn’t want to be woken up from the couch in the living room.

She drifted off to sleep, smiling and recalling her encounter with Clark by the creek.

Chapter 10

It was again Monday morning, May 20, 1935. It was going to be another beautiful sunny day.

Marge was the first one to wake up that morning. She had actually slept in late, knowing that Dirk and the guys would also sleep in late.

She got dressed and headed down the stairs.

Clark had previously woken up and lay on the floor staring at the ceiling.

His eyes widened the second he heard the creaking of the stairs. He looked and saw those sexy legs walking down to the first floor.

He watched while Marge gingerly walked through the living room so she wouldn’t wake up the guys, then watched her quietly open the front door, step outside onto the porch, then quietly close the door behind her.

Clark got up gingerly and walked to the front door, not wanting to wake up Dirk or the guys.

He quietly opened the front door, stepped outside onto the porch, then quietly closed the front door.

“Good morning,” he said the second he saw Marge light up a cigarette on the porch.

She took a drag and then exhaled her morning nicotine.

“Morning,” she said, then gave him a warm smile.

“The guys are still out from last night.”

“I know. We don’t have much to eat for breakfast, so we’ll probably have to drive to a local store later,” said Marge, then took another drag on her cigarette.

“Okay,” replied Clark, and he was looking forward to more alone time with Marge.

They heard someone stirring from inside the living room.

The front door slammed open, and Jerome bolted out with his right hand over his mouth. He had a bad case of the dry heaves.

Marge and Clark watched Jerome drop to his hands and knees and then vomit over the side of the porch.

“And it begins,” she said jokingly, looking away from Jerome.

Clark lightly chuckled, and then he looked away from Jerome.

The front door slammed open, and Dirk bolted out to the porch with the dry heaves.

He dropped to his hands and knees next to Jerome, and he vomited over the side of the porch.

“Pukers three and four should be coming any second,” said Marge, then she took another drag on her cigarette.

Like clockwork, the front door slammed again, and Peter and Carl bolted out with dry heaves.

They ran off the porch, dropped to their hands and knees, and vomited into the grass.

“Time to get the BC powder,” said Marge. Then she dropped her cigarette on the porch and smashed it with her shoe. Marge walked over to the front door and went back inside the house.

Clark started to get the dry heaves, hearing the sound of four guys vomiting at the same time.

He rushed over to the front door and rushed back inside the house.

Ten minutes had passed, and Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl had nothing left in their stomachs to drop in the grass.

They went inside the house, swearing they would never drink another drop of Moonshine. That was the twentieth time they had sworn off Moonshine.

Marge came back from the creek with some water in the pitcher.

She gave Dirk, Peter, Jerome, and Carl each a BC powder packet to ease their splitting headaches.

Marge knew the guys didn’t want breakfast, so she didn’t break out the Corn Flakes.

Dirk and Jerome lounged on the couch with Peter and Carl on the floor.

They only wanted to lay still and hoped their headaches would soon vanish.

Marge looked over at Clark with an idea.

“Dirk, we’re low on food. Clark and I are going to go into town and get some groceries and fill up the Cadillac with gas,”

she said.

“Okay,” replied Dirk. Then he reached inside his pants pocket and held up his car keys with a ten-dollar bill.

Clark walked over and grabbed the keys and money.

Dirk closed his eyes and wanted to nap while Marge and Clark walked to the front door and left the house.

Back in the barn, Clark held the passenger door open for Marge.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. She said that a guy finally treated her like a lady.

Clark got behind the wheel and started up the Cadillac.

He drove it out of the barn, off through the grass, and down the dirt driveway.

At the end of the driveway, Clark made a left turn and headed south.

He knew the way because he drove through Winston early Sunday morning while heading to this hideout.

Marge glanced at Clark. “Listen, about last night,” she said, looking like she felt guilty.

“Ah, it was nice, but we can’t do that again. I love Dirk and, ah, I don’t know, I guess you intrigued me,” she said, then looked out her door window.

“I understand, and I don’t want to come between you and Dirk,” replied Clark, who knew his time here would be limited but was excited he had the sexual encounter with Marge.

“Good, so tell me, how do you like being with us so far?”

“I love it. It’s an exciting lifestyle,” he smiled.

Marge glanced over at Clark like he was a naive boy.

“That’ll change in due time.”

“How? I mean, you’re with Dirk Beaumont. The famous outlaw.”

“Well, there’s the constant threat of the cops coming to put you behind bars or shoot us dead. There’s taking a crap in the woods. Taking a cold bath in some creek or river. Moving from one abandoned house to the next. Or sleeping out in the woods, and then it rains on you. But the easy cash is a poem.”

Clark glanced over at Marge and still thought he was having the time of his life.

Marge glanced back at Clark. “So, do you have any other songs you created?”

Clark thought about her question and tried remembering a song she might like.

His eyes widened when he thought of a song. “Okay, here’s one I just started a few weeks ago,” said Clark, then paused while he tried to remember the lyrics. He was ready. “I can only give you love that can last forever,” he sang out the That’s All song that came out in 1952.

Marge listened and smiled while Clark sang out the tune.

“For you and you alone, that’s all, that’s all,” sang Clark out, and then he stopped. “That’s all I have so far,” he said, then hoped his singing wasn’t bad.

“My, my, Jake Johnson, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re writing a love song about me.”

Clark looked at Marge and got a little embarrassed. “Oh no, I swear. I came up with it last month before I met you,” he said, then looked worried.

Marge looked at Clark and appeared pissed. Then she smiled and chuckled. “I’m just kidding. But seriously, that song has some potential to win the heart of some lucky girl. Keep working on it,” she said, then removed a cigarette from her pack and lit it. Deep inside, she hoped Clark wrote that song about her. Clark was relieved she wasn’t pissed.

“You know, if we don’t end up in jail, you could make it as a songwriter,” she said, looking sincere.

“You think?” said Clark playing along.

“Oh, yes. A songwriter but not as a singer,” she said, then gave him a smile.

“Ah, yes, I understand,” said Clark, feeling good after receiving Marge’s comment.

They remained quiet during the rest of the drive into Winston.

Down in Austin, Dr. Evans brought Wallace to the classroom where the Introductory to Physics class waited.

Dr. Evans walked Wallace to the front of the room with Wallace by his side.

“Class, I would like to introduce you to your new professor, Doctor Wallace Burns. He will take over as your professor,” he told the twenty students waiting at their desks.

“Thank you, Doctor Evans; now, like he said, I’m Doctor Burns, and this is introductory physics,” said Wallace.

Dr. Evans gave Wallace a nod, then walked away and left the room.

Wallace picked up the textbook on top of the desk. He smiled as he remembered using this book when he attended this class way back then—or actually in the future. It was written by Dr. Evans.

“Let’s do a quick review for your final exam next week,” he said while holding up the book.

All the students opened their textbooks, and Wallace started his first lecture.

The second Clark drove into Winston, he found an ESSO

gas station and filled the Cadillac’s tank. The attendant had no clue that that beautiful Cadillac belonged to the Dirk Beaumont gang. Marge and Clark drove a little farther into Winston. He parked outside Wally’s Groceries.

They entered the store, acting like a young married couple, and the clerk behind the counter bought their ruse.

After buying more eggs, bacon, bread, slices of ham, and BC power, Marge and Clark drove through town and returned to the farmhouse.

After Clark parked the Cadillac in the barn, he carried the shopping bag into the house.

Once inside, they saw that Dirk, Peter, Jerome, and Carl were awake and felt better. Their headaches were now a tolerable dull throb.

“Make some coffee and breakfast,” ordered Dirk; the second Marge and Clark came through the front door.

“Sure, baby,” said Marge while she and Clark went into the kitchen to put away the groceries.

Marge collected water from the creek and some firewood a little while later.

It wasn’t long before she had a pot of coffee brewing and eggs and bacon cooking in the pan over the fire in the fireplace.

It was quiet while everybody ate their late breakfast. Clark had to wait until Marge finished, and then he used her plate and utensils. She promised to buy him a plate, cup, and utensils the next time they went to the store.

After breakfast, Dirk told the guys to relax and relieve their headaches.

He wanted to leave in a couple of hours to head to Arkansas. He stated he had some much-needed business to finish that had been nagging at him for months.

Jerome, Peter, Carl, and Clark played some poker in the kitchen.

Dirk whisked Marge upstairs since his headache was gone.

The guys were in their second poker game when a sound came from upstairs.

“Fuck me!” cried out Marge from upstairs, along with the sound of squeaky bed springs.

Jerome, Peter, and Carl glanced at each other.

“I can’t wait until after this next job so I can get some pussy in Memphis,” smiled Carl.

Jerome and Peter smiled, thinking of partying in that town.

“Madame Purcell’s place!” said Peter with a horny grin.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see Isabel again. She sure has a talented mouth,” added Jerome with a horny grin. “You’ll love

that place, Jake. The dames there are a poem in the sack. A fucking poem!” Carl grinned with nasty thoughts of soon getting his rocks off.

Clark looked at the guys and knew they wouldn’t be getting some pussy after Wednesday unless he succeeded with his plans.

“I’m also looking forward to getting some more pussy,”

Clark replied, wanting to act like one of the guys.

“When was the last time you fucked a dame?” asked Peter.

Clark looked at the six eyeballs that eyed him, waiting for an answer.

For a split second, he wondered if they knew he fucked Marge the other night. “Oh,” he said while he pretended to think about it. “Had to be four months.”

“We’re not lucky like Dirk to have pussy around us all the time. We get only fucked when Dirk allows us to party in the big cities, like Memphis,” said Carl.

Jerome and Peter felt like they were getting sick of life on the run.

“Fuucckkkk!” cried out Marge while she had an orgasm upstairs with the bedsprings creaking in high gear.

“I really can’t wait to get to Memphis,” smiled Jerome.

“Is your right hand starting to cramp up?” Peter jokingly asked Jerome.

“Fuck you,” replied Jerome.

Carl and Peter chuckled.

Clark pretended to chuckle over their comments, but he was a little jealous of Dirk fucking Marge.

He won that hand of poker.

An hour had passed, and everybody relaxed in the living room.

Clark watched while Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl checked out their Colt 45s and Thompson submachine guns.

Marge sat on the porch, smoking another cigarette and relaxed after her bout in the sack with Dirk.

After the guys cleaned their weapons, Dirk stood up.

“Let’s get packed and back on the road,” he said while he shoved his Colt 45 into his holster hidden under his suit jacket.

Jerome, Peter, and Carl stood up and shoved their Colt 45s under their suit jackets into the holsters.

They all started packing up all of their belongings.

Twenty minutes had passed, and Clark drove the Cadillac down the road heading north. The car was quiet, with Clark, Marge, and Dirk in the front seat and Jerome, Carl, and Peter in the backseat.

Dirk reached over and turned on the radio. He turned the tuner knob and finally found a station.

“Way over in Germany, Chancellor Adolf Hitler announced plans for a people’s car called the Volkswagen,” said the DJ from a radian station in Oklahoma.

“A German car called Volkswagen? What a stupid fucking name, and the car will probably be stupid looking,” said Dirk with a chuckle. “Now, Cadillac here, that’s a car,” he said.

“Volkswagen is a stupid name,” replied Peter from the back, sucking up to Dirk.

“Oh, you never know what will be popular. It could sell over here one day,” said Clark, then wondered if he had leaked too much information about the future.

Dirk glanced over at Clark. “Are you daft? No American will buy a German automobile. Never! Especially one called Volkswagen. What the fuck does Volkswagen even mean?”

“People car,” replied Clark.

“How do you know that?” Dirk asked, a little suspicious of Clark.

Clark felt caught and then pondered a good response.

“The guy on the radio called it a people’s car, so I figured out that that’s what it meant,” he said.

“That’s what I thought,” added Marge.

“I don’t care what it’s fucking called; it will never sell over here in America,” said Dirk, and he felt sure he was right.

“Just wait and see,” Clark muttered under his breath.

“Besides, I’ve seen pictures of that Adolf Hitler guy, and how can you take a guy seriously with a Charlie Chaplain-style mustache?” said Dirk.

“I know. You can’t,” replied Jerome from the backseat.

“Just wait,” Clark muttered under his breath.

“And now for some of the important local news,” said the DJ from the radio said.

“Texan Rangers have just confirmed from witness statements that Dirk Beaumont and his gang robbed the Frost Brothers department store in San Antonio. They drove away in a Ford sedan that was finally located in a field south of Garden Ridge. Texas Ranger Lance Thomas stated that time is running out for the Dirk Beaumont gang to operate in Texas. The Bureau of Investigation still has the Beaumont gang on their ten most wanted list,” said the DJ.

Dirk chuckled. “We’re too smart for them to capture us,”

he said.

“You got that right,” said Jerome from the backseat.

“Yep,” added Carl.

“This car has been the perfect cover, baby,” said Marge.

Then she leaned to her left and gave Dirk a kiss on his left cheek.

The gang remained quiet while Clark drove down the road.

He pondered numerous plans in his head for Wednesday’s heist.

The sun started to settle below the horizon when the gang was just inside the Arkansas state line.

Dirk made Clark pull off the road into a field.

They all got out and found a spot in the nearby woods to take a pee break.

Marge wasn’t shy about squatting above the dirt within view of the other guys.

She had done this numerous times in the past.

They got back in the car and headed down the road.

A little while later, they were five miles south of the small town of Hainesville.

Dirk was in deep thought while Clark drove close to the city limits of Hainesville.

“Pull over,” he told Clark.

Clark obeyed, thinking Dirk had to take another piss.

“I want you and Carl to head into town. I need another car for Wednesday,” he told Clark.

Clark looked at Dirk and saw he was serious.

Carl immediately obeyed and got out of the back of the car. Clark opened up his door and stepped outside. He glanced inside while Marge slid over and got behind the wheel.

“Where do we go after we get one?”

“Carl knows the place,” said Dirk, motioning for Marge to drive away.

Marge closed the driver’s door.

Clark stepped away while she pulled the Cadillac back on the road and drove off into Hainesville.

“Well, we got our orders,” said Carl, walking down the street and heading into town.

Clark figured they wouldn’t get caught even though he hadn’t read about this in Dudley’s book. He rushed over to walk by Carl’s side.

While they got closer to Hainesville, he remembered that his great-grandfather and grandfather lived in the mountains outside town. He wished he could take a quick peek into their lives while he was here, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible.

But then he remembered this was about the time his great-grandfather was murdered. He wished he could warn his great-grandfather.

While Clark and Carl walked through the one end of Hainesville in search of a car, Marge drove the Cadillac undetected out of the other end of town.

Clark and Carl snuck around Hainesville in the dark.

“There’s one,” said Carl, spotting a Ford parked in a driveway.

Clark looked and remembered they had had car issues and drove a Ford on Wednesday.

Clark looked around the street. His eyes lit up. “That’s a better one,” said Clark when he saw a 1932 Buick parked in a driveway.

“Okay,” replied Carl while he looked at the Buick and thought it would be nice to get away from Fords.

The 1932 Buick belonged to Fred Forrest, the banker of the Hainesville First National Bank.

“I believe that’s the banker’s car,” said Carl, recalling seeing it before when they thought about robbing the bank in Hainesville last year. He smiled. “Why not? After all, he doesn’t hesitate to foreclose on people’s farms in the area,” he said. Carl and Clark ran up the driveway of Fred’s house.

Carl and Clark pushed the Buick down the driveway and into the street.

Clark performed his magic and had the engine started within seconds.

Clark rushed behind the wheel, and Carl got in the passenger seat. He drove the Buick away down the street.

Clark followed Carl’s directions and drove out of Hainesville.

He drove into the country and eventually turned onto a dirt driveway.

That driveway ended at a large wooden cabin on a small hill’s plateau.

He parked next to Dirk’s Cadillac. “What’s the story behind this place?” Clark asked curiously while shutting off the engine.

“A place where Dirk pays the family to keep their mouths shut. They’re dirt poor, so any money Dirk throws at them is greatly appreciated,” replied Carl.

Clark was impressed with Dirk’s giving money to the poor.

He had read about it in Dudley’s book and now witnessed it for the second time.

Clark noticed some movement of people inside the cabin while he and Carl walked away from the Buick.

The second Clark and Carl entered the cabin, the aroma of cooked meat filled the air. Clark’s nostrils were not familiar with this aroma, and it made his mouth water.

He noticed that the lights inside the cabin were provided by numerous kerosene lamps scattered throughout the rooms.

“It’s about time,” called Dirk from the dining table, where Dirk, Marge, Peter, and Jerome were crowded around an old wooden table, ready to eat supper.

Clark and Carl saw sixty-two-year-old Lizzie Harrison in a dress behind that apron she probably bought twenty years ago.

She held a black pot by its handle and a ladle in her other hand.

“Hey, Lizzie,” called out Carl.

“Good to see you, Carl. Supper’s ready,” Lizzie said while she plopped some goulash meal from the ladle on Dirk’s plate.

They walked over to the table at the same time sixty-five-year-old Bo Harrison entered the cabin from the kitchen door.

He wore dirty coveralls and boots that showed the results of his years of work on his farm.

“This is Lizzie and Bo Harrison. Lizzie and Bo, this is my new guy, Jake Johnson,” Dirk introduced Clark.

“Howdy Jake, grab a chair and sit down,” said Lizzie while she scoops out goulash and plops it on Marge’s plate.

While Clark and Clark squeezed in at the crowded table, they heard someone coughing from one of the two bedrooms.

Clark looked in the direction of the coughing.

“That be daddy,” said Lizzie while she scooped out some goulash and plopped it on Clark’s plate.

“He’s Elmer. He was a Confederate soldier in the Civil War,” said Dirk.

Clark was impressed and glanced back at that bedroom, hoping to meet an actual Civil War veteran in person.

After Lizzie plopped goulash on Jerome, Carl, and Peter’s plates, she said grace and thanked the Lord for bringing them the kind heart of Dirk Beaumont.

They all started eating supper.

“So Bo, is my boy out tonight?” asked Dirk after he swallowed some goulash.

“Yep, I just came back from checking. He should be there all night,” replied Bo, then he took a bit of his goulash.

Dirk smiled as he needed to attend to his unfinished business later tonight.

It remained quiet at the table except for the occasional silverware clanking against the porcelain plates.

After supper, everybody retired to the front porch to enjoy the cool evening and the full Moon. Lizzie, Dirk, and Marge sat in wooden rocking chairs Bo made years ago.

Clark, Jerome, Peter, and Carl sat on the porch. There were two other empty chairs.

While Clark sat on the porch, he saw small fires scattered on the other hillsides. He learned that those were fires from Moonshine stills.

While they relaxed on the porch, ninety-year-old Elmer walked out of the front door hunched over. A lit corn cob pipe was sticking out of his mouth.

Clark watched while he inched his way to the rocking chair that was his, and nobody dared plop their butt in it.

“Elmer, this is my new guy, Jake Johnson,” said Dirk.

“Howdy,” said Elmer while he sat in the rocking chair and continued to smoke his pipe. He saw the Buick parked next to Dirk’s Cadillac. “Is that the banker’s car?”

“Yep,” replied Lizzie.

“Good,” replied Elmer, knowing that Dirk probably stole the banker’s car and could care less. He hated Fred Forrest.

Bo walked out of the cabin with a cigar box guitar in hand.

Clark thought a cigar box guitar was cool. He read about them online and how they gained popularity again during the 1930s.

Bo sat in his rocking chair and immediately slipped a metal slide around his left index finger. He started sliding out a bluesy tune on the three strings.

Everybody listened as that song added to the atmosphere of the beautiful evening.

While Bo played, Dirk eyed the numerous fires on the other hillside.

Bo finished his song.

Dirk got out of the rocking chair and then looked over at Clark. “Jake, I have some business to take care of, and this is part of your training,” he said.

Clark jumped to his feet.

“We’re taking the Buick,” said Dirk while he walked off the porch.

Clark was curious about the type of business Dirk could attend that could be considered part of his training.

He and Dirk walked over to the Buick, and Clark got behind the wheel.

Everybody on the porch watched as Clark started the Buick, backed it up, turned around, and drove off down the dirt driveway.

Bo started to slide out another bluesy tune on his cigar box guitar while the small tail lights of the Buick slowly disappeared into the darkness.

Clark drove to the end of the driveway and stopped for directions from Dirk.

“Turn right.”

Clark turned right and headed down the road. Dirk looked around and looked a little confused.

“No, the other way,” he said.

Clark slowed the Buick down and made a U-turn in the road. He drove off down the road in the opposite direction.

When Clark reached a mile down the road, Dirk had him turn left down a dirt trail.

The Buick barely fit down the small trail.

An occasional tree branch ran down both sides of the Buick, and it sounded like running fingernails down a chalkboard.

“Now you know why I wanted another car,” said Dirk after another tree branch scratched from the front to the rear of the driver’s side.

The dirt trail ended at a small clearing.

“Turn off the lights,” said Dirk.

Clark obeyed, and the Moonlight showed a 1925 Ford pickup parked alone in the clearing.

“Park behind that truck,” said Dirk, wanting to block it.

Clark obeyed, parked behind the pickup, and then turned off the engine.

“Get out nice and quiet, and don’t slam your door,” said Dirk, quietly opening his car door.

Clark quietly opened his car door and stepped outside. He quietly closed his door, not allowing the latch to catch.

Dirk motioned for Clark to follow him to a smaller trail that led deeper into the woods.

The woods were an eerie quiet while Clark followed Dirk down the dirt trail.

The trail ended at a small clearing where Clark saw a Moonshine still and makeshift shack.

“Buford,” Dirk called out while he walked over to the still.

Clark thought that name sounded familiar but couldn’t remember where he heard it before.

Thirty-year-old Buford Sanders stepped out of the wooden shack in dirty coveralls. “Who wants to know?”

“Me,” replied Dirk while he walked toward the shack with Clark behind him.

“Who are you?” Buford said, and his eyes widened the second he recognized Dirk. “Oh, howdy, Mister Beaumont,” he said, and he got extremely nervous about the famous outlaw’s surprise visit.

“I’m Glad you recognized me, Buford. I thought you might have forgotten about your little debt,” said Dirk as he slowly walked toward Buford.

Buford took steps backward, getting scared.

"Buford, Buford, Buford. I want my money,” said Dirk, and he looked pissed.

“Business had been slow, Mister Beaumont. I don’t have your money right now. But I will, soon. I promise,” said Buford while he continued to take steps back.

“That’s not the correct response. And you said that before,” said Dirk, and he was concerned that Buford would run off into the woods.

Clark’s eyes widened the second he realized Buford Sanders was his great-grandfather. He recalled the black-and-white picture he had of Buford in his den.

Dirk reached inside his suit coat jacket and whipped out his Colt 45.

The second the bullet shot out of the barrel of Dirk’s Colt 45, it dawned on Clark that tonight was the night his great-grandfather was murdered. He never knew the exact date, as the dates changed when that family history was passed down over the years.

The second Buford flew back and slammed into his wooden shack, Clark had solved the mystery of his great grandfather’s killer.

“Why did you kill him?” Clark asked Dirk while Dirk inched toward Buford to ensure he was not a threat.

“Because. I loaned him money to build this still, and he never paid me back,” replied Dirk while he towered over Buford’s lifeless body and glanced down at his blank startled stare. Clark’s attitude toward Dirk instantly changed, and anger filled his body.

“Check the area to make sure no witnesses are around,”

said Dirk while he lightly kicked Buford to make sure he was, in fact, dead.

Clark wanted to reach out and beat the crap out of Dirk.

But Clark didn’t have a gun and knew Dirk wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet into his body.

So Clark went inside the shack.

Once he stepped inside the shack, he saw an old mattress on a cot, a potbelly stove, and some wooden shelves on one wall with three cans of pork and beans.

He heard the soft cry of a young voice, looked around the shack, and then saw two peering eyes from under the cot.

He heard the sound of Dirk smashing Buford’s still with some object.

Clark inched his way to the cot and then got on his hands and knees.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” said Clark. His eyes widened when he realized that those peering young eyes belonged to a young boy.

Clark could see the boy shaking with fear under the cot.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Come out and run home,” he said, then placed his right hand under the cot.

The young boy was six years old. Billy Sanders was dressed in dirty coveralls and worn-out boots. Billy grabbed Clark’s hand and got out from under the cot.

They both stood up.

Clark looked down at the boy, and his eyes widened the second he realized that this young boy was his grandfather, Billy.

Clark looked at a nearby window and heard Dirk outside smashing up the still.

“I’ll lift you up to the window and let you outside. Do you know how to get home?”

Billy nodded, knowing that he knew his way home.

“Good, run as fast as you can and tell your momma that Dirk Beaumont shot your daddy. Do you understand?”

Billy nodded, saying that he understood Clark’s instructions.

“Good,” said Clark, standing up and grabbing Billy’s hand.

He walked Billy to the window lif, tied him up, and assisted him to the outside.

He dropped Billy to the ground and watched while his right grandfather ran off deep into the dark woods. The sounds of Dirk smashing the still were a cover for Billy’s escape.

Clark walked out of the shack and approached Dirk. “No witnesses are around,” he said, then watched as Dirk used his right foot to knock over the still and held an ax in his right hand.

“Good. Let’s get a few jars and then get out of here,” said Dirk, tossing the ax to the ground.

While Dirk walked over to a nearby case filled with Mason jars and Moonshine, Clark glanced at the ax in the dirt. He glanced over at Dirk. Knowing that Jerome, Peter, and Carl would hunt him down, he shook off that idea. And he didn’t know if he would return to the time machine in time.

And besides, he needed guidance about how to drive back to Austin.

He ignored the ax and walked over to Dirk.

After they grabbed a case of Moonshine, Clark scratched the Buick’s way back down that small trai and drove Dirk back to Bo and Lizzie’s cabin.

He made Clark carry the wooden case into the cabin.

Dirk told Bo and Lizzie he had a little present for them.

Bo and Lizzie were elated with all those free jars of Moonshine.

The drinking began for the night, but Dirk told the guys to take it easy as he wanted them sharp for Wednesday’s heist.

For the rest of the night, Dirk kept Clark close to him since he witnessed the shooting of Buford. Dirk didn’t want to take a chance on Clark talking to the law.

On the other hand, Clark knew that Wednesday would be his day of escape.

He figured he could tolerate being around this gang for several more days. He now loathed his once outlaw idol and wanted him dead tonight.

Chapter 11

The sun rose again on Tuesday, May 21, 1935, for the start of another day.

Lizzie woke up before the sun peeked above the horizon.

She entered her kitchen and began sizzling bacon in a skillet on the Potbelly stove. They had plenty of bacon since they owned a couple of pigs, and eggs were also plentiful since they had a chicken coup.

The living room of their cabin had Dirk and his gang scattered all over the floor.

Dirk made sure Clark slept within arm’s reach of him as insurance.

The smell of bacon sizzling in the skillet on the potbelly stove filled the living room air.

Everybody woke up due to the smell of bacon filling the air. “Good morning,” said Lizzie from the potbelly stove when she saw the gang rising from their sleep.

The kitchen door opened, and Bo entered with a basket filled with fresh eggs.

“It’s about time you woke up. The day’s almost half over,”

he jokingly said, as it was seven that morning.

“Sure smells good, Lizzie,” said Dirk while he walked into the kitchen.

Clark walked into the kitchen. “Where’s your bathroom?”

he asked Bo while he placed the basket of eggs on the counter.

Bo looked at Clark. “Bathroom? We’re not fancy here.

You mean outhouse. It’s outback,” he chuckled and pointed to the kitchen door.

Clark headed to the kitchen door and went outside.

Dirk walked over to the door.

Lizzie started to crack open some eggs into the skillet.

Once Clark was out in the backyard, he spotted the old wooden outhouse. He forgot that many people in the 1930s didn’t have indoor plumbing or electricity in the South.

Clark walked to the outhouse and opened the door. The stench was awful! But he had to go so bad he tried to hold his breath while he stepped inside.

Dirk stood by the kitchen door and kept a watchful eye on Clark’s every move.

Inside the outhouse, Clark sat on the wooden seat and fought off a few dry heaves. He pinched off his nose and held his breath.

After he finished his business, he noticed there was no toilet paper.

“How gross!” he quietly said, hurriedly pulling up his pants.

He rushed out of the outhouse with an occasional dry heave. He removed his fingers from his nose and sucked in some fresh air.

He didn’t notice Dirk while he stood by the kitchen door, keeping an eye on Clark.

Dirk walked away from the door when Clark headed back to the cabin.

When Clark returned to the kitchen, he noticed everybody was crowded around the table, eating their eggs and bacon.

“Come eat, Jake. We have another busy day,” said Dirk while he patted the empty chair by his chair.

Clark walked over and squeezed in next to Dirk.

Dirk glanced over at Clark. “I have some plans for you today.”

Clark glanced over at Dirk and wondered what he meant.

“Is he going to kill me?” he fretted in his head. “Is he going to kill me to shut me up for last night’s murder?” he continued to fret. Clark picked up his coffee cup and drank strong coffee.

While he drank, his eyes scanned the other guys around the table for signs he was in danger. They were more interested in eating Lizzie’s great home-cooked breakfast.

There was a loud thunderclap outside, and that caused Clark to jump startled inside his body. He thought he was shot for a split second. He was relieved when he realized it was a thundercloud.

“Getting some rain,” said Elmer while slowly walking out of his bedroom and heading into the kitchen.

Clark saw Elmer in his dingy, long johns where the fly was unbuttoned.

He noticed Elmer’s old and shriveled member poking its head out for some morning air.

“Hey, Elmer. Close the barn door. The old cow is poking his head outside,” said Dirk.

“What?” replied Elmer.

“Daddy, your dick is sticking out,” said Lizzie.

“My dick? What about my dick?” replied Elmer, a little confused.

“Put your pecker back in your underwear, daddy,” said Bo while Elmer walked closer to the table.

It suddenly dawned on Elmer. He stopped and glanced down at this crotch. “Oh, my pecker,” he chuckled while shoving his dick back inside his long johns and buttoned them up. “Here’s your breakfast, Daddy,” said Lizzie, handing Elmer a plate with one egg and one piece of bacon.

Carl got up from the table and gave his seat to Elmer.

Elmer sat down and slowly ate his breakfast with their outlaw guests.

After breakfast, everybody went outside on the porch to relax.

Bo broke out a box of cigars he had for when his special paying guests arrived.

He handed one out to everybody except for Elmer, who was back in bed, taking a nap.

They lit their cigars and puffed while relaxing on the front porch.

It was peaceful. The birds were making music from the trees, and cigar smoke rose from the front porch.

Clark doesn’t smoke cigarettes, let alone cigars, but he figured he better role-play today.

It was quiet while they relaxed on the front porch, listened to the birds singing from the trees, and puffed their cigars.

Dirk was done with his cigar and tossed the little remaining part into the grass.

He glanced over at Clark.

“Jake, let’s take a walk,” he said, looking serious.

Clark looked at Dirk while he stood up. He got up a little nervous.

Dirk walked away from the porch and headed to the side yard. Clark rushed over and walked along Dirk’s right side.

“Jake, you’ve been with my gang for a few days now.”

“Since Thursday.”

“Yep,” Dirk said while he headed toward the chicken coop.

“Marge has a good feeling for knowing when you can trust someone.”

“That’s good.”

“Now, Marge’s a sexy dame, so I hope that by having you as a member of my gang, you won’t let your dick think for you.”

Clark looked a little confused. “I’m not following you.”

Dirk placed his right arm around Clark’s shoulder.

Clark wanted to shoo Dirk’s arm off his body but refrained.

“What I’m doing is giving you a friendly warning. Marge’s pussy is off-limits. I don’t want to hear that you fucked my broad. Do you understand?”

Clark started to sweat and got nervous. He wondered if Marge had told Dirk that Clark fucked her on Sunday night.

“Yes, sir. I fully understand,” said Clark, and then he silently prayed Dirk wasn’t taking him out to the woods to kill him.

“Good. Now, enough of that. Later today, we’re going on a little job. Just you and me. This will be another test. Cause if you pass, you’re going with us on Wednesday’s heist. Then, you’ll start getting a more significant share. How does that sound?”

“Ah, that sounds great,” Clark lied through his teeth. He would have loved that a couple days ago.

“Good, now go check up on the cars. I want to ensure they’re both in good running order for tomorrow,” said Dirk, patting Clark on the back.

Dirk turned around and headed back to the cabin.

Clark turned around and returned to the Cadillac and Buick parked in front of the cabin.

Back down in Austin, Wallace finished teaching that Introductory Physics class.

He met with Dr. Evans in the university lunchroom for lunch.

After they got their meals, they sat down at a table.

“So, Doctor Evans, I heard you met with Albert Einstein a couple of years ago?” Wallace asked, silently praying that Dr.

Evans would respond.

“Yes, I did. It was in February nineteen thirty- three.

Albert was halfway through a two-month stay at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. I was there during research for a project,” replied Dr. Evans.

Wallace smiled, knowing he would achieve his goal on this time travel mission.

“What did you talk about?”

“Well, I had dinner with Albert and his wife Elsa one night.”

“You met his wife, that’s nice.”

“Yes, so during that dinner, Elsa told me how Albert came up with his Theory of Relativity. She said it started one morning during breakfast at their flat in Berlin, Germany. She said he appeared lost in his thoughts and ignored his breakfast.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked him. He got up and walked over to their piano. He sat down and started playing and writing notes on the piano for about thirty minutes. Then he went to his upstairs study. She said he stayed up there for about two weeks with her bringing him some food. Then, after two weeks, he returned downstairs with sheets of paper where he had written down his theory.”

“That’s extremely interesting,” Wallace replied, but he had already heard that news from Charlie Chaplin. Hearing it from someone who also heard it from Einstein’s wife was great.

“What was he like in person?”

“I found that he was a calm and gentleman. But he also concealed a highly emotional temperament.

Maybe that’s why he had so much intellectual energy,”

replied Dr. Evans.

“Could be,” replied Wallace.

It was quiet for a few minutes while they ate their lunch.

Wallace couldn’t resist. “So, Doctor Evans, do you believe time travel is possible?”

Dr. Evans glanced at Wallace while he thought about the question. “Is time travel possible?” he repeated the question while he pondered his belief. “Nice concept, but no, there is no way someone could travel through time. If it were possible, Albert Einstein would have already invented the time machine,”

he said, then took a drink of his coffee.

Wallace had a smirk on his face. He wanted so bad to tell Dr. Evans that time travel was possible because he invented and built the time machine. But Wallace decided to leave it his little secret. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

During the rest of their lunch, Wallace and Dr. Evans chatted about the research projects Dr. Evans had worked on during his career.

Back at the cabin in the woods of Arkansas, Clark finished checking out the two cars while Dirk watched from a rocking chair on the front porch.

“Let’s pack up and hit the road,” Dirk said, then got off the rocking chair and headed back inside the house.

Clark walked away from the cars and headed into the house.

A little while later, the gang was ready to go back on the run. They waited in the living room.

Lizzie left the kitchen with a small covered pot in her hands.

“Here’s some supper for later tonight,” she said, then handed the pot to Jerome.

“It’s goulash like what you had the other night,” she added while she handed the pot to Marge.

Bo walked out of the kitchen with a small basket in hand.

“Here are some eggs for breakfast in the morning,” he said, then handed the basket to Carl.

“That was some tasty meat inside it the other night,” said Clark, and he loved her cooking.

Lizzie smiled at Clark. “I used possum meat from the three possums Bo killed the other day,” she replied.

It took a few seconds for Clark’s realization to dawn on him. “I ate a possum?” he freaked, then started to get dry heaves the more he thought about possum meat. He ran out the front door.

Bo, Lizzie, Dirk, Marge, Jerome, Peter, and Carl all laughed when they heard Clark vomit out of the porch.

“Such a sissy,” said Elmer while he walked out of his bedroom, hearing the conservation in the living room.

“Yep. I’ll make a man out of him yet,” said Dirk. Then he reached inside his suit coat pocket, removed some cash, and counted out five hundred dollars.

“Here you go,” he said while he handed Bo the cash.

“I’m much obliged,” said Bo. Then he handed Lizzie the cash so she could put it in the cookie jar in the kitchen.

Dirk, Jerome, Carl, and Peter all put their Fedora hats on and headed out to the front door.

“Get off your knees, Jake,” said Dirk when he saw Clark in the grass having dry heaves on his hands and knees.

Dirk and the gang walked off the porch and headed to the cars. Clark got off his hands and knees. He wiped his mouth and rushed over to the cars.

A few minutes passed. Marge drove the Cadillac away from the cabin in Arkansas. Jerome sat in the front seat with Peter and Carl in the backseat.

Clark drove the Buick away from the cabin with Dirk in the front seat.

It was the early evening, and Clark drove the Buick close to Hope, Arkansas.

The town was quiet, where a few street lights lit the main street.

Clark drove down the main street of Hope, passing an ESSO gas station to the right. The station was still open for the night.

Clark drove a little farther down the street when Dirk glanced at him with an idea.

“Stop the car,” he said.

“What?” asked Clark, not sure he heard correctly.

“I said, stop the car,” said Dirk.

Clark stopped the car, thinking Dirk had to take a piss in the street.

“Okay, I want you to remove all your cash from your pockets,” said Dirk.

“What?”

“Are your ears clogged boy? I want you to remove all of your cash from your pockets,” said Dirk. Dirk opened his suit coat jacket and ensured Clark noticed the Colt 45 stuffed in the holster.

Clark figured Dirk was throwing him out of the gang and taking back all of his money. He reached inside his suit jacket and removed his cash, including the one he had brought with him from 2014.

He placed it in the middle of the front seat.

“Good. Now, this is a test of trust,” said Dirk as he reached inside his suit jacket for his Colt 45.

Clark almost pissed his pants, thinking Dirk was going to end Clark’s life at this second. But to Clark’s surprise, Dirk handed him his Colt 45.

“I want you to walk back and rob that gas station,” he said.

“Rob, that station?”

“What is the fuck wrong with your ears? Yes, I said rob that fucking gas station,” said Dirk, and he started to get pissed with Clark.

Clark took the Colt 45, and then he looked at Dirk. He went into a daydream.

In his daydream, Clark aimed the Colt 45 and fired a shot at Dirk. The bullet went through Dirk’s forehead and out the back of his head, splattering blood all over the passenger door window.

Then Clark snapped out of his quick daydream and looked at Dirk, who looked impatient.

Clark opened the driver’s door and set his left foot onto the street.

“I want you to kill the attendant,” said Dirk.

Clark glanced back in the car while he placed his right foot on the street.

“Yes, kill the attendant, or I’ll come back and kill him.

Understand?”

Clark nodded that he understood while he shoved the Colt 45 into his right suit coat pocket.

He closed the driver’s door and watched while Dirk slid across the seat and got behind the steering wheel.

He walked away and headed off down the street.

Dirk waited in the Buick while Clark walked down the street toward the gas station. “I’m starting to wonder about that boy,” he said while he watched Clark from his rearview mirror.

Clark walked down the street nervously. His heart started to beat faster and faster the closer he got to the station.

When he got to the entrance of the ESSO station, he glanced back and could still see the small taillights of the Buick.

He saw the shadowy figure of Dirk behind the driver’s wheel.

“Fuck,” he worried when he turned back and saw the gas station with a lone attendant inside the office.

Clark nervously walked through the gas station lot and headed to the office.

Clark opened the creaky door to the gas station office.

Inside worked eighteen-year-old Roy Gilbert.

Roy glanced at the window at the pumps outside. He didn’t hear a car pull up, wanting gas. “Can I help you?” he asked Clark.

Clark just looked at Roy, who was shaking in his shoes.

Roy looked at Clark, waiting for an answer. “Ah, I need, ah,”

said Clark, extremely nervous.

“You need what?” asked Roy.

“I need all of your money,” said Clark, removing the Colt 45 from his suit coat pocket.

Roy’s eyes widened in complete shock the second he saw the barrel of Clark’s Colt 45 aimed at him. He swallowed hard and fought from peeing his pants.

“Give me your money,” Clark said while he inched the Colt 45 closer to Roy to tell him that he meant business.

Roy cautiously walked over to the cash register while he kept a watchful eye on Clark’s Colt 45.

Roy opened the cash register and removed all the cash.

The station earned only six dollars today.

He walked out from behind the cash register and over to Clark.

“This is all we have,” said Roy, then handed Clark the money.

“Dirk Beaumont’s gang did this job,” said Clark as he took the money from Roy’s hand and shoved it in his left suit coat pocket.

Roy inched backward. “Please don’t kill me. I have a young wife and a kid on the way,” said Roy, pleading for mercy with his eyes.

Back at the Buick, Dirk opened his driver’s door and stepped outside.

He glanced back at the gas station, ready to go there and finish the job. He heard gunfire. He was satisfied and then got back behind the wheel of the Buick.

Back inside the gas station, Clark glanced at Roy, who lay on the floor. Clark’s legs started shaking in fear.

Roy passed out after the bullet zinged over his head. Clark didn’t have what it takes to kill the innocent kid.

Clark saw the bullet hole in the plaster of the small wall space above the door that led to the service bay. He turned around and rushed to the entrance of the office.

The gas station office door slammed open, and Clark ran outside while shoving the Colt 45 back into his right suit coat pocket.

He ran through the station lot, over and down the street, running as fast as he could, and then tripped over his two feet.

He took a tumble in the street.

He got back up to his feet and ran as fast as he could to the Buick.

Dirk turned around and saw Clark running toward the Buick through the rear windows. He placed the car in first gear.

The passenger door opened, and Clark jumped inside the car, out of breath.

“Get the fuck out of here,” yelled Clark while he closed the door.

Dirk drove the Buick off down the street. “How much did you get?”

Clark reached inside his coat pocket of his left suit and removed the cash. He glanced at it. “Six dollars,” he said.

“Well, that’s not much, but you passed the test. You’re now a full-fledged member of my gang. You’ll go with us on tomorrow’s heist,” said Dirk.

Clark handed Dirk the money.

Dirk shooed away Clark’s hand. “It’s yours. You earned it,” he said.

Clark shoved the cash back into his left suit coat pocket.

He wasn’t proud of himself, and the scared eyes of that young attendant began haunting him.

“I heard the gunshot. You kill him?” asked Dirk.

“Yes,” lied Clark, knowing that, hopefully, Dirk would never discover what happened.

“Good. Now, you can’t leave the gang since I have that piece of information that I could tell the cops,” said Dirk. Then he got a smirk, knowing that his plan worked perfectly tonight.

It was a quiet drive while Dirk drove the Buick out of the small town of Hope.

Thirty minutes had passed, and Roy finally became conscious back at the gas station.

He opened his eyes and carefully glanced around for signs of the robber.

The office was quiet, and it looked safe.

He cautiously sat up, patted the front of his shirt, then checked his hands for any signs of blood.

There was none, and he didn’t have any pain. He realized he wasn’t shot. He just passed out.

Roy rose back up and looked at the office again to ensure it was safe.

He felt safe, so he rushed over to the telephone hung on the wall by the door leading to the service bay.

He picked up the receiver. “Myrtle, please get me, Sheriff Gardner. It’s me, Roy, I had an emergency at the station. I was robbed,” he said into the phone in a panic.

“Robbed? You shot?” replied Myrtle.

“No. But get Sheriff Gardner over here right away. It was someone from Dirk Beaumont’s gang,” Roy said in a panic.

Then he glanced back at the office door and prayed the robber wouldn’t return.

“Okay,” replied Myrtle, and then she disconnected her end of the call.

Roy hung up the phone, and then he sat down. Then something felt wet; he glanced down and realized he had peed his pants when Clark had that Colt 45 aimed at his head. He could care less since he was alive, and that mattered.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Sheriff Gardner arrived at the gas station along with Sammy Tyler, the town newspaper reporter.

Roy gave Sheriff Gardner and Sammy the robbery details and how the guy stated he was part of the Dirk Beaumont gang.

Sammy rushed from the gas station to return to his newspaper office.

He wanted to get started on tomorrow’s newspaper headlines. This will be the talk of the town all day tomorrow.

It was later that night, and Dirk drove through the town of Texarkana.

Clark noticed the town was smaller than what he saw in 2014.

After Dirk drove down numerous streets, he headed down a dirt road.

Clark remembered this road as the Gun Club Road in 2014.

It looked different, and there were fewer homes.

Dirk turned right and headed down a dirt driveway.

The Buick’s headlights illuminated the farmhouse, which looked like the one Clark visited in 2014 before he time-traveled back to 1935.

Clark didn’t see the Cadillac. “Where’s your car?” he asked, getting a little nervous. The house appeared lit, but no movement of people was visible.

“It should be parked out in the back. Drive there,” replied Dirk. Clark obeyed and drove the car off the dirt driveway and around by the right side of the house.

Clark saw the Cadillac parked at the rear of the house.

“There’s a dirt trail that leads to another road. That’s our getaway in case the cops invade our privacy,” said Dirk while Clark parked next to his Cadillac and then turned off the engine.

Dirk and Clark got out of the Buick. They headed to the rear door of the house leading to the kitchen.

Once they got inside, Clark saw that the kitchen and living room were lit with candles. He smelled dinner cooking from the fireplace in the living room. It was a familiar smell. It took a few minutes, but Clark remembered that smell as Lizzie’s possum goulash. He wasn’t hungry.

Clark skipped supper even though the guys teased him.

The thought of eating possum meat again started to give him dry heaves.

After supper, Dirk had Jerome, Peter, Carl, and Clark relax in the living room.

They planned tomorrow’s heist in Texarkana.

Clark pretended to play along. So he listened to his assignment, which would be the getaway driver.

Hours had passed, and the gang retired for the night.

Clark had a hard time sleeping. He lay awake on the living room floor and stared at the ceiling.

It was now two in the morning, and Clark couldn’t sleep.

He heard footsteps and saw Marge gingerly walk through the kitchen and head outside from the door.

He got curious and quietly got up off the floor.

He gingerly walked through the living room, ensuring he didn’t wake up Jerome, Pete, or Carl.

He didn’t, so he gingerly walked into the kitchen and headed to the kitchen door.

He quietly slipped outside.

Once outside in the dark, he could see the red glow of Marge’s cigarette in the woods behind the house near the edge of the woods.

He walked over to her.

“I was hoping that was you,” said Marge the second Clark approached her.

“I can’t sleep,” he said.

“Me neither,” she said, then she dropped her half-smoked cigarette to the dirt and smashed it with her shoe.

There was a moment of silence, and all they heard was the wind rustling through the trees.

Then Marge surprised Clark, and she kissed his lips.

He didn’t resist, and the kiss turned passionate.

“Fuck me,” she said, then she turned her back to him, placed her arms around a tree, and arched her butt cheeks up at him. It was a sweet invite.

Clark pulled her dress and slipped up, pulling her panties down to her ankles.

He pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees., and moved in close.

She wiggled her butt cheeks as another invite.

He moved in closer and grabbed the sides of her hips, rubbing his hungry member against her slit. She moaned.

He poked around, then finally slipped inside her. She was juicy and ready.

She moaned while Clark started to slowly pump her.

He pumped faster.

She moaned.

He pumped faster.

She moaned a little louder. “Ahhhh,” she softly cried out, having an orgasm.

Clark couldn’t hold back. “Ahhhh,” he softly cried out, having another orgasm inside Marge.

After he pulled out, he immediately pulled up his boxers and pants.

Marge pulled up her panties and pulled down her slip and dress. “I’ll go inside first,” she said.

Clark nodded and then watched while Marge gingerly walked back to the house.

While she went back inside the kitchen, Clark had to go, so he unzipped his fly and took a piss in the woods.

After he was done, he went back into the house.

Clark noticed that everybody was still sound asleep. He felt safe that nobody caught wind of his little escapade outside.

He got back on his back on the living room floor and stared at the ceiling.

Clark suddenly realized two things were wrong. First, he realized that they used a Ford the first time they robbed the bank on Wednesday. Now they’re using a Buick. The more he thought about it, the more he believed it wouldn’t make a difference.

Second, he realized he didn’t plan his trip from Texarkana back to Austin.

He was so excited about returning to 1935 that he didn’t think out the most critical part of his plan. He wondered if he

would be stuck in this era for the duration. He really hated the 1930s.

He closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

His eyes widened with a possible idea of how to get back to Austin tomorrow night.

He knew this plan would work.

He closed his eyes. His mind drifted off to thoughts of his second time having sweet sex with Marge. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Chapter 12

It was again Wednesday morning, May 22, 1935. This would be the morning of Clark’s planned final mission.

The sun rose above the horizon, and Dirk ensured his gang wouldn’t sleep another wink.

Down in Austin, Wallace woke up and got ready to teach his class on Introductory Physics at the university.

He walked away from the motor court and walked off to the campus.

He felt guilty for planning on leaving tonight to head back home to 2014. But he knew he couldn’t stay and hoped Dr.

Evans would forgive him. Wallace knew that his trip to 1935

would be his last. If he time-traveled again, he wanted to experience some other era. Like maybe 1776 and witnessed the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Or visit Gettysburg to video some of that famous battle.

After the guys woke up, Marge started brewing coffee and cooking eggs in the fireplace. These were the eggs from Bo’s chickens.

During breakfast, Clark pondered how to fulfill his mission during today’s heist. He could not come up with a viable plan.

They finished eating, and Dirk summoned everybody into the living room. He wanted to go over the assignments for today’s heist.

An hour passed.

Two young eight-year-old boys, Scotty and Butch, were out and about in the woods on their way to a friend’s house.

They stopped when they saw Dirk, Jerome, Peter, Carl, and Clark walk out of their hideout’s rear kitchen door.

“I didn’t know someone was living in the Sampson home,”

said Butch.

Scotty’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you know who that is?” “Who what is?” replied Butch.

“That’s Dirk Beaumont.”

“Dirk Beaumont? The outlaws?” replied Butch, not believing that that outlaw would be in their neck of the woods.

“Yeah. I recognize him from the detective magazine Daddy has in the basement,” said Scotty, and he looked sure of himself.

“Well, I’ll be. Then who is the lady?” asked Butch in awe at the sight of that famous outlaw.

Scotty looked, and then she saw Marge while she ran out of the back kitchen door and over to the Buick.

The boys watched Marge kiss Dirk on his lips.

“Maybe Dirk is married?” replied Scotty.

“Maybe,” said Butch while they watched Dirk get in the passenger side of the Buick, and Marge rushed back inside the house.

The boys watched while the Buick drove off toward the driveway in front of the house.

“I bet they’re going to rob a bank,” said Butch, and he looked serious.

“I bet,” replied Scotty while they watched the Buick drive down the driveway.

Butch and Scotty looked at each other, and their eyes widened with the same idea.

“We better tell my daddy,” said Scotty.

“We better,” nodded Butch.

The two boys ran off through the woods.

“You think we’ll get the reward money?” asked Scotty while he and Butch ran as fast as they could through the woods dodging trees.

“Hope so,” replied Butch, and the thought of getting reward money made him think that he’ll be rich for the rest of his life.

While Scotty and Butch ran to Scotty’s home, Clark drove the Buick north on Eylau Loop Road.

Clark turned the Buick and headed north on Clara Road.

Clark turned and drove the Buick down Wainwright Road.

It was quiet inside the Buick while Clark drove down the road. Scotty’s family lived on a small farm about half a mile from Dirk’s hideout.

The boys were out of breath when they stormed through the rear kitchen door.

Scotty’s father, Gilbert, sat in the kitchen wondering where he could find some work.

He missed last month’s mortgage payment and didn’t feel proud.

“Daddy, Daddy, the famous outlaw Dirk Beaumont is here,” cried out, Scotty all out of breath.

“What?” asked Gilbert, not understanding his son.

“We saw Dirk Beaumont and his gang at the old Sampson home,” cried out Butch, also out of breath.

“Dirk Beaumont?” asked Gilbert as he understood that word.

Butch and Scotty nodded their heads in agreement.

“Plus, we saw Misses Dirk Beaumont give him a kiss by their car,” said Scotty.

“And they have another big black fancy car at the back of the Sampson home,” added Butch.

“Yeah, fancy! Real fancy,” added Scotty.

It suddenly dawned on Gilbert that there was a ten thousand dollar reward for the capture of Dirk and five thousand a piece for the capture of Jerome, Peter, and Carl. He figured that his financial troubles were over forever.

He rushed over to the telephone that hung on his wall.

He rang the operator. “Sally, get me, Chief Whitfield. And hurry!” he said into the receiver. He waited for his call to go through.

Meanwhile, it remained quiet while Clark drove the Buick down Finley Street.

This was typical for Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl as they mulled over the upcoming robbery.

Clark drove by and glanced at the spot he had visited in 2014, where Dirk and Carl were arrested after the first time they robbed this bank.

At the Texarkana Police Station, Police Chief Wilbur Whitfield sat behind his desk with his desk phone to his ear.

“Thanks, Gilbert, and yes, if we arrest the Beaumont gang, I’ll make sure you get the reward money,” he said then he hung up his phone and looked concerned.

He got up from behind his desk and rushed out of his office.

Eight blocks over from the police station was the Texarkana First National Bank.

The inside of the bank was quiet. Five male and two female customers were waiting in line for the one teller to finish business with his male customer.

The two front doors slammed open, breaking the silence.

The customers turned around to see who was rushing to enter the bank.

Peter whipped out his Thompson machine gun from under his suit coat. He immediately fired bullets into the ceiling of the bank.

Plaster rained on people in the bank.

Jerome whipped out his Thompson machine gun from under his suit coat and let everybody know that he would instantly kill them if they were a threat.

The woman in line for the teller screamed. The guys froze in fear.

“This is a holdup. Everybody remain calm, and nobody gets hurt,” yelled Dirk while he ran over to the counter with Carl and Jerome.

Peter remained by the front doors with his Thompson machine gun ready to take down any threat. The forty-year-old security guard Matt reached for his 38 Special in his holster.

Peter felt this guard was a threat, so he fired off bullets from his machine gun.

Matt was dead before his body hit the floor.

The females in line screamed again while everybody dropped to the floor.

One of the guys in line peed his pants.

Dirk, Carl, and Jerome ran behind the counter to get the cash from the safe and teller window.

Peter watched over the customers and anybody who entered the bank.

Outside the bank, Clark waited behind the wheel of the Buick. He thought about driving away and leaving the guys to fend for themselves.

He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw four Texarkana police cars racing down the street toward the bank. Each coach had four cops inside, and Clark knew this meant trouble was brewing—massive trouble!

Inside the cop cars, the sixteen cops were excited about their opportunity to take down one of America’s Most Wanted criminals. They knew they would be the talk of Texarkana for years to come.

The second Clark thought about driving away, he looked in the rearview mirror.

He saw the four police cars screeching to a stop, and all doors flew open.

The doors of the bank slammed open.

Gunfire erupted from the four police cars the second the cops saw Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl run out of the bank with guns and machine guns in hand.

Dirk, Jerome, Peter, and Carl returned fire at the threatening cops.

Windows and headlights from the cop cars were shattered, and the cops ducked behind their cars. But two of the cops weren’t that bright, and they dropped dead on the street from bullets from Jerome’s machine gun.

The cops returned fire from their hiding places behind their cars.

Jerome dropped to the sidewalk dead with a couple of bullets through the middle of his chest.

“Fuck!” yelled out Clark while he froze in fear, not knowing what to do.

Clark glanced and only saw Dirk and Carl firing back at the cops. Two more cops who got a little too brave received some bullets in their bodies.

They dropped dead on the street from Peter’s machine gun.

The other cops returned fire from behind their cop cars.

Peter dropped to the sidewalk dead, also with bullets through the middle of his chest.

The front passenger and rear passenger doors of the Buick flung open.

“Get us the fuck out of here!” yelled Dirk while he jumped into the front seat with the bag of loot in hand.

Bullets penetrated the rear of the Buick while Carl got inside the back.

“Get away now!” yelled out Dirk while he leaned out his opened door window and fired off a few rounds at the cops.

Clark stomped on the gas pedal and raced off down the street.

“Fuck! I’m hit,” Carl cried out in pain, slumped down from the backseat.

Clark was scared to death and thought he was going to be killed. But then he remembered the history books and knew he would get away.

Carl cried out in pain again from the backseat while Clark raced the Buick down the street.

“Where you hit?” asked Dirk while he turned around to see if the cops were chasing after him.

“Right arm. It fucking hurts,’” Carl cried out.

“Quit being a fucking baby,” yelled out Dirk when he saw the four cop cars racing off down the street after the Buick with four sirens blaring. He glanced over at Clark. “You better be a good driver and get us the fuck out of here,” he yelled.

Clark didn’t reply while he made a screeching left turn down another street.

In Texas, four Texan Rangers were racing down another country road headed toward Texarkana. They were in the town of Atlanta, Texas, and had just finished chasing down a false lead about a sighting of Dirk Beaumont in that town. It ended up being some guy who idolized Dirk, grew a similar mustache, and had a striking resemblance. Lance Thomas was the lead Ranger on this mission and looked determined to capture the Beaumont gang.

“Where’s Jerome and Peter?” asked Clark, but then he remembered the history books.

“Probably dead on the sidewalk,” said Dirk, then pounded his fist on the dashboard, furious that this heist had gone wrong.

Clark made a screeching right turn down another street.

Dirk turned around and noticed the four cop cars weren’t chasing them.

He felt a little better and believed they would escape. He closed his eyes to relax and let his heart settle down.

Marge started packing and placing their belongings inside the Cadillac at the hideout.

In Texarkana, Clark managed to drive the Buick down Finley Street.

Dirk turned around and glanced back at the rear window.

He heard the faint sound of police sirens, but the four cop cars were not in sight.

Carl lay on the backseat, still in pain from his two bullet wounds.

Surprisingly, with his criminal history, this was the first time Carl had been shot.

Clark continued to race the Buick down Finley Street.

He passed by a slow-moving train heading down the track away from Texarkana.

He smiled at the sight of that beautiful locomotive.

He approached the spot where Dirk and Carl were first arrested in 1935 and looked concerned about how he could repeat history. His eyes lit up with an idea. “Did you hear that?” he said, then moved his ear closer to the dashboard.

“Hear what?” asked Dirk, a little confused by Clark’s question.

“The car engine doesn’t sound right. Something’s wrong.”

Dirk listened to the engine. “It sounds fine,” he replied, then looked at Clark like he was daft.

“A spark plug wire or two came loose. If I don’t stop and fix it, the car will break down, and then the cops will arrest us,”

Clark said.

“What the fuck are you talking about? The car’s running fine,” said Dirk, and he started to get a little nervous.

Clark slammed on the brakes. The Buick started fishtailing all over the road.

“What the fuck are you doing? There’s nothing wrong with the engine,” cried out Dirk while he glanced back and peeked out the rear window. The cops weren’t in sight, but the faint sound of sirens could still be heard. Those sounds made Dirk extremely nervous.

Clark screeched the Buick to a stop. “This will only take a minute,” he said, then opened his driver’s door and hopped out of the car.

“You fucking idiot!” yelled out Dirk. The sound of those four police sirens got louder. Dirk turned around and glanced at the rear window. His eyes widened when he saw the four cop cars racing down the road.

Dirk heard the Buick engine shut down. He didn’t know what was going on while he looked around.

His eyes widened when he saw Clark running away with two spark wires in hand and the engine hood left open.

“Fucking traitor!” he yelled out while he opened his car door and jumped out of the Buick.

The second Dirk’s feet landed on the street, he fired off two shots at Clark while he ran toward the slow-moving train.

The sound of the four police sirens was louder.

Dirk turned around and saw the four cop cars within a threatening distance down the street. “We got fucking trouble, Carl, I need your help,” he yelled out.

Carl painfully opened the rear door and got out of the Buick.

Down the street, the four cop cars screeched to a stop.

The doors flung open, and the twelve cops started firing their machine guns and revolvers at the Buick.

Dirk and Carl returned fire from their Colt 45s. Dirk wished he had the two machine guns, but they were out on the sidewalk with Jerome and Peter.

The twelve cops returned fire from their revolvers and machine guns.

Clark ran to the slow-moving train and jumped into a boxcar that had its cargo door opened.

After he jumped inside the boxcar, he glanced back and watched while the cops riddled the rear of the Buick with bullets.

Carl fired back at the cops, who fired back at him. He dropped to the ground after a bullet hit his right thigh. Carl passed out from the pain of two bullet wounds.

Dirk continued to fire his Colt 45 at the cops, and then all he heard was the click, click sound of an empty magazine.

He reached down and grabbed Carl’s Colt 45 out of his hand. He returned fire at the cops.

The cops returned fire.

A bullet hit Dirk in his left knee.

He dropped to the ground in pain.

Back on the train, Clark was relieved he had managed to escape.

He glanced back and watched as the twelve cops inched their way to the Buick, guns ready.

It was quiet, and he knew Dirk and Carl would be arrested again. He smiled. This wasn’t his original plan, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

He looked ahead for a safe place to jump off the train.

Back at the Buick, Dirk was furious while he watched the twelve cops inch their way. He knew his goose was cooked.

“Fucking traitor!” he yelled out, then placed his arms up in the air so the cops wouldn’t kill him.

While Dirk and Carl were being arrested, Clark jumped off the train when it got near Clara Road.

He tumbled in the grass and then landed on the street face down.

A car blew its horn.

Clark looked and saw a Chevrolet heading east coming straight at him.

“Ahhhh!” he yelled, jumping up to his feet and jumping back to the grass.

The driver looked at Clark, wondering if he was an idiot while he drove past him.

Clark turned around and ran over the train. He ran down Clara Road as fast as he could.

He ran down Eylau Road as fast as he could.

Back at the hideout, Marge stood in the living room by the front screen door.

She eyed the street and driveway for the sighting of the Buick. She smoked a cigarette and started getting worried as Dirk and the guys were a little late.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Marge was worried.

She smoked another cigarette to calm her nerves. Her eyes widened when she saw Clark running up the driveway. She could tell he was in a panic, and her instinct told her something had gone wrong with this heist.

She opened the screen door the second Clark ran onto the porch.

“What happened?” she asked the second Clark ran into the living room.

Clark bent over, gasping for air. “Cops,” he said out of breath.

“What?”

“Cops,” he said, still bent over, gasping for air. “Got Dirk and Carl,” he said between gasps for air.

Marge glanced back at the outside to see if there were any signs of cops. “We have to get out of here,” she said.

Clark’s breathing slowed down, and he started catching his breath. “Right now,” she said, then grabbed Clark by hand.

Clark and Marge ran out of the living room and through the kitchen.

The rear kitchen door slammed open, and Marge and Clark ran out of the house.

“I’ll drive,” she said while they got to the Cadillac.

Marge sat behind the wheel, and Clark sat in the passenger seat. She started the car and drove off toward that small trail in the woods.

“Where should we go?” she asked while she slowly drove the car down the trail through the woods.

Clark thought for a few seconds and knew where he had to go. “Austin. I know a place we can safely hide,” he said while he glanced at her. He thought about taking her back to 2014

but knew it would be awkward for Marge to be so much younger than her son Dudley and about the same age as her granddaughter Kristy.

“Are you sure we can safely hide there?” she asked while she drove the car down that dirt trail.

“Might it be better for you to drop me off there, or you might want to head down to Mexico? You can hide down there for a couple of years until the heat dies down,” he said.

Marge considered his plan. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said, and the trail ended at the other street behind their hideout.

Marge turned the car and left down the dirt road now called Parkwood Street. She was told by Dirk that this road could get them to other routes for an escape path.

Marge headed down that dirt road feeling safe.

Clark’s eyes widened a little as he remembered something.

Something he forgot from reading Dudley’s book.

“Ah, is there another road we can drive on?” he said as he surveyed the area.

“Fuck!” cried out Marge.

“What’s wrong?” asked Clark while he glanced at her.

“Trouble. Big trouble,” she said while she pointed straight ahead.

Clark looked and saw a car blocking the dirt road, with Lance Thomas and the three other Texas Rangers, rifles in hand, waiting for them. This part of the history books didn’t change.

“Look like Texas Rangers,” he said, shaking in fear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” said Marge while she stopped the Cadillac. She didn’t want to gun the engine, knowing that these guys might shoot at the car as those lawmen did to Bonnie and Clyde in Louisiana almost a year ago today.

After she stopped the car, Lance and the three Texan Rangers inched their way to the Cadillac with their rifles aimed.

“Get out of the car with your hands up,” yelled out Lance, who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet into Marge’s head.

Marge and Clark opened their doors and slowly got out with their hands in the air.

Two Texas Rangers carefully approached Marge and Clark while Lance and the other Ranger provided cover.

The two Rangers patted Marge and Clark down for weapons. They were satisfied; these two weren’t a threat. Then they searched for some identification and found their driver’s license.

The one Ranger looked at Clark’s driver’s li, did a double take, and then looked at the other Rangers.

“Don’t Jake Johnson live in Fort Worth?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” replied Lance, wondering why a fellow Ranger would ask that question.

“Because this guy’s license states he’s Jacob Johnson of 1357 Oak Avenue, Fort Worth, Texas,” said the Ranger while he flashed the license to Lance.

“That’s his address,” Lance replied while looking at the license.

“Means this guy must be part of Beaumont’s gang and used a fake license as a cover,” he added while he looked at Clark.

“Let’s take them to the station in Texarkana,” said Lance pissed that a member of Beaumont’s gang would use the fake identity of a fellow Texas Ranger.

They escorted Marge and Clark to the Ranger’s car.

One of the Rangers got behind the wheel of the Cadillac.

The Ranger’s car and Cadillac drove off down the street.

Thirty minutes had passed, and Marge and Clark sat in separate jail cells in the Texarkana police station.

Dirk and Carl were in the Texarkana hospital handcuffed to their hospital beds. Two cops were guarding the room out in the hallway.

The lifeless bodies of Jerome and Peter lay in the morgue.

Police Chief Whitfield got a phone call that the Bureau of Investigation would be sending four agents down to Texarkana to ensure that Dirk and Carl were, in fact, arrested and Jerome and Peter were dead. Plus, they wanted to question Marge and Clark or, instead, Jake Johnson, as was stated on what they believed to be a fake driver’s license. The Bureau also wanted to know if this was the work of Roscoe Thomas.

It was now nine-thirty that evening.

Wallace had paid his bill at the Austin Motor Court.

He walked off down the street.

It was now ten forty-five that evening.

Wallace walked down RD 4 and came upon the driveway of his farmhouse.

He felt the coast was clear, so he gingerly walked down the dirt driveway.

When he reached the end of the driveway, he noticed the house was dark and quiet. He figured everybody was sound asleep.

He gingerly rushed through the yard and headed off to the barn. Wallace rushed over to the side door of the barn. He glanced back at the farmhouse, and it was still dark and quiet.

He opened the side door of the barn.

Wallace quietly slipped inside the barn and closed the side door behind him.

“Clark,” he quietly called out to the dark barn. Nobody responded. “Clark,” he softly called out again. Nobody answered. “Idiot,” he said, knowing that Clark was still out there in 1935.

The inside of that room suddenly was filled with that humming sound.

That sound got louder and more piercing, and Wallace covered his ears.

Millions of tiny pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights appeared racing all over the place.

The colored lights converged into one spot in the air. The time machine reappeared in a poof.

It whirled at a hypersonic speed three feet above the ground.

The spinning of the time machine slowed down.

The bottom part of the machine is locked into a stationary position. The four landing legs extended out of the machine, and it settled down to the ground.

The humming sound started to get softer.

The spinning of the machine slowed down and stopped.

The time machine was again quiet.

Wallace opened the side door of the barn and peeked outside to see Clark. He only saw lights that turned on inside Victor’s house. He knew that could be trouble, so he closed the door.

Wallace rushed over and opened the canopy and side doors.

He got inside the machine, sat on the bench seat, and buckled up.

He reached up and grabbed a handle on the bottom of the canopy. He pulled it down and closed the canopy and the side doors with a whish.

Wallace went through the process and dialed in the “Drop-Off ” panel on September 27, 2014, 0700 in the “Drop-Off ”

panel.

He flipped the last toggle switch after seeing all the lights were green.

The engine started to hum.

The humming got louder and was ear-piercing. Wallace used his hands to cover his ears while he cringed in extreme pain.

The time machine started slowly spinning, where part of the bottom connected to the landing legs stayed stationary.

The spinning started to get faster.

Wallace saw psychedelic colors fill the glass of the time machine.

Wallace started to get dizzy inside the time machine while he spun around faster.

The time machine started to spin at hypersonic speed.

The time machine rose up off the ground by three feet.

The landing legs retracted into the bottom of the machine.

The time machine whirled around at hypersonic speed three feet off the ground.

The time machine disappeared in a poof, raining a million pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights everywhere.

The colored lights dissolved into thin air.

Victor cautiously opened up the side door of the barn. He stuck the double barrels of his Remington shotgun into the barn. “Whoever is in there better come on out. Or, I’ll blast you full of lead,” yelled out Victor in a threading tone.

The barn was quiet for a few seconds.

“Last chance,” Victor yelled out.

The barn was still quiet.

Victor cautiously stepped inside the barn and started to look for any intruders. He had his finger on one of the triggers, ready to protect his family.

He cautiously walked around and checked out the barn.

He left ten minutes later, satisfied the barn was empty of intruders.

He returned to his house, scratching his head over this mysterious noise from his barn.

At the Texarkana police department, Clark sat on a bunk in a jail cell.

He was scared he would meet an early death.

In the cell next to his cell sat Marge. She wasn’t as scared as she knew Dirk would testify that Marge wasn’t part of any of the heists.

Over at the hospital, Dirk still lay handcuffed to his hospital bed. He learned that that gas attendant wasn’t killed or wounded. Dirk realized Clark lied about that fact. He was furious when he was notified that Jake told the cops that Dirk had killed Buford Sanders at his Moonshine still in Arkansas.

Dirk swore that if he could escape, he would hunt Jake Johnson down like the dog and kill him.

Chapter 13

It was back to Saturday, September 27th, 2014, at seven in the morning.

The inside of Wallace’s barn was quiet.

The inside of that room was suddenly filled with that humming sound.

That sound got louder and ear-piercing, but nobody was around to be in pain.

Millions of tiny pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights appeared racing all over the place.

The colored lights converged into one spot in the air. The time machine reappeared in a poof.

It whirled at a hypersonic speed three feet above the ground.

The spinning of the time machine slowed down.

The bottom part of the machine is locked into a stationary position. The four landing legs extended out of the machine, and it settled down to the ground.

The humming sound started to get softer.

The spinning of the machine slowed down and stopped.

The time machine was again quiet.

The canopy and side doors opened up, and Wallace got out. He closed the canopy and doors.

He walked away from his machine, then turned around and glanced back at it.

“Where the hell is he?” he asked himself about Clark.

He pondered if he should return to 1935 and search for his nephew. Then he wondered if Clark found that life in 1935 was precisely what he wanted. After all, he was obsessed with that era. He left his room and locked the door.

He walked over to the side door, unlocked it, and stepped outside.

Once outside, he locked the side door and headed back to his house.

Once Wallace returned home, his curiosity got the best of him, and he headed to his study.

Wallace powered up his iMac computer.

He paced back and forth while he waited. The second it was ready, Wallace sat at his computer desk and opened the Internet. He typed in a search for Clark Burrows on Yahoo.

He waited for the results.

The results appeared, and he knew nothing about the Clark Burrows.

“Damn,” he said while he tried to figure out what to search for next. His eyes widened with a possible solution.

He typed in Dirk Beaumont in the search block. Tons of results appeared for him. He opened the Wikipedia result for him. He read the information about Dirk and his gang.

Nothing was there about Clark.

He saw a listing of Dirk’s gang members. He clicked on a link for Margret “Marge” Levitt and read about her life and death.

He clicked on a link for Peter Harrison and read about his life and death.

He clicked on a link for Carl Sommers and read about his life and death.

He clicked on a link for Jerome Falk and read about this life and death.

Then he saw a link for the “Unknown Mysterious Member.” He thought that was odd because he knew little about the Dirk Beaumont gang and had never heard of an unknown member.

Then his eyes widened when he had a strong hunch. “I bet ya,” he said, then clicked on the Unknown Mysterious Member link. “Figures,” he said the second the information about this unknown member appeared, and he saw the 1935 mugshot for this member. It was Clark and taken on May 23rd, 1935.

Idiot!” fumed Wallace while he stared at Clark’s scared eyes in the old black and white photo.

“The identity of the unknown mysterious member of Dirk Beaumont’s gang was never determined. He was arrested on May 22nd, nineteen thirty-five after the Beaumont gang had a shootout after robbing the Texarkana First National Bank in Texarkana. This member had a fake driver’s license for a Texas Ranger named Jacob “Jake” Johnson from Forth Worth. Dirk Beaumont testified that this unknown member had been a member of his gang for a year and killed five police officers during their heists. Even though this guy never gave his real name, he was executed on Monday, March 9, nineteen thirty-six,” Wallace read from the Wikipedia article.

He clicked on a picture that showed Clark dead at a morgue in Dallas.

“Idiot!” cried out Wallace, and then he stood up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot,” he fumed while he paced back and forth.

Wallace’s eyes widened with an idea. He sat back at the computer and researched the events surrounding Dirk Beaumont’s and his gang’s arrest.

After an hour of researching the Internet, Wallace knew how to rescue his nephew. It was a risky plan, but he had to protect his idiot nephew from a premature death before his birth.

He looked at the time on the computer. “Too early,” he said, then left his study.

Wallace went into the kitchen, where he made a pot of coffee.

After making the coffee, he drank four cups while pondering his plan to rescue Clark from being executed.

It was now ten in the morning.

Wallace rushed back to his study and grabbed his cell phone, which was on top of his computer desk. He made another search on the Internet and punched in a phone number on his cell phone.

He paced while the other end of his call rang. “Melvin’s Antique Emporium,” answered Melvin.

“Yes, I’m looking for something unique and wondering if you have one in stock,” said Wallace.

“I’ll be happy to search our inventory,” said the male sales clerk.

Wallace paced while he told the clerk what he was looking for, then paced while the clerk checked their inventory.

Five minutes had passed, and Wallace was done with his phone call. He shoved his cell phone in his pants pocket, rushed out of his study, out of his house, and headed to his Cadillac.

He got inside his car and started it up, fishtailed in the grass while he raced to his driveway.

After he raced his car down his driveway, he fishtailed onto Maple Road.

A Chevy Impala screeched its tires, and the driver blew his horn, furious that Wallace’s Cadillac almost smacked his car.

Wallace raced his car down Maple Road and could care less he pissed off another driver.

A couple hours had passed, and Wallace was inside Melvin’s Antique Emporium.

He walked up to a counter where Melvin, the store owner, worked.

“May I help you?” asked Melvin, the second Wallace walked up to his counter.

“Yes, I called earlier. Doctor Wallace Burns,” he said.

“Ah, yes, I was the one you talked with. I have what you wanted right here,” said Melvin. Then he reached under the counter and removed an old Bureau of Investigations badge.

Wallace looked at the badge, which looked a little tarnished.

“That’ll do just fine,” he said, then removed his wallet.

“Is there anything else you need?” asked Melvin.

Wallace thought about his question for a few seconds. “An old pistol shoulder holster,” he said.

Melvin glanced around the store, wondering where they might have one.

His eyes lit up when he remembered seeing one the other day. “I believe we have one. I’ll be right back,” he said, then walked out from behind the counter.

Wallace waited while Melvin walked over to another area of the store.

A few seconds later, Melvin returned with an old leather shoulder harness.

“We believe this once belonged to a Texas Ranger back in the nineteen-thirties,” said Melvin while he showed Wallace the holster.

Wallace checked out the holster and saw that the “JJ”

initials were burned on the back. “I’ll take it,” he said, then handed it back to Melvin, not knowing that the holster once belonged to Texas Ranger Jacob Johnson.

After Melvin rang the bill, Wallace paid with his credit card and left the store.

But before Wallace returned to Austin, he stopped at a Men’s store.

He bought a new black suit and a black Fedora hat.

He left the store and left Dallas.

A couple of hours later, Wallace was back at his home.

After he got dressed in his new black suit and wore his Fedora hat, he went into his study.

He wore his leather holster and pinned the badge on his white dress shirt.

He felt something important was missing. He tried to think of what it was, and then his eyes widened when he remembered.

He rushed over to the closet in his study.

He opened the closet door and reached the top shelf. He removed a box and opened it up, then removed a 38 Special revolver. He opened the barrel and saw it was void of bullets.

He was glad, then shoved the revolver into the holster.

Wallace started pacing around his study, practicing his plan out loud.

An hour passed, and Wallace felt he was ready. He was extremely nervous and scared he would end up in jail. But he thought it was his duty to save his idiot nephew.

Wallace grabbed his wallet off his dresser and shoved it into his pants pocket. He rushed out of his bedroom.

After Wallace locked up his house, he rushed to his barn.

He felt like a 1930s G-man.

He unlocked his side door and rushed inside the barn, locked the side door from the inside.

He rushed to his room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Wallace rushed over and opened the canopy to his time machine.

He got inside the machine, sat down on the bench seat, and buckled up.

He reached up and grabbed a handle on the bottom of the canopy, pulled it down, and closed the canopy and the small doors simultaneously with a whish.

Wallace began his process of activating the time machine.

He had dialed in on May 23rd, 1935, 0400 in the “Drop-Off ” panel.

He dialed in May 23rd, 1935, 2345 in that “Pick-Up panel.

Wallace finished the rest of his process by configuring the time machine. All the lights were green.

The engine in the rear started up with a whine, then started to hum.

The humming got louder and was ear-piercing. Wallace used his hands to cover his ears while he cringed in extreme pain. He forgot his earplugs again.

The time machine started to spin slowly, but part of the bottom that connected to the landing legs stayed stationary.

The spinning started to get faster.

Wallace got dizzy inside the time machine while he spun around faster.

The time machine started to spin at hypersonic speeds.

Wallace saw psychedelic colors fill the glass of the time machine.

The time machine rose up off the ground by three inches.

The landing legs retracted into the bottom of the machine.

The time machine whirled around at hypersonic speed three feet off the ground.

Wallace passed out and slumped down in the seat.

The time machine disappeared in a poof, raining a million pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights everywhere.

The colored lights dissolved into thin air.

It was back in Victor’s barn again at four in the morning on May 23rd, 1935.

The inside of the barn suddenly was filled with that humming sound.

That sound got louder and ear-piercing, but nobody was around to be in pain.

Millions of tiny pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights appeared racing all over the place.

The colored lights converged into one spot in the air. The time machine reappeared in a poof.

It whirled at a hypersonic speed three feet above the ground.

The spinning of the time machine slowed down.

The bottom part of the machine is locked into a stationary position. The four landing legs extended out of the machine, and it settled down to the ground.

The humming sound started to get softer.

The spinning of the machine slowed down and stopped.

The time machine was again quiet.

Wallace opened the canopy and side doors of the machine and got out.

He closed the canopy and side doors, then rushed to the barn’s side door.

He turned around and looked at his time machine.

The time machine started to hum.

The humming got louder and was again ear-piercing, causing Wallace to cover his ears.

The time machine started slowly spinning, and the landing legs stayed stationary.

The spinning started to get faster.

The time machine started to spin at hypersonic speed.

Wallace stared in awe while psychedelic colors filled the canopy of the time machine.

The time machine rose three feet off the ground. The landing legs retracted into the bottom of the machine.

The time machine whirled around at hypersonic speed three feet off the ground.

Wallace watched his time machine disappear in a poof, raining a million pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights everywhere.

The colored lights dissolved into thin air.

Wallace carefully opened up the side door to the barn. He cautiously poked his head outside and looked at the house.

The house was dark and quiet, so he stepped outside into the morning.

He walked over to Victor’s pickup truck parked by the side of the barn.

He stood by the pickup and pondered if he should take it.

But then he saw a light come on in Victor’s bedroom upstairs.

He rushed away through the grass and headed to the driveway.

Wallace walked down the dark RD 4 and headed toward Austin.

A little while later that morning, Wallace walked up to the University of Texas entrance. The campus looked dark since it was only six a.m.

He got curious and headed off through the entrance of the university.

He walked through the campus and entered the Physics Department building.

As soon as he got inside that building, he made a beeline to Dr. Evans’s office.

He knocked on the door. Nobody answered. He waited in the hallway.

Thirty minutes passed.

Wallace heard footsteps coming down the quiet hallway.

He looked and saw Dr. Evans with his leather case in hand.

“Doctor Burns, you’re a bit early,” said Dr. Evans as he approached his office.

“I know, listen, I need a huge favor,” asked Wallace.

Dr. Evans looked at Wallace. “You’re dressed differently today. You look like some type of government agent,” said Dr.

Evans while he shoved his key into his office door.

Wallace liked that comment as he knew his plan might have a chance. “I know. I decided to try a new look,” he replied while Dr. Evans unlocked his office door.

“What’s the favor?” Dr. Evans asked while he stepped inside his office.

Wallace stepped inside the office and wondered if he should ask. He hesitated for a few seconds. “I need to get something up in Texarkana. Something extremely important, so that I need transportation,” he blurted out.

“Transportation? Why do you need up in Texarkana?

That’s over three hundred miles to the northeast,” asked Dr.

Evans while he sat behind his desk and placed his attache on top of the desk.

“Ah,” Wallace replied, then he felt caught and thought hard for a viable excuse. “Ah, I have some belongings up at my sister’s place. I need them. You know, clothes and other personal belongings. Oh yeah, all my notes from my physics research projects and my physics books. Will you help me with teaching more advanced physics classes?”

“What about your class today?”

“I was hoping you could cover for me,” replied Wallace, then he paused.

“I’ll bring it back full of gas,” Wallace promised with pleading eyes.

Dr. Evans thought about Wallace’s request for a few seconds. “I would love to read your notes on your research,” he said. “You can look at them tomorrow. I promise!”

Dr. Evans reached inside his pants pocket and removed his car keys. He handed them to Wallace. “It’s the Chevrolet parked behind the building.”

“Thanks,” Wallace said, and then he rushed out of the office before Dr. Evans changed his mind.

Wallace ran down the hallway, almost tripping over his own two feet occasionally.

Once he reached the rear of the Physics Department building, he saw a lone 1933 Chevrolet sedan parked in the facility’s parking lot.

He rushed over to it, got inside, and started it up. He drove off through the lot.

After Wallace left the university, he stopped at a Phillips 66

gas station and filled the car with gas.

The attendant put six gallons in the tank, which cost one dollar and fifteen cents.

The attendant wasn’t very observant and didn’t notice that Wallace paid with dollar bills dated 2013 and 2014. He just shoved them in the cash register.

Wallace drove off and headed north out of Austin.

Up in the Texarkana Police Department, Clark was fed breakfast: two eggs, two slices of bacon, and a cup of coffee.

Marge was served the same at the cell next to his cell.

They remained quiet all morning while they pondered their fates. It was now two in the afternoon.

At the Texarkana Police Department, Clark and Marge were in their bunks in their cells.

“Jake,” called out Marge while she got off her bunk and then walked over to the bars of her cell.

“Yeah,” Clark replied. Then he got off his bunk and walked over to the bars of his cell.

“I wanted you to know that if things were different, and if I met you before I met Dirk, well, let’s just say that maybe we could have settled down without life on the run,” she said and sounded sincere.

Clark thought about her confession for a few seconds. “I would have loved that,” he said, wishing Marge had been born in the eighties.

He walked back and sat on his bunk.

“I can only give you love that can last forever,” he heard Marge softly sing from her cell.

His eyes welled up while he lay down on his bunk and stared at the ceiling.

Up at the front office sat a nineteen-year-old rookie cop named George Jenson.

The other experienced cops were out and about town, leaving George on watch duty for their two prisoners.

The door of the station opened, and they entered Wallace, looking serious. His Fedora hat was cocked to give him that tough-guy appearance.

He strutted up to the desk where George sat bored to death.

“May I help you?” asked George.

Wallace glared at George, then opened his suit jacket to show off his badge. “Special agent Wallace Burns with the Bureau of Investigation. I’m here to take one of your prisoners over to Dallas for some serious interrogation. He used the fake name of Jacob Johnson and ran with the Dirk Beaumont gang,”

he said, sounding like a G-man.

“Ah, I don’t know,” said George, a little unsure of what to do as he wasn’t briefed. Besides, Wallace looked a little puny for a G-man.

“Listen, boy,” said Wallace, attempting to sound mean.

“That prisoner is a suspect in the murders of cops.

The Bureau needs to interrogate him. Now, if your kin were killed by a murderer, wouldn’t you want the Bureau to question him?”

“I guess,” replied George.

“If you release him to me, I’ll make sure the Bureau knows.

I mean J Edgar Hoover. And you never know; he might have a job for you.”

George looked at Wallace and saw that he was serious. “J

Edgar Hoover will know about me? And maybe give me a job?”

“Yes. You can be an agent with the Bureau of Investigation. You can be out there catching the criminals like John Dillinger, Dirk Beaumont, and others,” replied Wallace.

George thought that would be a dream come true since he read about the adventures of the Bureau of Investigation in detective magazines.

“Okay. I heard the Bureau was coming, but not until later,”

said George.

“I got here early. Now hurry up.”

George opened the middle desk drawer and pulled out a form to release a prisoner. “Fill this out,” he said, then handed the form to Wallace with a pencil.

Wallace rushed to fill out the form, fearful that other police officers would soon enter the station and ask questions he might not be able to answer. When he signed it, he unknowingly signed it as Dr. Wallace Burns of Austin, Texas.

He returned the form to George, who placed it in a basket containing paperwork for the chief.

George got up from his desk and walked Wallace back to where they had three jail cells.

When Wallace walked to the jail cells, he saw Marge sitting in her cell.

He stopped and glanced at her.

“Gorgeous!” he thought when he saw her sitting on her bunk.

George walked Wallace to Clark’s jail cell.

Clark glanced up and saw Wallace. He didn’t recognize him. “You have the Bureau of Investigation here to take you away for interrogation,” said George. At the same time, he unlocked and opened Clark’s jail cell door.

“Get your ass up,” said Wallace with another attempt to sound mean.

Clark stood up and feared the worst. Then, it dawned on him when he recognized that voice. He got a better look and noticed that the guy under the hat was his Uncle Wallace.

Wallace discreetly gave Clark a wink while he grabbed Clark by his arm.

“Don’t think you can run away.

I have two other agents out there who hesitate to put a bullet in your back. Let’s go, you piece of shit,” he said, then walked Clark away.

When they walked past Marge’s jail cell, she stood at her bars and watched while Clark was being taken away. Her eyes welled up while she walked back to her bunk. She knew she would never see Clark again.

Wallace escorted Clark out of the police station. Once they got out of the station, Wallace placed Clark is in the passenger side of the front seat.

George watched from a station window. Wallace rushed over and got behind the wheel. He started the car, then drove away and headed down the street.

After a few seconds of silence down the road, Wallace glanced at Clark.

“You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled.

Clark hung his head down and felt stupid. “I wasn’t,” he said. “When I returned home, I saw on the Internet that you were executed in thirty-six for being a killer. Sounds like that Dirk Beaumont pinned you for some cop murders.”

Clark felt like such a big sucker. “I’m so sorry, uncle,” he said. “You will NEVER, and I mean NEVER, sit in my time machine again,” Wallace said in a raised voice.

“I won’t. I had my fill of time traveling.”

Wallace pulled the Chevrolet into an ESSO gas station.

The attendant rushed over and started to fill up the tank.

After Wallace opened his wallet, he paid the attendant with some one-dollar bills dated 2012 and 2013, and he drove the Chevrolet away.

While Wallace drove away down the street, a black Ford sedan parked in front of the Texarkana Police Department.

Two men in black suits exited the Ford and entered the station.

Once the two guys entered the station, they walked up to George, who looked proud that he helped out the Bureau of Investigation.

“Agent Thomas Fuller from the Bureau of Investigation,”

he said while he flashed his shiny badge at George.

“I’m Agent Richard Adams,” he said while he flashed his shiny badge at George.

“We’re here to talk with that unknown guy who ran with the Dirk Beaumont gang,” said Thomas. George looked baffled and speechless. “Ah, another one of your agents just left here with that prisoner,” he said.

“What?” asked Thomas, a little confused.

George snatched the form out of the basket and glanced at it. “A Doctor Wallace Burns from Austin took the prisoner away,” said George, then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Thomas looked at George in disbelief. “You idiot! You let that prisoner escape!” he barked.

“When did they leave?”

“Just a little while ago,” said George, feeling like the biggest goof. “In a Chevrolet,” he said.

“Which direction?” asked Thomas.

The desk phone rang, and George asked the two agents to wait. Thomas was ready to blow a fuse while George answered the phone. If it was possible, steam would be coming out of his ears right now.

Albert at the ESSO gas station told George about a guy in a Chevrolet using counterfeit dollar bills a few minutes ago.

George hung up the phone with a smile. “Albert at the ESSO gas station just called. He said a guy in a Chevrolet with another guy just used counterfeit dollar bills at his station. They

drove away and headed south,” he said, hoping that would smooth out things.

Thomas and Richard ran to the door and left the station.

George smacked his forehead a few times for being so stupid. He was going to hate telling the chief what just happened. He hated Chief Whitfield’s yelling and screaming when he screwed up.

It was a long and quiet drive south down all the country roads to Austin.

But Wallace and Clark didn’t know that the Ford with the two Bureau of Investigation agents was racing after them.

Also, while the two agents stopped off for gas, they called the Chief of Police in Austin to inform him that a fugitive from the Dirk Beaumont gang was heading down to Austin. He was being taken there by a fake FBI agent.

While Wallace and Clark were two hours away from Austin, the Austin Chief of Police started setting up roadblocks for traffic coming from the north.

It was now eleven ten that night.

The town of Austin was quiet.

The cops had roadblocks for traffic entering their town from the north.

Wallace drove the Chevrolet with Clark dozing off in the passenger seat.

“Crap,” said Wallace the second he saw the two cops cars nose to nose across the road up ahead.

He reached over and nudged Clark while he stopped the car in the street.

“Are we there?” asked Clark when he opened his eyes.

“No, the cops have the road blocked up ahead, and I would say they’re waiting for us,” Wallace said while he pointed straight ahead.

Clark saw the two cop cars and four cops waiting inside them.

“What do we do?” Wallace asked, looking at his watch.

We’re running out of time and could miss the machine. I don’t want to go to prison,” he said, scared.

“There’s only one thing to do. Let me drive,” said Clark.

Wallace and Clark switched positions.

“Get ready, uncle,” said Clark the second he stomped on the gas pedal.

The four cops in the cop cars saw the Chevrolet racing straight at them.

They jumped out of the cars with their revolvers drawn.

Clark raced the Chevrolet at the cop cars with the pedal to the metal.

The four cops dove for cover when they realized the Chevrolet wouldn’t stop.

They hit the dirt the second the Chevrolet smashed through the parked cop cars.

Inside the Chevrolet, Wallace had his eyes closed and then opened them.

“We made it!” yelled out Clark, proud of himself.

The rear window of the Chevrolet was shattered when the cops started firing their revolvers at the car.

While Clark raced the car down the road, more bullets penetrated the rear end.

“Doctor Evans is going to be pissed,” said Wallace regretting using the professor’s car. But he had no choice.

Clark raced the Chevrolet down the road.

Clark made it safely throughout the town of Austin.

He got to RD 4, believing it was clear sailing ahead.

But then another Austin cop car made a screeching right turn onto the road with its siren blaring.

More bullets penetrated the rear of the Chevrolet while Clark raced down RD 4.

Then, all of a sudden, when they were a quarter of a mile from Victor’s farm, the Chevrolet started slowing down, and the engine started jerking.

“Crap!” yelled out Clark.

The engine of the Chevrolet shut down, and the car rolled to a stop.

The cop car siren was heard getting louder.

Clark and Wallace got out of the car and ran down the road. The cop car siren was louder.

Clark and Wallace ran into the darkness and headed to Victor’s farm.

Wallace and Clark ran down the dirt driveway of Victor’s farm.

The cop car siren was louder and closer.

They slipped through the barn’s side door while a cop car raced down the dirt driveway of Victor’s farmhouse.

Wallace ran over to his time machine and pressed a small button on the port side of the machine.

Clark ran over to the starboard side of the machine and immediately pulled up on the handle.

The canopy flipped up, and the small doors opened on the side of the machine.

Wallace rushed inside the time machine.

Clark rushed inside the machine and buckled up while Wallace buckled up.

Wallace reached up and grabbed a handle on the bottom of the canopy. He pulled it down and, with a whish, closed the canopy and the small door simultaneously.

Clark sighed in relief, knowing he was saved from possible execution.

Wallace started his process to activate his time machine.

Wallace dialed in September 27th, 2014, 2030, in the

“Drop-Off ” panel.

Wallace went through the rest of the process. All the lights were green.

The engine in the rear started up with a whine. The engine started to hum.

Clark and Wallace covered their ears with their hands and cringed in extreme pain.

The time machine started to spin slowly, but part of the bottom that connected to the landing legs stayed stationary.

The side door of the barn slammed open, and four Austin cops entered with their revolvers drawn, ready to shoot the bad guys. They stopped in their tracks the second they saw the time machine whirling around three feet above the ground at hypersonic speeds. They were baffled by the sight of blurred psychedelic colors.

Inside the time machine, Wallace got dizzy while he spun around faster.

Clark also started to get dizzy. He silently prayed that he wouldn’t vomit all over the machine.

The four cops inched backward and pressed their backs against the barn wall, scared of what they witnessed with this strange machine.

Inside the time machine, Wallace saw psychedelic colors fill the glass of the machine.

Clark saw the psychedelic colors and thought it a refreshing sight to see again.

It was a welcoming site, knowing freedom was just around the corner.

Wallace passed out and slumped down in the seat, and Clark also passed out and slumped down in the seat. Over by the barn’s side door, the four cops watched in disbelief while the time machine disappeared in a poof.

They hit the deck when it began raining a million pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights everywhere.

The colored lights dissolved into thin air.

The cops stood up.

“What the hell was that?” said one of the cops when they saw the bare spot where that strange machine once stood.

“How do we explain this?” asked another cop as he walked over and around the spot where the time machine once stood.

“We don’t. If we do, they’ll think we’re loony and lock us up for the rest of our lives,” another cop said.

The other three cops nodded in agreement.

“Come on out before I blow a hole inside your body,”

Victor yelled out from the outside of the barn.

“It’s the Austin police,” yelled back one of the cops.

Victor cautiously entered his barn with his shotgun ready to fire. He aimed the barrel at the ground the second he saw the four cops. “Why are you in my barn?”

“We were chasing two fugitives from Texarkana. But they got away,” said one of the cops.

“Oh,” said Victor.

The four cops looked at each other and nodded. What had happened here would go with them to their graves.

Victor and the four cops left the barn, still wondering why strange noises kept coming from his barn.

Victor returned to his house while the four cops returned to their car to tell their chief that the two fugitives had escaped.

Later that night, Bureau of Investigation Agents Thomas and Richard learned from the Chief of Police in Austin that the two fugitives from Texarkana got away. They were furious.

It was back to September 27th, 2014, at eight-thirty in the evening.

Wallace became conscious. He noticed that the time machine was quiet except for the low hum that indicated it was still powered up. He knew he was back home.

Clark became conscious. He looked around in a daze and wondered where he was and what had happened. Except for the console’s lights, the time machine was dark inside. He noticed that it was dark outside the time machine and knew they were back home.

Wallace pressed a button on the left side of the machine.

The small side doors opened at the same time the canopy lifted up. Wallace got out of his time machine.

Clark got out of the time machine.

Wallace and Clark walked over to the door of the room.

Before they left, Wallace and Clark glanced back at this time machine.

Wallace had a plan for that machine. It was a plan he would start tomorrow.

Clark suddenly thought of returning to the night before Dirk first met Marge to see if he could sweep her off her feet.

He figured he could earn a living working at Chamberlain Cadillac in 1935.

Wallace and Clark had a sudden memory that mysteriously popped into their heads. They recalled hearing the family story about strange noises from the barn many years ago. They knew the source of that noise.

Wallace and Clark left the barn and headed back to the house. Wallace needed to remember his regular routine of locking the doors behind him.

They were exhausted, and Clark fell asleep on the couch while Wallace went to bed. He didn’t feel like driving home.

Chapter 14

It was now nine that Sunday morning on September 28th, 2014.

Clark slept in his suit pants and white shirt on Wallace’s living room couch. His Fedora hat, suit coat, tie, and shoes were piled on the floor.

Clark woke up looking confused and dazed. He didn’t know what year he was in at that moment and feared the worst.

Clark jumped off the couch and ran over to the living room windows. He peeked through the curtains, worried the Austin police would be outside surrounding the house. He sighed a sigh of relief the second he saw his hot rod pickup truck parked next to Wallace’s Cadillac. “I’m safe!” he smiled.

Clark paced around the living room for a few seconds. He glanced over at the stairs and then decided to let Wallace sleep.

He walked out of the living room and headed to his kitchen.

He grabbed his pickup truck keys off the key rack. He left them there for his travel back to 1935.

Clark rushed back through the living room and slipped on his shoes. He grabbed his tie, suit coat, and Fedora hat.

He rushed to the front door and went outside to the porch.

Once he got off the porch, he rushed over to his hot rod.

He got inside and started the engine with a light roar.

He backed up his hot rod and then drove off to the driveway.

At the end of the driveway, he turned right and headed down Maple Road back into town.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and Wallace woke up. After he brushed his teeth, he went downstairs. “Clark,” he called out when he reached the bottom of the stairs. The house was quiet.

He went inside the living room and saw the couch was void of Clark. That was where he last saw him last night.

“Clark,” he called out. The house was quiet.

He went into the kitchen and saw Clark wasn’t eating breakfast.

Then it dawned on him, and he feared the worst.

“He better not have,” he cried out, then made a beeline for the kitchen door.

After Wallace rushed outside, he ran to his barn as fast as he could.

He noticed that the side door to the barn was unlocked.

“Crap,” he said when he realized that he forgot to lock it last night.

He opened the side door and rushed into the barn.

Once he got in the barn, he rushed over to that room. He noticed that the door was unlocked. He opened it and rushed into the room.

Once he entered the room, he noticed the time machine was still there.

He peeked in the canopy and saw that the Drop- Off and Pick-Up dates were the same as last night.

He walked around and felt the rear of the time machine. It was cold to the touch, so he knew Clark had yet to travel back to 1935.

He left the room and locked the door. He left the barn and locked the side door. While he headed back to his house, he remembered Dr. Evans’ Chevrolet and how it got ruined by the cops shooting at it. He felt ashamed of himself and wanted to figure out how to pay Dr. Evans back.

Then he noticed Clark’s hot rod was gone when he returned to his house.

He realized that Clark had gone back to his home.

Back at Clark’s home, he immediately rushed into his bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror and eyed his pencil-thin mustache.

He opened the medicine cabinet and removed his can of shaving cream.

He lathered up his face above his lip and shaved his face, including his mustache.

He looked at his hair in the mirror and frowned, then rushed out of his bathroom and into his bedroom.

Clark undressed down to his T-shirt and boxers, then picked up his pants, suit coat, Fedora hat, and tie.

He walked out of his bedroom and headed into his kitchen.

He went over and opened up the cabinet under the sink.

He shoved his suit coat, pants, shirt, tie, and Fedora hat into his trash can.

He removed the plastic trash bag and tied it shut.

Clark then dumped the trash bag in the trash can in his garage.

He went back into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.

He sat at his small kitchen table and considered returning to 1935 as a member of Dirk Beaumont’s gang. He started to get curious.

After the coffee was brewing, Clark entered his den with a cup. He sat down at his computer desk and powered up his computer.

He drank his coffee while he waited for the computer to run through its long power-up process.

The second the computer was ready, Clark brought up Yahoo and typed in a search for Dirk Beaumont.

His heart raced while the results of his search appeared on the monitor.

He typed on a “History and Timeline of the Dirk Beaumont Gang” link.

His heart raced in anticipation of what he might find.

The website “History and Timeline of the Dirk Beaumont Gang” appeared.

Clark started to read the site.

He clicked on the link for Jerome Falk. And read that Jerome was killed during the shootout after robbing the Texarkana bank on May 22nd, 1935. Nothing had changed from the history books.

He clicked on the link for Peter Harrison and read where Peter was killed during that shootout on May 22nd, 1935.

Nothing had changed from the history books.

He clicked on the link for Carl Sommers and read where Carl was arrested on May 22nd, 1935, after the Texarkana bank robbery. He further read that Carl was executed on June 28th, 1936. Nothing had changed from the history books.

He got a little nervous and clicked on the link for Dirk Beaumont. His heart raced again while he waited for that area of the site to appear.

He read how Dirk was arrested on May 22nd, 1935, after the Texarkana bank robbery.

He noticed how Dirk escaped and died in 1940, just like the history books stated.

The significant change was that Dirk was credited for killing Buford Sanders. Clark was glad history was updated with that truth.

His heart raced when he saw the link for Marge. He clicked on her link and noticed that her history hadn’t changed.

He started to miss Marge when he saw her black and white mug shot of her the day she was arrested with him.

He saw the “Unknown Mysterious Member” link and knew it was about him.

His heart raced while the contents of that part of the site appeared.

“The Dirk Beaumont had a mysterious member that appeared during the last year the gang ran from the law,” he read, then paused. “What bullshit,” he said, then glanced back at the article.

“This unknown mysterious member’s career ended on May 22nd, nineteen thirty-five, when he and Margret Levitt were arrested by the Texas Rangers while running away from the Beaumont gang’s hideout. The law officials suspected Dirk had a female member of his gang but could never get her identity until that day,” he read from the website and then recalled that it was even taking place yesterday in his mind.

Clark took a drink of some more coffee.

“The unknown member was sprung from the Texarkana jail by a Doctor Wallace Burns posing as a fake agent of the Bureau of Investigation,” Clark read.

“Doctor Wallace Burns? How did they know his real name?” said Clark, and he got curious.

He clicked on a link titled “Release Form” and saw a scanned copy of the form Wallace had signed. His eyes widened when he noticed his uncle signed the form as Dr.

Wallace Burns of Austin, Texas. “No wonder they knew his real name and that we were heading to Austin. Uncle, you’re a goof,” he said but was still proud of his goof of an uncle for saving his life. He was glad he didn’t experience all that electricity frying the insides of his body.

Clark took another drink of his coffee and continued to read the site.

“Gas station owners from Texarkana to Austin called their local police departments on a man using counterfeit money with dates from the future,” Clark read. Then he chuckled that Wallace overlooked one minor detail for his jailbreak. He took another drink of his coffee and then went back to the website.

“The Austin police tried to arrest the unknown member and Mr. Burns in their town later that night, but the two were able to escape into the night. Extensive searches by the Bureau of Investigation lead to dead ends, except that Dr. Burns did work as a Physics instructor at the University of Texas. The search for Mr. Burns, and the unknown mysterious Beaumont gang member remained a cold case for years to come. Their whereabouts or demise may never be known,” Clark smirked.

He clicked on the “Unknown Mysterious Member Mugshot” link and saw his mugshot from May 1935. Clark stared at it, and nobody would ever connect him as being that unknown member of the Dirk Beaumont. He now regretted being placed in the history books as an outlaw.

Clark got up from his computer table and walked out of his den with his coffee cup in hand.

He went into the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee.

While Clark was drinking his second cup of coffee, Wallace was back at his house feeling guilty for getting Dr. Evans’

Chevrolet shot up. He wondered how he could pay him back.

His eyes lit up with an idea.

He rushed into this study and over to his computer. After it powered up, he started typing a letter in Word.

At Clark’s house, he wore a golf shirt and blue jeans.

He rushed out of his house and got inside his hot rod.

He backed down the driveway and roared off down his street.

A little while later, Clark parked his hot rod at the Highland Mall near the airport.

He went inside the mall and went to a hair salon. He was able to get an appointment for an hour later.

While he had time to kill, Clark rushed to a nearby men’s clothing store to shop. He looked around and decided to upgrade his outfits to today’s time.

After shopping for clothes, he returned to the hair salon.

His stylist was ready.

“How may I help you today?” asked the stylist after she placed the apron around the front of Clark’s body.

“Short and style the top. It’s way too long,” she said.

“Okay,” the stylist replied, then performed her magic on his hair.

While she started cutting his hair, Clark thought about his two beautiful sexual experiences with Marge. While he began to recall their episode at the creek behind their last hideout, he started to get an erection in his jeans. He immediately stopped thinking about her, afraid he would embarrass himself and get kicked out of the salon.

But he couldn’t get his mind off Marge.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. “Shit!” he cursed in his mind when he realized that something with the course of history might have been seriously altered.

After the stylist styled Clark’s hair in a way that was more suitable for today’s time, he rushed out of the mall.

Back at Wallace’s barn, the time machine disappeared in a poof, raining a million pieces of red, white, blue, green, and yellow lights all over the place.

The colored lights dissolved into thin air.

While Wallace headed back in time, Clark immediately drove to the nearest Walgreens pharmacy.

When he got inside Walgreens, he rushed over and picked out a Paternity DNA testing kit.

He paid for the kit and rushed home.

Once Wallace returned home, he read the instructions on using the DNA kit.

Then he sat around and pondered how he could discreetly perform this task.

Meanwhile, it was back to Friday three in the morning on May 24th, 1935.

Wallace’s time machine reappeared in Victor’s barn again.

The side door to the barn opened, and Wallace ran out after he verified that Victor’s house was dark and quiet.

He ran through the grass and headed down the driveway.

Wallace ran down the street and stopped at the next driveway to a neighbor’s farm.

He reached inside his pants pocket and removed a letter.

It was addressed to Dr. Evans at the University of Texas in Austin. Wallace even had an old stamp from his stamp collection as a kid. He hated to use it but knew it would serve a much-needed purpose. This letter gave Dr. Evans the idea to buy stock from the Electric Boat defense company.

Wallace wrote that it would greatly reward him and compensate for his Chevrolet’s destruction.

He also apologized for taking his car and couldn’t explain why he did what he did. Then Wallace ended the letter telling Dr. Evans not to drive his car on that fatal day in 1946.

After Wallace placed the letter in the neighbor’s mailbox, he returned to Victor’s barn.

While Wallace time-traveled back to 2014 from his short trip, Clark got dressed in one of his new outfits.

He decided to try his next mission.

He left his house and walked over to Dudley’s home.

Back in Wallace’s barn, his time machine returned back from his short trip.

He got out of the machine and walked over to the room door. He stared at his machine and reflected on what problems it had caused. Then, all of a sudden, his mind was filled with memories that he didn’t have before he time-traveled. He recalled how Dr. Evans died in 1955 and not in 1946. He smiled, knowing that the machine altered the course of history for good. But while he stared at it, there was something about the machine he didn’t care about. He left the room and the barn. Once Clark arrived at Dudley’s home, he knocked on the front door. His heart raced in anticipation of who would answer. He saw Kristy’s car in the driveway but wondered if she would look the same. He wondered if she would resemble him a little.

The front door opened, and Kristy appeared. She hadn’t changed.

“May I help you?” asked Kristy as she didn’t recognize Clark.

“I’m Clark Burrows, your neighbor,” he said while he looked at her soft blue eyes.

Kristy had to do a double-take, and then it dawned on her.

“You look so different,” she said, giving a slight smile, and she approved of Clark’s new looks.

“Thanks. Listen, I was wondering if I could chat with your daddy?” he asked.

“What a coincidence; Daddy just asked to talk with you again.

Please come inside, Clark,” she said, and this time, he could tell there was a difference in her voice. It was a tone that she was actually glad to see Clark.

He stepped inside her home.

“He’s in bed feeling a little tired today,” she said while she closed the front door.

Once he got inside their house, Kristy walked him through the living room and down the hallway.

She walked him into Dudley’s bedroom, where he lay in bed and listened to the radio. It was a station that played songs from the 1930s and 1940s. The Take the A Train song played.

Dudley looked at Clark and didn’t recognize him.

Clark felt relieved when Dudley looked the same.

“It’s Clark, our neighbor,” said Kristy.

Dudley did a double-take. “Clark, you look so much different,” he said.

“I decided I needed a change,” said Clark while he walked over to the right side of Dudley’s bed.

Kristy brought over a chair for Clark to sit in.

“May I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine,” replied Clark, thinking it was a little strange that Kristy was kind to him. While he sat down in the chair, she left the bedroom.

“I’m glad you came over. Do you need any more information about Daddy?”

Clark looked at Dudley and became really curious. “I do, and I was wondering if you had the most recent picture of your momma.”

“Picture of momma,” Dudley repeated while he tried to recall where he placed it. His eyes widened when he remembered. “There should be one beside you in the drawer by the bedside table.

Clark leaned over and saw a small framed picture. He grabbed the picture and saw an old lady around seventy-five years old sitting in a rocking chair with a Christmas tree in the background.

“Is this her?” asked Clark while he showed Dudley the picture.

Dudley looked at the picture. “Yeah, that’s momma at Christmas in her nursing home before she died from lung cancer back in ninety.”

Clark looked at the picture and thought it was a shame that time erased all those sexy curves Marge’s body had so many men

dreaming about and replaced them with wrinkles and saggy body parts. “I bet she was a good momma,” he said while looking at the picture.

“She sure was,” replied Dudley with a smile, recalling all those great moments he had with Marge growing up.

Clark glanced back at the picture and remembered how Marge loved smoking cigarettes.

The song on the radio ended, and a new one started.

Clark’s eyes widened when he realized that the That’s All song started on the radio.

Dudley’s eyes widened when he remembered something.

“I forgot to tell you about this unknown mysterious member of Dirk’s gang that appeared in Austin. Momma said he ran with them the week before they got arrested in Texarkana. She never knew his real name,” he said, then hummed along with that song. “That was one of her favorite songs. She claimed she heard an unknown member who used the name Jake Johnson sing parts of that song to her. When it came out in fifty-two, she believed that that mysterious Jake guy wrote it.”

Clark listened to that song and then remembered the day he sang a little of it for Marge. He smiled at that memory.

Dudley’s eyes widened when he remembered something else. “And momma still believed that that Jake guy. She still called him Jake since she didn’t know his real name. She claimed that Jake also wrote Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade song.

But I seriously doubt that.”

Clark then recalled the moment he hummed that song to Marge and how she hummed it that night under the Moonlight out by the creek. That thought reminded Clark when he showed up at Dudley’s home.

“I never heard those stories,” said Clark, lying.

Dudley yawned. “Momma said that after Daddy broke out of prison, he searched for Jake Johnson, knowing he also escaped. Daddy wanted to kill him for causing them to get arrested. But that Jake guy vanished into thin air, and his location remained a mystery forever,” he said, then yawned

again. Then he looked at Clark, and his eyes widened as he remembered something. “Oh, there’s something I wanted to tell you. Remember when you asked who made that anonymous call to the Little Rock cops about Daddy being at that Little Rock hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, momma did it,” Dudley said while fighting off the yawns.

“Why?”

“She was afraid that he would bring me into a life of crime.

She called from a payphone at the gas station in Little Rock while she filled the car with gas for the ride home. She was protecting me. She hated to do that but knew it was best,” said Dudley, and then his eyes started to drift close.

“Did your momma ever want to find this Jake Johnson guy?” Clark asked hopefully as he looked at the picture of an old Marge.

Dudley opened his eyes and thought about that question for a few seconds.

“I don’t recall, but she did mention him often while I grew up. I believe she had a thing for him,” replied Dudley. Then he yawned, and his eyes started to drift close. He opened them and wanted to talk some more with Clark, but his eyes got too heavy. They closed, and he was sound asleep in no time.

Clark glanced at the picture of Marge again and placed it on the bedside table. He glanced back at the bedroom door and didn’t see Kristy.

He looked back at Dudley and saw drool running out of his mouth and down his chin.

He reached inside his pants pocket and removed one of the swab packets from that home DNA testing kit. He carefully soaked the drool from Dudley’s mouth and ran it inside his cheek. He placed the swab back in its packet for safe mailing.

He got up from the chair and walked out of the bedroom.

Clark walked into the living room, where Kristy sat in a lazy boy chair grading test papers.

She smiled when she saw him in the living room. “He’s asleep,” said Clark.

“He’s been tired a lot lately,” she said, looking a little worried.

Clark suddenly felt that Dudley’s health wasn’t good.

“Well, I better get home and leave you with your college work,”

he said, then walked to the front door.

Kristy got up and met Clark at the door.

She smiled while he opened it, stepped outside, closed the door, and returned to work.

While Clark walked back to his house, he wondered if his home DNA test would indicate that Dudley was his son and Kristy was his granddaughter. He thought that would be so weird. He could never tell them that, and it would be his secret he’d take to his grave.

While Clark went back inside his home.

He swabbed the inside of his cheek with one of the other swabs. He then placed the swab in a packet and inside the mailing envelope from the kit.

He went inside his den and started working on his next change in life.

While Clark gathered all his books and movies about 1930s outlaws in his den, Wallace was back in his barn.

Wallace started to disassemble his time machine. It was now six that evening.

After Clark placed the trash bag with all his outlaw DVDs and books in the trash can, he sat at his computer.

He stared at old pictures of Marge on the Internet. He wondered if he actually got her pregnant during those two sexual encounters back in 1935.

His doorbell rang.

He got up from behind his computer, left his den, and entered the living room.

He opened the front door and saw Kristy standing outside on her front stoop.

“I hope I’m not bothering you?” she asked warmly.

“Oh no, not at all,” Clark replied but started to think of her as his granddaughter.

“I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner. I didn’t make anything special, just spaghetti and meatballs. Daddy’s still asleep, and I don’t feel like eating alone,”

she said with hopeful eyes he would accept.

“Sure, I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she said, then gave him another warm smile and walked away back to her home with a spring in her step.

Clark closed his front door and again thought it was strange how Kristy started to warm up to him.

Ten minutes had passed, and Clark was at Dudley’s house eating spaghetti and meatballs with Kristy. Dudley was still asleep, and Kristy didn’t want to wake him.

After they finished dinner, Kristy brought Clark Dudley’s The Life and Times of Dirk Beaumont book from Dudley’s bedroom.

“Daddy wanted you to have a copy of his book,” she said while she handed him the book.

Clark took it and noticed some writing on the inside of the cover. “To my neighbor Clark. Read and learn that that wasn’t a glorious life. And sorry about your great grandfather’s death,”

he read Dudley’s dedication. Thanks,” he told Kristy, then noticed that her eyes started to well up. “What’s wrong?” he asked when he got concerned.

“It’s daddy; he’s been sick and tired lately. His cancer came back with a vengeance,” she softly said while he fought back her tears. “Cancer? What kind of cancer?”

“Lung,” she replied, but then she couldn’t hold back and started to cry.

Clark put his arm around Kristy’s shoulder, and she cried.

Their eyes locked, and they kissed.

I was kissing my granddaughter, and thoughts ran through Clark’s mind. He pulled his lips away from her and just hugged her.

“I’m sorry for crying,” said Kristy with red, watery eyes.

“That’s alright. I’m here if you ever need me,” replied Clark in a fatherly tone.

“Thanks,” said Kristy, then she kissed Clark on his cheek.

Clark started to feel awkward. “I better be getting home. I have work in the morning,” he said, wanting to leave so things wouldn’t get really weird and something might happen he’d regret later.

“Okay,” Kristy said, then she walked him out of the dining room and to the living room.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said when they arrived at the front door. He gave her a little kiss on her cheek.

He opened the door and left her house.

Kristy closed the door, leaned against it, and started feeling strongly about Clark. For some reason, she couldn’t figure out why she changed her tune about her neighbor.

She left the living room and headed to Dudley’s bedroom to check on him.

Monday morning arrived, and Clark woke up at his usual time. After shaving and showering, he dressed in his Chamberlain Cadillac service uniform.

He got in his hot rod and drove off to work.

During the drive to the dealership, Clark found a mailbox and dropped off the packet that contained the cotton swabs for analysis.

Clark walked through the service department and spotted Sandy behind the counter. He didn’t talk to her, as he figured she wanted nothing to do with him.

Sandy’s eyes widened the second she saw Clark. She didn’t recognize him at first. “Good morning, Clark,” she said and gave him a warm smile.

“Ah,” said Clark, surprised Sandy spoke first. “Ah, good morning, Sandy,” he replied.

She smiled at him while he headed to the doors for the service bays.

He went inside the service bay and headed straight to his toolbox.

Clark got settled by his toolbox, and he got smiles from some of the female employees walking through the area. That was a first for him, and he liked it.

“Is that you, Clark?” asked Roger when he walked up to Clark’s toolbox with a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Roger.”

“Dude, you look different. It’s like you finally joined this century,” said Roger, sipping his coffee.

“I decided I need a change,” said Clark.

Roger and Clark saw their boss eyeing them. “Showtime,”

said Roger, then he walked off and headed to his toolbox.

It was now lunchtime, and Clark entered the employee’s break room.

When he entered, he saw something framed hung on the wall. He was drawn to check out something he had never seen before.

Clark’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw that framed on the wall was that job application he filled out and signed as Jake Johnson back in 1935. At the bottom of the frame was the

“Job Application Completed by the Unknown Mystery Member of Dirk Beaumont’s Gang Members on May 16th, 1935.

I don’t believe it, Clark thought as he recalled being with Marge at the dealership in 1935.

He sat at a table near that framed job application and started eating lunch.

Four weeks passed, and it was now Friday.

Clark spent time with Kristy and Dudley but avoided getting intimate with her, even though they appeared interested in him.

When Clark got home from work, he checked out his mailbox. His eyes widened when he noticed that the results of the DNA home kit arrived.

He was nervous when he opened up the letter. He read it.

He sighed a sigh of relief when the analysis indicated that the test results were negative for a match. He jumped for joy.

Then, while he walked to his front door, he saw Kristy pull her SUV into her driveway.

He waved at her.

She waved back from her SUV.

Clark walked over to her driveway while she parked and turned off the engine.

“Hi,” he said the second she exited her SUV.

“Hello,” she said with a warm smile.

Clark looked at Kristy and got really nervous. He started to turn around and head back home but decided he better take a chance. “I was thinking if you’re not doing anything, would you like to accompany me to the Party Hard Night Club tonight,” he said, then cringed that she might reject him.

“Well, it took you long enough to ask me out. I would love that since Daddy’s feeling better. But only after you take me out for dinner,” she said.

Clark was surprised and speechless. “Ah, I guess I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“An hour is perfect,” said Kristy, who gave him a loving smile and headed to her front door.

Clark walked off and returned to his house with a spring in his step.

That Friday night was special for Clark as it was his first date with Kristy. He didn’t feel guilty kissing this beautiful woman. While he kissed her, he forgot all about Marge.

Then, two weeks passed, and Kristy and Clark saw more of each other and fell in love.

Clark even made another change: He sold his 1932 Hot Rod pickup truck and bought a used 2009 Cadillac SUV.

Roger also had a bad two weeks. While he visited the club the other night, he learned that one of those college hotties he had under the sheets got pregnant. His life now turned in another direction.

Then tragedy struck when Dudley passed away from having a heart attack in his sleep.

Kristy was somewhat relieved in that he went quickly and wouldn’t have to go through the extreme pain of his cancer eating at his body.

Clark went with Kristy while they buried Dudley next to his wife Lynne at a cemetery in Memphis.

While they were at that cemetery, Clark helped Kristy place flowers on Marge’s headstone.

Clark could feel his eyes well up when he glanced at the

“Here Lies Margret Cooper, Born July 15th, 1911, Died May 5th, 1990” headstone. He missed her but could not tell anybody.

Clark and Kristy walked away, holding hands.

After they returned to Austin, Kristy decided to sell Dudley’s Cadillac to a museum about her grandfather. She and even Clark no longer wanted that antique car.

Back in Wallace’s barn, he had his time machine wholly dissembled.

He had some wooden crates ready to seal up his invention.

Wallace realized that going back in time to alter time can have disastrous future results. But he was at least satisfied to know that time travel was possible. This would be a secret that Wallace and Clark would take to their graves.

Besides, nobody would believe them and think they are both loony.