Another Way to View a River

“Henry, that one’ll get you in trouble, honky-tonkin’ and talkin’ about ripping off convenience stores,” Mal warned.  “Next thing, she’ll wanta do a bank heist.  Your Ma, God rest her, taught you better.”

“You’re the trouble-maker,” Angie burst into the conversation, “laying around this shack makin’ everyone sick and tired.  If Henry would’ve come with me to do that 7-Eleven we would’ve done it proper and got some real money.  He probably could’ve gave me some happiness, too, if it weren’t for you.”

“You never did a lick of work in your life, little girl.”  Mal’s anger got the better of the pain in his legs, and he stood up to shake his cane.

“Chief, my ass.  We’re okay when I and him are alone.”  Then she slammed the door and went out to sit in Mal’s bass boat, looking at Canada across the river.

The Niagara enchanted her.  “Not like the Mullica River in Jersey that just lays there and does nothing,” she told Henry.  “See, I’m like those waterfalls and you’re like a little stream.”

If Angie wanted to hurt him, she was succeeding.





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