Dejectedly, Louis turned and headed for the house.  As he walked, he thought that coming to Texas hadn’t been such a good idea.  Maybe I’d be better off back in Detroit.  I can talk Vinnie outta offing me; I just gotta think of a good story.  He was beginning to think that trying to dodge Vinnie and his shotgun would be preferable to dealing with smelly animals and barbed wire.

     Pearl Woods was in the kitchen, putting food in two plates, when he walked in.  “Land sakes! What happened to you?”

     “Got tangled up with some barbed wire,” Louis said.  He decided not to tell her what he almost did in the barn.  “Guess I ain’t cut out to be a farmer; at least uncle Cleophus thinks so.”

     “Oh, you poor baby,” she said.  “You go on upstairs and clean up.  Did you eat anything?  I can fix you something.”

     Louis shook his head, telling her he’d already eaten, and dashed upstairs.  In the bathroom, he noticed that he wasn’t as scratched as much as he’d thought; not much worse than the time he’d had a run in with the class tom boy and she’d taught him what a girl’s fingernails are for.  He washed the dried blood away, and changed into a clean shirt.

     Sitting on the edge of the bed, he came to a decision.  I’m going back home.  This place just plain sucks.  Hell, if I stay here, I’m likely to get myself killed anyway, so I might as well take my chances on streets I know.

     He hadn’t unpacked, so getting his rucksack ready for the road only took a few minutes.  He toyed with the idea of saying goodbye to his aunt, but didn’t want to have to explain why he was leaving.  He figured she’d find out he was gone around lunch time, by which time if he was lucky, he’d have hitched a ride as far north as Texarkana, Arkansas.

     Luckily, he was able to get downstairs, through the living room and out the door without her noticing.  He walked out to the road and to the highway, crossed the median to the northbound lanes, put his rucksack on the ground and waited for some generous motorist to come along.