A few months passed by, and Emmett and the boys became better robbers. The rust started to chip away, and they finally managed to get their s**t together. But the thing that Emmett was most proud of was that he hadn’t shot anybody since St. Louis. He’d winged a fella in Wichita Falls, but that was it. Things had gotten better with Jimmy and Tom, too. Their last six or seven robberies had gone off without a hitch, and nobody questioned Emmett’s abilities any longer.
Jimmy had purchased himself a Stetson fedora, and Tom had gotten closer to “the Lord almighty, Jesus f*****g Christ.” Emmett had called home and learned that Julia was divorcing him on account of his robbing and killing people.
With both Jimmy and Tom alone and sick, and Emmett without a wife, none of them had anything else to
