VICKI WAS CONCERNED for Dean, the boy’s face was smeared with blood and dirt, and his hand had a nasty gash on it. But Dean insisted the fight had done him no real harm—“stop fussing over me!”
They drove to Slick Pond in Jim Badger’s car, the fire warden at the wheel. Vicki and Dean sat together in the rear seat with the two men’s heads unmoving before them. Dean assured Vicki he was all right.
“This breeze is fixing me up. It was a mean fight, though. A dirty fight.”
“You’ve got dirt in that open wound,” Vicki worried. “We’ll have to get it cleaned and bandaged.”
The red car plowed out of the forest and onto dirt road and highway. Vicki pressed her lips tightly together. She could not stop thinking of the cruel and unfair way Jim Badger had fought. To kill.
At the edge of town, a cro
