They grimly dragged his inert body into the tall cornfield, not bothering to hide it. It was a young man. Too bad he had to die so young but looking at his scruffy clothing and eyes wild in desperation, even in death, they knew he wouldn't be missed anytime soon. By then they would be miles and miles away.

It had been an exhausting day. The heat, for one. Tramping westward on narrow roads, occasionally getting a lift from a farmer. Perhaps at another farmhouse they might get a slice of homemade bread and cheese. They had a destination and were determined to get there no matter what. After the sun crawled down the vast flat horizon, night found the couple under a spreading elm tree, under a threadbare blanket and close to a gently rippling stream where they had drunk deeply and would fill their bottles in the morning.  

In the middle of the night there was a rustling noise. She being the lighter sleeper shook him awake and they could see limned in the half moonlight someone making off with their rucksacks. The lad jumped up and ran after the robber sending him crashing to the dirt with a thud. If he had just run away that would have been fine but the intruder began flailing away at the lad with a series of sharp punches. One flattened his ear and one caught him straight on the chin, knocking him back. Still the man came on so the lad quickly reached in his pocket for the eight-inch piece of pipe he kept there for protection and whacked a good one off the man's skull. The man kept staggering and fighting so he got hit in the head twice more by that pipe wielded in anger. Then the man subsided into the dust and soon ceased breathing. The lad wasn't happy with the deed but sorrowfully guessed this is the way it's going to be sometimes. The young woman who had watched all this was pragmatic. We need to hide this thief in the cornfield.

The week before, the factory had shut down. People just weren't buying things anymore and they couldn't operate at a loss. Joe didn't relish going back to the boarding house and telling Helen he'd been laid off. There were no jobs anywhere around but they heard there was plenty of work in California if they could get there. The trip had already taken them from the South to the Dust Bowl to the Midwest so they knew they could do it but this was a long way. Three weeks working at the factory and the little money Helen had made from taking in some sewing meant they could survive for a month or two though they wouldn't be able to afford lodging. Joe was angry and frustrated but Helen had a cheerier outlook. Think of the adventures we'll have. The next day at the Post Office Helen had noticed a sign; Wanted for Murder - Joe Bagwell. That cinched it.

A month before, the rosy fingers of dawn had greeted two young people straggling out from the railroad yards. They had talked through the cold night, disembodied voices in the darkness as they had clung to one another. They had decided it was time to settle down. It was a nice town they had landed in, not too big to be overwhelming but big enough for anonymity. Joe and Helen had promptly found a boarding house for just six dollars a week room and board and settled in as a married couple. They weren't married but had to tell people that they were. This would be a new beginning.

Joe promptly found work at a factory and Helen set up her own sewing business. They had made a few friends and everyone was kind and neighborly. As the days wore by the shame and horror of what happened began to fade away until it almost seemed like a bad dream. Joe's stride became strange and confident once more and Helen was happy to be away from the pampered existence that had sorely burdened her. But of course they couldn't ever forget what had happened at that fine house.

The table was set just so. A freshly ironed linen tablecloth, the good silver though Helen's father Jedediah Burnside didn't think all that was needed to host those low Bagwell farmers and their boy Joe. His daughter had even put a vase of bluebonnets in the middle. Pah! It was no secret that Joe and Helen were sweet on each other though they weren't in the open about it. All they knew was they were in love and wanted to get married.

 At the end of dinner when the chicken and dumplings, sweet peas, yams and apple pie had been polished off, Joe popped the question to Mr. Burnside.

"Out of the question. I won't have my Helen marrying beneath her. Now that Culpepper boy from across the way is a fine lad. His family has money and I've invited him to come courting tomorrow. That's my final word."

Helen put up a squawk though her mother tried to shush her but Jedediah wouldn't be budged. Joe just slumped in his chair, crestfallen. After his folks had gone home he found old man Burnside setting on the porch. He tried to reason with him but the man would have none of it. Joe's voice grew angrier as he spouted about the injustice of it until the old man reached behind him and pulled out a shotgun. 

"Now you git and don't ever come 'round here no more."

Joe, with the quick reflexes of youth grabbed for the gun and they tussled over it. Four strong hands gripped the barrel and stock as they fought over the shotgun, muscles bulging, eyes fierce until Joe finally wrestled it away. The gun hit the planks of the porch and went off in Mr. Burnside's face. Now he had no face. Joe gave a cry of terror and in his fear and confusion he ran away.

A few hundred yards from there Helen caught up with him as he had slowed to a walk, sobbing in anguish. They knew it was an accident but still. She certainly didn't want to see him hanged. Helen implored him to go away with her. They could find work somewhere, somewhere in another place and they would survive somehow. Helen couldn't go back home and didn't want to. She did know how to sneak into the house the back way to gather some of her things and Joe did the same. 

Midnight found them in a boxcar headed - well they didn't know where - somewhere far away.