The kid brought Bonecrack’s coffee over to the corner of the boxcar where Bonecrack was propped up, leg over leg and arms crossed. When Bonecrack reached for the coffee fast and sudden, the kid flinched and he spilled the coffee, burning his own hand, then struggled not to spill any more holding it out for Bonecrack.
“Goddamnit,” the hobo said like he was the one that got burnt, uncrossing his legs, looking like he was on the edge of getting up. “Set it down.”
A boxcar gets small when a tramp raises up that tone in his voice because there ain’t no door but the open one. The kid froze and looked back to Mickey. Mickey nodded his head to the kid to stand against the boxcar wall. The kid leaned up against the train wall looking out at the shadow of Steel Rail framed in the open door.
“I’m gonna throw you out of here,” Bonecrack said. “Jack London.”
Steel Rail turned around slow at Bonecrack, took a pull on his snipe.
“You shouldn’t have let him in here, Steel,” Bonecrack said, but he was back…
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