"No, do you?" Lucky shot back.
"You know what I mean."
"Well, I wasn't penalized, so leave me alone, okay?" Lucky slumped lower in his seat as Chase herded the pickup through the twilight evening toward their family home. Then, feeling bad for acting surly toward his brother, he added, "Thanks for posting my bail."
"Thank Tanya. The money came out of her house fund."
"Her what?"
"Her house fund. She wants to buy a house, and has been saving money for a down payment."
Lucky shoved back his dark blond hair. "Jeez. I feel terrible."
"Not as terrible as you'd feel spending the time before your trial in jail. And not as terrible as you'd feel if the judge had listened to the prosecutor and placed your bail higher than we could afford."
The federal agents had convinced the prosecutor that they had enough evidence against James Lawrence Tyler to arraign him on an arson charge. They contended that if one woman would lie on his behalf, another would. Why should they believe Devon over Susan? It would be left to the court to decide the veracity of each woman and determine Lucky's guilt or innocence.
Everyone on Lucky's side believed that the agents were acting out of pique now more than conviction of his guilt, but unfortunately there was nothing they could do about it at this point.
Lucky's attorney had pleaded with the judge to reduce the amount of bail recommended by the prosecutor. He cited how well known Lucky was in the community, and guaranteed that his client had every intention of appearing in court to deny the allegations and clear his name. The judge had known the Tyler boys all their lives. They were rowdy, but hardly criminals. He'd been lenient.
"How's Devon?" Lucky asked now.
"Pretty shaken up. Mother took her under her wing."
"Is there any way we can keep her name out of the newspapers? At least until the actual trial?"
"So far, nobody but the people in that interrogation room know who your alibi is. I doubt the feds will tell anybody. They don't want anyone to know that one of them was overpowered and damn near beat to a pulp." Chase cast his brother another glance of reprimand. "Dumb move, Lucky. If Pat hadn't been there
to smooth things over, you'd be in a world of hurt."
Lucky, however, was only interested in Devon's opinion of him. "She probably thinks I'm a hothead."
"You are a hothead."
"And you're not?"
"I've got better sense than to attack a federal agent."
"One of them never talked to your woman like that agent did."
"Oh, so now she's 'your woman'?" Chase asked.
"Just an expression."
"Or a Freudian slip."
Lucky stared glumly through the bug-splattered windshield. "Who ever would have thought a fist-fight at the place would result in a mess like this?"
Chase offered no reply, but the question had been rhetorical anyway. Broodily Lucky contemplated the scenery that whizzed past.
"Anybody seen or heard from Little Alvin and Jack Ed lately?"
"Nope. They're keeping a low profile."
"If you ask me, the feds would do better to lay off us and Devon and go after those two."
"Yeah, but nobody asked you." Chase wheeled the truck into the lane leading to the house, from which mellow golden light was pouring through the windows. "Don't entertain any notions about going after them yourself," Chase warned. "We don't need another assault charge against you."