Hank shoved him toward the old gas pump. Leo hit the rusted metal with his shoulder, felt the whole structure tremble, and pressed his jaw shut to keep from crying out. He did not want to give Hank another sign of control. But his body had endured weeks of hunger and little sleep, and the blow left him dizzy.
'You got something in your pockets?' Hank demanded.
'Nothing.'
'Let's make sure.'
He searched Leo's jacket, finding a few bits of wire, a button, and the worn school card. He held up the card with a contemptuous snort. 'Look at you. Doesn't even look like the same boy. You look like you crawled out of a ditch.'
Then his hand reached the front pocket of Leo's trousers and found the silver lighter. The weight and shape made Hank pause. He drew it out slowly and turned it in the sunlight. The engraved skull flashed against his thumb.
'Well, now,' he said. 'What have we got here?'
Leo's throat closed. Of everything he carried, that was the object he could least bear to lose. It wasn't the silver or the possible value. It was the memory of an adult looking him in the face and saying he had earned something.
'Give it back,' Leo said.
Hank snapped open the lighter and studied the flame. 'This is too nice for a boy who eats out of trash cans.'
'It was given to me.'
'By who? The king of Arizona?'
'A man I helped.'
Hank looked at Higgins, inviting him to share the joke. 'Hear that? Our little runaway's running a charity.'
Higgins offered a thin smile, more interested in the approaching noon than in the conversation. Leo took a step forward without thinking. Hank moved his arm back and put the lighter in his pocket.
'It's mine now.'
'No,' Leo said, louder than he meant to. 'That isn't yours.'
Hank struck him once with the back of his hand. The blow was swift and humiliating, and Leo went down before he realized he had lost his balance. He tasted blood. For a moment there was only light, dust, and the astonishing unfairness of a world in which something good could be taken so quickly.
He heard Higgins sigh. 'You done?'
Hank crouched beside Leo. 'You want that lighter? You can earn it back when we get home.'
Leo stared at the man's boots. He had tried to earn safety through good behavior, silence, schoolwork, and labor. He had tried every bargain that cruel adults offered, and each bargain had changed as soon as he fulfilled it. The word earn felt like something Hank had stolen before touching the lighter.
'I'm not going back,' Leo whispered.
Hank grabbed his collar. 'Then I guess I'll have to carry you.'
The deputy opened the rear door of the Ram. The truck bed contained an old toolbox, a coil of rope, and several heavy feed sacks. Leo saw it and understood that Hank had not planned a careful ride home. He had planned to bring a troublesome boy back however he could, out of sight and far from anyone likely to ask questions.