It was about twelve morning, in the middle of September. The sun does not glowing, and in the clear air of the hills floating the threat of a strong rain. I was wearing a black suit, shirt, tie and handkerchief at chest pocket. Black shoes, slim black socks.

I was clean, sheved and a bit drunk, wich I would not have cared much if someone have noticed. The ideal image of a well-dressed gangster.
I was visiting a ten thousand dollar inheritance, my luck because of someone else's misfortune.

The main hall of my aunt's house that is no longer among us, was like two-story high, and the entrance doors were quite roomy enough for two indian elephants to enter. At the end of the lobby there was a glass wall, and behind it a vast meadow, with green grass like the emerald, reached up to a white garage in front of which a young driver slim and dark-haired, dressed in black and shiny boots, wiping a Packard maroon car, convertible.

In the back of the garage there were many shrubs, carefully trimmed like poodles. At the back of the shrub, a roofed greenhouse covered. Then other shrubs, and in the bottom of everything, the firm, uneven and pleasant contour of hills.

To the right of the hall, somewhere behind the stairs, it is opened a door. It was a girl. She was twenty years old, a small, delicate body, though she seemed to be strong. Wear blue-pants and they caught her.

As she walked, it seemed floating. The hair brown and fine was cut much shorter than demanding the fashion of that time, waved in. When she looked at me, I noticed hes gray eyes, almost inexpressive.

She approached, she smiled and I saw her teeth, small, sharp, like squirrels. Like fresh orange peel and white like porcelain, shined between the two small, a bit too wide lips.
"You're tall, aren't you?"
"Not intentionally" i say.

Her eyes were rounded. She was puzzled. Reflecting. I could tell, though we were only knew for a few moments that the reflection will always be one story for her.

"You look good. I'm sure you know." she says.
I smiled.
"What's your name?"
"John. John Dillinger."
"What a funny name!"

She bit her lip, bowed her head a little, and looked at me long. She lowered her eyelids until the genes touched hes cheeks, then raised them again, like a curtain at the theater. I know this trick damn well. She expects me to stretching back, all four feet up.

"Are you a boxer?" she asked me, seeing that I didn' let myself on back.
"Not exactly."
She gets angry and the color of her hair shines in the light rather anemic of the huge lobby. 
"Are you kidding me?!"
"Hm."
"What you said?"
"Come on, let it go. You heard me."
"You didn't said anything. You agonize me terribly."
She lifted her thumb and bit it. It was a weird finger, thin figure and sharp, spinning it in her mouth like a baby with a bottle.
"You're terribly tall," she said.

She giggled with a secret joy. Then she turned hes body slowly, with a feline motion without lifting her soles. Her hands fall soft along
body. She leaned toward me on the top of my feet. Fell right in my arms. Had to catch her, otherwise she would have broken her head on the marble tiles. I have grabbed her arms and her legs immediately ceded. I had to keep tight to keep her straight. She stuck her head against my chest, started rubbing it and chuckling.

"You are cunning" she chuckles, "But I'm cunning too"
I didn't answer. My uncle had chosen exactly that moment to come back and seeing her in my arms. He didn't seem embarrassed.

He was a tall, thin, silver-haired, about sixty-year-old or a little more. His blue eyes looked extremely distant to you. He had skin
smooth, glossy and moving like a man with very solid muscles. He moved slowly toward us, and the girl pulled out of my arms.

She walked through the room like lightning and reached the foot of the stairs, climbed them like a deer. She disappeared before I was able to breath once.

Few hours later, I see her sitting on a stone bench with her head in hands desperate and lonely.
I lowered the red brick steps that led from the terrace to the courtyard where she stood. When she heard me, I was quite close to her and she jumps and like a cat. She was wearing the same light-blue trousers that she had when I first met her.
Her brown hair had the same loose curls, and her cheeks blush when she sees me.

"Bored?" I asked her.
She smiled, a little shy, then shook her head, finally whispered "are you mad at me?"
"I thought you were mad at me."
She raised her thumb and chuckled "I'm not upset"

When she chukled, I didn't like it anymore. I looked around. Ten meters from her there is a target with some arrows in it. On the stone bench where she stood there were few arrows too.

"For people with so much money, it doesn't seem that you have a lot of fun."
I'm looking at her long genes. It was the look that she was expecting me to fall on my back.
"Do you like to throw arrows to the target?" i asked.
"Yeah."
"That reminds me of something."

I looked back at the house. Moving a meter or so, a tree hiding me from those in the house, then pull out of my pocket a little revolver. She is looking at me, then to the gun i held. Her eyes were shinning fascinated.
 Then suddenly, "teach me how to shoot" she says.
"What?"
"Teach me how to shoot. I would really like."
"Here?"
She approached me and took my gun from my hand, then she suddenly put it into her trousers with an almost furious move, and look around.
"I know a place" she said in a hidden voice. "Down there, near the old wellsof oil", she pointed to the foot of the hill. "You teach me?"
"Very well. Give me the gun back untill I see if the place fits."
She smiled, croaked, then returned it with a naughty and secret air, as if she had given me the key to her room.

We walked up to my car. The gardens seemed deserted. The sunlight was empty as the smile of a sad man. We got into the car, grabbed it on the alley, and walked out on the gate.
I descended the hill, in the quiet and opulent streets, washed by the rain, and in about 10 minutes to the spot mentioned by her. 

"There!" she leaned out the window and showed me with her hand.

It was a narrow road of beaten earth, more a path, like the entrance to a farm at the feet of the hill. A wide gate of five meters was given to one
side, supported by a buttock, and looked as if it had not been closed for years.
The road, guarded by tall eucalyptus, was beaten well. On the road trucks had passed. It was deserted now and bathed in the sunlight, but not yet dusty. It rained too much and too soon.

I followed the deep traces of truck wheels, and the traffic noise in the city quickly became strange as if everything had happened not in the city, but in a distant land of dream.

Then, on top of a branch of a tree, the oil-stained arm is lifted and a motionless arm of one probe. I saw the old rusty steel cable connecting the arm of this probe and six others. The arms didn't move, probably didn't move for an year already. 
The wells were no longer gasping. I saw a bunch of rusty pipes, a loading platform, torn at one end, and about six empty cans of oil.

"They are going to make a park here?" I asked her.
She dropped her chin down and gave me a delightful look.
"It would be good to hurry, the smell of the well could poison even a herd of goats!" she added.
"So, this is the place?"
"Yeah. You like it?"
"It's ok"

We stopped the car next to the loading platform, and got down. The place was deserted like a cemetery. Even after the rain, the tall eucalypts still seemed dusty. They always looked full of dust. A broken crack by the wind had fallen on the edge of the shaft and the dried leafes were hanging in the water.

I walked around the shaft and looked into the pumping booth. Inside there were some abandoned gear, nothing to betray a recent activity. A big wheel of wood leaned against the wall. It seemed like a perfect place.

I went back to the car. The girl stood beside it, walking her fingers through the hair and blowing it in the sun.

"Give it to me," she said and stretched her hand.
I pulled the revolver out of my pants and put it in her hand. I leaned over and raised an empty can of oil.

"Don't hurry. It's loaded with five bullets." i said.
"I'm gonna go to set this empty can in the square hole in the middle of that big wooden wheel. You see it?" I have asked her, pointing it.
"Yes" nodding her head, being excited.
"Don't shoot untill i get back to you. Did you undertand?"
"Sure, sure" she said, chuckling.

I walked around the well and fixed the empty can in the middle of the wooden wheel. It was the ideal target. If she didn't hit the empty can of oil, surely, the bullet would be thrown in the wheel. Thus the wheel will completely block the small bullet. Still, I thought she couldn't even hit the wheel.

I returned to her, beside the shaft. When I got to about three meters at the edge of the shaft, she grinning at me, picking up the weapon and start whistling.
For a second I was a bit afraid, behind me there was the pit with stinking water.

- Stay there, bastard! she said.
The gun was pointing at my chest. Her hand seemed safe. Her whistling grew stronger, and her face got a tense expression.
I laughed at her. I started in her direction and saw her little finger pull the trigger, becoming whiter at the top. I'm about one meter and a half close to her, when she started shooting.

The revolver made a shrill noise without consistency, a sluggish click in the sunlight. It didn't pull out smoke. I stopped again and grinned at her.
She fired three times very quickly. I don't think I would have avoided any of the bullets. The gun was loaded with five bullets. She fired four. I didn't want the last one to hit me in the face, so I threw myself to one side.
She took me to the target with great care without hesitation. I think I felt a little breath of gunpowder.