Dorothy Garlock - [Route 66] (35 page)

Brady paled, then said, “I’d rather she didn’t know that.”

“A half can of gas is more dangerous than a full one because it’s half full of fumes. I’ve heard it’s the fumes that explode.”

Brady nodded. He felt cold with fear at the thought of her coming out of the truck with that little gun and meeting up with a man rotten enough to start a fire that could have swept through a campground full of poor folk trying to get to where they could make a living. He stopped what he was doing and stared down at the ground.

Dear Lord. He had almost lost her!

Who had picked his car to set ablaze and why? It bothered him that he had been observed without his being aware of it and dumb enough to let himself be suckered away from the camp. The son of a bitch saw him there and used the woman to lure him from the car.

He searched his mind for a description of the woman who had acted as decoy. She had dark thick hair that fell over her face. He was sure of that. She could have been a Mexican, he reasoned. The only Mexicans he knew lived on the ranch, and he got along well with all of them. Something about her voice, though, rang a bell. He was fifty percent sure he’d heard that whine before. But where?

Sugar had come out of the brush and run down into the ditch when she heard the sound of a shot being fired. She ran to the car and started the motor as she had been instructed to do. Looking through the back window, she craned her neck, expecting to see the blaze of the fire. Instead she saw a shadowy figure running down the road toward the car. The door was jerked open. Homer vaulted inside.

“Get goin’! Get goin’!”

The car’s wheels skidded when Sugar stomped on the gas and they shot off down the dark, dirt road that ran alongside the campground. A minute later she turned on the lights and found they were perilously close to the ditch on the other side of the road. During that minute Homer had spewed out a string of curses, some of which Sugar had never even heard before.

“Why didn’t you fire the car?” she asked as soon as she got the car in the middle of the road.

“Shut up, gawddammit! Can’t ya see I been shot?”

“Oh, no! Oh, Jesus!” Sugar’s foot hit the brake.

“Keep goin’, ya stupid bitch,” Homer shouted.

“Are you hurt bad?”

“How in hell do I know? Turn right at the corner.”

“Are we going back to the motor court?”

“Where else? Use yore head, for God’s sake.”

“You don’t have to be so shitty!” Sugar shouted. “I did my part. I got him away like I said I would.”

“Turn left.”

“I know how to get there. Who shot you? It wasn’t the cowboy.”

“It was his bitch! I came around the end of the car, and there she was yellin’ her fuckin’ head off. Then she shot me.”

“Why didn’t you shoot her back?”

“ ’Cause she shot my arm, ya useless fuckhead! I couldn’t get my gun out.”

Sugar stomped down so hard on the brakes the wheels skidded. She jerked open the door and stepped out.

“I don’t have to take your shit! It wasn’t my fault that you got shot.”

“Get back in here, babe. I’m sorry. I hurt so damn bad.”

“Whyer you taking your spite out on me? I did everything you told me to do.”

“I’m hurtin’ so goddamn bad I ain’t got good sense.”

Sugar got back in and started the car. “Are you ready to give up on the cowboy so we can go on to California?”

“Not on yore life, sugar teat! I’m gettin’ him, and I’m gettin’ the bitch that shot me!”

Sugar clamped her mouth shut and said not another word until they stopped in front of the cabin they had rented at the motor court.

“Give me the key,” she whispered so as not to draw attention to their coming in at such a late hour.

Inside the cabin she turned on the overhead light and made sure that the blinds were tightly closed before she turned to look at Homer. His shirtsleeve was blood-soaked.

“Oh, honey, we got to get you to a hospital.”

“No. Help me off with the shirt so I can see how bad it is.”

The bullet had gone through the flesh on the inside of his upper arm, leaving a three-inch gash. Sugar wrapped a wet towel tightly around his arm to stem the flow of blood, then helped him out of his bloodstained britches.

“Don’t you want to go to a hospital and let them sew that up?” She was gently washing the blood from between his fingers.

“As soon as the stores open, we’ll go get some iodine, bandages and sticky tape. That’ll hold it together long enough for it to heal. Bundle up the bloody shirt and pants, babe. We’ll dump them someplace.”

Homer seemed to have calmed down. He lay on the bed unashamedly naked while Sugar fussed over him. She washed him, paying particular attention to his male organs, which brought a smile to his face. After she had finished washing the bloody towels in the rust-stained lavatory, she hung them on the edge of the tub to dry.

“Come here, little puss.” Homer held out his uninjured arm. “Come finish what ya started.”

Sugar removed her wet skirt, took off her blouse and looked at the man on the bed. The cocky little bastard wasn’t all that much to look at, yet he set her on fire. She had lived more since she met him than in all her life put together. Of all the men she had known, he was the horniest. She didn’t doubt that he could screw ten times a day. But, then, he was only twenty-three years old. He hadn’t asked her her age, and if he had, she would have lied.

She was made for this kind of life with this kind of man even if he was years younger than she was. She hated to think of the years she had wasted. God, she wished that she had met someone like him ten years earlier.

Sugar had never intended to spend her life with Foley Luker. She had seduced him into marrying her while fully intending to leave him once they got to California. She readily admitted that she was a woman who loved to fornicate, but, with Foley, she’d been lucky to get a rise out of him once or twice a week after the first couple weeks of marriage.

She flashed a smile at the man on the bed and pulled her slip off over her head. She teased him by cupping her breasts before she slowly slid her panties down over her hips.

“You wicked, angel-faced bitch! Get yore sweet ass over here.”

Chapter 27

T
HE SUN WAS PEEKING OVER THE HORIZON
when Brady lifted Anna Marie out of the truck and gently laid her on the small mattress in the backseat of his car. She snuggled down and went back to sleep. He covered her and rolled down the windows to allow the air to pass through, thankful that the windows had been rolled up when the gasoline was splashed and that there was none inside the car.

While they were packing up to leave, he had asked Margie to ride with him. She had said she would after they filled up at the gas station if Rusty would ride with Jody.

Since the early morning scare, Brady didn’t want to be parted from her. The close call had made him realize, more than ever, how important she was to him, how much he loved her. Was this how Brian had felt about Becky? If so, it was no wonder he went out of his mind when he saw her in bed with another man.

Brady helped Jody tie the canvas down on all sides of the truck, then went to sit in his car until it was time to pull out. It was a hundred and fourteen miles to Albuquerque. If everything went well, they would be there by the middle of the afternoon. He wished he could take Margie and Anna Marie and head for Colorado. But after what they had encountered last night, he wouldn’t feel right about leaving Alvin and Foley to finish the trip alone, even if Margie was willing.

It was hard for Brady to believe that he had been picked as the target by the person who tried to set fire to his car. Who would know him in this place besides the Putmans, the Lukers and Margie? It had to be a random act. But if not, was he putting Margie in more danger by keeping her with him? It was a thought he had wrestled with most of the night.

If this camp was an example of what they would run into the closer they came to Bakersfield, he would suggest that they avoid the public camps and camp back away from the highway in an out-of-the-way place.

The gas station where they stopped provided a welcome sight: two nearly new privies. While Jody waited behind Alvin for their turn at the gas pump, Margie came back to Brady’s car with Anna Marie’s dress and moccasins.

“Wake up, honey. Let’s put on your dress and shoes and go to the outhouse.” Brady came up behind her and ran his hand lovingly up and down her back. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “We can’t afford to pass up this opportunity.”

As soon as she was dressed, Anna Marie scooted out of the car and Margie took her hand. Brady’s hand was still warm on her back.

“The man says we can fill the water barrels for fifteen cents. I told Jody to pull over to the hand pump after he gets gas.”

“I gave him money,” Margie said. “There should be enough left over for the water.”’

“Rusty and Mona want to be together. Rusty asked me if you were going to ride with me today. And, if so, would you mind if they rode with Jody.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was sure you wouldn’t mind if they rode with Jody. I told him that I wanted you with me, that I never want to let you out of my sight again, that I like to look at you, touch you and kiss you. I said that I’m so crazy about you that every minute I’m away from you seems like an hour.” His voice was husky and tender.

“You didn’t say
that
!”

“Yes, I did, and I also told him that I’m thinking about carrying you off someplace where I can have you all to myself for the next hundred years.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious, sweetheart.”

“Margie, let’s go.” Anna Marie tugged on her hand. Margie looked down at the fidgeting child, then back at Brady with eyes that shone with pure happiness.

“Now, this is serious.”

“Go on,” he said softly. “I’ll be waiting.” Brady watched her walk away with Anna Marie’s hand tucked in hers.

There goes my everything. Lord, help me to keep them safe.

When Alvin’s gas tank was full, he pulled up to the water pump. Rusty worked the pump handle while he carried the buckets of water to his water keg. The women, along with those from the two families that were tagging along behind them, were in front of the outhouse.

Jody pulled Margie’s truck up to the gas pump. While the tank was being filled, Brady lifted the hood and checked the oil and the water in the radiator.

After the truck had been serviced, Rusty and Jody filled the water barrel and Alvin went over to speak with Brady.

“What do you think about the folks trailing us?” Alvin jerked his head toward the two sedans with carriers on top that were waiting along the road.

“They seem to be decent. I looked them over before we left this morning. I don’t think a robber or a bootlegger would be travelin’ with a woman and two little kids. The woman with Harry Wills is in the family way.”

“They have pretty good outfits.”

“Wills had a gun under his shirt this morning. I can’t hold that against him. I may start carrying one myself.”

“You’ve got a sharp eye. I didn’t notice the gun.”

“To my way of thinking, Wills is a man who won’t back down. The other one follows his lead, although he does the talking.”

“We might be glad to have ’em near if we get into another place like the one last night.” Alvin laughed and shook his head. “Grace has the women cornered. She’ll know all about them by the time we start up again.”

Margie was so happy she was scared. Hovering in the back of her mind was the fear that something would happen to spoil her happiness.
Brady cared for her.
He had not said that he loved her. He’d said that he cared deeply, but he was acting as if he loved her. And he was happy. She could tell by the shine in his eyes and the smile that tilted his lips when he looked at her. And when he touched her, it was gently, as if he feared she would break.

Sitting beside him in the car, her eyes catching his each time he turned to look at her, she would have been happy to keep on going forever. They had entered low, clustering hills that promised mountains ahead. The highway wound around jutting slopes and crossed small rocky streams that divided the hills that rammed each other. At times it clung to the rocky ledges; at other times it passed through meadowland.

There were more stretches of unpaved roadway with huge chuckholes. Brady had to keep his eyes on the road. But his hand caught hers and released it only when he had to shift gears.

Anna Marie was bored and sleepy. She wanted to get in the back and lie down on her bed. Margie helped her climb over the back of the seat.

“Stay away from the door, puddin’,” she cautioned. “If we hit one of these big old chuckholes, one of the doors might pop open.”

After Margie had turned around, Anna Marie leaned over the seat and wrapped her arms around Margie’s neck and whispered something to her.

“Oh, honey. I wish it too.” Tears sprang to Margie’s eyes. She stared out the side window for a long while, batting her eyes to keep the tears at bay.

Brady held her hand tightly. When she finally looked at him, she saw concern in his eyes.

“Sweetheart?”

She moved closer to him and spoke softly. “Sometimes I think that I had it bad, but I had a mother and then a grandmother who loved me.”

“And now me.” He lifted the hand in his and rubbed her knuckles across his lips. “What did Punkie say that caused you to cry?”

“She said … she said that she loved me and wished … that I was her mama.” Her eyes filled again, and the tears spilled over to run down her cheeks. “No one has ever said, ‘I love you,’ to me. Not even Granny, though I know she did.”

“
I
love you. I told you last night.”

“You … didn’t say the words.”

“I didn’t? I thought I’d made my feelings clear. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. Brian was the one good with words. He told Punkie many times that he loved her.”

“I love you too. I didn’t want to.” Her wet eyes blurred her vision.

Brady let out a slow breath. “You didn’t want to?”

“I knew that you could break my heart.” Her words came out on a strangled sob. “If you didn’t love me back.”