Elliot stood up and looked in both directions. “There’s a light up there,” he said, pointing north. “I may be able to get turned around there.” They eased into the northbound lane, and Lysette twisted around to see if she could see her mother’s car. Her neck hurt. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and started to turn around to face south.
“Put your seatbelt back on.”
“We aren’t going fast enough to crash.”
“Somebody else could run into us.”
“They’re going too slow, too.”
“Your mother will kill me.”
That was true enough.
“I won’t tell. Besides, she’s already going to kill me for getting in a car with a stranger.”
“Buckle up, kiddo.”
Lysette could not see much of anything anyway. She sat down and put her seat belt back on. They crawled up to the intersection, then waited in the turn lane. Turning was easy enough because no one was going south, but they had to drive a ways down the side street to find a place to turn around. The traffic on the side-street was heavy, going in the direction of the highway.
“She’ll probably be there by the time we get this turn accomplished,” said Elliot.
“I hope she doesn’t freak out when she sees Mindy with King.” Lysette did worry about that. Momma would be worried sick; whether she saw King without Lysette, or Lysette without King, she’d worry.
“Is your mother sensible?”
“Yes.”
“Then she’ll probably think you found somebody to hold the horse while you went to the bathroom, or something.”
“You think so?”
He paused. “No. It is my experience that mothers assume the worst.”
“Mine too.”
The restaurant was in view again. Lysette craned her neck to see if Momma’s car was in the parking lot. She couldn’t even see King! Did he run away again? Had he been stolen? No, Mindy had just moved him further back, where there was a little patch of grass in a median to graze on. No sign of Momma or her car.
“What do you think happened to her?” said Lysette.
“I don’t know. A flat tire, maybe. Could be an accident, but it couldn’t be serious. Not with this slow traffic.”
Lysette recalled the white Buick. What if some idiot was going too fast on the shoulder, or in the turn lane? Momma’s car was little. If, say, a pickup truck ran into it, it could be serious accident.
“Look,” said Elliot. “If there was a bad accident, the road would be blocked, and none of this traffic would get by.”
That was probably true. Lysette was worrying the same way her mother would. But….
“But why didn’t I pass her on the way? She went on ahead of me.”
Elliot paused. He had no easy explanation for that. Now she was really worried.
“Are you watching for her car?” he said at last.
“Yes.”
They drove along in silence. Now that they were going south, they could move at a reasonable speed. It was surprising how fast they covered the ground that had seemed to take all morning. No sign of Momma’s car anywhere.
“You said she went to get gas,” said Elliot.
“Yes.”
“There’s your explanation.” He was pointing ahead, to a gas station. It was almost exactly opposite the place where King had spooked, so that was why Lysette had not noticed it. There was a big sign out front. “OUT OF GAS.”
“She had to go look for more gas!” said Lysette in relief.
They pulled into the station, and the attendant strolled out to meet them. He nodded at the sign.
“No gas,” he said, “but I can check your oil.”
“How long you been out?” asked Elliot.
“Couple hours.”
“Any place nearby that still has gas?”
“Prob’ly the Gas Co station. Head on back north to the light, and turn right.”
Lysette and Elliot looked at each other. That was the light they had just used to turn around. Only they had gone in the wrong direction.
“Wouldn’t you know,” said Elliot.
They managed to force their way back into the northbound lane. Lysette strained to see as they passed the restaurant once again. King had attracted a crowd of children. No Momma, though. Lysette waved at Mindy. Mindy waved back. No urgent gesture for them to pull in, so Momma must not have shown up yet.
They made another round of the slow traffic, this time turning right at the light. The road curved a little, making it hard to see too far ahead.
Lysette caught a glimpse of the stained roof of Momma’s car around the bend.
“There! That’s it!”
She struggled against the seatbelt to stand up for a better view. Yes, it was Momma’s car. It was parked on the shoulder.
“Something’s wrong with it. You think she had an accident?”
“Calm down, kid. We’ll see in a minute.” Elliot paused to shout at a driver who had tried to bypass traffic by cutting between the two narrow lanes. Traffic had slowed in both directions until someone let the guy back into the lane where he started.
Once traffic was moving again, they pulled up behind Momma’s car. The car was empty, no sign of either Momma or Chuckie.
“Stay here, kid, and give that foot a rest.”
Elliot got out and walked around Momma’s car.
“No sign of an accident,” he said when he got back. “My guess is she ran out of gas.”
“So she’s probably walking to the gas station?”
“Or maybe the car broke down.”
“But she’d still head for the gas station, wouldn’t she?”
“I would.”
They eased back into traffic and continued toward the gas station. Lysette started thinking about the idiot drivers who had tried to pass on the shoulder. Momma was pretty short. Would an impatient driver like that see her? Lysette had almost been hit, while riding on a thousand pound horse and wearing a neon bandanna. And what if Chuckie ran into the road?
She unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up on her good foot, holding onto the windshield for support.
“Siddown!” said Elliot, but she stayed up just a little longer. She saw something bobbing at the side of the road.
“I think I see Momma’s hat,” she said. “Yes, it is. It is! She’s okay!”
“You didn’t say anything about a dog,” said Elliot, as they pulled close enough for him to see them too. He pulled over in front of Momma and Chuckie.
Momma looked haggard and worried as she dragged herself along. When she saw the little red car blocking her way, she pulled Chuckie’s leash and looked a little scared.
Lysette leaped out and hobbled quickly to her mother.
“Where were you?” said Lysette. “Did you run out of gas or what? I thought you might have had an accident or something!”
Lysette realized that she was babbling out questions she knew the answers to. Elliot was right behind her, and he was babbling too.
“She took a spill, but she’s okay. Nothing to worry about….”
Momma looked from one to the other, probably unable to get clear what either one was saying.
“Where’s King?” she said.
“At the Burger Maker.”
“With Mindy, my wife.”
“And just who are you?” asked Momma.
“I’m Elliot Gleason.”
“Do you think you can fit us all into that little car of yours? I’m out of gas and so is the gas station.”
Elliot looked doubtfully back at the two-seater sports car.
“The dog’s gonna be a challenge.”
There was a little space behind the back seat, and by removing some luggage from there to the trunk, they made just enough room for Chuckie. Lysette sat on Momma’s lap. The only problem was keeping Chuckie in his place. You’d think he’d have been tired, but he wasn’t.
They explained as they made their way back by the same kind of twisted route they had used to
get there. Momma didn’t say much, but the story of how King had been spooked clearly worried her.
“When do they expect it to make landfall?” she said.
“Still pretty late tonight,” said Elliot.
“But the weather will get bad before that.” Momma thought, and sighed. “It isn’t far, though. We’ll just have to make it walking.”
“I can give you a ride,” said Elliot.
“I don’t want my child riding alone in this traffic any more.”
Elliot nodded. Lysette didn’t argue either. She would just as soon have Momma walking alongside for the rest of the way. Only Momma looked very tired. If only Lysette had not hurt her foot, Momma could ride.
When they got back to the restaurant, they paused to think. Elliot and Mindy refused to leave, and after a bucket of cold water revived Momma, they all decided that Momma and Mindy would take turns walking alongside King, at least until they got to the end of the highway. That way they could each rest, and so they could walk faster. Momma insisted on taking the first shift, even if she was tired.
“Momma,” said Lysette, as they got ready to go. “You think King doesn’t like me anymore?”
Momma stopped and turned.
“Now why would you think that?”
“Because I brought him on this horrible ride, and now he likes a perfect stranger better than me.”
“Now you know what it’s like to be a mother,” she said, and she turned and started leading King along at a fast pace.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that you love your kid, and you do what’s best, and you work and everything, and along comes Grandma with cookies and presents and smiles, and the kid loves her more.”
“I don’t love Grandma more.”
“Sometimes you do. When I make you do your homework, and she lets you off the hook.”
“Okay, sometimes.”
The wind gusted up and nearly blew Lysette’s hat away. She grabbed it just in time. Momma looked up, and started moving along faster. Her face looked scared. Lysette looked up, and saw nothing but clouds overhead now, and thicker to the south. The storm was catching up.
King twitched his ears. The wind was scaring him, and he must have been tired. He did not know there was a storm. Or maybe he did, and he could not understand why his people were keeping him outside so long.
“We’ll be there soon,” she whispered, and patted him reassuringly. He did not seem reassured. Lysette was not all that reassured herself. The way that wind was picking up, it would be tossing trees around in no time.
Up ahead, the little red car had pulled over, waiting for them. Elliot and Mindy were putting the top up. As they came close, Mindy turned and whinnied, and King let out a wild trumpet. His whole back shook as he whinnied, and the feeling made Lysette giggle. She and Momma looked at each other knowingly.
“Just like Grandma,” said Lysette.
* * *
back to Table of Contents
Chapter 8 – 6 PM Tuesday
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BY THE TIME they reached the turn off, big drops of rain were already falling. Both Momma and Mindy looked tired.
“Now that we’re on a back road, I can ride faster,” said Lysette. “You can stay right behind me in the car.”
Momma looked up at the sky. The clouds were getting heavier, and moving faster.
“You’re right. We should hurry.” Momma piled into the car, half on top of Mindy, and Lysette urged King to a trot. He may have been tired, but the wind was making him excitable.
They trotted along for about a half hour. It seemed to Lysette that they had come halfway down the road to Uncle Jim’s farm. The rain was coming down harder all the time. It was a relief from the heat, but once she was wet, the wind made her cold. Bits of twig and leaves rattled across the road, making King jump. He snorted and started trotting with high, springy steps.
Suddenly, it started to pour. The wind gusted up higher, and more debris blew across the road. King was trotting faster, but the storm was already bad for riding in. It seemed like the twigs blowing around were turning into small branches.
She heard a crack behind her. King leaped forward, and she held him back. He turned a little sideways, and she could see the branch that had broken off a tree. It was too big to blow away quickly, but it was still moving, across the road, in front of the car. If it had hit King, who knows what would have happened? That was enough for Lysette. King wanted to run, anyway. She let him burst forward into a controlled gallop. She’d get there three times as fast, even on a tired horse.
They pounded down the road. King was a little unsteady with fear, but he did not bolt at the gusts of wind or the moving bushes. Maybe he trusted her. That thought gave her spirits a boost.
Behind them the little red car speeded up. Lysette glanced back. Her mother was not leaning out the window, screaming at her to stop. Momma had got a much closer look at that branch than Lysette did.
As they crested a small rise, she could make out the roof of Uncle Jim’s house, through the rain and trees. She could not see the barn, because it was sunk in the top of the hill. King was slowing down a bit. They had been galloping up a slight incline. After a slight drop, though, it was now all up a steeper hill. Still, when Lysette reined him into the driveway, he must have sensed that the journey was near an end, because he threw himself up the hill toward the old, sunken stable.
It had once been the ground floor of a huge barn. The barn had long decayed and been torn down, but the foundation was so sound, that Uncle Jim had put a reinforced roof on it, and used it as a stable.
They cantered into the shelter of the entrance, and Lysette threw herself out of the saddle to open the door. She forgot about her bad foot. Her whole leg went numb with the shock of putting her whole weight on it. She stood, unbalanced, on the other leg, waiting for it to really start hurting.
The little red car, and Uncle Jim both got to the stable door at the same time. Uncle Jim threw open the door, Mindy grabbed the reins and led King in, and Momma grabbed Lysette to keep her from falling down.
Elliot held on to Chuckie’s leash, and followed everyone into the barn.
“You made it, Kiddo,” he said, holding back Chuckie from jumping all over her.
“Yeah,” she said, out of breath, and still waiting for her foot to do something other than burn with numbness. It was beginning to ache now. Elliot turned to Mindy.
“We better move it,” he said. “I don’t know how far we will get before the hurricane hits.”
“Too late to go anywhere,” said Uncle Jim. “You better ride it out here.”
Like adults everywhere, they had to discuss the matter, but there wasn’t much to argue about. Elliot parked his car in the shelter of the hill and barn, and Uncle Jim carried Lysette into the house.
After she had jumped on her foot that way, there was no way they could get her boot off without it hurting. Momma had to cut it off. It was her favorite set of cowboy boots, but boots were just boots, right? Right? It was hard to convince herself, but knowing King was safe helped.
Her foot was swollen, and it had areas of purple and red and blue. It did not hurt much if she did not do anything with it. Momma gave her some aspirin, wrapped it in a support bandage, and put ice packs on it.
“It’ll be okay, even if a doctor doesn’t see it for a day or two,” said Uncle Jim. “He’d probably just tell you to do what your Momma’s already doing.”
They had fixed up the pantry in the basement with furniture and necessities, to ride out the storm in comfort. Lysette got the best seat–one of those soft folding cushion chairs that had been unfolded and placed on top of the freezer. She lounged back, with her foot and her head propped up on pillows. Momma was sitting right beside her, and Chuckie was on the floor, happy to be included.
They spent the first hours of the storm, telling all about what had happened on the trip. Then they talked about other horses, and other storms, and other things
. The stories were good, but Lysette was tired, and she stopped paying attention after a while.
The storm was wild outside. Even deep in the house, she could hear it swirling and swishing and slamming. The radio said it had barely started. She listened to the sounds, and wondered how her house was doing. The lights started flickering, and everybody stopped talking. Then the lights went out.
Uncle Jim turned on the flashlight, and they turned on the battery operated radio. The cracking and smashing and slamming sounds seemed all that much louder in the dark. Lysette took her mother’s hand, and closed her eyes, and hoped with all her might that all the horses had place to hide. Let them all be safe, and the deer, and the rabbits, and the cats and dogs and the ducks at the park. And that lady with the little dog in Florida. Let them all be safe.
Lysette figured her house would probably be smashed in the storm. Their car was lost on the road someplace, and maybe everything they had would be gone by morning. Still, here in Uncle Jim’s warm house, with her mother, and family, and friends, Lysette felt as though she would not lose anything.
And King was safe.
The End
= * * * =
Find more mystery, fantasy and adventure stories by Camille LaGuire at her website https://www.camillelaguire.com/.
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The End
* * *
About the Author:
Camille LaGuire is a Michigan writer of mystery and adventure stories. She has published fiction in magazines ranging from Cricket Magazine to Handheld Crime, to Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine. Her work has been reprinted in educational materials and overseas, and her short fiction has been nominated for Derringer awards. Her thriller play, Slayer of Clocks, was produced to sold-out audiences at the inaugural Discovering New Mysteries Festival in 2007.
The first book in her Mick and Casey Mysteries series, Have Gun Will Play, was named one of the top books of 2010 in the Red Adept Annual Indie Awards. The next Mick and Casey novel will be coming out spring of 2012.