Lost Highways (A Valentine Novel)

by Matlock, Curtiss Ann

  Then she sneaked a peak at him, saw him rubbing a hand over his hair.

  Again his eyes came to hers. “It’s a nice day,” he said.

  “Great day,” she said and made herself focus on the road and driving, while very aware that he rode beside her. She figured it felt as it did simply because he was the first person to ride in the truck with her since she had started out on her trip to somewhere.

  They dropped Rainey’s flat tire for repair at a gas station, and then continued on to a farm-and-hardware store. In the parking lot, she tied the puppy in the back of the pickup, saying that she didn’t want him to jump out and get run over. Even though he had not exhibited such behavior before, she looked at the busy street and grew doubtful.

  Harry had never been in a farm store and seemed to find the possibility of purchasing a chain saw and antibiotics and syringes at the same place quite fascinating.

  “They even have paint,” he said with some fascination.

  “Jeans, too,” she pointed out, amused and fascinated herself by his fascination. “You won’t find anything like what you’re wearin’, but you did say you wanted some clothes.” She gestured at the stacks of Wrangler jeans.

  Leaving him apparently quite happily engaged in perusing the clothing, she went on to the stock supplies to get the wormer and grain she needed for Lulu. She also picked up some dog food and a rawhide chew bone for the puppy, telling herself that she could toss it down in the yard where she dumped the dog to occupy him when she made her getaway.

  Her shopping complete, she returned to the clothing section to find Harry gazing at himself in the full-length mirror. He wore jeans and a faded denim shirt that stretched nicely over his shoulders. A brown cowboy hat on his head, he turned to the right and then to the left, then cocked the hat at an angle the way he surely had as a boy watching Little Joe in Bonanza.

  “It’s great,” she said.

  He whirled around, snatching off the hat, a blush spreading over the sharp planes of his cheeks. As if it were on fire, he tossed the hat back on the table with the others. “Just thought I’d kill some time.”

  “Oh, no…you might need it.” She took it up and extended it to him. “The next couple of days are to be sunny, no rain in sight. Here, let me see again.”

  He took the hat and looked at her. She motioned at him. He set the hat back on his head and tested the placement.

  “How does it feel?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think I know how it’s supposed to feel.”

  “Uncomfortably tight far down…there. It should be tight but feel as if it could loosen. It will stretch.”

  He looked again in the mirror, at first as if sneaking a look, then frankly and as if to make certain he recognized himself. She liked how he had quickly gotten over his self-consciousness.

  “It suits you,” she said.

  His eyes came to hers. “Well, howdy, ma’am,” he said, his soft brown eyes sparkling, and his mouth grinning the first full grin she had seen thus far.

  “Howdy, yourself.” She jerked the brim of his hat downward over his face and laughed gaily.

  He swept the hat off and grinned at her, thoroughly full of himself.

  “You should look at boots, too,” she said, giving his loafers a doubtful look.

  So he bought boots, too, with a bit of her help and a lot of laughing and horsing around. Then they drove to Wal-mart, where he got socks and underwear, another shirt, and toiletries. She added a jean jacket to his cart, pointing out that they were on the high plains and that the nights would be cool.

  He touched the jacket and looked at her.

  “I know it’s only a couple of nights, but you might be glad for the jacket.”

  He nodded.

  They went through the store, Harry rolling the cart after her. His eyes widened when she tossed four big packages of snack cakes into the cart. She noticed his gaze slip down her figure; she thought he liked what he saw.

  She picked up cleaning supplies, saying that she didn’t trust her Uncle Doyle to have any. Harry pointed out dog collars hanging nearby.

  “I don’t need to buy a collar,” she said. “I bought him a chew bone. I’ll use it the first chance I get to dump him, to keep him busy so he won’t chase after us.”

  “Oh.”

  He paid for his purchases ahead of Rainey, and she noticed him carefully watching the clerk pass his credit card through the machine. He seemed nervous, and she wondered again about his life, what he might be getting away from. When the clerk passed over his sacks, she thought she could almost hear him sigh with relief.

  As they walked out across the bright parking lot, she asked him if he might need cash. “I think I’ll drop by the bank where my cousin works. There won’t be any trouble for us to get cash there, with a check or our credit cards.”

  “Why don’t we just use an ATM?” he suggested, looking around as if to spy one.

  “Well, I’ve never used one of those machines. I don’t have the number or card or whatever it is you need.”

  “You’ve never used an ATM machine?” He looked stunned.

  “No. I don’t like them…they sort of scare me. I mean, they suck in a plastic card and spit out money. Seems way too powerful a machine to mess with, if you ask me.”

  He stared at her, then furrowed his brow and asked how she felt about a dialysis machine.

  “I don’t think I could trust one of those, either,” she said, making no apologies. “Bank’s just up here on our way.”

  Rainey left Harry walking the puppy on a grassy area next to the bank. He said he didn’t really need any cash.

  “I’ll just keep using the card,” he said.

  She shrugged and went into the bank.

  Her cousin Neva saw her and jumped up from her big desk, coming forward with a wide smile. Rainey was struck. Her cousin had changed greatly in the few months since Rainey had last seen her. Neva’s brown hair, usually cropped short and mannish, now curled to her shoulders. She no longer wore glasses, and her dress was two inches above her knees.

  The man, Rainey thought in an instant. This was the result of the bum not fit to roll with pigs.

  “Good golly, girl, this is a surprise!” Neva said, enveloping Rainey in a big, warm hug.

  Joy washed over her. Neva had always been her favorite cousin. She was, as Uncle Doyle had said, very smart. She had attended the university at Austin on full scholarship and could have gone on to any university in the nation for her master’s. Instead she had said that four years of higher education was enough for anyone and had come home to work in a small-town bank, where, she said, she could live the simple life, which for her included racing barrels. What Rainey appreciated about her cousin was that Neva never acted superior to those of lesser intelligence.

  “I guess you are stayin’ out at Dad’s,” Neva said.

  “Yes. We got in there late last night—I’ve got a friend with me for a couple of days. I’ve been racin’ Mama’s horse in barrels the past couple of months, and I’m on my way to the rodeo up in Amarillo this weekend. Aunt Pauline had me bring your daddy some praline patties and some information about alfalfa she saw down in South America.”

  “I’d heard you were racin’ barrels again. Leanne said she had seen you in Wichita Falls. Leanne came through here a few weeks back on her way to the rodeo up at the XIT ranch—she gave me and my horse a lift up there. She sure does have a fancy rig. She’s doin’ pretty good with it these days, pretty much goin’ professional now.”

  Leanne was a cousin on her mother’s side. Rainey agreed that Leanne was very good, then mentioned that Leanne’s horse had cost upward of thirty thousand dollars.

  “And let me tell you, Leanne was spittin’ nails when she came in second to a five-hundred-dollar horse,” Neva said, laughing. Then she folded her arms and said, “Well, I didn’t know you were comin’ by here, cause Dad hasn’t been talkin’ to me for about three months now. Did he tell you?”

  “He
mentioned it.” Rainey searched her mind for something helpful to say about the situation.

  “Well, it’s his choice,” her cousin said. “He told me not to bother comin’ around to see him, so I don’t.”

  “Oh, he didn’t mean that. People say things in the heat of the moment.”

  “He sure did, and he said too much.” Neva looked at the credit card Rainey held. “Did you want a cash advance?”

  “Oh…yes.”

  Her cousin took the card and went around the counter to a teller drawer. Rainey told her she would take a couple hundred. “I really think I’m gettin’ near my limit.”

  A woman poked her head out of a glass office and called Neva to the telephone.

  “One sec,” Neva held up a finger, then counted out Rainey’s money, saying, “Listen, we’re havin’ practice on barrels and poles tonight out at Shirley Trammel’s arena. You’re welcome to join us. I can’t make it to Amarillo this weekend, but I’m probably goin’ to a rodeo over in Hereford at the end of the month. My Buck’s goin’ over there, he rides bulls.”

  Her cousin smiled brilliantly, giving birth to deep dimples. Rainey had never noticed the dimples. It must have been the new haircut that somehow framed them.

  “Shirley’s place is a mile north of Daddy’s.” She cast a wave as she hurried to the glass office. “You come on.”

  “Come to supper tonight,” Rainey called, but her cousin simply waved and shook her head.

  When she came out of the bank, Harry told her he’d found out that there was a dog pound. An old man had walked past and told him.

  “Why would he tell you that?” Rainey asked, lowering the tailgate for the puppy to jump inside. She imagined the strange situation of a man just walking down the street and blurting out, “The pound’s around the corner.”

  “I asked him,” Harry said.

  Rainey got behind the wheel and buckled her seatbelt.

  “I don’t think I need to take him to the pound. They only give the dogs a few days, and if no one claims them, they put them to sleep.”

  “The man said he thought the pound killed them in two weeks. He wasn’t sure, though.”

  “You are just a wealth of information,” Rainey said and shifted into drive, headed slowly down the road, keeping an eye out for a house with kids playing in the front of it. There were not many houses on the main street, and she supposed she would look awfully conspicuous driving up and down neighborhood streets.

  CHAPTER 7

  Naked to the Eye

  When they stopped at the station to pick up Rainey’s repaired tire, Harry made several calls from a pay phone. She saw him walking toward the phone as the attendant was putting her tire in the back of the truck. The sun shone on his new hat and his shoulders. He had nice, square shoulders.

  She got into the truck and sat there, watching him. He had a card in his hand—a calling card, she guessed. He bent his head close to the phone. She watched the intense set of his shoulders and head movement.

  After a minute, she started the truck and drove over to him, stopping a few feet away. It seemed the polite thing to do. She did not stop close enough to be eavesdropping, but close enough to have a better look at him…and to possibly catch a few words.

  She could hear no more, however, than murmuring. He turned, and she saw him give a small smile, nod and say what she thought must be, “Thanks,” just before hanging up.

  To her surprise, he dialed again. He waited, and in her imagination she heard the ringing across the line. His shoulders looked tensed, and for whatever reason, she felt tension, too, and chewed her own lip. Spying a fingernail file lying on the dash, she snatched it up and began filing her nails while repeatedly glancing up at him in a way she recognized as a little silly, but she could not stop, either.

  He had reached someone, pressed the receiver close to his mouth.

  He looked skyward, then back down, shaking his head. She caught, “No!” quite loudly.

  Then he seemed to listen long, said something and hung up, hard, his hand remaining for a full minute on the receiver, and his shoulders sagging as if he had been shot in the back.

  She wondered wildly if she should get out and run to him.

  Then, sweeping off his hat and rubbing his arm over his head, he looked around at her. She realized she was staring at him. She quickly looked down and filed like crazy. Who was he talking to? What was it all about? Well, she didn’t like whoever they were. They had hurt him.

  With dismay, she realized she had gotten carried away and filed one nail at a ridiculously crooked angle.

  Glancing up, she saw Harry dialing one more time. He paced with this one. It seemed to take him quite a while. She wondered what could be going on, and she was growing hot.

  She was debating about getting out and standing on the shady side of the truck, when he called over to her, “Do you have your uncle’s phone number?”

  “Oh…oh, yes. Just a minute.”

  She got her little address book from her purse and hurried toward him, holding open the page and pointing.

  He repeated the number into the phone. Then, looking intently at her and motioning, he loudly repeated the name Farris Wrecker Service and a phone number, which she repeated to herself until she found a pen and a scrap of paper in her purse to write the number on. She handed him the paper when he hung up.

  He looked at it and then squinted at her. “No one had found the car.” He spoke as if he was both mystified and disappointed.

  “Oh.”

  They got back into the truck, and Rainey headed it down the highway. She wanted to ask him a dozen questions about who he had talked to, but a reluctance to pry kept her silent. In any case, he did not invite conversation. A mood thick and dark had come over him. He gazed out the window, looking as sad as anyone she had ever seen.

  Finally she said, “I’m makin’ fried chicken for supper.” Good food generally could lift the darkest heart.

  He grinned at her, and she was satisfied at her attempt.

  CHAPTER 8

  Daring Souls

  Harry didn’t want to hold Lulu for her. He said, “I don’t trust any animal whose head reaches above mine.”

  “Your head appears even with hers,” she said, surprised to see him standing rooted to a spot several safe feet away.

  “Not even enough…she has at least nine hundred pounds on me.”

  “She’s as gentle as the pup,” she told him and held the lead rope toward him.

  With a distrustful eye on Lulu, he stepped forward. “I wasn’t too certain about that pup at first, but I figure I have about a 130 pounds on him easy and can hold my own,” he said in the manner of a thinking man.

  Chuckling, she put the lead into his hand. “Here…put your nose next to hers.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “See…put your nose to hers, like she does…she’s learnin’ about me by sniffing.” She blew softly into Lulu’s nose and kissed the soft tip.

  She left him standing there with the mare while she opened the trailer and cleaned it out. She had not had a spare minute to see to that chore since arriving. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Harry and the mare eyeing each other, Lulu obviously wondering nervously what there was to be afraid of.

  Then she took the mare and loaded her into the trailer and they were off. As they passed her uncle sitting slouched in a rocker on the porch, a thick research book in his lap, Rainey slowed and called out the window, “Come on over after a while, Uncle Doyle.” But he shook his head.

  With a sigh, she headed on down the drive. Glancing over, she saw Harry once more placing his hat on his head, dipping it low over his brow, as they were heading into the sun.

  His gaze caught hers. They smiled at each other. She thought how lovely his brown eyes were, and quickly returned her gaze to the view beyond the windshield.

  “Go girl!”

  “Get his shoulder up!”

  “Head for home!”

  The horse knocked th
e rider’s leg into the barrel, and Rainey winced. Then horse and rider were racing lickety-split down the dusty arena to the encouraging shouts ringing upward to the wide pale sky.

  There were seven barrel racers taking turns using the arena for practice and a number of other riders out for the relaxing fun of riding. Men and women sat around on the tailgates of pickups and fence rails, drinking RCs and Coors, and kids ran around chasing each other and playing in the dirt. No trees for miles, the wide sky above the color of turquoise, and the evening golden sunlight lingering. It was an open and free atmosphere that encouraged spirits to laugh and soar.

  Squinting beneath the shade of her wide-brimmed hat, Rainey rode Lulu toward the arena gate. A sense of anticipation rose in her like bubbles out of an uncorked bottle of champagne. There was a part of her that said “Ah” when she mounted a horse and found her seat, and Lulu, having already done a few slow turns around the barrels, was primed.

  The mare’s ears cocked back and her tail swished high. Heading Lulu toward the gate of an arena was like switching on an engine, and when Rainey tapped her heels, Lulu went into instant turbo drive, not what anyone would expect from a mare so fat. Rainey usually was a little surprised to remain on the horse’s back and not be left back in the dirt by the force of gravity.

  The mare’s mane flying, and Rainey’s hair beneath her hat doing likewise, they streaked into the arena and around the first barrel to the familiar encouraging shouts, and to some odd fellow boldly bawling instructions. Rainey barely heard the shouts, though, as she reveled in the power of the horse between her legs and the wind in her face. Tempering her exuberance for the sake of safety, she pulled gently on the reins, and Lulu settled into a flowing pace, rounding each barrel pretty as you please, turning for home at the third barrel and running for the gate. Then, riding right in front of Harry, Rainey let her spirit and the mare fly. She wanted him to see them in all their majesty.

  The man with the stopwatch called out to her as she passed, “Twenty even.” She nodded at him and headed Lulu off to walk around the outside of the arena and catch her breath.