Love You to Death (14 page)

“Thanks,” I said. “Are you a doctor?”

“No. I’m studying to be a large animal
vet.”

“Oh.”

Gideon nodded to Cort.

“Hey Stewie, you gonna leave me hangin’
here?” Cort laughed. His voice wasn’t as deep or soothing as
Gideon’s, but he shared the same drawl. Stewie looked at me,
conflicted.

“Go ahead, I’m good,” I told him.

He hopped off the bed and shuffled excitedly
over to the table.

“I thought it might be easier to talk if he
was otherwise occupied,” Gideon said.

“Good thinking,” I said, trying to sit up. It
wasn’t working with only one arm. Gideon reached under my arms and
pulled me into a sitting position, then stacked pillows behind me
for support.

“I’m not sure how we ended up in your
trailer,” I began.

“Stewie already explained. You told him to
hide. He saw our trailer and climbed in.”

“Ah...” Good thinking, Stewie. Gideon’s eyes
were leveled on my face. He’s waiting for me to tell him what
happened. What should I say? Instinct told me to lie. Lying is
safer.

“Are you runnin’ from the law?” he asked
quietly, sitting down on the other bed again.

“Good question. I’m not entirely sure if
saying no is the correct answer.” Now why’d I admit that?

His brows folded together, confused.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so mysterious.”
I ran my tongue over my lips. I noticed Gideon’s expression didn’t
change. I took a deep breath. “We were in the wrong place at the
wrong time. I don’t know if anyone knew we were there or not.” It
was the truth. The truth condensed without specifics, but still
true.

Out the corner of my eye I saw Cort and
Gideon exchange a look.

“When did all of this happen?” Gideon asked,
leaning his forearms on his knees, lacing his fingers together. He
knew there was more to it than what I was telling them.

“Uh, what day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“It happened this afternoon, around 2:00, I
think.” My stomach growled. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Charleston, West Virginia.”

That was a good head start. I was relieved,
very relieved. My stomach growled again. I put my hand over it to
silence the demand.

Gideon got up, crossed the room and reached
into the cooler again. He pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it, and
handed it to me. I accepted it and took a big bite of bologna and
cheese.

“Thanks,” I said between bites. He nodded,
his face serious.

“Where’re ya’ll headed?” Cort asked.

“As far as we can get,” I said around a bite
of sandwich.

“We’re headed home. We can take you as far as
that,” Gideon said quietly. I heard what he wasn’t saying. He
didn’t want to be involved.

“I understand. I... we appreciate any help
you can give.” I wasn’t mad that they didn’t want mixed up with us.
I didn’t want to be involved either. But the fact that they had
already helped us so much and were going to give us a ride to
wherever was fine by me.

* * * *

Sleep was impossible. The shoulder had its
own heartbeat. Stewie was softly snoring beside me. Cort and Gideon
were sound asleep in the next bed. I carefully slipped out from
under the covers and went to the bathroom. I closed the door then
switched on the light. The face in the mirror was a shock.

Half of my face was pasty pale. The other
half was swollen with patches of red and blue-black discoloration.
My hair was tangled and dirty. Terrific. No wonder they thought I
was a junkie. My New Year’s resolution was going to be to not get
injured, beat up, or shot at in the next year.

I cleaned myself up, turned out the light,
and opened the door, tiptoeing across the room to the window.
Peeling back the side of the curtain, I stared out into the night.
The parking lot was empty except for a stray cat stealthily
skimming across the blacktop.

What a mess we were in. I had to think of
what we were going to do when we got to our destination. Cass would
probably have feelers out all over the city by now. Stewie and I
weren’t exactly inconspicuous. I dipped my hand into my pocket,
feeling the cold metal of the rings. I had to hock these for more
money. Maybe we could buy a car. Wouldn’t be much of one, but as
long as it was drivable I didn’t care.

Of course there was the little matter of me
not having a license. I never drove anything before. I doubted the
race car game at the arcade counted.

Somewhere a car backfired. I jumped. My heart
skittered, and I let the curtain fall back into place.

“Do you need more Tylenol?” Gideon whispered
hoarsely from behind me. I jumped again. My breath hitched as I
choked back a scream. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He took
a step back.

“It’s okay. I’m just a little on edge, not
your fault.” I patted my hand over my heart. He was holding a black
medical bag. He gently set it on the table and pulled out a bottle
of Tylenol, giving me two more pills. I downed them without any
hesitation, along with an entire bottle of water. I was so
thirsty.

Gideon grabbed another bottle of water,
handed it to me, and pulled out a chair, motioning for me to sit. I
was impressed by his manners. He sat across from me, his long
jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him, bare feet crossed at
the ankle. He pinned his thoughtful semi-sleepy gaze on me. We sat
there in silence for a few minutes until I realized he was waiting
for me to start talking.

“So...” I said, failing to think of a topic.
What could we talk about? I wasn’t spilling any more info from my
end. “What were you doing in Baltimore?”

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a
faint shadow of disappointment flicker in his soft brown eyes.

“Delivering a horse,” he said, crossing his
arms over his chest. It seemed he was a man of few words.

“Oh, yeah, that explains the trailer.” I
bobbed my head. We sat in silence for a few more minutes while I
nursed the water. I felt like I was in a shrink’s office. I almost
expected Gideon to start asking me, ‘How does that make you feel?’
while he scribbled on a note pad. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What kind of horse?” I asked.

“A quarter horse.”

What I knew about horses you could fill a
test tube with. I pretended to know what a quarter horse was with a
simple little jerk of my head. Gideon lifted one corner of his
mouth.

“It was for the daughter of a plastic
surgeon,” he explained. “We were at his office picking up the
check.”

“Oh.” I took a sip of water.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Old enough,” I replied. My back
stiffened.

He cocked his head, considering my answer.
“Where’re your parents?”

“Dead.” I’d answered that question too many
times.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking surprised. “Are
you a runaway?”

“How can I be a runaway if I don’t have any
parents to run from?” I countered briskly.

“You don’t have any other family?”

I thought of my aunt, quickly dismissing her.
I shook my head.

He uncrossed his arms, laying one across the
table, drumming his fingers against the top. He wore a poker face
but the set of his jaw told me I was getting to him.

“An orphan, huh?”

“Yep, just like Annie.”

We sat there, facing off in a silent tug of
war. I was used to fits of rage and angry outbursts. His quiet
patience was unnerving me.

“How’d you saddle up with Stewie?”

“We were staying in the same home.” I didn’t
know why, but for some unexplainable reason I didn’t want to lie to
Gideon any more than I had to.

“Got any money?” Those sherry brown eyes
didn’t waver as they stared into mine.

“A little.”

“How about a plan?”

“We’re going to get as far as we can, to be
as safe as possible and live a nice normal quiet life,” I
sighed.

Gideon gave me a brief nod. He liked this
answer.

“My turn,” I told him, sitting up straighter.
“Where are we going?”

“Home,” he said, his smile widening.

I arched my brow imperviously.

“Kentucky.” he grinned.

Chapter
Fourteen

I was in hillbilly hell.

Cort had command of the radio, which he had
set to a local station blasting a morbid mix of steel guitars and
banjos as he sang along. Even Stewie was tapping his feet. He had a
good excuse. He was suffering from a chronic case of hero worship
where Cort was concerned.

Gideon was driving. He didn’t say much. That
seemed to be his normal way. Stewie and I sat in the back seat of
the king cab pickup truck as it torpedoed down I-64.

“Feels good to be home,” Cort said
loudly.

“Cort has horses and dogs and cats and the
one cat had kittens,” Stewie told me for the hundredth time. “He
said I could maybe have one if you said it was alright...”

I looked in his eyes, shining with all the
hope of a kid at Christmas.

“We’ll see,” I said. An ecstatic grin
stretched over his face. Cort winked at me. I glared at him. I told
him to quit egging Stewie on about the stupid kittens.

“How much longer?” I whined over the music.
My thinking was clearer this morning. The fever was gone. The
shoulder, however, was still pulsing in agony. I needed to get out
of this moving-redneck-radio-on-wheels and stretch my legs,
preferably on a bed where I could take a nap.

Gideon looked at me from the rearview mirror.
I watched as he reached out and turned the sound down. “About
another twenty or thirty minutes,” he said, eyes back on the
road.

I worked myself into a fine state of anxiety
as Gideon turned off the highway, maneuvering through a small town
before chauffeuring us onto deserted country roads. The scenery was
freaking me out. The more we drove the less there was. Buildings
were scarce. In their place was a plethora of trees and wide open
fields of lush green grass perforated with fencing. Sometimes, I
saw grazing horses inside the fenced areas.

What worried me was the lack of civilization.
Where were the people? The last McDonald’s I saw was in Winchester,
the town we just cruised through. But now I didn’t see anything. No
cement sidewalks or Walgreen’s or shopping centers or restaurants.
Where were all the people?

I’d heard of these types of places on PBS.
Deep in the country where they ate roadkill and married each
other’s cousins. I’d be quite the catch to these shaggy mountain
men. I had all my teeth.

Gideon made another turn and a stately iron
gate rose twenty feet high in front of us. Flanked on each side was
an equally impressive wall of stone and mortar. He pulled up to the
gate, rolled his window down, and entered the security code on the
keypad that was embedded inside a large stone.

The heavy gates slowly swung open. Gideon
continued forward down a tree-lined, paved drive that seemed to go
on forever. I sat up a little straighter.

The lane twisted to the right. My breath
caught at the sight coming into view. The driveway continued to the
front of a mansion that I could only compare to the one in
Gone
with the Wind
. Tara, right here in the middle of nowhere. The
only thing missing were Scarlett and Rhett.

We aren’t in Kansas anymore, that’s for
sure.
I felt bad for thinking the worst.
I bet all the
people living in this house had all their teeth.

I caught Gideon staring at me in the
rearview. He turned to smirk at me. He knew what I’d been thinking.
A blush swept up my neck and over my face. He cut the engine. Cort
sprang from the truck with a howl.

Stewie giggled. I sat there, suddenly very
aware of my appearance. Leaning over the seat I tapped Gideon on
the shoulder.

“If you point me in the direction of your
phone I’ll call a cab and we’ll be on our way.” I gave him the
sweetest smile I had.

“You can’t go yet.” Cort poked his head into
the cab. “You have to meet Maw-Maw.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Stewie was
climbing out of the truck, following Cort into the house. Gideon
looked my way before exiting the truck and ambling up the wide
steps of the veranda.

There was no way around it. I’d have to suck
it up and meet these super rich people looking like something that
crawled out of a garbage can. Maw-Maw would take one look at my
colorful puffy face and gunshot injured arm (Heaven to Betsy!) and
promptly order the butler to take us out the back and lock the
door. I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to concentrate.

“You dead?” Someone poked my leg. I screamed,
sliding across the seat. My chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. A
woman with fuzzy gray hair dressed in overalls stood beside the
truck, poking a stick through the window.

“Guess you aren’t dead,” she scowled. “Are
you one of those insurance people, coming to see if I’m dyin’?” She
tapped the stick on the window trim. “Cause if you are, I got a
twelve gauge that’ll tell you I’m alive and well.”

“I’m not an insurance agent.” I swallowed
loudly. After a year on the streets I knew nutty buddies when I saw
one. She was definitely missing a few screws.

“Oh. Well, come on in then.” She waved me to
come out of the truck as she made her way to the porch. “I got tea
chillin’ in the Frigidaire. We can sit on the porch and talk.”

I was frozen in place. I wanted to roll up
the windows and lock myself in. The crazy lady turned around, saw I
was still in the truck, and glared at me.

“C’mon gal, get movin’, I don’t have all
day,” she screeched at me.

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

The veranda was beautiful. There were huge
hanging ferns suspended by white metal hooks between each of the
columns. Strategically placed white wicker furniture sat to the
left while an oversized swing hung at the end on the right. It was
a scene off the cover of
Southern Living
.