Py pushed in on the clutch, shifted the gear shift over and up, and then let the clutch back out. The truck began to go backwards, which shocked Py so that he jammed his right foot hard down on the brake, setting the old vehicle at odds with itself. It buffeted a few times and tried to sputter to a stall, all the while rolling back. "Push in on the clutch!" Tory said, a little anxious, and Py depressed it in time to save the idle.
"I said put it in first!" Tory said.
"I thought I did," Py said. "I don't know what's wrong with this thing . . ."
Tory looked down at the gear shift, grabbing the knob and shaking it around a little. "Look right here," she said, pointing out a diagram of the shifting pattern imprinted in the metal shift knob. "Over and up, where you got it, is Reverse, not First!"
"It's first on Mr. Walker's truck," Py said factually.
"It is?" Tory said. "Well, it's Reverse here. Here First gear is over and down, Second is over to the right and up, and Third is straight down from there."
"Oh great!" Py said. "What if I get us goin' down the road and all the sudden forget and throw it into Reverse?"
Tory shook her head. "Well, don't forget. Commit it to memory. Reverse is over to the left and up, and you just don't go there unless you want to go backwards. Or just remember that you never 'throw it' over to the left and up. You throw it all the other places, but never there. That way you don't even have to remember what it does – until you want to go backwards."
Py looked at her with uncertainty. "Okay," he said. "So First is over to the left and down?" "That's right," Tory said, and Py took another crack at getting the truck headed forward, this time with success. He slowly let the clutch out and the truck began to creep forward.
"Tum the wheel all the way to the left," Tory said, and Py cranked the wheel. "Now you've always got to look while you're doing that, checking to see if there's another vehicle trying to come around you on that side. Also, look ahead of you, so you don't turn right into the path of an oncoming vehicle." Py did as he was instructed, as best he could, but somehow sticking his head out the driver's side window made him aware of the motion, and that in tum made him want to depress the clutch, which he partially did on an intermittent basis. The truck moved through a series of fits and starts in a slow semi-circle. "Don't be pushing in on the clutch, now," Tory said, and in trying to watch out the window, while also being aware of the clutch, Py found himself forgetting to turn the steering wheel, and before he knew it he was driving the old truck in a slow, tight circle in the equipment yard.
"This time around, straighten it out when we get pointed east and we'll take it out to the road," Tory said patiently. When they reached the county road that ran by the front of the ranch, she said – "Okay, now, we're going to tum right here. Look out to the left to see if anybody's coming – to the right, too. I don't see anybody, so push in on the clutch when we get a little closer to the corner and we'11just roll right on around."
Py guided the truck out onto County Road 12 and let the clutch out, reengaging the transmission. "Give it some gas," Tory said, "and I'll tell you when to shift."
"To shift?" Py asked nervously.
"We're going to have to shift into Second gear," Tory said. "Why?" "I ain't never been outta First," Py said.
"You'll like Second – it's faster," Tory said, and Py gulped as the truck picked up speed. "Okay, now this is where it gets sort of mystical. You kind've need to listen to the engine and feel how hard it's working." Py glanced over at her with uncertainty. "I'll tell you when to push in on the clutch and let up on the gas pedal." She let the engine rev just a little bit more, and then said – "Okay, push in on the clutch and let up off the gas," and Py followed direction. "Now, keeping the clutch pressed in, take it out of First and put it in Second. That's up into neutral then over to the right and up." Py moved the gear shifter into Second position. "Okay, now let the clutch out and give it a little more gas."
Py let out on the clutch and after rocking a couple times, the truck gained speed and proceeded at a moderate clip down the road.
"So far so good, huh?" Tory said, and Py nodded that such seemed to be the case, but he was starting to worry about that last unused gear. "It seems like we’re goin' kinda fast," Py said. Tory looked at the speedometer, which indicated that they were barely exceeding twenty miles per hour. "Let's pick up a little more speed and we'll go to Third," she said. "I don't know why we have to do that," Py argued. "This is as fast as I need to go." "Just give it some gas and I'll tell you when to push in the clutch," Tory directed, ignoring his objection.
Py reluctantly picked up speed as he did his level best to keep the truck headed down the center of the road, well away from the loose shoulders and the ditches on either side. He glanced occasionally into the rear view mirrors, and kept a nervous watch out over the hood for oncoming traffic, of which there was none.
The journey into Third went well, and soon Py and Tory were traveling down the road at nearly forty miles per hour. In the distance, about a quarter mile away, they could see where the road intersected with County Road 7, and on a gentle hillside to the north of that they could see the homestead of farmer-rancher Jess Willingham. "You okay with it?" Tory asked, and Py nodded that everything seemed fine.
Tory seemed satisfied that Py had nothing to worry about for a while, other than steering the truck down the roadway, so she took the opportunity to explore an ulterior motive she had for wanting Py to come on this excursion. "I wanted to ask you something, Py," Tory said. "Do you know anything about this trip to Denver Jake just took?"
Py glanced at her as if he wished she could save this for a more appropriate time, that he had quite enough on his hands right at the moment. "He said he went to Denver on family business," Py said quickly, staying focused on the task at hand.
"That's what he told me, too," Tory said, not quite satisfied with the answer. "Does he ever talk to you about . . . well, you know, other people or anything like that?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm havin' trouble thinkin' about what you're askin' me and doin' this at the same time," Py said anxiously.
"So he doesn't ever talk to you about . . . I don't know, things men talk about?
Does he ever do that with you?" Tory asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, you know – other people he knows . . . men or . . .women . . ." "Should I be slowin' down? We're gettin' pretty close . . ."
"Or does he ever talk about people in his past?" Tory asked. "What about this corner?"
Neither of them had noticed a car approaching to their left, southbound on County Road 7, that seemed to be traveling at a speed that would put it at the intersection at about the same time they were going to be there. Tory had drifted into a brief rumination, locked for a moment on an issue that had been dominating her thoughts since Jake left last Sunday on that bus. What was he up to?
She suddenly snapped out of her daze, realizing too late that she was well outside Py's envelope of competence to handle their rapid approach to the intersection. Py was going to have to make quick adjustments if he was going to make the corner.
"Push in on the clutch!" she said, "and brake it a bit. Don’t skid the tires!" "You see that car?" Py asked, panicked to see someone competing for roadway.
"You've got the right-of-way, so he should stop and let you go right by, but slow it down..."
Py depressed the clutch pedal and eased in on the brake, reducing the speed of the truck enough that it looked as if they might be able to make the corner. "Just be ready to stop, in case he doesn't see you, and turn to the left, right on past him. You'll be okay," Tory said. He did as instructed, but as the two vehicles arrived at the intersection the farmer driving the other car didn't yield, as Tory had expected. Instead, he slowed, as if he was going to stop, and then rolled right on into the intersection.
"Left!" Tory yelled, and Py craned the steering wheel hard in that direction.
The driver of the other vehicle saw the pickup momen
tarily headed straight for him and he hit the gas and drove ahead, so that Py passed by him on his right as he turned the corner. Shocked by the maneuver, the farmer cranked his car hard to the left and slammed on his brakes, sending his vehicle into a sideways skid through the gravel of the intersection.
Py drove down into the ditch on the north side of the road then back up over the road and across into the other ditch. "You son-of-a-bitch!" he could hear the other driver yelling as he pulled the coughing, sputtering truck back up onto the roadway. "Put it in Second," Tory said, and Py did so with some difficulty, grinding the truck into the lower gear.
Tory looked back toward the intersection, checking to see that the other driver was okay, which he appeared to be. He sat behind his steering wheel, shouting obscenities and shaking his fist in the air. "You wanna drive now?" Py asked, to which Tory said, "No, you're doing fine. That was his fault – he wasn't watching what he was doing."
Py let out a deep breath and seemed deflated. "I knew somethin' like that was gonna happen."
"You did fine," assured Tory. "Give it some gas and put it back in third when it seems like the engine is straining where it is."
Py did as she instructed, and after a moment he made a fairly smooth transition to the highest gear. They were clipping along the gravel roads again at about thirty-five miles per hour.
"You really are doing well," Tory assured. "Are you feeling a little more comfortable with it? You’ve already averted your first big chance at a wreck."
Py thought about it. "I like this part," he said, flopping his elbows to draw attention to his hands upon the steering wheel. "I like guiding it up the road."
"You're catching on real fast. No one would ever believe you hadn't been at it for years.”
Jess Willingham’s place was coming up on their right and as they approached his farm his old yellow retriever came running out toward the truck. Py saw it coming and tried to steer over to the left side of the road, but suddenly he and Tory heard a thump from the right front of the pickup, followed by a single sharp yelp.
"Hit the brakes!" Tory said, and Py did so, bringing the truck to a skidding halt on the road. "Oh my God!" She looked out and saw the dog lying motionless on the shoulder of the road.
"I hit a dog!" Py, for whom animals were Godheads, cried out.
Tory saw Jess Willingham walking toward them from his farm house. "Mr. Willingham! Your dog ran out in front of our truck and we hit him!" she yelled, and began to open the door to get out and check his condition.
"Oh, he's okay," Willingham said, to the surprise of both Tory and Py. He walked over to the where the dog lay, still as a pile of dirty laundry, and nudged it with his foot. "Bob, you okay?" he asked, and the retriever lifted his head and looked up at his master. "He's okay," Willingham said. "Everybody who drives by here nowadays seems to hit him. I think he's kinda gettin' used to it."
"That's terrible," Tory said. Py looked with disbelief at the animal, which slowly pulled itself to its feet and then staggered over toward the pickup. It stood stupidly staring at the phenomenal battering beast that had deposited it so meanly in the weeds. "He's been chasin' cars since he was a pup," Willingham explained. "His reflexes ain't what they used to be. He's gettin' old and don't know it."
"I'm sure sorry," Tory said. "I hope he's going to be alright."
Willingham nudged the dog with his foot. "You gonna be okay, Bob?" The dog gave him a regardant look, and let his tongue loll out of his mouth. "He's fine," Willingham said. "One of these days I'll come out here to check on him and he won't get back up, but not today. It looks like he'll chase a few more after yours."
"That's a heck of a dog," Py said, with some awe, as he looked out at the invincible cur.
Tory once again expressed her apologies, and then she and Py continued on up the road, leaving Bob and Jess Willingham to return to their routine and await the next brush with canine mortality. "Well you are getting the baptism of the devil, I'd say. You can't have any nerves left about driving now, do you?" Tory asked.
Py brought the truck back up to speed, once again getting all the way into third, and he seemed to be growing more comfortable with his command of the vehicle. He'd driven less than two miles and already had been involved in two traffic incidents. No one or thing had sustained serious injury yet, so Py was beginning to believe he could captain this ship. It was becoming obvious that sometimes terrible things don't happen, a leap of faith contemplation that would have been impossible for him prior to this sojourn into transportability. Py was starting to relax a little behind the wheel. For the first time in his life, he was starting to really feel that he could drive.
* * * * *
"So tell me, Jake – you got another girl?"
Jake looked at Tory like he couldn't imagine what she must be thinking. "You can be honest with me," she urged. "I can handle it."
"What makes you ask such a ridiculous question?" Jake said, shaking his head like he couldn't conceive of a notion so remote.
"Well, what'd you do in Denver for two and a half days?" Tory asked. "And don’t tell me it was family business – you’ve told me yourself that all your family is in Iowa and Nebraska."
Jake grinned. "Are you just a little bit jealous? Is that what it is?"
"Do I have anything to be jealous of?" Tory asked, to which Jake answered "No." "Well then, why can't you just tell me? Sunday night, for instance? What did you do when you got to Denver? Where did you stay?"
"On Sunday night?" Jake repeated the question as if, somehow, he hadn't quite gotten it the first time.
"Yeah – Sunday night."
Jake looked down at the 4x4 inch post at their feet, broken off flush to the ground.
Tory had all three Parker hands working to undo the damage done by the bull's two rampaging passes through her yard. "Well, Sunday night I stayed at a place called the Glenwood Crest, down in city center. It's on Colorado Boulevard," Jake said. "It's a real nice place where I often stay when I go to Denver."
"When did you check in?" Tory said.
"Oh, I don't know – whatever time it was when I got there," Jake said.
"In the afternoon, then?"
"Yeah, it was in the afternoon." Jake began to look at her as one might an attorney for the state.
"What about that night?" Tory asked. "What did I do that night?" Jake repeated, but Tory wasn't going for his dumb act. "On Sunday night, after you checked into the hotel. You had a whole evening to kill. What did you do?"
Jake smiled, somehow amused by her tenacity. "I told you that I had to meet with some people . . ." But before he could answer, Tory anticipated his line and cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah...you had family business. But you don't have any family in Denver, so who were these people you met with?"
"What is this?" Jake asked.
"Why are you being so shifty?" Tory said, smiling in a way that masked her real motive, which was to find out the truth about what Jake was doing.
"I'm not being shifty," Jake said.
"Well then – who were these people?"
Jake wasn't to be rattled. "Okay," he said, shaking his head. "There was a lawyer there – a guy who handles some affairs for members of my family – and he had long ago agreed to meet with me to discuss some things. He was returning from a trip to California and he stopped-off in Denver on his way back to Omaha. I had dinner with him, we talked business, and then I went back to the hotel."
"And then?" prompted Tory.
"I went to sleep," Jake said. "I was a little worn out from the bus trip and the shop talk, so I turned in early."
Tory eyed him suspiciously. "Family business, huh? What kind of family business?"
"Well you've just got to know every little detail, don't you?" Jake said, prodding her back a little. "You must think you're some kind of a William Jennings Bryan or something. Is that right?"
"Something like that," Tory said, standing her ground.
Jake took on a mischievous glint. "Or are you just b
eing an insecure female?"
That brought a sharp look from her. "I'm not insecure," Tory said. "I just don't see why you should have any problem with letting me know what you were doing in Denver. That is unless you've got something to hide."
"That's insecure female," Jake said, victorious.
"It isn't either!" Tory said, a little repulsed. "It's expecting that when two people are in a relationship they shouldn't have any trouble answering any questions the other might have about what they've been up to."
"What do you think I'm up to?" Jake asked.
"I don't know," said Tory.
"Because I haven't 'been up' to anything," Jake said. "Other than answering a bunch of fool darn questions from you."
* * * * *
Pete had been listening to the conversation, through the kitchen window, and now looked out to make sure everything was okay between the two of them. He hadn't said as much to Tory, but he had high hopes for her and Jake's relationship, and it upset him to hear them jousting with one another. He had noticed changes in the way Tory had been when Jake was gone on his trip, not herself at all, fidgeting around the house and yard, distracted and impatient with her chores. Pete hadn't seen her behave that way since she was a kid in school. It certainly wasn't the Tory who had returned from the west coast, whose increased confidence and independence had been so apparent. Now this thing with Jake had her all upset, or at least as upset as she seemed likely to get. It may have been only a tiny pout, but Pete was sensitive to her and he could feel her dissatisfaction.
For him there was no ignoring the fact that Jake was something powerful in his little girl's life. Tory had seemed oblivious to men, especially since she came back to Longmont; oblivious to people in general, in fact, and it had Pete a little worried. She never went to town, never attempted to reunite with old friends from school, never met anyone new and never, ever showed an interest in dating. Pete was unsure what to do about it – or even how to feel. A part of him liked having her all to himself, warming up nights that had seemed pretty cold since her mother died. Tory's moving back in with him had renewed him in some way, and recently he had seen signs that her presence was even reinvigorating the ranch. But Pete knew that it wasn't right – that a young woman like Tory needed to have more than just her father in her life, that she still had youth left in her that Pete hated to see her waste. Tory just showed no interest whatsoever in the local men. Pete had sometimes wondered if she hadn't had some awful experience that had turned her against men altogether. He even wondered if it wasn't other women who now interested her. What did he know about these things? Her travels were far broader than his, including exotic places, exotic people. He guessed that there were ways of thinking out there in the open world that were probably beyond the range of imagination for him and most of his Weld County neighbors. Who knew what Tory might have picked up in the way of avant garde ideas? Maybe she was modern in some way beyond his comprehension. Maybe she had no use for conventional lifestyles. These were the things Pete had begun to wonder, but then Jake came along, and the Tory he had known was back again. That's why Pete had been so open-minded about letting Jake stay with them at the ranch. Tory had brought him back to life, and now he could sense that Jake was doing something similar for her. Now he did not like the way they were talking to each other. It sounded too close to a confrontation for an old man to want to hear.
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