Vegas heat
Page 47
Nealy took the napkin from her brother's hands and opened it up. Staring up at her were five huge pills. ' 'These are horse pills," she said, looking up at Pyne.
"Doc says what's good for horses is good for folks, too. He told me to cut them up in quarters. Just bite off a chunk."
Nealy stood up and tucked the napkin into her jeans pocket. "Thanks for the money and the pills." She used up another five minutes stuffing essentials into an old carpetbag that Tessie said had once belonged to her mother.
"You're welcome. It's cold out, but the heater in the truck
is working, and it's gassed up. I'm sorry about all this, Nealy. I wish there was some other way to .. ."
' 'Forget it Pyne," she said, cutting him short as she struggled to even out her breathing. "Pa is Pa, and that's it. Wherever I go and whatever I do ... it's gotta be better than this." She gave the room a last look. "I love this place, Pyne. Maybe because I don't know any better or maybe because our Mama is buried here. Then again ..." She shook her head, unwilling to voice her thoughts. "Am I going to get a chance to say good-bye to Rhy and Tessie?"
"No. Rhy's in the barn with Pa and Doc, and Tessie is standing guard at the back door. She made up a food basket for you and Emmie." He took the carpetbag from her hand and opened the bedroom door. "When you drive out, coast down the hill and don't put your lights on till you get to the main road. Don't stop till you're far away from here. When you get to where you're going, call Bill Yates and let him know how you are. He'll get a message to me. Can you remember to do that, Nealy? Jesus, I wish it didn't have to be like this. Make sure you remember to call now."
"I'll remember, Pyne. But I don't know where I'm going. Where should I go, Pyne?"
"Head for Lexington, Kentucky. Stop at the first breeding farm you come to. They'll take you in. You're good with horses, better than Rhy or I will ever be. Hell, you're better with them than Pa is. That's why he worked you so hard. He knew how good you were. You have grit, Nealy. Use it now."
"Good-bye, Pyne. And thanks ... for everything," Nealy said, her voice ringing with tears.
"Go on, git now before Pa comes back from the barn," Pyne said gruffly. Then he did something that she would remember forever. He bent over and kissed Emmie on the cheek. "You take care of your mama, little one." He pressed a bright, shiny penny into her hand. Emmie looked at it and smiled.
Nealy held Emmie close as she negotiated the front stairs. "Pyne?"
470 Fern Michaels
"Yeah?"
"Emmie is not a half-wit."
"I know that, Nealy. Hurry up now."
Perspiration dotted Nealy's face and neck as she quietly opened the front door and headed for the truck parked in the gravel drive. After settling Emmie into a nest of blankets on the passenger side. Nealy climbed in and adjusted the seat. She saw Pyne toss her carpetbag into the back with some buckets and a shovel. Then she put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it. The fact that she didn't have a driver's license suddenly occurred to her. She'd driven on the ranch and a few country roads, but she'd never driven on a major highway. If the state police caught her. would they send her back? Would her father tell them she stole the truck? Tessie would say she was borrowing trouble with such thoughts, and since she had all the trouble she could handle at the moment, she concentrated on the problem at hand, steering the coasting truck.
Nealy was almost to the main road when she stopped the truck to take one last look at the only home she'd ever known. SunStar Farms. Her shoulders slumped. Would she ever see SunStar's lush grassy pastures again? Or its miles of white board fence? Or April Fantasy, the stallion she'd raised and trained herself? Something told her she'd miss pasture grass, fencing, and a horse more than her own father and brothers.
Hot tears burned her eyes as she climbed out of the truck. She reached in the back for one of the empty oat buckets and the shovel. Moving off to the side of the road, she sank the shovel deep into the rain-softened ground, then filled the bucket with rich, dark soil. SunStar soil. That much she could take with her. She lugged the bucket back to the truck and hefted it into the truck bed. Her chest screamed with pain as she clamped a bigger bucket over the top to secure the dirt.
Gasping for breath, she leaned against the back fender and stared into the darkness. "They may think they're rid of me. but they aren't. I'll come back someday, and when I do. things will be different."
Nealy drove for hours, her body alternating between burning up and freezing. She stopped once to fill a cup with milk for Emmie and once to get gas. She took Emmie into the bathroom with her, careful to keep the wool cap pulled low over her face just in case anyone was looking for them. Satisfied that they had not attracted any attention, she climbed back into the truck. She gave Emmie some baby aspirin that she'd found packed among her things and broke off a quarter of one of the horse pills Pyne had given her.
Two hours later Nealy crossed the state line into Kentucky. She drove for another two hours before she left the main highway and headed down a secondary road with a sign pointing to Blue Diamond Farms. Maybe she could find work there, though why anyone would hire a sick teenager with a sick toddler was beyond her. On second thought, maybe she would be better off to find a cheap motel and stay there until they were both better.
Emmie tugged at her arm just as the truck bucked, sputtered, and died. Nealy steered it to the side of the road. She lifted the little girl into her arms and hugged her. The aspirin hadn't helped at all. Emmie was so hot she was listless. Fear, unlike anything she'd experienced in her short life, overcame Nealy. Emmie needed help—a doctor—a people doctor, not a horse doctor. She stared out the window and debated whether to take Emmie and walk down the road or cut across the field. If she cut across the field and couldn't make it, it might be days before anyone found them. With Emmie in her arms, she started down the road, only to turn around to get her bucket of dirt out of the truck bed. She could always come back for the rest of her belongings.
Twice she stumbled and almost fell but managed to right herself both times. She trudged on, the whimpering child clinging to her neck. "I can do this," she told herself. "I know I can do this." Like a litany, she said the words over and over.
The third time she fell she couldn't get up. Holding Emmie close to her she curled into the fetal position and cried. Then
472 Fern Michaels
she prayed. And when she opened her eyes, she saw denim-clad legs and muddy boots. Through fevered eyes she looked up and saw the biggest, ugliest man she'd ever seen in her life. "Please, can you help me and my little girl?"
Nealy felt herself and Emmie being lifted, and somehow knew they were in good hands. "My bucket. Please, I can't go without my bucket," she said, when the giant took his first step. "I can't leave it. It's all I've got left." She felt him bend down, heard the click-clack of the handle, and closed her eyes.
Nealy went in and out of consciousness. She knew people were helping her, knew the hands were gentle. She could hear them talking about her and her daughter. Someone named Maud and someone else named Jess. She felt them take Emmie from her arms and didn't protest because the hands were good hands, gentle hands. "Please God," she prayed aloud, her voice scratchy. "Let this be a good place."
"This is a good place, child," the woman, Maud, said. Her voice had a lilting Southern drawl. ' 'Jess and I are gonna take care of you and your li'l girl. Is there anyone you want us to call? Do you have a family, child?''
Until now Nealy hadn't considered what she would tell people who questioned where she'd come from. She couldn't think about it now because she was in too much misery to concentrate. "No, ma'am. It's just me and my little girl," she said for lack of a better explanation. Later she would give them their names and tell them something about herself, something that was close to the truth. Later, when she could think more clearly.
"All right then. Don't you worry about a thing. Jess and me will take care of everything. You just close your eyes and go to sleep. The doctor is on
his way."
*'I need my ..." Nealy's voice gave out.
"Jess is on his way now to tow your truck into the barn. As soon as he's through, he'll bring your things inside."
Nealy had to make the woman understand that it wasn't her belongings that were important to her. It was the bucket of
SunStar soil. "No!" She struggled to raise up but Maud held her down."
"What is it, child?"
"I need ..."
"Shhhh," Maud hushed her. "It's right here." She lifted the bucket for Nealy to see.
"Thank you, ma'am." And then she was asleep.
Fern Michaels likes to hear from her readers. You can e-mail her at femmic@aol.com
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FERN MICHAELS is the New York Times bestselling author of Charming Lily, Plain Jane, finders Keepers, The Guest
List, Celebration, Yesterday, and many other novels.
Surrounded by five children, three grandchildren, and five
dogs, she shares her 300-year-old South Carolina plantation
home with a resident ghost named Mary Margaret who
leaves messages on her computer.
Fern Michaels likes to hear from her readers and can be e-mailed at fernmic@aol.com.