Hell on Wheels: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Karen Leabo

  “Looks like Oklahoma’s our best bet for tomorrow,” she said as she climbed behind the wheel.

  She drove tirelessly until the wee hours of the morning. Roan twice offered to drive, but she insisted she was fine. He wondered what in the hell Amos had told her. He might not hold the world’s best driving record, but he certainly wouldn’t take any chances with Victoria in tow.

  They were in the town of Seminole, not all that far from Lubbock, their starting point, when Victoria declared they could stop for the night. She picked a motel, the Wagon Wheel, based on the fact that it featured cable TV with the Weather Channel and modular phones so she could hook up her computer modem.

  She had strange priorities, Roan mused. He would have preferred someplace with a swimming pool and room service.

  As they walked up to the registration desk, Roan slipped an arm around Victoria’s shoulders. “Hi,” he said cheerfully to the elderly female desk clerk. “I’d like the honeymoon suite for me and my new bride here.”

  “Roan!” Victoria jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Ouch. It was just a joke,” he said as he let her go. “Woke you right up, didn’t it?”

  She ignored him and addressed the clerk. “We’d like two singles, on the first floor if possible.”

  Before long they were carrying their bags and equipment into their respective rooms, next door to each other. Victoria wasted no time turning on the Weather Channel and perching on the end of the bed to watch. Since she’d left the door open, Roan wandered in to see what was so compelling on the screen.

  “Look, look, look,” she said excitedly. “See that big red area all over Oklahoma? The dry line is moving east and the cold front is moving south. If any storms go up, they’ll be good ones. Oh, yeah, tomorrow’s the day.”

  He wondered if she ever got that excited about anything else—like sex. The unbidden thought brought a sudden tightness below his belt. Damn, this was no good. He was never going to last two weeks with her at this rate.

  She sobered as she viewed the footage of tornado damage in Raton. “Nasty storm,” she said. “At least no one was killed.” She glanced over at him. “Oh, just put that down anywhere.”

  He realized he was still holding her tripod, which he’d carried in from the van. He set it on the floor by the window.

  “Well, it’s late,” he said. “You’re probably exhausted after all that driving, so I’ll get out of your way.”

  She raised her arms above her head and stretched, pulling her cotton blouse tight against those firm little breasts of hers. “I’m tired, but it takes me a while to wind down from the road. Don’t feel like you have to keep me company though.”

  He was already reaching for the doorknob. He had to get out of there. “What time … morning?” he asked. He couldn’t articulate his thoughts with her like that, all rumpled and sleepy and looking like she needed a good tumble.

  “I’d like to get on the road about ten, so we can meet around nine or so for breakfast. The restaurant next door is pretty—”

  He didn’t hear the rest. He was already outside, slamming the door for good measure.

  FOUR

  As the van carried them in air-conditioned silence toward the Oklahoma border the next morning, Roan was assailed with all manner of inappropriate thoughts concerning himself and the woman who sat a mere foot or two from him.

  Today Victoria wore pale blue jeans and another proper, pressed cotton blouse, her rich russet hair neatly pinned atop her head. It was too easy for Roan to imagine what she would look like without her conservative clothes, her skin smooth and pale against scented sheets. He could feel his hands tangled in her long hair, and the warmth of her breath mingling with his. He could hear her passionate cries of ecstasy, echoing over and over in his mind. The fantasy was more vivid, more real, than any actual sex he’d ever been a part of.

  And he had to stop thinking about it, dammit. She was off-limits.

  “Did you say something?” Victoria asked, all innocence.

  Roan realized he must have made some kind of noise in his frustration. “Just wondering how long before we get somewhere,” he groused. The inactivity was getting to him. Yes, that was it. He was not accustomed to sitting in a car for hours on end. He was a physical man, always full of energy, and right now that energy was channeling itself into unwanted paths.

  “We’re almost into Oklahoma,” she said cheerfully. Her mood was much improved from yesterday. The Weather Channel’s big red splotch over central Oklahoma had still been there that morning, and all of Victoria’s calculations supported the forecast for violent weather. During breakfast she’d smiled like a woman who’d just spent a lusty night with her man. That’s what had gotten Roan started on his fantasies.

  “Another hour or so and we’ll stop,” she said. “What looks like a good town?”

  Roan consulted the road atlas, grateful for any distraction. “Altus isn’t too far. About fifty miles, I’d say.”

  “Altus it is. If I recall, there’s a good barbecue restaurant there.”

  “You mean we’re actually going to stop for lunch at lunchtime?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” she said with a shrug and an easy smile. “Never let it be said I don’t do something wild and impulsive once in a while.”

  Roan refrained from laughing out loud. That would be the day, when his Vicky did something wild and impulsive. When and if she indulged in lovemaking, she probably put it on her to-do list first.

  Oh, Lord, he was doing it again. He shouldn’t think about Victoria and lovemaking in the same sentence.

  “Did you feel that?” she asked suddenly.

  Before he could respond, the van bucked, then hesitated, then gasped a bit “Oh, that. Yeah, I feel it.”

  “What’s wrong with it? I’m losing power.” Her voice was edged with tension. The van was indeed slowing down, and the engine was making an awful chugging noise. “Should I stop?”

  Roan took a quick look around. There wasn’t a speck of civilization within sight. “Not unless you like hiking through the desert.”

  “We wouldn’t have to hike anywhere,” she countered. “I can call the auto club on the cellular phone.”

  “And we’ll be waiting into the next century for a tow. Pull over to the right lane and keep going. Maybe we can make it to the next town.”

  “What if I ruin the engine by driving it this way?”

  “You won’t,” he said confidently, although actually he had no idea. “Anyway, the van is still under warranty, right?”

  They had slowed to thirty miles per hour. Despite her obvious doubts, Victoria kept driving, hands clutching the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, her teeth tugging her lower lip. “What’s the next town?”

  Roan was already consulting the atlas. “Haynie. Maybe about ten miles.”

  “Let’s hope they have a mechanic.” She glanced over at Roan. “You know anything about fixing cars?”

  “Yeah, but without tools and parts I can’t do much.” She sighed at that, and he felt an inexplicable urge to comfort her. “It’s early yet. Maybe it’s a minor problem, and we can get it fixed and be on our way in plenty of time to catch the storms.”

  “Maybe,” she said without much conviction.

  He couldn’t blame her for her pessimism. Whatever was wrong with that engine, it didn’t sound even remotely minor.

  The next twenty minutes passed in tense silence as the ailing van struggled up each small incline, threatening to expire with every labored gasp of the engine. It didn’t help Victoria’s mood when Jeff Hobbs’s silver Blazer buzzed right past them with an arrogant honk of the horn. Jerk. Didn’t he notice they were having car trouble? He could have at least stopped to see if there was a problem.

  At last signs of civilization began to materialize—a billboard here, a building there. “I see a gas station up ahead,” Roan said.

  Victoria expelled a long breath, releasing an almost palpable tension. “Thank God,” sh
e murmured.

  Haynie, Oklahoma, was the epitome of a one-horse town. It sported a main street with two flashing yellow lights and one bona fide stoplight. When Victoria was forced to brake for the light, the van died and refused to start again.

  “All, hell,” Roan muttered. They were half a block from their destination, and he was going to have to push.

  “Maybe they’ll tow it from here,” Victoria ventured to say.

  Roan unfastened his seat belt. “This’ll be faster. Just put it in neutral, and keep your foot off the brake.”

  Roan was an old hand at pushing cars. He’d once owned a Jeep that had to be push-started at least once a day. But the full-sized van was considerably heavier than a Jeep, and Roan thought he was going to have a heart attack as he heaved against the back of the vehicle with all his might. Finally it budged, never mind that they were running through the red light. It didn’t matter, since there wasn’t another moving car in sight. Some metropolis, this Haynie.

  It seemed an eternity before he felt the van turning toward the right and into the gas station. He let up, and Victoria edged the van neatly into a parking place. Roan wiped his sweaty face with the bottom of his T-shirt as Victoria emerged from the driver’s seat, looking cool and regal as always.

  “Thank you, Roan,” she said earnestly. “You’ve certainly earned your keep today.”

  He felt grungy and unkempt standing near her. He took a reflexive step back, away from her freshness, her springlike scent, wishing suddenly for a shower and some decent clothes. He’d never felt uneasy about his casual dress before, not for a woman, not for anyone. Lord, what was she doing to him? “No charge,” he managed to say, still catching his breath.

  “Something I can do for you folks?” The man who spoke was small and wizened, wearing bright red overalls over a clean work shirt. A clashing neon-green gimme cap sat atop his grizzled hair. His cheek bulged with a wad of tobacco, and as he waited for them to answer, he turned his head and spat.

  Lovely. Roan felt suddenly less disgusting, by comparison.

  “Our van quit,” Victoria said. “We need a mechanic.”

  “That would be me, Leon Hornbostel at your service. Lucky for you it’s a slow day. Seein’ as I’m the only decent mechanic in these parts, sometimes it gets pretty backed up.” He took a long, slow look at the van, then asked suspiciously, “What’s all them antenneys for?”

  Victoria clearly was not interested in jawing with Leon about her business. “Weather-sensing equipment,” she said dismissively. “I’m with the Weather Service out of Lubbock. Before you tow the van into the garage, I need to do something. Excuse me.” She climbed into the van through the side door.

  Leon stuck his thumbs in his pockets and looked at Roan. “That’s quite a little spitfire you got there. Wouldn’t want to try to get nothin’ past her, no sirree.”

  Roan held his hands up defensively. “She’s not my spitfire. I’m just along for the ride.”

  Leon’s eyebrows flew up, but he said nothing.

  “I’m a photographer,” Roan added. “I’m documenting her work.”

  “Is that so?” Leon glanced at the van again. “What’s she doing in there?”

  “Playing with her computer,” Roan replied, figuring anything more technical would go right over the old man’s head. “She won’t be long. Got any cold drinks around here?”

  “There’s a machine inside the garage.”

  Roan found the ancient machine, bought an orange soda for an unheard of quarter, and leaned against a wall to drink it and smoke a cigarette. He’d smoked a grand total of two cigarettes the day before. At this rate, his current pack would last him the rest of the month. It wasn’t that he was holding himself back around Victoria either. He simply hadn’t felt much of an urge to smoke since embarking on this trip.

  When he’d finished the soda and smoke, he dug a clean T-shirt with a picture of a black bear from his bag and washed his face and torso in the bathroom. As he walked back out into the hot sun, feeling much improved, Victoria emerged with a handful of printouts and her laptop computer. Roan retrieved his camera bag from the back of the van before Victoria surrendered her keys to Leon.

  “If you folks want to have some lunch while I have a look-see at your engine, you can walk on down to Candy’s Cafe, middle of the next block. I should have an answer for you by the time you’re done eating.”

  “Okay,” Victoria said, casting one last, distressed look at the crippled van. Rather than towing it, three young men were attempting to push it into the garage.

  “It’ll be all right,” Roan said softly into her ear. “I checked out the garage. It’s clean and neat and appears to have all the necessary tools.”

  Victoria nodded miserably. With her laptop clutched against her chest, she set out in the direction of Candy’s Cafe with Roan right behind.

  They sat at a booth by the window. As Victoria typed rapidly on the laptop, she hardly touched the chef’s salad she’d ordered. Roan showed no such concerns. He devoured his hamburger and fries with gusto, and a slice of cherry pie on top of that.

  “Look at this,” Victoria said more to herself than to Roan. “I’ve never seen such consistent, clear-cut signs. It’s almost like having a giant arrow pointing right to where the tornadoes will form.” Rather than sounding pleased with her findings, she sounded depressed.

  “We can still get there in time,” Roan said with overt optimism. He had an overwhelming urge to cheer her up. “It’s only a little after noon. The van might have just thrown a belt or something. Leon might already have it fixed.”

  Clearly Victoria didn’t buy his Little Mary Sunshine routine, so he kept quiet. She continued to fiddle with her computer, and Roan, bored and fidgety, took his camera out and checked the settings. It was a natural extension from there to snap a few shots of Victoria lost in concentration. A beam of sunshine floated in through the window, backlighting her with an unearthly halo.

  He got off about three shots before she looked up.

  “Stop that,” she said irritably. “You’re supposed to take pictures of tornadoes, not tornado chasers.”

  “Unfortunately, there aren’t too many tornadoes in Candy’s Cafe,” he replied. Click. “Besides, I can’t resist taking pictures of you. You look beautiful.”

  For a split second she flashed a smile of purely feminine pleasure, then quickly suppressed it, pinching her lips together.

  “You know, Vicky, it wouldn’t kill you to accept a compliment from me,” he teased. “You could even smile. I promise, I wouldn’t automatically take it as an invitation. I wouldn’t even think of it as flirting, heaven forbid.” He shot off two more frames, capturing her reaction of dismay.

  “Will you cut that out?” She rolled up a sheaf of papers and thwacked him with it. “I’m glad you find me such a worthy photo subject, but you’re making me nervous. I can’t work.”

  Roan would have argued further. He was pleased he’d gotten a rise out of her. And she hadn’t berated him for calling her Vicky. But they were interrupted by one of the young men from Leon’s.

  “Ms. Driscoll, ma’am?”

  “Yes?”

  “Leon says I should tell you it’s your timing chain. If you’ll sign this here estimate, we can order the parts from the dealership in Altus and get to work on it right away.”

  “Timing chain? That sounds serious. How long will it take to fix it?”

  The young man laid the form on the table in front of her. “If the parts are in stock, we should have it ready by late this afternoon,” he said proudly.

  Victoria didn’t give him the reaction he’d been looking for. She frowned, sighed noisily, then looked at the estimate. Roan read it upside down—a couple of hundred dollars plus change.

  “If you had it towed to the dealership, you could get the work done under warranty,” Roan pointed out.

  “That would take too much time,” she said. “It’s okay, I can cover it.” With a fatalistic shrug she signed he
r name to the form. The young man tipped his hat and left.

  “Well, that blows any chance we had of catching up to the bad weather,” she said dejectedly. “Damn, what luck. What lousy luck. This is the best-looking weather day I’ve seen in a long time, and we’re stranded in Haynie, Oklahoma.”

  “Maybe we’re not as stranded as we think we are,” Roan offered. “I’ll bet we could borrow or rent a car from someone around here, just for the afternoon.”

  Victoria looked hopeful for a moment before she slumped again in defeat. “No, I wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too risky.”

  “Risky how? We’ll make sure the car has insurance.”

  “Well, of course. But we can’t just take off after tornadoes in some strange car with no communications equipment.”

  “It’ll have a radio. And we can bring the phone.”

  “Absolutely not.” She looked down at her computer screen again, indicating the subject was closed.

  Roan was intrigued with her stubbornness. What was the big deal about borrowing a car and trying to drive to where the action was? It was the kind of thing he did all the time.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little overcautious?” he ventured to ask.

  “No.”

  “Well, I do. I think you rely on all your electronic gadgetry like a crutch.”

  “Humph.” She unwrapped one of the peppermints the waitress had left with their check and popped it into her mouth.

  Roan leaned across the table until his chin was almost resting on the top of the computer screen. When Victoria refused to acknowledge him, he reached around the computer and nudged her chin upward with one finger.

  She looked up, her hazel eyes snapping with irritation. “What?”

  “What about the romance of the sky?” he said in a provocative whisper. “What about the thrill of the chase, the challenge of facing the unknown?”