by Sharon Sala
As she drove, she couldn’t help but notice how clear the air was and how blue the sky. That blue was echoed by the bluebonnets blooming in the pastures and along the roadsides. Calves dotted the fenced-in fields, as did the new foals tottering on long, shaky legs as they ran alongside their mamas.
It was spring. A time of renewal. Cat felt it in every facet of her being.
A short distance ahead, she noticed an old car on the side of the road. When she passed, she saw it was empty and thought nothing of it. But no sooner had she passed than she realized someone was on foot on the shoulder ahead.
Most likely the driver of the car.
It wasn’t Cat’s habit to pick up hitchhikers, but the person on foot was a young teenage girl carrying a small suitcase, so she changed her mind.
The girl was wearing blue jeans so old that they looked gray, a long-sleeved white T-shirt and a pair of tennis shoes. Her hair was red and short, and when Cat began to slow down, the girl suddenly stopped and turned. There was fear on her face—and something else that set Cat’s teeth on edge.
Cat hit the brakes and rolled down the window of her SUV before the girl could panic.
“Hey…need a lift?”
Cat could tell that the girl was torn between the need for aid and a fear of the unknown.
“My name is Cat Dupree,” Cat added. “I’m visiting Carter and Dorothy McKay.”
Cat saw that the girl recognized the names, which seemed to ease her distrust.
The girl glanced over her shoulder and seemed to come to a decision. She smiled briefly at Cat, put her suitcase in the backseat, then got in. She eyed Cat carefully, taking note of her dark hair and pretty face, but when she saw the scar on her throat, she bit her lip and quickly looked away, as if she’d been caught staring at something forbidden.
Cat saw the look. It wasn’t the first time someone had been startled by the twisted adhesion.
“It’s just a scar,” Cat said.
“I’m sorry for staring. Thank you for the ride. I’m Shelly Green.”
Cat eyed the dark bruise on Shelly’s cheekbone, the dried blood under her nose and the black eye, then shifted focus.
“Nice to meet you, Shelly Green. Where were you heading?”
“The bus depot, but if it’s out of your way, just drop me off wherever you’re going.”
Cat put the car in gear and started driving. Now that the car was moving at a fast clip, she keyed in on the girl’s wounds.
“So you said your name is Shelly?”
The girl nodded.
“Who hit you?”
Shelly flinched, then shrugged, but Cat saw her lower lip tremble.
She tried another question—one that wouldn’t be so difficult to answer.
“How old are you?” Cat asked.
“Seventeen.”
“Was it one of your parents who hit you?”
Shelly shook her head. “No, ma’am. I ain’t got no folks.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Cat said, then gave the girl another quick glance. Shelly was wiping tears and snot with the back of her hand. “There are some tissues on the backseat. Help yourself.”
Shelly looked startled, then glanced over her shoulder into the backseat, saw the box of tissues, and grabbed it and put it in her lap. Without comment, she blew her nose twice—hard—wadded up the used tissues and stuffed them in her jeans pocket, then put the box on the seat beside her.
“So…are you going to tell me who hit you?”
Shelly sighed, as if realizing Cat wasn’t going to stop until she got an answer.
“My old man. I pissed him off because I wouldn’t screw him this morning before he left for work.”
The skin crawled on the back of Cat’s neck as rage filled her.
“Your old man as in…?”
Again Shelly shrugged. “His name is Wayne. Wayne Bedford. We ain’t married, but I’ve been with him since I was fifteen.” Then she sighed, and it sounded to Cat as if the kid was carrying the weight of the world. “He didn’t used to be this way, but now…Anyway, I told him last month that if he didn’t quit hittin’ on me, I was leaving.”
“So this is the day?” Cat asked.
Shelly nodded.
“Where are you going?” Cat asked.
“Wherever a hundred and five dollars will take me,” Shelly answered.
Cat nodded without comment, but she felt sick to her stomach. This kid reminded her of herself at the same age. The only difference was that while Cat had been hurt many times in her life, it hadn’t been by someone who was supposed to love her.
“If you had a choice, where would you go?” Cat asked.
Shelly’s expression changed. Her eyes widened, and the tone of her voice lifted.
“Seattle, Washington.”
Cat grinned. “Why Seattle?”
“The trees and the mountains. I ain’t never lived anywhere that had mountains and trees, and I think it would be pretty close to heaven up there.”
Cat sighed. So young. Even after her living in hardship, life hadn’t taken the joy out of this kid’s world.
“If you got to Seattle, what would you do?”
“I’d figure something out. I’m a good waitress and—”
“Shelly, if you spend all your money on a bus ticket, where will you live when you get there?”
Shelly shrugged. “I’ve been homeless before. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
Cat didn’t answer, because there was nothing to say.
A few miles farther down the road, Cat noticed a pickup truck coming up fast behind her but thought nothing of it. The road was straight and flat, and there was no other traffic in sight. The driver could pass her without a problem.
Only he wasn’t slowing down or trying to pass. He was riding her bumper so close that she could see the three-day-old whiskers on the driver’s face when she looked in her rearview mirror.
“What’s that crazy trying to do?” she muttered, more to herself than to Shelly, but Shelly turned around to see what was happening.
“Oh lordy!” she screamed. “It’s Wayne! He found me! He found me!”
At that moment the truck rammed the back of Cat’s SUV. Shelly screamed again as Cat frantically tried to keep the car upright and on the highway.
“He’s going to kill me!” Shelly cried, and then began sobbing.
“Shut up and hold on,” Cat said sharply, then stomped the accelerator.
She sped forward, putting a good twenty yards between her car and the pickup. But the distance didn’t last. Wayne sped up, too, and within seconds, he rammed the SUV again.
This time it skidded and went sideways before Cat got it back under control. She floorboarded the accelerator at the same time that she pressed the emergency button on her GPS program. Within moments, the dispatcher’s voice came on.
“Good morning, Miss Dupree…how can we help you?”
Cat had to shout to be heard above Shelly’s wails.
“This is an emergency. Someone is trying to run me off the road. Track my location and contact the county sheriff’s office immediately.”
“I have you on track. We’re contacting the sheriff’s department right now. Are you injured?”
“No. Not yet,” Cat said, and then winced when the pickup hit her again.
Shelly’s shrieks elevated.
It occurred to Cat that this could very well be the last day of her life—and all because she’d picked up a young girl with a black eye and a bloody nose.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She wasn’t willing to give up her future for a jerk who couldn’t control his anger.
“Shelly, stop screaming,” Cat said firmly.
Shelly upped the level of her wail, so Cat went her one better. The roar that came out of Cat’s mouth was startling, even to her.
“Shelly! Shut. The. Hell. Up.”
Shelly had been conditioned to respond to fear, and right now she didn’t know who to be afraid o
f first: Wayne, who was trying to run them off the road, or this wild-eyed woman with the scar on her throat. She hiccupped as she caught her breath, then put her hands over her mouth.
Now the only sounds in the car were the dispatcher’s voice assuring them that help was on the way and the sound of their engine as they went flying down the highway.
Cat’s fingers were numb from the death grip she had on the steering wheel, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t outrun him. She’d already tried. If help didn’t get here soon, she was going to have to rethink her options. When the truck suddenly rammed them again, she lost it.
She opened the top of the console, throwing CDs out into Shelly’s lap until she reached the bottom of the compartment, then pushed hard. The bottom popped up, revealing the 9mm handgun she kept hidden beneath. Without missing a beat, she put it in her lap.
“Brace yourself!” she yelled, and then stomped on the brakes.
Tires squalled.
Rubber burned.
It was the last thing Wayne Bedford expected. The air bag went off in his face when he crashed into the back of Cat’s SUV. Her air bags went off, too, but she was ready for that.
Once she could concentrate after the bone-jarring crash, she jammed her car into Park, then fired a shot into the deployed bag, deflating it instantly. When she jumped out, her gun was aimed at the driver.
“Get out of the car!” she yelled, and then to emphasize her point, fired a shot over the top of the truck.
Suddenly Wayne’s fury at finding his girlfriend missing morphed into pure panic. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he realized he’d made a really bad move.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he screamed.
“Get out!”
“I can’t. I’m stuck,” he wailed.
Cat yanked the door open and fired another shot, this time into the air bag in Bedford’s truck.
Wayne was screaming as the bag deflated.
“Oh lord, oh lord, I’m sorry. Don’t shoot me. Please, I don’t want to die.”
“You should have thought of that before you tried to wreck us!” Cat yelled, as she grabbed the man by the back of the collar and dragged him out of the seat.
He hit the blacktop face-first, then grabbed his nose as blood spurted.
“My nose!”
“That’s nothing compared to what you did to your girlfriend’s face. Your ass is next if you don’t shut the hell up,” Cat told him.
Like Shelly, Wayne chose the safe road and gritted his teeth against the need to bawl.
At that point Shelly made her way out of Cat’s car and staggered over to the truck, which was spewing steam and water all over the highway from a busted radiator.
“Wayne Bedford…what on earth is the matter with you?” Shelly yelled, and kicked the bottom of Wayne’s boot. “You almost got us killed.”
“She’s got a gun,” Wayne said.
Shelly gave her Good Samaritan a nervous glance.
“Yes, I see that, and she looks pissed enough to use it.”
“I’m right in front of you, so you can both quit talking as if I wasn’t here,” Cat muttered.
Shelly sucked in her lower lip.
“I don’t feel so good,” Wayne said.
Shelly sighed and looked at Cat.
“Are you gonna shoot him?”
“I haven’t decided,” Cat said. Then she began to hear sirens. She glanced down at Wayne. “I guess not. Looks like you’ll live to screw up again another day.”
Two
After the way Wayne Bedford’s morning was going, he was more than happy to be handcuffed and on his way to jail. The crazy woman who’d pulled a gun on him wasn’t anything like Shelly. He didn’t know how to handle women who hit back.
Meanwhile, Cat had assessed the damage to her car and considered it well spent. But she certainly couldn’t drive it.
The tow trucks were on the way.
A second deputy had arrived to work the scene, while the first one hauled Bedford into booking. Cat was forced to accept the fact that she was going to have to call Wilson and tell him what happened.
She punched in the numbers, then cleared her throat as she waited for him to answer, which he did on the third ring.
“Hey, baby…what’s up?” he asked.
“I need a ride,” she said.
The tone of Wilson’s voice changed slightly. “What happened? Are you having car trouble?”
Cat eyed her smashed SUV and sighed.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Wilson heard the hesitation. “What the hell happened?”
“I had a slight accident, but no one is hurt.”
Wilson’s heart skipped. “I’ll be right there. Where are you?”
“I’m about fifteen miles from the ranch, toward Austin.”
“You sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine. Just mad.”
That was when Wilson knew there was more to the story than what she’d told him, but knowing Cat, she’d said all she was going to say until he got there.
“I’ll be right there.”
Cat dropped her cell phone back in her pocket, then turned around. Shelly Green was watching her from the side of the road.
“Are you all right?” Cat asked.
Shelly touched her already swollen face, then nodded and said, “Them air bags are a bit startling, but they do the job, don’t they?”
Cat stifled a grin. Little Shelly did have a way with words.
“Yes, they do.”
Shelly sat down on her suitcase, then braced her hands against her knees.
“I heard you call someone named Wilson. Is he one of Carter and Dorothy McKay’s boys?”
“Yes. Do you know him?” Cat asked.
“No, ma’am. I know some of their kids, but I don’t know him.”
“He lives in Dallas,” Cat said.
Shelly nodded, then looked away, toward a small flower blooming up against the fence across the road.
Cat studied Shelly’s face, and as she did, realized that Shelly reminded her of her best friend, Marsha, when Marsha had been about that age. A quick shaft of pain came and went as she tried not to remember what Marsha’s dead and crumpled body had looked like, hanging in the broken boughs of the trees growing out of the side of the ravine—right where Mark Presley had tossed her.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat, then closed her eyes and took a slow breath. This was no time to get maudlin.
“I’m real sorry about your car,” Shelly said. “If you hadn’t picked me up, this wouldn’t have happened to you.”
Cat swiped at her eyes, then looked up.
Shelly’s hands were clenched into fists in her lap, and there were tears running down her cheeks. Add the black eye, the bloodied and swollen face, and she was a sight to behold.
Once more, Cat’s empathy kicked in.
“Honey, meaner men than your Wayne have tried to bring me down without success. Besides, if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Shelly sighed. “I have to say, I’m right glad I didn’t have to go back with him.”
“So am I,” Cat said, then patted the girl on the shoulder. “Next time you go hunting for a boyfriend, maybe you’ll choose more wisely.”
Shelly rolled her eyes, then winced from the pain.
“There ain’t gonna be a next time…at least, not any time soon.”
Cat shook her head. “Never say never, kid.” Then she looked up the highway. “And here comes Wilson.”
Shelly stood up, then began smoothing her hands down the front of her shirt.
“I look a sight,” she said.
Cat grinned. “You’re fine. Besides, I’m the one who’s gonna catch heck.”
“But you didn’t cause this,” Shelly said.
“When I’m in trouble, Wilson loses sight of extenuating circumstances. All he wants is for me to be safe, and I keep getting myself into trouble.”
S
helly sighed. “That’s the kind of man I’m looking for.”
Cat laughed. “You just told me there wasn’t going to be another boyfriend.”
Shelly looked a little startled, then grinned shamefacedly. “Well, not for a bit, anyway.”
At that point Wilson pulled up. Cat and Shelly watched as he exited his truck. For someone who was still recovering from surgery, he was moving fast.
“Honey…Lord have mercy, what happened?” he asked, as he wrapped Cat in a big embrace.
“It was sort of my fault,” Shelly said.
Wilson had been so focused on Cat, he’d barely noticed the other woman until she spoke, but when he turned and saw her face, he frowned.
He looked at her long and hard, then turned to Cat. “Talk to me.”
Cat sighed. “It’s simple, really. I passed an abandoned vehicle, then I saw her walking, carrying a suitcase. I took one look at her face and picked her up, okay?”
Wilson eyed the state of Shelly’s face, and his expression stilled.
“I take it that didn’t all happen in the wreck,” he said.
Shelly sighed. “No, sir.”
He looked at Cat, then nodded. “It’s very okay.”
“It was Wayne who caused the wreck,” Shelly said.
Wilson frowned. “Wayne? Who’s Wayne?”
“Wayne Bedford. He is…was…um, I lived with him for the past two years.”
“Not Shirley Bedford’s younger brother?”
“Yes, that’s Wayne’s sister. Do you know her?”
“I went to school with her.” Wilson pointed at Shelly’s face. “Did he do that to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Wilson’s frown deepened. “Where is he now?”
“On the way to the slammer,” Cat said, then watched Wilson’s eyes narrow.
“I might need to have a word with him,” he said.
“The sheriff will deal with him,” Cat said, then pointed up the road. “Here come the wreckers, and I don’t know where to tell them to take my car.”
“I do,” Wilson said. “Let me take care of it.”
