The Forgotten Daughter

by Lauri Robinson

  His willpower stood strong. He should thank his lucky stars for that, but he couldn’t seem to feel relieved. Kissing her was just too memorable. Too fascinating and wonderful and—Scooter cut short his thoughts.

  “You are going to do exactly as I say from here on, Josie,” he said sternly. The twisting going on inside him was putting more pressure on his will. So were her woeful eyes. “No arguing,” he went on. “No questions and no buts. You just listen and obey.”

  She frowned slightly. “But—”

  “I said no buts.” He set her farther away from him, breaking her hold on his neck. Once she was firmly planted on the truck bed, he let her go.

  “Who are you going to call at US Steel?”

  He scrounged up a deep scowl, even when part of him wanted to smile. Asking for no questions from Josie was like asking a bird not to fly. “Just you never mind,” he said. “The less you know the better off we’ll all be.”

  “We are in this together, you know.”

  “How could I forget?”

  She pinched her lips together, then opened them, then closed them again. The humph she let out told him she had several questions and rebuttals, but was obeying by holding them in. The desire to laugh, or at least chuckle, rose up inside him. He had to turn away and tell himself several times that none of what was happening was a laughing matter.

  Thankfully it wasn’t much later when Dac turned off the road. Scooter’s mind, even while it was conjuring up what he’d say to Clyde Odell, was questioning exactly why he couldn’t kiss Josie again. Just once.

  The truck stopped and Dac’s head appeared over the top rail. “Phone booth is on the side of the building.”

  Scooter scanned the very run-down building and completely empty lot. “You sure it works? The place looks deserted.”

  “It is during the day,” Dac said. “And yes, the phone works.”

  Although he had a general idea of their location, Scooter asked, “Where are we?”

  “About five miles north of Cloquet. This road goes past the back of town. Near B. S. John’s old place.”

  Scooter stepped up onto the seat of his motorcycle. Before using his arms to hoist himself over the side rail, he turned to Josie. “You stay put.”

  “Dac just said the place is deserted.”

  “I don’t care. Someone could still be following us. Now stay put.”

  Her shoulders drooped, but she nodded.

  Scooter climbed onto the cab of the truck and then down the driver’s side. “Keep the engine running,” he told Dac. “Just in case.”

  He dug change out of his pocket as he ran. The phone inside the wooden booth looked brand-new. Dropping in a dime, he waited for an operator, and let out a tiny whoop inside when a voice came on the other end. Scooter asked for the US Steel shipyard, and when a voice answered on the other end, he asked for Clyde Odell.

  His toe was tapping a steady beat by the time the voice came over the line. “Odell here.”

  “Mr. Odell, this is Eric Wilson, we met earlier today in—”

  “Are you and your girlfriend safe?”

  Scooter stopped shy of saying Josie wasn’t his girlfriend. “Yes.”

  “I saw you snatch her out of Francine’s hold. I also tried to cut them off to stop them following you, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “Thanks,” Scooter said. He hadn’t witnessed Clyde’s actions but didn’t doubt the man’s word, and that gave him hope. “I gotta get that blue Chevy out of your parking lot.”

  “Yes, you do,” Clyde answered. “Francine’s boys are watching it, ready to swoop down like a hawk on a field mouse.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Where are you?”

  Scooter chose a vague answer. “South of town.”

  “Somewhere hidden, where we can meet up? I’ll bring you the Chevy.”

  He wanted to trust his gut instincts, but the man seemed almost too willing to help. “I know a place we can meet up, a secluded one, but we’ve got the keys.”

  Clyde laughed. “I’m from New York. I know how to start a car without a key.”

  Scooter was giving himself a moment to decide if he should trust the man or not, when Clyde spoke again.

  “No one will follow me. I’ll make sure of that.” After a short pause, Clyde asked, “If you’re wondering if you can trust me, all I have is my word that you can. If you’re wondering why I’m willing to help, well, besides the fact my boss wants Francine Wilks and her henchmen shut down, you have something I want.”

  Of their own accord Scooter’s eyes shot toward Dac’s truck. Josie must have been standing on the seat of his motorcycle to be tall enough to be leaning on the top boards of the rails, talking with Dac. Curse her. She could fall and break a leg.

  “It’s not your girlfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Clyde said.

  “Then what is it?” Scooter asked.

  “Information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “You’ll find out as soon as I get there,” Clyde said. “Now where do I bring the Chevy?”

  He made the decision to trust the man, even if he doubted he had any information the man could want, but Scooter pointed out, “I can’t give you a ride back.”

  “I’ll arrange that. Just tell me where to meet you.”

  Not sure how familiar the man was with the area, Scooter explained, “There’s a town about twenty miles south of Duluth named Cloquet, and about half a mile on the south side of town is a road that goes east. Take that one mile and turn south again...” After giving complete directions on how to get to B. S. John’s scrap yard, Scooter said, “We’ll be behind the barn.”

  “Good enough. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  As he hung up the phone, it dawned on Scooter that Clyde most likely wanted all the information he could gather about Francine. The man probably figured Josie had that information. He was right, but getting it out of her would be another story.

  Scooter left the phone booth and met Dac halfway across the yard.

  “What’s the plan now?” Dac asked.

  “We go to B. S. John’s.” Scooter had done business with the man for years. Whenever anyone wanted to get rid of an old car, they called John. The man had a farm field full of everything from tractors to trucks, from horse-drawn wagons to motorbikes. He sold parts off every one of them for twice what they were worth, unless you knew him well. Even then he tried to convince you that his parts were worth more than anyone else’s. That was how he became known as B. S. John instead of just John.

  “What for?” Dac asked.

  “Someone I know is delivering Dave’s Chevy to us there.”

  Dac looked a bit surprised, but didn’t comment. Instead he said, “You and Josie might as well ride up front. No one is going to see us between here and there.”

  If anyone had been following them, they’d have caught up with them by now, so Scooter agreed. He was about to tell Dac to open the tailgate for Josie to get out when a yelp had him spinning around.

  Chapter Twelve

  Josie was sure she was going to fall and most likely break something in the process—an arm or leg, or both. Scooter had climbed over the side so easily she’d assumed she could, too. Then again, his shirt was tucked in. Hers hadn’t been and was now stuck on a nail. There was nothing for her feet to catch and steady herself on, and she’d tried holding on with one hand in order to unhook the cloth with the other. That hadn’t worked.

  When firm hands grasped her dangling legs, she knew without looking down who held her. “My shirt’s stuck.”

  “I can tell,” he said dryly.

  She glanced down to give Scooter a glare when she realized her shirt was not only stuck, but her entire stomach was also uncovered.

  “Oh.” She squirmed, trying to pull herself up enough to get her skin covered.

  Scooter hoisted her upward so quickly the shirt came loose along with her hands. He turned around. Rather than lett
ing her down, he lowered her so she was sitting on one of his shoulders.

  Heat blazed across her cheeks. “Put me down.”

  “I will,” he said. “Inside the truck.” As he marched around the vehicle, he asked, “Can’t you stay out of trouble for thirty seconds?”

  “I wasn’t in trouble,” she argued.

  “You weren’t?” he asked. “You were hanging by your shirt for the fun of it?”

  Blowing out a heavy breath of frustration, she glanced down at the small rip in her blouse. At least it was repairable. Unlike the humiliation of him having to come to her rescue again. It was thrilling, the way he showed up right in the nick of time, but it was also becoming a bit embarrassing.

  Scooter opened the door with one hand and more or less plopped her on the truck’s seat with the other. He’d bent down, too, so she sort of slid off his shoulder. She hadn’t realized just how broad his shoulders were until now, and she took another look a moment later, when both he and Dac climbed in the truck, sandwiching her between the two of them.

  Settling in, she squirmed enough to shift her legs out of the way of the shifter that stuck out of the floorboards and then looked over at Scooter. “Are we going to get Dave’s Chevy now?”

  He barely glanced her way. “The ‘no questions’ order still stands.”

  Josie wanted to scream. She’d prided herself on her ability to keep her mouth shut her entire life, but when it came to him, her lips didn’t want to stay still. Her lips were thinking of other things, too. A couple times today she’d thought Scooter was going to kiss her. At least she’d hoped so. Her entire being had wanted that to happen again. It hadn’t. Not once. She told herself not to obsess over it. There were enough other things happening to occupy her mind for the next two years or longer.

  Scooter was deeply involved in all that was happening, too. Maybe that’s why her focus kept getting pulled back to him. She’d never been so aware of him before, or of anyone, for that matter. It was as if she’d become overly sensitive where he was concerned. Perhaps it was because she’d become indebted to him. Or maybe because she understood her actions had put his livelihood on the line.

  Guilt was a terrible feeling. One she’d never felt before. Not like this.

  Neither Dac nor Scooter was talking, and the silence grew oppressive. She tried watching the road, and then closing her eyes. Talking to herself didn’t help, either, even when she told herself that once they got Dave’s car they could return home safe and sound and no one would be any the wiser about what had actually happened today.

  That really didn’t help. It was purely a lie. There would be repercussions after today’s events. Serious ones. She was no closer to rescuing those girls, either, which was what today’s trip was supposed to achieve.

  “Where do you want me to park?” Dac asked.

  The yard they’d pulled into was lined with cars. Old ones with doors, hoods and windshields missing.

  “Behind the barn,” Scooter said. “John has a shop back there he’s usually in.”

  As Dac followed the road—two well-worn tracks separated by a short crop of grass—Josie turned to Scooter. “What are we doing here?”

  He grinned and shook his head.

  She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms. Fine. She could be silent when she wanted to be. He’d soon learn that. She might never speak to him again. Ever.

  Josie held her stance. When Scooter introduced her to an older man with a ruddy nose and cheeks, wearing the greasiest overalls she’d ever seen, she merely nodded.

  The three men, Scooter, Dac and the one she’d been told was named John, started talking about cars and car parts, tires, oil and gas. To her utter surprise, Scooter handed the man some money and then they started walking toward a field so full of cars it looked as if they’d been planted there in rows, like farmers did planted corn in the spring. She followed, listening as Scooter explained he needed a radiator. The man named John claimed he had one, but it had to be removed.

  Biting her tongue as she trailed through the tall grass, Josie grew exasperated. Now was not the time to be scrounging around for automobile parts, no matter whether Scooter needed them or not. They had to get Dave’s car and get home. She didn’t know the exact time, but it had to be midafternoon, which would leave only a few hours before she needed to be seated at the family table or her father would send men out looking for her.

  Gloria would have a thing or two to say, too. Last night she’d told Josie her trip to Duluth today was canceled, which was part of the reason she’d taken Dave’s car that morning. She’d crept away before Gloria could find her.

  Nothing, not a single part of her day, had gone as planned.

  The men had stopped at a car. Scooter lifted the hood and Dac held it open as John pulled tools out of his many pockets. The men continued chatting as if all was right as rain, while Scooter used the tools to remove the radiator. Then they all started walking back toward the barn with Scooter carrying the part.

  When she didn’t immediately follow, he stopped to wait for her. Thankful he was paying that much attention to her, she hurried to his side. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  Shrugging, he said, “Killing time.”

  “We don’t have time to kill,” she insisted. “We have to get Dave’s car and head home.”

  “Did you forget the rules?”

  “Rules, schmules,” she spluttered.

  He grinned. “We’ll have Dave’s car in no time.”

  “How?”

  He merely lifted an eyebrow.

  She glared and waved a hand. “This isn’t getting Dave’s car.”

  “Trust me,” he said. “And don’t forget the rules.” Shaking his head, he whispered, “You were doing such a good job.”

  “A good job of what?”

  He grinned. “Being quiet.”

  Heavens but she wanted to kick him in the shin.

  He laughed loud enough that the other men turned around. “Field mouse,” Scooter said.

  The men nodded and carried on walking.

  Josie searched the ground. “I didn’t see a mouse.”

  He grinned. It dawned on her he’d used the mouse as the reason he’d laughed.

  “You aren’t funny,” she said. “Furthermore, I’m not afraid of mice.”

  “I never said you were,” he answered. “Or that I was funny.”

  She marched along beside him, back straight, and told herself she would refuse to answer.

  “But you are.”

  Unable to stop herself, she asked, “I’m what?”

  “Funny.”

  She rolled her eyes skyward.

  “Looking like that, with your nose up in the air and acting all hoity-toity.”

  “Funny-looking? Hoity-toity?” She huffed out a breath. “Think what you want, I’ve never acted hoity-toity in my life, but I do seem to be the only one who remembers what happened today. What could happen if we don’t get Dave’s car and get home soon.”

  * * *

  Scooter hadn’t forgotten anything, nor did he really think she was funny-looking. Adorable was more like it. All puffed out like a mother hen defending her brood against something twice her size. He was just trying to keep himself from thinking about things like that. How adorable she was. How her eyes snapped open and her lips pursed when she was mad. Just the act of her striding along beside him had his blood pounding in his veins.

  Josie had never gotten under his skin like this. Then again, he’d always refrained from spending too much time in her company, knowing full well there would come a day when he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

  Today would not be that day.

  The rumble of a big engine vibrated in his eardrums. Scooter turned toward the road. The truck was huge, and so were the white letters painted on the side of the barrel-rack body of the trailer it was pulling. The name US Steel covered the iron-plated sides. If he’d been a praying type of man, he’d have thanked the Lord for s
tepping in at this precise moment. As a matter of fact, he went ahead and sent up that little prayer of gratitude. Then he turned to Josie.

  “Remember the rules.”

  She opened her mouth.

  “If you don’t, I’ll paddle your backside.”

  Her startled expression was laughable. He just wasn’t in a laughing mood. His radiator tale had worked to kill time while waiting for Clyde, but the man’s arrival would spike John’s curiosity, and a viable excuse as to why Dave Sutton’s Chevy was being delivered to him wouldn’t form in his head.

  “Don’t think I won’t,” he warned Josie. “Not for a minute.”

  Her eyes were on the truck, which was now slowing down to pull into John’s yard. “Uncle Dave’s car is in that truck, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but John doesn’t need to know why.”

  She sighed. “I know that, Scooter. Good heavens, I’m not a dumb Dora.”

  He didn’t bother responding to that. She wasn’t a dimwit, but right now, he wasn’t going to agree with her. “Just stay quiet, Josie, no matter what is said.”

  The wheels were spinning inside her little head. The way she gnawed on her bottom lip told him so.

  “Promise me, Josie,” he said sternly. “No matter what I say, you stay quiet.”

  She glanced from the truck to him. “Fine. I promise.”

  “Good. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay by Dac’s truck.”

  She made no promise a second time, and he didn’t push her for it.

  Scooter carried the radiator to Dac’s truck and then walked over to show the driver where to park the big rig. John moseyed closer, his eyes gleaming. The truck was a sight to see. Brand-new, with a stylish square cab so high off the ground a side step was mounted below the door. The apple-red paint probably still smelled factory fresh.

  “Dave Sutton’s Chevy was left in Duluth,” Scooter told John “A man I know at US Steel offered to meet me here. They had a truck already going this way.” He wasn’t sure how much he had to tell the man to make it sound believable.