Jake turned to ask the question to the other students. He couldn’t hear their answer, but after a moment, she turned back to him.
“Gus says she told him her boyfriend was giving her a ride home,” Jake said.
This was definitely something new. “Who’s her boyfriend?” Pickett asked.
The driver turned back to the students for a moment. “Buck Savage. Guess he just got his driver’s license,” she said, her lips pursing.
“Thanks,” Pickett said. As the bus pulled away, he looked down the road, wondering if the boyfriend had already dropped her off or not. Pulling out his cell phone, he called the ranch. Elaine answered.
“Holly Jo there?” he asked, explaining that they were supposed to practice a new horseback trick.
“Haven’t seen her yet. The bus should be dropping her off any minute,” Elaine said.
“Right,” Pickett agreed. “If you see her before I do, tell her I’m looking for her.” He tried not to worry as he hung up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PICKETTWAITEDINhis pickup, listening to the crickets in the cottonwoods, the breeze stirring the tall grass next to him, worry gnawing at him with each minute that ticked by. School had let out almost an hour earlier. Were they out joy riding? The thought terrified him, an inexperienced new driver showing off for a cute girl. He was just about ready to go look for them, wishing he knew what this Buck Savage was driving, when he saw a small gray pickup coming up the road.
Was this what being a parent was going to be like? Maybe they should put it off as long as they could, he thought as the rig slowed. The sun glinted off the windshield, but he caught a glimpse of Holly Jo in the passenger seat. She must have forgotten they were going to practice a new trick riding stunt after school.
He tried not to let that hurt his feelings. He knew what it was like to be young and infatuated with a girl. He figured it was the same for Holly Jo. “Her first big crush—a sixteen-year-old,” he said between gritted teeth as he climbed out of his truck and stepped into the county road. If Buck tried making a run for it, it would be over Pickett’s dead body.
The vehicle came to a stop a few yards from him. The passenger side door flew open, and Holly Jo jumped out, already making excuses.
Without a word, Pickett moved out of the road to let the boyfriend be on his way.
“I forgot,” Holly Jo was saying as she hurried behind him to climb into the passenger side of his rig. “I planned on riding the school bus home, but then this friend of mine—”
“Buck Savage?” He’d gotten only a glimpse of the teenager behind the wheel.
“Y-yes,” she stuttered, the look she gave him one of surprise. How did he know that? it said.
He didn’t move to start the pickup, just sat looking straight ahead, wondering how to handle this. “Holden okayed you riding home with this boy instead of taking the bus?” he asked, not turning to her. Silence. “That’s what I thought.”
“It happened so fast. Buck just got his driver’s license, and he offered, and I...” Her voice trailed off. “You can’t tell on me. There’s this dance coming up. I’ve got to go to it. Buck’s already asked me. If you tell on me—”
“You’re the one who’s going to tell Holden,” he said, turning toward her finally. She looked so grown-up and yet so young and naive and trusting. He remembered himself at sixteen and groaned inwardly. “Why did it take you so long to get home?”
She swallowed and looked away. “We had to stop because the truck seemed to be overheating.”
He swore under his breath. “If that punk kid touched you—”
“He didn’t!” she cried. “He didn’t do anything. We just got out and walked around by the river for a little while. Then I said I had to get home, and he drove me here.”
Pickett studied her. Something had happened at the river, he’d bet on that, but he suddenly felt so far out of his league. What did he know about raising a thirteen-year-old girl? He had been an only child who’d left home when he wasn’t that much older that Holly Jo.
“When’s this dance?” he asked, and saw her relax.
“Saturday. It’s a Christmas formal. I get to help decorate the gym. I was going to ask HH if Buck could take me to the dance now that he has his driver’s license.”
Pickett started the engine and turned around to drive down the dirt road to the ranch house. “Go upstairs and change for your trick riding lesson. I need to talk to Holden.”
“You aren’t going to—”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do other than teach you this new trick, okay? Later, you’re going to tell Holden yourself and let the chips fall where they may.” She started to argue, but he cut her off. “Actions have consequences. You should be aware of that.”
“But nothing happened,” she cried.