Page 82 of Final Ride

“Okay,” I said. “I see what you’re thinking.”

“Drive home, Harlan, I’ve got to make some calls.”

We rolled out of Houston on the I-10 and the Gladiator was a dream to drive. Virge and I loved our Jeep, but Mom’s truck was a sweet ride too.

I turned the radio down while Annie talked on the phone.

“Mick, we’re coming home now. Take the kids to Coulter-Ross but before you leave Travis’s place, tell Lucy to pack bags for Harlan and Virge. We’ll be going to Vegas as soon as we get home.”

Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

Mick and Corb were in the garage with the dogs when we got back to Annie’s ranch. Lucy had packed for me and Virge, and our stuff was sitting on the porch.

“Give me five to pack, boys,” said Annie, “and we’re heading for the airport.”

“Who will feed our horses?” asked Virge.

“I’ll have Monroe and Lucy drive over to your ranch and do it, honey. Don’t worry. They’ll be taken care of.”

“They ain’t used to being at the new place yet.”

“Your dogs are here, so Mick brought them with him. Davey and Corb will take care of them.”

Virge blew out a breath. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Sit at the kitchen counter and have a coffee and Riley will make y’all a sandwich. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Good copy, Mom,” said Virgil.

We finished the last bite of our sandwiches and Annie came down the hall carrying her bag, her rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Tell Mick we’re ready to leave.”

“Is Corb staying here?” I asked.

“Ask him if he wants to come with us or stay with Davey until we bring Travis back,” said Annie. “I’ll load my stuff, and I want to check my shotgun under the seat of the truck to make sure it’s loaded.”

Corb came running out of the garage with Mick and Davey and the dogs. “I’m staying here, Harlan. Max and Sarge are going nuts without Travis. I should stay with them.”

“Okay. We’ll be back with Dad as soon as we can.”

Mick tossed his bag in the back of the truck and slid behind the wheel.

Executive Airport. Austin.

The inside of Annie’s jet smelled like new leather, and we weren’t all crowded in like on a regular plane. I noticed near the back close to the washroom that there was a bed where Dad could lie down on the way home—that’s if the bikers had beat him all to hell.

“I like your plane, Mom,” said Virge. “How long will it take us to get to Dad?”

“Two hours we’ll be in Vegas at my house, and we’ll work our plan from there. Sleep while we’re in the air. We won’t be going to bed when we land in Vegas. No time for sleeping if we want to find Travis alive.”

“Copy that.”

Chapter Nineteen

Sunday, August 31st.

Harry Reid International Airport. Las Vegas.

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