Page 20 of Her Cadillac Cowboy
Josh pocketed his cell phone and swept her up into his arms once more. “You’re right. They aren’t safe.”
“Put me down. I can walk.” She beat at his chest with one hand while the other hung onto his neck for dear life.
“You can,” he agreed evenly.
“I’m glad that you...”
“But you won’t.”
“Of all the nerve. Why not?”
“Because you’re already here.”
As Josh bent and opened the car door, Sara’s world dipped crazily. The next thing she knew, she was seated sideways in the driver’s seat of her rented Mazda. Josh put a hand under her bottom and lifted her legs, his other hand guided them into the car and underneath the steering wheel. Before Sara found her voice, he removed his hands, shut the car door, and gave her a jaunty salute.
By the time she got the window rolled down, he’d spun on his heel, strolling toward the alley and the warehouse beyond. He tucked his hands into his back pockets and whistled as if he’d just smashed an especially annoying fly. Fed up with his arrogance, Sara did the one thing that her mother had told her never to do. She screamed in public.
“Josh McKinley, I hate you.” At least she wished she did.
He performed a graceful turn and walked backward, supremely confident that he would neither trip nor bump into anything. His teeth shone bright in the gloom. “I’m sure your feelings for me are just as strong as mine are for you, Pipsqueak.” Then he turned again and disappeared through the break in the fence.
“Ooh!” Deprived of Josh McKinley’s head, Sara thumped the steering wheel of the car and bruised her palm. Nobody except her father made her this furious. If she didn’t have to get the warehouse back from Josh, she’d never speak to the man again.
He was insufferable. Imagine thinking that teenager needed a helping hand more than a night in jail. Treating vandals with kindness only encouraged them to continue vandalizing property.
She started the car and pushed the air conditioning up to high. Stale, hot air blasted her in the face. It would take a moment for the unit to cycle through enough times to make a dent in the hot air. She hit the road with only the faint breeze from the open window to cool her temper.
Fifteen minutes later, she was still sweating buckets without A/C.Asinine rentals. When am I going to find time to drive it back to Houston and buy my own vehicle? Someone would have to follow me to Houston and bring me back.
Beneath her right foot, the gas pedal fluttered; the car lurched and sputtered. “Not now, you piece of ancient mechanical crap. I need to get home.” The car died as she finished speaking. Steam spewed from the front end. Maybe it took offense at her insult; maybe it was just too old for insults to matter. Either way, she was stuck a mile and a half from home, and she was exhausted. She got out of the vehicle, slammed the door, and remembered that she was barefoot just in time to stop the kick she aimed at the Mazda’s front tire.
The road surface was rough, and the verge was thick with brambles and burrs. Thank heaven she’d charged her cell phone that morning or that would fail her too.
She slumped against the car and dialed home.One ring. Donny would be able to pick her up.Two rings. And she hadn’t heard a word all day about the new nurse.Three rings. If the woman had ever arrived, she would still be there to keep an eye on Dad.Four rings, five.
Could this night get any worse? Sara was ready to give up and sleep in the car when the answering machine picked up. “Hello,” she heard her own voice, “this is the Carson residence. We can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message at the beep, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”
She waited for the beep, then shouted. It seemed to be a night for shouting. “Donny Carl, you pick up the phone right now. This is Sara. I’ve had a break down, and I need a ride. Do you hear me, Donny?”
In the next instant, the phone at the other end of the line picked up. Sara heard a moment of heavy breathing before a deep, accented voice said, “Ja, ja! Ve hear yu a’ready. I tell yu; I cannot be come two heres to one minute. Yu vait.”
What in the world is going on?“Who is this?” Sara demanded. “Where’s Donny?”
“I am Frau Helgamar Feinderbienscht.”
Sara’s head hurt as the name and the voice scraped across her ears.
“I insist yu come some relief to me. I cannot be here alone longer.”
“Mrs. Fenderbender, this is Sara Carson. Please put my...”
“Yu are Fraulein Carson! Das is gut. Herr Carson is gone avay, und I haf been noin hours here vit him alone. This is cruel, and I vill not up put vit it. Yu vill come to get me now, so I qvit.”
Sara gasped and dropped the phone. Her father was gone, but this woman, who must be the nurse, was still with him? He must have had another heart attack. Why hadn’t they been called? Perhaps Donny had decided to tell her in person and then had an accident on his way to town. Dear God. Had her entire family been wiped out while she chased hooligans through the garbage? Her heart raced, and she couldn’t catch her breath.
Wait. She heaved in air, and her heart rate began to slow. Something wasn’t right. Nobody spentnoinhours—however long that was—with a dead man without calling someone. She picked up the phone. Fenderbender’s voice still squawked statically from the speaker.
“Fraulein Carson? Fraulein Carson? Vere vent yu, FRAULEIN CARSON!”
