Page 2 of Finding Gideon
It didn’t.
“Awesome,” I muttered, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.
I slid back into the cab and looked at the dog. He was watching me, head tilted, like he was waiting to see what happened next.
“I don’t even know where we are,” I told him. “Got no cash, no food, no plan. And now this truck decides to quit on me. Perfect.”
He gave a soft whine.
“Yeah, same here, man.”
I leaned my head back and stared up at the roof of the cab. I could sleep here. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the worst. But with the dog? In August heat like this?
I glanced over at him again.
No way. I couldn’t do that to him.
Somewhere up ahead, there had to be a town—somewhere I could get help, or at least find a bowl of water.
I reached across the seat and ran my fingers through his fur. It was coarse and a little matted, but he didn’t pull away.
“You and me? We’ll figure this out,” I said.
Even if I had no idea how.
I kept one hand on the dog’s scruffy head. He sighed, like maybe things weren’t so bad now that he wasn’t alone anymore. I knew the feeling.
“We’ll figure it out,” I murmured. “Might take some convincing, but someone around here’s gotta have a soft spot for strays.”
I was trying to come up with a plan that didn’t involve walking aimlessly with a half-starved mutt in the August heat when a voice made me jolt hard enough to smack my knee on the steering column.
“Everything all right in there? You look like you're about to solve the world's problems.”
I twisted toward the window, hand instinctively shielding the dog, even though the guy outside didn’t look like a threat. Just… a lot.
Red hair. Thick beard. Broad-shouldered and sunburned like he spent his days outdoors. His USPS shirt was stretched tight across his chest, and he leaned one elbow on the open window like we were already old friends.
“Sorry,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”
“I’ve got a sneaky step when I want to. You okay? Truck broken down?”
“Yeah. Just gave out a few minutes ago.”
He tipped his chin toward the passenger seat. “That your dog?”
I glanced at the scrappy little guy, who was still curled up but watching the redhead warily.
“No. He was lying on the side of the road. He didn’t have a collar or tag, so… yeah. Figured leaving him there wasn’t an option.”
The man let out a long, appreciative sound. “Good heart on you, then. Not everyone’d stop.” He held out a hand. “Reuben. I do the mail run out this way.”
I shook it through the window. He had a firm grip. Warm palm. Definitely a talker.
“I’m Gideon.”
Reuben didn’t let go right away. “New in town, huh?”
“Just passing through,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if that was true. I hadn’t figured that part out yet.
