EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Dust. Nothing but dust everywhere. It obscured the landscape so that nothing except the tumbleweeds blowing across the highway were visible. The great silver bus, impervious to the howling winds and sand that battered it, plowed steadily forward. To the girl staring out the window, it seemed that the bus and everyone in it were caught in a time warp – suspended, static – while only the wind and dust were alive, roaring about them.

Just then, a particularly vicious crosswind rocked the bus, and the whimsy vanished. She wondered if they would be overturned. Not that she cared. She was so tired. Hungry, too... she hadn’t eaten since the day before, and that had been just a stale sandwich from a machine at the Greyhound station in the dash to catch this bus to nowhere. She hadn’t been in the terminal long – a few minutes at most. With any luck, it hadn’t been long enough for anyone to have noticed her, should she be traced that far. She shivered, glancing instinctively out the window. Again the ferocious windstorm met her eyes. It was obscurely comforting.

“Are you warm enough, honey?”

It was the elderly gentleman across the aisle. She nodded, forcing a smile, but faint alarm registered. This wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to her. She didn’t want to be noticed, couldn’t afford anyone to pay enough attention to her to be able to recognize her later. She hoped the baggy jacket and the knit cap pulled down around her face would help a bit. Wyoming was chilly even in early summer, the raw air creeping into the bus from the windows, so being warmly bundled was unremarkable. Falling into conversation with strangers was dangerous. One ceased to be strangers; worse, one became recognizable. He was a nice old man; his thick silvery hair neatly brushed back, faded eyes behind thick glasses shining with concern. It hurt her to just smile and close her eyes in a pretense of sleep. Such kindness deserved better than that. And where were they, she wondered suddenly, bitterly. Those caring people with the helping hand, where were they when they were needed most? And now, when the last thing she wanted was kind strangers taking notice of her, they were everywhere. First there'd been that lady on the last bus, the one she’d left in Denver. She might as well have scattered breadcrumbs, she thought drowsily, if her father thought to follow the trail marked by good Samaritans.

“Rock Springs!”

Teri awoke with a start. Glancing out the window, she saw they were at a small truck stop, the lights of the brick building beckoning cheerily some yards away through a haze of wind-blown sand. Passengers were already descending, running for the warmth and lights of the restaurant, clutching coats and hats and purses against the biting wind.

“Half an hour,” the burly driver said to the remaining passengers like herself who were just waking up. “I know it’s not a scheduled stop, but we’re behind schedule with this wind. It’ll be close on to midnight before we reach Salt Lake City. Stretch your legs, get warm, have a bite of supper before we go on.”

Teri didn’t have any fault to find with that. She rose, stretching with a grimace as her joints rebelled. Leaning down to drag her backpack from under the seat, she slung it over her shoulder with practiced ease and headed for the front of the bus. Even the hours of traveling through the windswept southern plains of Wyoming hadn’t prepared her for the reality of the gale. It almost swept her off her feet as she stepped onto the pavement. Staggering, she gripped the straps of her backpack more tightly so it wouldn’t be ripped out of her hands. Head bowed, she leaned forward against the wind, planting her feet with care as she made her way to the haven of the restaurant.

The abrupt change from the noise and frantic tempo of vehicle and wind to gentle music and comforting warmth was a shock. Teri paused, blinking as much to clear her mind as against the gritty sand from outside.

Mike looked up looked up just as the girl was propelled through the door, the wind at her back a live force, determined to have one last chance at her before she reached safety. His coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. God, a runaway. Poor kid. She probably thought the baggy clothes would give her anonymity, but in fact they created quite the opposite effect. Her slight figure was clad in faded black jeans and a large, bulky jacket hanging almost to her knees. Short dark hair curled from under a knit cap, and big blue eyes seemed overlarge in a slender, pale, pixie-like face. She presented the appearance of an appealing waif, lost and homeless.... guaranteed to bring out the nurturing instinct in every kind heart that crossed her path. Yeah, a runaway. He knew the signs; hell, he’d been one himself. Well, he wished her luck. At least she’d have a good meal here, whether she could afford it or not. Marsha would know the signs, too, and feed the kid up good. If he knew Marsha, she’d probably slide a twenty into the kid’s pocket, and Joe would have a fit. A reminiscent smile tugged at his lips.

Teri slid onto the nearest stool and looked around, taking stock of the place. It was small and unpretentious, with a homey feel; not one of the enormous, gleaming, sterile truck stop establishments. The main part of the restaurant was one long room, with large picture windows overlooking the highway and the plains beyond. Vinyl booths ran along the front by the windows. They were dark maroon, not the bright red that so many places used, and looked well cared for. Across from them, a counter ran the length of the room. The stools were of wood; light and highly polished, they were old and comfortably worn. To her left the foyer led to a Quik-Mart, and she could see some of her fellow passengers browsing amongst the rows of postcards, assorted packaged foods and travelers gear. Opposite the front door stood a signpost reading “Trucker's Section,” and more booths and a counter stretched towards the back of the building, where a sign advertising “Showers” hung. Beyond, a glass door led into the back parking lot. Overall, the place looked..... friendly, Teri thought with a pang. She could picture a family tending this place over the decades, with generations of loving hands polishing the counter, dusting the booths, and smiling faces greeting customers new and old. Not that she would know much about family, she thought.

A tall, rail thin woman catapulted through the double doors leading from the kitchen, balancing half a dozen plates. Teri blinked in wonder. Masses of red hair were piled haphazardly onto the woman’s head in defiance of any laws of gravity, and stray wisps had escaped here and there. Long earrings dangled, improbably pink against the red hair, and a dozen bracelets jingled on each thin wrist. Brilliant green eyes, unadorned with makeup, seemed to reflect both kindness and humor, with fine lines extending outward. Teri found herself instinctively drawn to her. The woman paused for a bare millisecond, scanning the room as she gathered herself for her next rush towards the other end of the room. Maneuvering her armload of plates through the opening in the counter, she gave Teri a friendly smile on her way past.

“Be with you in half a sec, honey,” she called back over her shoulder. “We’re a little under the gun, not expecting you lot, and what with Betty down sick and my other gal just quit yesterday to go off to college in San Antonio, and the cook just plain didn’t show and Joe in there doin’ the cooking. Y’all will be here more than half an hour, surely you will, and so I’ll tell Dave when he pokes his nose in here. A body’s only got two hands, and I’ve only got one body.”

“Now,” the woman was back in front of Teri, having delivered her meals while talking nonstop the whole time. “You know what you want, honey?”

Teri looked around the crowded counter and booths. The restaurant was as full as it could hold, mostly with passengers from the bus, although the truckers’ section opposite the front door was also full. She hesitated a moment, glancing back at the waitress. The friendly look in those brilliant emerald eyes decided her, and she smiled tentatively.

“I’ve done some waitressing. I can help you out until the bus is ready to go.”

The woman’s expression seemed suddenly dubious, and Teri raised her chin against the sharp assessment, a flush staining her cheeks. “I can pay for a meal. I just thought you could use the help.”

A man appeared through the double doors to the kitchen, a white cap askew on his head. “Fer crissake, Marsha, let her help! I’ve a dozen more dinners waiting in here and the gal is offering! Stop shuffling your feet and put her to work!”

Marsha threw an impatient glance over her shoulder. “Pooh, you don’t know anything! I’ll mind my customers and you go mind your cooking, Joe.”

She turned back to Teri. “I could sure use the help, but you won’t have time to eat, honey.”

“A sandwich and fries?” Teri suggested. “That I can take with me?”

“Done!” The woman heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Come on and get an apron. I’ll take the orders and you deliver the dinners; Joe can tell you who they go to. I’m Marsha, and there’s Bob in back washing dishes.”

Further down the counter, Mike hid a smile behind his coffee cup.