Winter's Journey Read online

  She glanced at the house in the soft dawn’s light. The house she and her daughter had moved into six months ago for a fresh start. It was a good house with trees around it for shade. It was small and isolated but it was just right for them.

  They locked up and got into the truck. Because her sister’s house was close by, she dropped Tessa off at Cherie’s on her way to National’s local office where she’d collect her assignment and the trailer of produce.

  An hour later, Loretta was at the weigh station watching the trailer being filled with crates of sweet smelling citrus. It was a busy place. There had to be at least five other trucks waiting behind hers for their turn, but most of them were going south, not north. Loretta set the refrigeration controls on the truck’s trailer, hooked it to her truck, filled out the forms, paid the fees, and recorded everything in her log book.

  She was ready to go and glad of it. Time was a wasting and the stares and good-natured whistles from the male drivers were beginning to annoy her. Men truckers. The attention was new to her. When she’d had Jed by her side the other men left her alone and were respectful. Today, she tried to ignore them. She knew they didn’t mean her any harm. She could take the appreciative catcalls better than the snide under-the-breath comments. Thank goodness most truckers were good hearted, hard-working men who’d do anything for anyone. On the whole truckers looked out for each other.

  She sighed and leaned against her truck to hide from the curious eyes, hat tilted to shadow her face.

  “Hey, there, pretty lady.” A burly man with a beard, a beer belly, and a dirty maroon baseball cap on his head walked up to her from across the parking lot. She recognized him from the truck stops. He came on to every woman he met, though he was married. She couldn’t recall his name. He edged in close to her and tried to start a conversation, thinking she must be fair game now that she was a widow. She didn’t have time for his nonsense.

  Loretta raised her head and met his eyes. To show any weakness on her part with him would lower a green flag. She had to be firm if she wanted him to leave her alone.

  “Haven’t seen you in a long time, Red,” he said giving her an ingratiating grin. “Must be lonely traveling the roads by yourself. How you been?” He didn’t have to mention her dead husband’s name, they both knew what he was talking about.

  “I’ve been too busy to be lonely. Sorry, I can’t stand around chatting. I have a deadline to make.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Wyoming.” She wasn’t about to go into details or keep talking. It was best not to give him any further encouragement.

  “Whew. That’s a long haul for such a pretty little thing. They say snow’s coming up that way to boot. You’re gonna have a hard time of it going all that way by yourself. How about having breakfast with me, and I’ll give you some short cuts?”

  Almost smiling, she decided to be nice. His kind of man came on like gangbusters, but they usually had fragile egos and there was no need to hurt him and make an enemy.

  “Sorry.” She gently shoved her admirer aside and moved away. She screwed the gas cap back on and made sure it was tight. Time to go. “I’ve already had breakfast with my daughter and now I’ve got to leave. Maybe next time.”

  Or when the sky turns vermilion and the earth rotates backward, she thought. She made it a point to stay away from married men, and he wasn’t her type anyway. Too chauvinistic.

  “You’re really driving this rig?” He wasn’t giving up easily.

  Fifteen percent of all truck drivers were women, but most men still seem surprised when a woman got behind the wheel or owned a big truck.

  “Not just the driver. I own her,” she couldn’t help but reply smugly. “See you later, friend. I have to get on the road. Big bonus if I get the truck to my destination on time.”

  Before the man could say another word, she turned around, yanked the truck door open, and made a deft quick step up into the seat.

  She practically shut the door in his face then threw her hat in the passenger’s seat. She turned the key and listened as the engine rumbled to life. She didn’t look his way again, so she didn’t know if he was mad or not over the brush-off. And she didn’t care. The road was calling.

  The D.O.T. Officer in the weigh station gave her the green light and waved her through. She aimed her truck out toward the highway and took note of the healthy sound of Baby Blue’s engine. The familiar hum was as much home to her as the house in the woods twenty miles away.

  She peered in the mirror to see the man in the maroon baseball cap scratching his head and waving at her. He seemed disappointed. She waved back.

  She headed down the highway, shifting into third, fourth, fifth, and sixth gear, then into the second range and through all of them again. The cool wind blasted her face and blew through her hair. Her eyes were peeled for cops.

  It was good to be on the road again. The CB was switched on and crackled with truckers making small talk spiced with gossip and current events. Human voices temporarily chased away the solitude of a trucker’s life. They weren’t alone in the world. They had friends.

  She chuckled. The CB was the Internet of the trucking world.

  Happily, she mused: I’m going to get all seventy thousand pounds of these oranges to market on time, and I’m going to claim that money and that bonus.

  Baby Blue responded smoothly to her commands. From the first time Jed had put her behind the wheel as a scared teenager, she felt as if she’d been born to it. Later on she’d gone to community college, done extremely well, taking mainly business courses so she could help Jed manage the business. She discovered she had the mind for it, yet loved driving the most and felt at home behind the wheel in her trucker’s life, going places, seeing new things, and meeting people along the way. She’d loved everything about it, except driving in extreme weather like heavy fog and snowy, icy conditions.

  But that was when Jed had been alive and she’d been part of a team. It was different now. Driving alone was hard work, but she still loved it.

  The miles clicked beneath the wheels and Loretta’s eyes soaked in the woods, prairies, and glistening lakes and rivers. It was true. America was beautiful. She never ceased to be amazed at how breathtaking the country was. There was no better scenery than what was to be found in Oklahoma, Colorado, and Wyoming with their lush trees and majestic mountains—and she’d been to all the states except Hawaii.

  Loretta planned on stopping that night outside of Richfield. A ten hour sprint if she pushed it, ate her meals quickly, had fair weather, and the cops didn’t stop her for anything. Big trucks meant big fines and in some towns the police pulled over truckers for any reason they could come up with so they could slap them with big fat tickets.

  In other words, she’d make it to Richfield that night if she were lucky.

  Chapter 2

  THE SUN WAS GOING DOWN as she entered the outskirts of Richfield. She searched for a reputable truck stop where she could get a shower, eat a warm meal, and park for the night. Baby Blue’s engine suddenly began to drag and cut out.

  So much for luck. She needed a place to park her rig. Now.

  Like most truckers, she knew her truck. If the problem wasn’t too complicated, she could lift the hood and try to fix it herself. Or now because she was working for National Carriers she could opt to call the home office and they’d dispatch a mechanic or send her to one they kept on the payroll. She could do that, but it would take more time. Time she didn’t have if she wanted to make that deadline.

  She’d check the problem out herself first. As Jed taught her, she kept the most common spare parts in the back of the cab. Maybe one of them would do the trick. She was no master mechanic, but she’d seen Jed fix the little things so many times she knew she could handle them.

  Maneuvering her rig into the truck stop—one she normally wouldn’t have been caught dead at because of its seedy reputation—she parked beneath a light and struggled into her jacket.

  She climbed out
, unlatched both sides of the massive hood, and lifted it up and then down to reveal the truck’s inner workings. Needing more light, she got a flashlight from the cab. Yep. It looked like she needed a fuel filter. Funny thing was she could have sworn she’d had a new one put on during that last tune-up. She dug through her box of parts and got another shock. She was certain she’d brought an extra fuel filter along, but it wasn’t there. In fact, the box was empty. Impossible. She knew she’d brought spare parts along. The strangest thought occurred to her.

  Someone stole those parts and did something to my fuel filter when I stopped for lunch. Naw, that was being paranoid, wasn’t it?

  She muttered beneath the hood and stared at the engine when a yellow Peterbilt came barreling into the space next to hers. The other engine slowed down to an idle. She peeked out when a pair of cowboy boots walked into her lower line of vision.

  “Got a problem, pretty lady?”

  She stuck her head out from under the hood, tugged a rag from her back pocket, and wiped her greasy hands. She recognized the voice and the boots. It was the same married man in the dirty baseball cap who’d asked her to breakfast that morning. What were the chances?

  Oh, great, was the first thing that came to her mind. I’m tired, grungy, hungry, and my truck is giving me trouble and now I have to deal with the beer belly pest for the second time in one day. Lucky me.

  “Fuel filter, I think,” she answered reluctantly. She was aware that as another trucker, the man might actually be able to help her, so she was cordial. “You don’t happen to have an extra one I could buy, would you?”

  The fellow had come around the truck and was standing too close. She smelled the whiskey right off. The guy had just pulled up which meant he’d been drinking on the job. As far as Loretta was concerned, drivers who drank and drove were no better than criminals. They were worse than the ones who popped pills to stay awake. A semi could do so much damage on the road if the driver was drunk. People got hurt and died. She should know. She and Jed had witnessed quite a few such accidents.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” The man’s words were slurred. “You and me keep running into each other. Must be fate. Since your rig seems to be out of order for a while how about—if I fix your truck for you—having supper with me after?” His hands reached out for her, but she sidestepped his grasp because he wasn’t too steady on his feet.

  “I don’t know.” She stalled, trying to figure out how to handle the man. He was drunk and feeling amorous, but she didn’t think she had anything to fear from him.

  He was one of those guys who were all talk and no action. But she was alone on a deserted and dimly lit parking lot with a truck that was giving her trouble. Of all times, she couldn’t believe this was happening, and she didn’t have the time or the patience to baby a drunk.

  “What do you say?” The man swayed. She dodged his grabby hands a second time and he fell against the side of her truck.

  Ignoring this, she asked pointedly, “Do you have an extra fuel filter?”

  “I might have.”

  Chances were he didn’t and didn’t want to help. He only wanted to waste her time.

  “Listen, mister, thanks for stopping, but you need to sleep it off somewhere. If you don’t stop bothering me, I’ll yell my head off. I don’t have time to be nice. Get the message? Go away. Leave me alone. I’m really busy.”

  “You don’t mean that.” He hiccupped. “Come on. Have dinner with me and afterwards we’ll take care of this truck of yours. I’m pretty sure I have that part. Just gotta look for it.”

  “No thanks. I don’t need your help.” She mumbled under her breath. “You can barely stand much less put a fuel filter in.”

  “Think you’re too good for me ‘cause you own your own truck? Got your pretty nose up in the air?”

  “That’s not it at all. Please, go take a nap and sober up.”

  He caught her arm in a move faster than she thought him capable of, but his words were still garbled. “Just talk to me awhile. Come on. It...gets...lonely on the road.”

  “Get your hand off me.” She pried his fingers off her arm and pushed him away a little harder than she’d intended. He landed on the ground at her feet, and she had to stifle a laugh. As big and strong as he was, he was so tipsy even she could handle him. She almost felt sorry for him, but she was too concerned about her truck.

  That’s when she saw the other man, propped in the shadows against the Peterbilt with his arms crossed, silently observing them. He hadn’t been there a minute before, but she guessed he’d gotten out of the passenger side. He stepped out of the gloom, but in the twilight of the coming night it was difficult to see him clearly. She thought he was wearing a brimmed cowboy hat, jeans, and a frayed denim jacket.

  The cowboy walked over and glanced down at the man at his feet. “It looks like you’re having a bit of a disagreement with the big guy. Are you okay, ma’am?”

  “I’m fine. I can handle this myself, thank you. He’s just had too much to drink.”

  “Then I’ll get rid of him for you.” Before she could reply the stranger dragged her drunken suitor off toward the yellow Peterbilt, and both disappeared on the other side.

  When the cowboy returned she said, “He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “I could see that.”

  “What did you do with him?” Her truck was behind her. The night was black now and full of whispers. Winter was in the air. She shivered.

  “I put him in his truck where he won’t get run over and can sleep it off.” The stranger chuckled. “At least he won’t be getting behind the wheel again tonight. He doesn’t need to be on the road in his condition. He’ll wake up sober tomorrow, I hope, and probably not remember a thing about you shoving him to the ground.”

  “I didn’t mean to push him so hard. He lost his balance.”

  “I know.” Another chuckle. “He probably won’t remember that either.”

  “Well, thank you anyway,” she murmured softly, “for helping me.” She stood by the open hood of her truck and didn’t know what to do. The stranger seemed nice enough, but she didn’t know him and they were alone now on the parking lot. She felt a little uncomfortable.

  “You’re welcome.” He’d come closer to her. He was very tall. Probably over six four. “I couldn’t stand by and watch a drunk hassle a lady. He was out of line and had to outweigh you by a hundred pounds. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

  The yellow Peterbilt’s engine rumbled beside them. She looked up and studied her rescuer’s face, or as much as she could see of it in the weak light. She thought he was smiling “But I’m confused. Weren’t you with him? Is he a friend of yours or were you driving team with him?”

  “No to both. I’m just a hitchhiker bumming a ride. I need to get to Wyoming. He picked me up about fifty miles back but he had a bottle in the truck and started drinking. I don’t cotton to drivers drinking on the road. It’s reckless and stupid. I tried to get him to stop but I couldn’t. It was a bad situation.

  “I was going to leave him at this place anyway. Then he saw you, said a couple things I didn’t like, and headed over. I tailed along to make sure he didn’t make any trouble for you. He was pretty smashed.”

  “Tell me about it.” She wished she could see his expression clearer. His voice was soothing. He held himself with assurance and talked as if he were educated; she sensed an inner strength in him. Yet there was something else about him; something she couldn’t put her finger on. She shook off her apprehensions, relieved her drunken pest had been taken care of and mildly amused that a tall mysterious stranger had come to her aid.

  A glance at the open hood reminded her of her deadline and the problem with the truck. She had to get it fixed and get back on the road. She opened the truck’s door and settled down on the running board, rubbed her eyes, and put her chin in her hands.

  “You really all right?” he asked again.

  “Sure, I’m just tired. I’ve been d
riving since this morning, and arguing with a drunk takes it out of a person. It’s been a long day.” She moaned, propped herself against the edge of the seat and glanced up.

  The truck’s interior light spread across the darkness and for the first time she got a clear look at her Good Samaritan. Under the cowboy hat he was clean-shaven, except for a mustache, and had intelligent eyes that reminded her in the weak light of a wolf’s eyes. She’d met men with those same eyes before and they’d been dangerous in one way or another. His hair was shaggy and unkempt and curled at the collar of his shirt.

  But he was smiling now, his smile as wolfish as his eyes, and he’d done her a favor and had been nothing but a gentleman with her. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  “What I need,” she said, waving a hand at the raised hood and the engine after she’d picked up the flashlight she’d dropped from the ground, “is a doctor for my truck. It’s sick.”

  The man took the flashlight from her, walked over and peered into the engine. His fingers traced along the metal parts, jiggling something here, something there. He seemed to know what he was doing. “Yep, looks like you need a fuel filter.”

  “You’re pretty knowledgeable for a hitchhiker.” She forced herself to stop looking at him and his long legs and shifted her gaze to the buildings at the end of the lot. She’d been having strange thoughts about the man. When he’d come back from dragging off her drunken admirer she’d had the urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him. Which was crazy.

  Even now she kept sneaking peeks at him because she wanted to see his smile again. The feelings were so unexpected they took her off guard. She never reacted to a man this way.

  Ah, she sighed under her breath, what the heck was she thinking? He was nothing but a stranger. The man she was daydreaming about ambled over. There was a grease smudge on his left cheek.

  “I used to drive a big rig,” he said. “Five years for J.B. Hunt out of Illinois as well as a couple other companies. I’ve worked on these babies since I was a kid.” He patted the side of Baby Blue fondly. “My dad was an over-the-road trucker all his life. He’d take me on the road with him in the summers and taught me everything I know. About trucking, that is.” His voice was gentle when he spoke about his father.