Winter's Journey Read online

  With Sam it was only going too fast.

  Then there was that thing about him being an itinerant wanderer. A reality she couldn’t ignore.

  She scrabbled for her overnight bag, and Sam grabbed his worn leather one and slipped it over his shoulder. She locked up the truck and checked the refrigeration controls. Everything looked okay. The oranges were staying cool but not freezing.

  She gave Sam some expense money and they went their separate ways to shower, agreeing to meet again in the restaurant when they were clean. Loretta stood a long time under the hot water, letting it refresh her body and her hair and wash away the miles and her misgivings. Confused over Sam, she also hoped it would clear her mind.

  Standing before the mirror afterwards, she dried and braided her hair, and contemplated the face in the foggy glass. It was a prettier, happier face than this time yesterday. Her eyes were alive with possibilities, her cheeks were flushed and her mouth couldn’t stop smiling. No, it wasn’t the face she’d been looking at the last few years. This woman was too happy.

  She carefully applied more make-up than she usually did. She put on the pair of tiny fake diamond earrings she kept stashed for emergencies in her purse and a clean flowered blouse that bought out the green of her eyes. She hadn’t cared this much about her appearance in a long time. The woman in the mirror smiled back at her and she experienced anticipation of what the day would bring. It felt as if she were on vacation instead of working. She finished and walked out.

  The restaurant was nearly empty because most truckers on a day schedule were already on the road. Eight AM was late for them.

  She found a booth and hadn’t ordered coffee before Sam, clean-shaven and smiling, but looking worn-out, sat down across from her. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, but it wasn’t only his clean blond hair and his fresh shave, he was chattier, acting more assured. Happier, too.

  They ordered bacon and eggs, discussed what they had to do in the day ahead, and talked some about themselves as they buttered their biscuits. It almost felt like a date.

  “Pretty blouse,” Sam complimented as they drank their coffee. “It suits you.” If he tilted his head in any closer their heads would touch.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Loretta had let the conversation get too personal. She’d talked about Jed and their lives before his death. She’d touched on her dreams for her business and mentioned about how proud she was of her clever daughter. She’d spoken of her sister, Cherie, once or twice. Bit by bit she was telling Sam about herself. She hadn’t meant to.

  There was something about Sam that made her let down her guard.

  While Sam told her little about his life and explained nothing as to why he was meandering the roads. He was holding so much more from her. Perhaps someone or something hurt him and the secrecy was a defense...and in time he’d let her in.

  They finished breakfast and were getting ready to leave when Sam said, “If it’s all right with you, Boss, I’m going to go out and check the rig before we go. Make sure the engine’s running smoothly. Fill the tank. Check the oil. You can finish that cup of coffee and update your log. When I’m done I’ll come and get you.”

  “You’re going to spoil me.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Have them put the gas, and oil if we need it, on our restaurant bill. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Sam left and between writing in her log and sipping coffee she observed him from the window working over her truck, putting in fuel and cleaning the windows. She’d forgotten how nice it was to have a partner, sharing the driving and the work.

  Sam disappeared for a time and she assumed he was taking a restroom break or buying some of the homemade fudge from the store that he’d spoken of getting for the road.

  She finished her coffee and her paperwork and got a brief telephone call into Tessa, who she knew was having breakfast at Cherie’s before she caught her school bus. Tessa was still someone she didn’t want Sam knowing too much about. Not yet. She was protective of her daughter and didn’t share her with many people.

  Their phone connection was lousy so they didn’t talk long. The further away she got from home the worse her cell phone behaved. By the time they crossed over into Colorado the phone probably wouldn’t work at all. If she got a full time job with National she’d have to buy one that got better reception.

  Loretta said nothing to Tessa about Sam. She’d throw a fit if she knew her mother had picked up a hitchhiker.

  Sam showed up after she’d talked to her daughter. “Gas tank is filled, engine checked out, and we’re ready to face the road again.”

  “Thank you, Sam.” They left the restaurant and it seemed natural that Sam took her hand when she stumbled and didn’t let go until they reached the truck. His warm hand in hers soothed and electrified her at the same time. No matter how she denied it to herself, when she saw his face she knew that he already meant something to her. She already cared what he, a homeless drifter she knew almost nothing about, thought and felt. Heaven help her.

  The weather had turned winter cold. The wind lashed her skin like a whip and under the churning black-edged clouds there was the wet smell of coming rain.

  “Wow, it sure did get cold out here while we were in the restaurant.” She shivered as they stood by the truck. “I better get out my heavier coat.”

  They were alone in the truck’s shadow and Sam was next to her. She pulled her hand from his and their eyes met. Suddenly he was taking her gently into his arms and shielding her from the wind. Neither of them spoke. His body was solid and warm, his embrace so protecting that for a moment she forgot herself. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

  She broke away, her body trembling, and scrambled into the driver’s seat. What must he think of her? She’d let him kiss her and she’d known him less than a day. Her face burned.

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said simply. “I’m sorry.”

  “Your apology’s accepted, but it was my fault, too.” She turned the key and started the truck. “I don’t pick up strangers and then come on to them. I’m not that kind of woman.” Though nothing had actually happened. He’d held her hand to keep her from falling and he’d placed a kiss on her cheek. That wasn’t exactly a pass. It was a show of growing affection. It would stop there.

  “I know you aren’t.” His eyes were downcast. “I was way out of line.”

  He didn’t say it wouldn’t happen again.

  “All righty then...we’re going.”

  He glanced at her and there was such relief in his gaze she let a grin slip out. “I hear it’s supposed to start snowing,” he told her. “Rain first. Real soon. Then lots of snow.”

  “Oh, great,” she grumbled, “if it’s bad enough it might screw up our timetable. Where did you hear that?”

  “When I got the gas and told the guy inside to put it on your bill. There were people in line behind me griping about it. One woman said a monstrous—her word not mine—snowstorm was on its way, and it’s supposed to blanket most of where we’re headed.”

  “Oh, boy. Then I hope you have a warmer coat than that, Sam.” She nodded at the flimsy jacket he was wearing.

  “No, this is all I have with me. I travel light. I’m so warm-blooded it’s all I need. Besides, your truck’s heated.”

  “True, it is. As long as you stay inside I guess it doesn’t matter.” It was afterwards she was thinking of. When she left him in Cheyenne and drove away. At the thought a kind of loss came over her and she didn’t know why.

  Sam slumped against the seat, eyes half closed, exhaustion softening his features. He’d guarded her from an overly amorous admirer, fixed her truck, and driven all night. He didn’t know her that well, either. The least she could do was trust him.

  “Sam, go on back and get some sleep. You look as if you’re ready to pass out. It’s my shift now.”

  “I won’t argue with that, Boss. I’m going. See you later. Unti
l then I’ll be the one snoring in the sleeper. Yell at me if I get too loud or if you have a problem.” He lifted himself fluidly out of the chair and worked his way into the back. In the rearview mirror she saw him flop down on the bed, clothes and all, and shut his eyes. He was snoring in seconds.

  She was ready to take Baby Blue out onto the highway when she remembered the fudge Sam had wanted to buy but didn’t because she hadn’t given him quite enough pocket money. Darn. Putting the truck in park, she rummaged through her purse and took out a twenty and clipped it to her visor as a reminder.

  Feeling guilty for all Sam had done for her and what little she’d done so far for him, she had an idea. There’d been fudge for sale in the restaurant so she thought she’d run back inside and get a pound or two. A few hours on the road and she wouldn’t mind having some herself. It would only take a minute.

  She put Baby Blue in Park and darted back into the restaurant.

  Taking out more money as she went and keeping her eyes on her truck rumbling on the other side of the window, she headed for the fudge in the display case up front. The place was swiftly filling with tourists traveling through town on vacation and locals coming in for the latest gossip. She could always tell the two apart. The tourists dressed nicer.

  Someone had turned on the radio above the main counter and country music floated above the droning of conversation. The pure sweetness of a slow song from Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock, in the state of mind she was in, made her want to cry. She kept replaying Sam’s embrace, his face haunting her. She daydreamed about what it would feel like to have him really kiss her and to have his warm lips on her warm lips.

  Stop that.

  Some of the men eating at the counter winked at her as she strolled past, and she thought it must be the blush on her cheeks or the smile on her lips. She felt attractive for the first time in a long time because of Sam. She caught the attention of the waitress behind the counter and ordered two pounds of chocolate pecan fudge and a large cup of coffee to go. Unlike Sam, she hadn’t had five cups of coffee at breakfast and thought a cup for the first leg of the day’s journey would go good with the fudge.

  “I’ll get that fudge and coffee for you soon as I get this order to the table, honey,” the waitress promised as she hurried off with a plate for someone. “These eggs are already lukewarm and the customer’s complaining. Be back in a jiffy.”

  Loretta waited.

  The music on the radio stopped and the hourly news came on. At first Loretta wasn’t paying it much attention and then the words got through to her.

  They were discussing a trucker being murdered late the night before at the I-55 Truck Stop. He’d had his throat slashed and had been left in the cab of his yellow Peterbilt. State Police were investigating. She hadn’t caught the dead trucker’s name.

  His throat slashed and left in the cab of a yellow Peterbilt at the I-55 Truck Stop? Where I was last night...with Sam, who’d carted away the man who’d been bothering me...who was a trucker in a yellow Peterbilt like the deceased? Oh, no.

  Loretta’s heart sped up and the world jerked beneath her feet. She stood there unmoving, a robot, cash clutched in her hand until the waitress returned and sold her the coffee and fudge. She put her change away and trance-walked out the door. She looked at her truck with the mysterious hitchhiker she’d so recently met sleeping in her bed.

  Her heart refused to accept what her mind was contemplating. Someone had killed that trucker. Whoever he’d been. She kept telling herself she was being silly. Just because the police had found a dead man in a yellow Peterbilt at the same truck stop she and Sam had been at the night before didn’t mean Sam had killed him, or had anything to do with it, did it?

  No.

  Impossible that Sam, caring and thoughtful as he seemed and who she was starting to have feelings for, was a murderer. There had to be another explanation. It wasn’t the same trucker that Sam had drug away for her or the same yellow Peterbilt.

  If it was, then someone had come along after Sam had left him in his truck and killed the poor man. Yeah, that’s what might have happened.

  If it was even the same guy. Same truck. There were hundreds of yellow Peterbilts on the road. Hundreds.

  She looked up into the cloudy sky as the first raindrops began to fall and squeezed against the building’s wall so the roofs ledge kept her from getting soaked. She couldn’t stop shivering and it wasn’t only from the cold.

  It was time to go. She had a deadline to meet. She needed her pay, that bonus, the full time job at the end of her run. But the image of Sam dragging that drunken trucker away from her into the shadows replayed in her mind over and over, taunting her.

  Had Sam killed the man while she was waiting for him? Why would he? No, her suspicion was unjustified and preposterous. She saw again the empathy in Sam’s eyes when he spoke to her and remembered the gentle touch of his hand.

  Although, Sam had been hitchhiking with the victim—if he was the victim—and had probably been seen. The authorities could be looking for him, for both of them right now. Should she call the police and speak to them? Should Sam?

  She could call the cops and let them know Sam had been riding with the guy, but Sam was a no one. A drifter. They might want to detain him for questioning and without Sam to drive with her she wouldn’t make her deadline. National Carrier wouldn’t trust her or hire her again. Worse, she could be suspected of being an accomplice and also be held for questioning. She’d lose her truck and her livelihood, for sure. What would she and Tessa do then?

  Stop it! You don’t even know who the dead guy was. It probably wasn’t beer belly at all. Forget it. Put it out of your mind.

  Her steps slowly returned her to her truck, her eyes fixed on the sleeper section. She had to keep driving. She’d figure it out when she had time to think. The bottom line was that the Sam she’d come to know couldn’t have killed that man, any man; he couldn’t be a killer. Someone else had done it. So there. She’d been reading too many murder mysteries, that’s what. That was the end of it.

  She shook her head and opened the door and quietly climbed into the dry cab. She dropped her purse, coffee container, and the paper bag with the candy in it on the seat beside her.

  The engine roared to life and Baby Blue chugged out onto the rainy highway. Loretta switched on the windshield wipers and headlights. The day was already an unnatural twilight. She’d made a decision. Until she knew more details about the murder, she would give Sam the benefit of a doubt and think the best of him, until he gave her reason to believe otherwise. The little voice in her head told her she was making a mistake, but she wouldn’t listen. She had too much to lose.

  She compromised. When he awoke she’d tell him about the trucker murder and see how he reacted and what he had to say.

  Meanwhile, the CB airwaves were full of truckers hashing over the killing. Apparently, the victim had been well known and the truckers were puzzled and angry. Scared. There seemed to be no motive. The voices on the CB droned on:

  “I knew him...he had two kids.”

  “Yeah, he was married, drank a little too much...don’t we all at times...wasn’t a bad Joe when he wasn’t drinking, though I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “Who would do such a thing? The creep that killed him shouldn’t be shown any mercy. Yeah, he should be staked out on the road and we can all take turns running him over. Make road kill out of ‘im!”

  She finally turned the CB off and pushed the pedal down. Her mind kept going over everything she could remember about the night before and every moment since she’d met Sam. Everything he’d done and said, every gesture he’d made, suspicious or not. She tried to remember if she’d seen any blood on him or his clothes after he’d returned to the restaurant. She didn’t think so.

  Wouldn’t she have known if he’d killed that man, though? There would have been something to give him away, wouldn’t there? No, she could recall nothing odd.

  How would she know? She didn’t know an
y killers and didn’t know how to spot one.

  And...Sam couldn’t have done such a thing anyway. She was sure he was a good man. She sensed it. Murderers didn’t help women in distress, fix their trucks, or treat them as considerately as Sam had treated her. Did they?

  On the other hand, murderers could be deceptive. Murderers could fool anyone and often did.

  She slammed her hand down on the steering wheel and kept driving.

  Chapter 4

  OVER THE NEXT SIX HOURS Loretta’s mind fretted back and forth about how to broach the subject of the dead trucker with Sam as the rain tapped on the roof of the truck and her clothes dried in the cab’s heat.

  Her hands gripped the steering wheel and her ears listened for noises from the sleeper. Part of her wanted Sam to wake up so she could tell him about the murder, but part of her wished she’d never heard the news report. She got a headache and drank the coffee with a couple of aspirins and ate a piece of fudge from the paper bag.

  She was preoccupied with her bleak thoughts and didn’t notice the Freightliner tail-gaiting her until the headlights were glaring at her back. She looked into her rearview mirror, but couldn’t see much. The truck, of a light color, was too close and the day too rainy and dim.

  The Freightliner hung on her tail like an obstinate shadow.

  She laid on the horn, flashed the lights, slowed down; then speeded up.

  Get back! You’re too close.

  The other truck refused to fall back. From what she could see of it, it had a square hood and chipped dark specks in its worn paint. It looked like a rig she’d seen yesterday morning near the weigh station, a dirty white Freightliner with a cattle guard bumper across the front. She remembered it because the truck appeared so ill-used and had no markings, no company insignias, logos, or stickers of any kind. Could it be the same truck? No. That was a stupid thought. Except for those two breaks for supper and breakfast, Baby Blue had been on the road the whole time. She’d driven first shift and Sam had taken the second. If it were the same truck, it would almost have to be following her, though it could merely be on the same route.