The Ride to Save King Page 2

  “Would you ground me?”

  “You bet I would, sweetie. Two weeks at least.”

  Suddenly there was a sound up on the road, and a harsh voice.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Lysette looked up to see a man. The sun was behind him, and she couldn’t see much but an outline. He stood there, his feet set wide apart, his hands on his hips.

  “We’re just resting a minute.”

  “Not here, you’re not. This is private property.”

  Lysette got up quickly and got King, while Momma picked up their lunch. The guy stood there and watched them, not saying anything more, just looking mean. Momma helped her up on King’s back, and the man stepped aside to make room for her to ride out.

  “And there’s no point in coming back,” he said. “I’m staying right here. Right through the hurricane, and I’ll shoot anybody comes and tries to loot my property.”

  Momma wheeled around, all angry, and put her own hands on her hips.

  “What makes you think….” She suddenly clamped her mouth shut and turned to Lysette. “Come on, Lysette, let’s move on out of here.”

  Lysette looked at the guy’s truck, and realized what made Momma shut her mouth. The guy must have had ten guns on the gun rack. Maybe he meant it when he said he’d shoot somebody. She reined King onto the road, but she did not move along too fast until she saw Momma get into her car and move. The guy got into his pickup truck and rolled along real slow right behind them. Momma pulled up beside Lysette.

  “Pick up the pace a little, honey,” she said. “I think he’ll go away as soon as we get away from his property.”

  Lysette did not need any further urging. She pushed King to a gallop. Momma’s car kept right behind her, and the pickup followed a little faster. Then it stopped and turned around and went away. Lysette slowed to a trot, but she kept going for another half mile or so.

  When she stopped, both she and King were breathing hard.

  “People get crazy when they feel threatened,” said Momma.

  “They sure do,” agreed Lysette. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of the trip? Were people going to act like dogs over a supper dish? Of course not, yet Lysette was uneasy about finding a place to camp. She could tell Momma was too.

  The day cooled off some in the later afternoon. Lysette spent some time walking, to give King a break, but also to stretch her legs. It was amazing how numb her seat could get. Toward dusk, she mounted up and pushed King to a jog. It was cooler, and they could cover a little more ground before nightfall. Momma drove ahead to look for a place to camp.

  “Be careful!” Lysette called to her as she pulled away. She thought she heard Momma’s voice from in the car.

  “You be careful!”

  The sky was beautiful. It was still hard to believe that a huge storm was coming. There were some clouds on the southeastern horizon, but the sunset was clear and golden pink.

  It was pretty dark by the time she caught up with Momma. She looked tired and discouraged. She’d seen a few good places to camp, but she hadn’t been able to find the owners of the property. After their run in with the guy with the guns, they didn’t want to camp without permission.

  “That place looks okay,” said Lysette, pointing ahead at a small farm. It didn’t look too well kept up, but there was a lot of space in front. There were lights on in the house, so there was somebody home to ask.

  “We might as well give it a try.”

  Lysette and her mother trudged up to the house, King in tow. Just as they got close, the door swung open and a huge brown dog came hurtling out, barking loudly.

  * * *

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  Chapter 4 – 10 PM Monday

  * * *

  KING STARTED TO bolt, and by the time Lysette had him under control, the dog had stopped barking, and started jumping all over Momma, trying to lick her face.

  “Chuckie? What you doin’ to them?” A little old lady was standing in the door. She came out on the porch. “Who are you folks?”

  “Ma’m?” said Momma, trying to talk while pushing the dog down. She wasn’t succeeding very well. “I’m…um…me and my daughter here…yuck!” Momma wiped the dog spit off her mouth.

  “We need a place to camp tonight, ma’m,” said Lysette.

  “Camp?” The old lady came down and pulled her dog off of Momma. “What’re you camping for? Don’t you know there’s a storm comin’?”

  Both Lysette and her mother babbled out an explanation. The old woman looked at the horse and then back at Momma.

  “How far have you got to go?”

  “Only about twelve more miles.”

  “You’ll never get that far tonight.”

  “I know. That’s why we need to camp.”

  “Well, let’s see….” The old woman looked around at her field and barn. “The barn’s still in pretty good shape, and so is the fence. It should hold him for over night. You put him in there, and I’ll go make up a couple of beds.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that…,” said Momma politely, but Lysette could see in her eyes that she really did want a nice soft bed. Today had been hard.

  “It’s no trouble. I’ve got room, and I won’t even have to clean up, because tomorrow the wind’ll sweep it all away.” She made a sweeping motion with her hands and chuckled.

  * * *

  THE OLD WOMAN’S name was Mrs. Carter, and she was the friendliest person Lysette had ever met. She brought out some toast and homemade jam, and sat everybody right down on her couch to talk.

  The dog’s name was Chuckie, and he was friendly too. He was big and sandy, with mournful brown eyes. He looked like he was part Irish Wolfhound and part Cocker Spaniel–a strange mixture of wiry and soft fur, of thin and stocky build. The instant Lysette started to pet him, he flopped down on her feet and lolled, his huge tail slowly sweeping the floor. Lysette bent down to scratch his chest. The tail swept faster.

  “I have a favor to ask,” said Mrs. Carter after they had talked a while.

  “Well, you’ve certainly helped us,” said Momma.

  “Tomorrow my nephew is coming to take me to a shelter, and there is no place for Chuckie.”

  “Oh,” said Momma. Momma had always been firm about not getting a dog, no matter how Lysette had begged.

  “Now, I’m wondering if there might be a little room in that barn you’re heading for, for a dog.”

  “Well…,” said Momma. She hesitated and looked at Chuckie’s ecstatic pose, his tongue dripping slobber on the floor. “Shoot, Jim has so many other animals, I can’t see as he would even notice one more for a week or so. Sure, we can take him.”

  Lysette looked at her mother in amazement, but Mrs. Carter took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself.

  “That’s a problem,” she said. “It may not be just for a week or so. See, the shelter I’m going to is a nursing home, and if something happens to this house, I don’t see as how I’ll be coming back.”

  “Oh,” said Momma.

  “I’m not even sure I’ll be coming back if the house is still standing. My money doesn’t go as far as it used to, and, well, I am dependent on my family, and they want me to move.”

  Lysette looked up from Chuckie’s stomach, expecting to see tears in the old woman’s eyes, but Mrs. Carter had her jaw set, and she looked ready to deal with the hurricane itself if necessary.

  “Oh, I’ve been expecting this for some time,” she said. “This little storm is just an excuse to get me to take a look at the home. I expect it will work out the way my family wants in the end. And maybe it is for the best, what with my heart getting worse. But, I’m not leaving my dog uncared for. You can take him to the animal shelter if you want, but I’m not leaving him here.”

  “Won’t your family take him to the animal shelter?” asked Lysette.

  “My nephew has a new car. No dogs allowed.”

  “We’ll be glad to take him,” said Momma. “Two w
omen living alone need a nice big dog. Don’t you worry about the animal shelter any. We’ll keep him.”

  That was when Mrs. Carter started to cry. Lysette stared gape-jawed at her mother. She would never let them have a dog! On the other hand, Momma always hated anything unfair.

  “Oh, my,” said Mrs. Carter, through her tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Do you want some more coffee? Or….” She started to fuss at the dishes, and then they all burst out laughing. Chuckie leaped up at the excitement, and bounded over the coffee table, upsetting the pot and spilling it all over the floor.

  “Landsakes,” said Mrs. Cartier, “can’t you leave the destruction to the hurricane?”

  Chuckie barked once and bounced back and forth, as if expecting something fun to happen.

  Momma and Mrs. Cartier cleared up the spilled coffee together, while Lysette took Chuckie outside. The big dog bounded off to water the bushes, as Lysette stood on the porch. She could see stars in the sky. No clouds yet. In another day, it would be all storm clouds. It could last for days and days, even.

  King, though, was grazing contentedly in the little pasture. Now he and Chuckie would be safe. The dog bounded up to sit at her feet and looked up, as if to say, “whatcha looking at?”

  The door opened and Momma leaned out.

  “Come on, Hon. You’ve got a long ride tomorrow.”

  * * *

  THE CLOUDS DRIFTED in over night. Lysette awoke to a mild grayness. It was not dark, and the wind had not picked up yet. There was a breeze, a reminder of what was to come. Lysette shivered as she watched the bushes shift under that breeze, even though the morning was warm.

  Mrs. Carter had a little TV on in her kitchen. Lysette paused to watch a commentator walk along the board walk at a little amusement park by the beach. He was pointing out the high water mark of the last storm to hit near Riverton. Then he pointed out how high the water could be if the storm hit so that the park was on the windward side of the eye. Water would just pour over the whole park.

  Lysette had been to that park. They had carriage horses and little donkeys there. She hoped they had got them all out to safety. And then she thought about the ducks that were in the park, where people could sit and feed them. Did the park people round them up and get them to safety? Or did they have to fend for themselves?

  “How much time have we got?” asked Lysette.

  “TV says it won’t make land until this evening,” said Mrs. Carter. “You got all morning and some before the weather starts getting bad.”

  She looked up from her frying pan and smiled. Lysette noticed that she seemed to be fixing enough food for a football team. There were three kinds of sausages – which smelled wonderful – and pancakes, and bacon, and pancakes, and toast, and eggs, and pancakes, and all kinds of jam. And more pancakes. Momma came in from the yard, where she must have been feeding King.

  “We can’t eat all this,” she said.

  “It’s just going to go to waste,” said Mrs. Carter. “We’re turning off the power, so even if the storm doesn’t wash it away, it’ll just spoil.”

  “Wow!” said Lysette. She sat down and speared herself a couple of spicy, homemade sausages.

  “Don’t eat too much meat and fat,” warned Momma. “You’ve got a lot of bouncing to do, and you don’t want anything too heavy.”

  “Yes, Momma.” Lysette snared herself a piece of bacon anyway. She loved bacon. She ate more toast and pancakes than anything else, anyway.

  * * *

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  Chapter 5 – 8 AM Tuesday

  * * *

  MORNING WAS DIFFERENT than the day before. There was nothing more than a breeze, and few clouds, yet the threat of the hurricane hung over everything. There was a nervousness in the air. Even King seemed to catch on to it. He trotted out with big strides, covering ground quickly. Lysette did not hold him back, but she wished he would calm down.

  They passed more houses here, and the people were madly hammering plywood over their windows, and gathering anything from the yards that the wind could pick up and toss. Lysette thought of what the weather man had said about wind. It had enough force to make anything deadly. The sustained winds could snap off lampposts, and the storm could have gusts and tornados. That kind of wind could drive straw through a steel post.

  Even though they must have been out of the main evacuation area by now, people were packing things into cars. Some folks were not taking chances.

  The cars passed her on the road regularly, going faster. King hated it. The dust and gravel kicked up by the cars was the least of it. There was noise and speed, and he did not know the area. Lysette leaned forward to pat him, and he jumped, his hooves clattering on the packed earth. It was time to slow down.

  She pulled him up and dismounted. He immediately rubbed his face against her, nearly knocking her over.

  “Whatsa matter, you big lug? Flies in your eyes?”

  In answer, he wiped his face across her stomach, chest and chin, shoving her backwards until she stumbled into the ditch.

  “I’m not a washcloth,” she replied. She led him to a patch of grass to graze for a bit. At first he snatched irritably at the grass, but eventually he began to settle down. Momma’s car pulled up and she jumped out quickly.

  “Are you okay?” Momma was worried.

  “Everything’s fine. King just got a little nervous, so I stopped to calm him down.”

  “Wise child,” said Momma, but then she frowned. “How nervous?”

  “He was just twitching his ears.”

  “Oh.” Momma headed back to the car to get the bucket and some water.

  “Oh, and he’s getting dust in his eyes,” added Lysette.

  Momma nodded and she wet a sponge to wipe his eyes and nose with. King settled down completely under the attention. Lysette removed his saddle and brushed him.

  “Well, we’re mostly there,” said Momma. “The only thing that worries me yet is that four mile stretch of highway.”

  “At least it will be paved. No dust.”

  “Yes, but there will be lots more traffic, and it will be harder for me to stick close to you.”

  “We’ll be careful. We’ll walk the whole way.” She wondered how long it would take to walk four miles. “How much time have we got?”

  “The radio says it will make landfall tonight, so we’ve got part of this afternoon.”

  “Where’s it hitting?”

  “Right on top of our house. Where else?”

  Momma picked up the fly wipe and applied more to King to replace what she had washed off. Lysette saddled him carefully. Why was she scared? Things were going well. They were almost to Uncle Jim’s.

  Sure, things could go wrong, but that was not what scared her. It was those high clouds she could see to the southeast. She felt like they were following her.

  * * *

  UNFORTUNATELY, THE TRAFFIC just seemed to get worse. Sometimes it stopped altogether. It was getting harder and harder for Momma to keep close. Lysette rode past her for the fifth time, and Momma leaned out.

  “I’m almost out of gas, honey,” she said. “I’m going to go on ahead and get some more. You be careful, and I’ll meet you at the Burger Maker up ahead. Okay?”

  “Yes, Momma.”

  Lysette rode on, but after a bit the traffic speeded up and Momma passed her again, waving and pointing ahead toward the Burger Maker restaurant. Lysette nodded and kept riding.

  The problem came only moments later. There was an intersection ahead. It was just a side road, but cars were lined up on it, trying to get onto the highway. It looked like the cars were bumper to bumper. She was not sure she would be able to get across. She stood up in stirrups and looked for Momma’s car. It was not in sight. If she could not get across, how could she let Momma know where she was?

  Maybe the traffic would stop completely for a minute, and she could get through. As she pulled King to the corner, the traffic was moving. It was a steady stream
of cars, trucks and vans, as far back as she could see. When they did stop, they pulled so close together, that a horse could not get through. And they started up again so quickly, she would not have felt safe trying it.

  She rode back and forth for a minute, looking for a place to cross. It made King nervous. She stopped and stroked his neck. He was getting sweaty. He would need water soon.

  “Over here, darlin’!”

  Lysette looked up to see a huge red pickup truck had stopped, blocking all traffic. A skinny old guy in a straw cowboy hat leaned out the window. “You can cross here,” he said. “Nobody’s gonna get past me.”

  “Thanks!” called Lysette, and she urged King carefully across the road. The car in front of the truck had pulled well ahead, and there was plenty of room. She watched for cars that might try to pass, but none did. Then, just as she got across, somebody laid on their horn with a long loud blast.

  King seemed to explode. He wheeled around, fighting her reins, feet lashing in all directions, blowing and snorting in fear. Lysette held him in, and after a moment he stopped, quivering, in the ditch. The traffic had moved on. There was no way to tell what idiot had honked.

  Lysette turned King back to the north and started a slow and easy walk, talking to him and patting his neck. He seemed calmer, but now she had butterflies. She had pulled so hard on the reins, his jaw must be bruised. Poor King. She would have to be careful.

  “We’re doing this for you, King,” she said. “Just cooperate a little longer.”

  There was some grass, so she reined him to the side to graze a few bites. She gave him a hug, and when both of them seemed to be breathing normally, she moved on.

  By this time the traffic was so heavy, it hardly moved. She passed car after car. They seemed full of sweaty, frightened people. Well, not all frightened, and some of the cars were air-conditioned. There was a couple in a little red convertible.

  “Where you going?” called the woman, who sounded a little worried.

  “To shelter,” called Lysette back. The woman nodded. They both waved.

  “Ride ’em, cowboy!” said the man, which Lysette interpreted to mean “good luck.”

  Then she rode by a van where three little kids pressed against the window to see the horse. She smiled and waved at them.