tomorrow."
"I need something today. Now."
"Oh, well." Bud chewed his cigar. "I'm a little low on inventory, but you're welcome to look. You interested in a Cadillac? It's twelve years old, but it's solid. Low mileage."
Jamie thought about it. "I'm not really the Cadillac type."
"You're absolutely right. You need something sporty. Come with me, I've got just the car." He led her outside to a shiny red vehicle. "Now, this here is a Camaro RS. Fully loaded, got all the extras. It's a 1997 model, has a few miles on it, but it runs like a charm. Used to be owned by an old schoolteacher."
Jamie shot him a sideways glance. "An old schoolteacher, huh?"
"Yep. Liberian, I believe she was," he added, mispronouncing the word. "She took real good care of it."
Jamie peered inside the window. "It's got one hundred and sixty thousand miles on it!"
"Yeah, she had to commute to work."
"How much?"
"This one goes for twenty-one hundred dollars, but I'm going to give you my rock-bottom price and sell it to you for fifteen. Is that a deal or what?"
Jamie gaped at him. "I can't afford to spend that kind of money. Don't you have something under five hundred dollars?"
Bud looked surprised. "Hon, you can't buy a good bicycle for under five hundred bucks. Not these days, anyhow." He suddenly looked hurt. "I'm cutting my profit to the bone here, darlin'."
Jamie checked out several other cars, but they were even more expensive. She spied an old pickup truck parked on the last row. "How much for that truck?"
Bud looked surprised. "I plumb forgot about that old thing. My cousin brought it in last night, and I haven't had a chance to clean it up. I don't think you'd be happy with it."
"How come?"
"It's old and beat-up. You can see it's got a lot of rust on it. There's a hole in the floorboard on the passenger's side, but my cousin nailed plywood to it so his kids wouldn't fall out. Mostly, he used it to carry hunting dogs. He's a big coon hunter."
Jamie walked toward the truck. "Just how old is it?"
"Early eighties. It's a Dodge, and they hold up pretty good, but I wouldn't feel right selling it to you."
Jamie opened the door and winced at the sight. On the driver's side, the leather seat was split and the stuffing had spilled out. Papers and fast-food bags littered the floor. "Mileage is high," she noted. "Does it run?"
Bud nodded. "Pretty good."
"How does it look under the hood?"
"Well, my cousin is a mechanic, so he's careful to change the oil and transmission fluid and keep everything in working order. He rebuilt the engine some five or six years ago, but it's still an old truck."
"Do you think it'll get me to Knoxville?"
"You know any shortcuts?" He laughed. When Jamie didn't join in, his look sobered. "Yeah, I reckon it'll get you where you're going."
"How much?"
Bud shrugged. "As is? I reckon I could let you have it for six hundred dollars."
Jamie blinked. "Excuse me, but are we talking about the same truck?"
"OK, OK, I'll sell it to you for four hundred dollars, but I can't give you a warranty at that price."
Jamie glanced at the bed in back. And found herself looking into the face of one of the ugliest bloodhounds she'd ever seen. He had a wrinkled forlorn face, mournful eyes, and long ears. Skin hung in loose, pendulous folds, as though he had never quite managed to fill his own hide.
"What's with the dog?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. He comes with the truck."
She blinked at Bud. "What do you mean, he comes with the truck?"
"He's kinda attached to it. My cousin asked me to take him to the animal shelter, but I didn't have the heart. He wouldn't last long there. He has, uh, problems."
Jamie looked more closely at the animal. "What kinds of problems?"
Bud toyed with his cigar, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Well, he's deaf in one ear, and his eyesight ain't what it used to be. He's also suffering shell shock."
"Shell shock?"
"Like I said, my cousin did a lot of coon hunting. This here dog wasn't
"I need something today. Now."
"Oh, well." Bud chewed his cigar. "I'm a little low on inventory, but you're welcome to look. You interested in a Cadillac? It's twelve years old, but it's solid. Low mileage."
Jamie thought about it. "I'm not really the Cadillac type."
"You're absolutely right. You need something sporty. Come with me, I've got just the car." He led her outside to a shiny red vehicle. "Now, this here is a Camaro RS. Fully loaded, got all the extras. It's a 1997 model, has a few miles on it, but it runs like a charm. Used to be owned by an old schoolteacher."
Jamie shot him a sideways glance. "An old schoolteacher, huh?"
"Yep. Liberian, I believe she was," he added, mispronouncing the word. "She took real good care of it."
Jamie peered inside the window. "It's got one hundred and sixty thousand miles on it!"
"Yeah, she had to commute to work."
"How much?"
"This one goes for twenty-one hundred dollars, but I'm going to give you my rock-bottom price and sell it to you for fifteen. Is that a deal or what?"
Jamie gaped at him. "I can't afford to spend that kind of money. Don't you have something under five hundred dollars?"
Bud looked surprised. "Hon, you can't buy a good bicycle for under five hundred bucks. Not these days, anyhow." He suddenly looked hurt. "I'm cutting my profit to the bone here, darlin'."
Jamie checked out several other cars, but they were even more expensive. She spied an old pickup truck parked on the last row. "How much for that truck?"
Bud looked surprised. "I plumb forgot about that old thing. My cousin brought it in last night, and I haven't had a chance to clean it up. I don't think you'd be happy with it."
"How come?"
"It's old and beat-up. You can see it's got a lot of rust on it. There's a hole in the floorboard on the passenger's side, but my cousin nailed plywood to it so his kids wouldn't fall out. Mostly, he used it to carry hunting dogs. He's a big coon hunter."
Jamie walked toward the truck. "Just how old is it?"
"Early eighties. It's a Dodge, and they hold up pretty good, but I wouldn't feel right selling it to you."
Jamie opened the door and winced at the sight. On the driver's side, the leather seat was split and the stuffing had spilled out. Papers and fast-food bags littered the floor. "Mileage is high," she noted. "Does it run?"
Bud nodded. "Pretty good."
"How does it look under the hood?"
"Well, my cousin is a mechanic, so he's careful to change the oil and transmission fluid and keep everything in working order. He rebuilt the engine some five or six years ago, but it's still an old truck."
"Do you think it'll get me to Knoxville?"
"You know any shortcuts?" He laughed. When Jamie didn't join in, his look sobered. "Yeah, I reckon it'll get you where you're going."
"How much?"
Bud shrugged. "As is? I reckon I could let you have it for six hundred dollars."
Jamie blinked. "Excuse me, but are we talking about the same truck?"
"OK, OK, I'll sell it to you for four hundred dollars, but I can't give you a warranty at that price."
Jamie glanced at the bed in back. And found herself looking into the face of one of the ugliest bloodhounds she'd ever seen. He had a wrinkled forlorn face, mournful eyes, and long ears. Skin hung in loose, pendulous folds, as though he had never quite managed to fill his own hide.
"What's with the dog?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. He comes with the truck."
She blinked at Bud. "What do you mean, he comes with the truck?"
"He's kinda attached to it. My cousin asked me to take him to the animal shelter, but I didn't have the heart. He wouldn't last long there. He has, uh, problems."
Jamie looked more closely at the animal. "What kinds of problems?"
Bud toyed with his cigar, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Well, he's deaf in one ear, and his eyesight ain't what it used to be. He's also suffering shell shock."
"Shell shock?"
"Like I said, my cousin did a lot of coon hunting. This here dog wasn't
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