Rockinghorse Read Free Page A

Everybody was getting a little cranky.
    Then the shotgun slipped back into his thoughts. Why did I buy the damned thing? What am I so afraid of? Jesus! I sneak around like a punk thief and buy a gun without telling Tracy. And not just one box of shells, but four boxes. Why would I do?—
    â€œYou’re certainly deep in thought,” Tracy said. “You just missed a very nice motel.”
    â€œShit!” he muttered under his breath.
    Jackie giggled in the back seat.
    â€œWash your mouth out with soap,” Johnny said.
    Then Lucas told them all about the shotgun.
    They all sat quite still and very silently for a few miles. Jackie was recalling what her brother had said about having to get a gun to protect them from wild animals. Johnny was thinking maybe going to Georgia wasn’t such a great idea after all.
    â€œA gun,” Tracy finally spoke. She said the words as if she were giving the command to nuke Disney World.
    She kept her eyes on the road, not trusting her voice to speak on the subject of guns. Tracy belonged to several organizations, nearly all of them involved in civic and/or charitable work. However, she did belong to the Committee for Recall of All Private Handguns.
    â€œA gun,” Tracy repeated. Careful, she cautioned herself silently. Don’t start a quarrel in front of the kids. But she had to say, “Even knowing how strongly I feel about guns, you bought one and brought it with us on this trip?”
    â€œI grew up with guns, Tracy. I learned as a very young boy how to handle and respect them for what they are. I’m not going to quarrel with you, Trace; but you know I have never shared your opinion concerning firearms. I bought the shotgun, I intend to keep the shotgun, and that closes the matter.” He was much more brusque with her than he had intended, but his wife’s attitude toward firearms had always irritated Lucas. All her opinions were based solely upon information gleaned from the national and Eastern-based news media; and if there ever was a more closed-minded and liberal gathering of people, damned if he knew where it was.
    Lucas was Republican, Tracy a Democrat.
    Jackie and Johnny had wisely remained silent during the exchange between father and mother.
    The family rode for several miles. Lucas finally said, “Is Virginia still for lovers?”
    Slowly, very slowly, a smile worked at the corners of Tracy’s mouth. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Even though my husband thinks he’s the reincarnation of Wyatt Earp.”
    * * *
    They could have made it to the mansion on the second day, but that would have been pushing it close—and they wanted to get to the Bowers home with plenty of daylight left them. Before leaving the city, Lucas had contacted an attorney in Rome, Georgia, explained the situation to him, and the lawyer had agreed to see that the lights were on, the pump checked (no city water out that far), and that the Edmund County Sheriff’s Office knew the Bowers home would be occupied for the summer—so they wouldn’t worry about folks seen around there.
    The family rolled into the tiny town of Palma, Georgia, at ten o’clock in the morning. The first view was anything but awe-inspiring to the family, all of whom were used to the greatest city in the world.
    One small block of stores. A drug store, a supermarket (sort of), a hardware/furniture/feed & seed/ outdoorsy clothes store. Two gas stations.
    And a sheriff’s department substation manned by one deputy. There was a town constable who was even less inspiring than the initial viewing of the town.
    Jackie and Johnny looked at one another and passed a silent message.
    Yekk!
    Lucas and Tracy looked at one another and vocalized their first impression, softening it somewhat for the sake of the kids.
    Tracy said, “It’s . . . interesting.”
    Lucas said, “You took the words right out of my mouth.” Lucas pulled into a service