"It's nicer than most places," said Kyle, firmly, as if he was nodding at Clayton to prove his point.
"I guess so," said Clayton.
He didn't know what to think now. The guy sounded legit, but getting to Orchard would prove its own kind of adventure and would add hours to a drive that, in normal weather, would feel like it took no time at all. Except he had an errand to run, an important errand.
"Listen, give me your address, and then I have to hang up. My cell phone battery is dying."
Kyle gave him the address. Then he added, "It's a ranch house right on the river. Well, almost right on it; it's the last house on the road out of town just before you reach the South Platte. But why don't you just plug your phone into your charger?" asked Kyle.
"I must have left it in the motel, or something," said Clayton.
"You shouldn't be driving where you're driving without a charged up cell phone," said Kyle, in a gentle though scolding voice.
"You think I don't know that?" asked Clayton, only a moment's hesitation away from adding the wordassholeto the question. "Look, I'm going to stop at the Flying J in Sundance before I head south, okay. I'll be at your place around nine o'clock. Sheesh." Then he hung up.
CHAPTER 5
The Flying J at Sundance, right off the highway, was a little more crowded than he expected, considering the weather and the holiday season. But after he pumped his gas, he went inside to look around the little convenience store for a phone charger.
As expected, the store had electric razors, postcards with jack-a-lopes on them, and all the starchy snacks a fellow could ask for. But no chargers. He grabbed a cheese and tuna sandwich from the rack, a cold iced coffee from the cooler, and headed up to the counter.
He paid with his credit card, as usual, grabbing the receipt to shove into his pocket, when he realized that the cashier, a young lady with tightly pulled back hair and too much makeup, was looking at him carefully as she handed his card back to him.
"What?" he asked shortly.
"You're Clayton Nash, right?" she asked. "Headed down to Orchard, Colorado?"
"Yes," he said, not wanting to ask how she knew where he was going. "So?"
She turned to the guy behind her, who was a little older. His name tag saidRalph, and beneath that it saidManager.
"This is the guy," the girl said to Ralph.
Clayton rose on his toes a little bit. With all that had been going on, it was possible that the theft of the knife and the sheath might have come straight back to him, as thoughhewas the thief. But he was even more confused when Ralph the Manager smiled at him, reached beneath the counter, and pulled out a bubble package. It contained a charger, including an adaptor, in case he had no outlet in his car, a corkscrew cord for the adaptor, as well as the thin cord that would hook up to his cell phone.
"This is our last one, Mr. Nash," said Ralph.
"What?" asked Clayton, completely confused.
"We just got a phone call from Kyle Tobin. He bought it over the phone and paid for it with his credit card. Wanted to make sure you had one. Said you should consider it a gift from him to you, on account of it's nearly Christmas."
"Oh, man," said Clayton.
Now he felt bad about being so brusque with Kyle over the phone and practically hanging up on him. The charger was going to save him. He would be free to call Uncle Bill when the time came, and he could, perhaps, call Kyle to tell him thank you. And, if Kyle wanted to go on and on about whatever, then maybe Clayton would let him. After all, he had miles of snowy driving to get through, and sometimes the radio wasn't enough.
"Go on, take it," said Ralph. "It's paid for."
"Thank you," said Clayton. He had manners when he remembered to use them.
He went out to the car, threw away bits of trash from the passenger side where it usually collected, and connected his phone to the charger, and plugged it in. He walked around the car, checked the tires, and scraped off triangle shaped bits of ice that had coated the taillights and headlights on the passengerside. He used the scraper to make the windows as clean and frost-free as they could possibly be. Then, blowing on his cupped hands, he got into the car.
The engine hummed softly when he turned on the ignition, and he was ready to go. From Sundance, he had two, maybe three, hours to Lusk. From there, it was at least a four-hour drive to Orchard. After that, he could head down to the interstate and get a motel there because, as he glanced at the clock, he realized he would not be arriving anywhere until after ten o'clock. Having driven into what was developing into whiteout conditions, he'd be in no shape to get home to Harlin, let alone make it down to Parker.
But he'd made a promise to Kyle to be there to get Shawn's Christmas gift, and so by whatever means, he was going to make it. So when it came time to take the turnoff south from Sundance, rather than east or west, he took it, his breath held, his heart pounding, though he didn't want to admit it to himself.
Highway 585 was bordered by good sized pine trees, at least as he went by the Black Hills area, and that helped to shield the snow a good deal. But when he had to take a right on Highway 85, the trees dropped away and the land turned flat, and that was where it began to get rugged. The snow was blowing sideways right over the top of the road, hiding the edges. At least there was some daylight to see by, and having gone this way before, he knew the road somewhat.
The sky was full of white and he passed nobody going the other way, and for two hours, he was on his own. Just him and the road and the snow.
