It's open," she said. "I'll meet you at the back door."After I saw to my horse, she was waiting, now shod, belted and buttoned. I handed her my note and studied her while she read by the candle's light. She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow."You're a rebel," she said. It was not a question, but I nodded."My husband was not. Didn't hold with war at all, with killing."I told her my name and she said hers was Fran. "Francine actually," she said with a small laugh. "My mother rather favored the French. A Huguenot her father or grandfather was, I've forgotten which."We stood awkwardly in her back room. The house was quiet, and I assumed we were alone. She might have been twenty-five, perhaps even thirty, with a fine forehead, strong nose, and square chin; she was no delicate beauty, but a lovely woman with a fine, voluptuous body, full-hipped, long-legged and very healthy. She smelled good too. My root trembled, throbbed and filled."I suppose you can have his things, his supplies,. She rested her thigh on the seat, and her shorts were loose enough that he could almost see...He gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Aly grinning at him.-----The drive across Oklahoma was mostly uneventful, and Henry kept his mind on business. When he had good cell phone service, he made a few calls, and got updates from Jayne about the situation with Raytheon.When they neared the Texas border, the truck started grinding each time Henry let off the accelerator. Aly took out the map. They decided to stop for the night in Amarillo. It was the next big town, and they could have a mechanic look at the truck.Unfortunately, the grinding grew worse. When the truck gave a final lurch, Henry gripped the steering wheel. He might not be a mechanical engineer, but he knew the sound of metal on metal when he heard it. The interstate was straight and flat, but it was also full of 18-wheelers traveling eighty miles an hour. He looked for a.
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