Lost Highways (A Valentine Novel) Read Online Free
Author: Curtiss Ann Matlock
a lady ready for anything,” the clerk said. Her voice sounded smart, but her smile was warm.
“I guess—unless I get one confused with the other,” she told her, smiling in response as she handed over several bills.
It was funny how the tiniest thread of friendly connection coming out of nowhere could be immensely precious. It made her grateful in that moment to be alive, made her think that life was worth living after all.
She thought this as she carried out her grocery sack of snacksand saw that the setting sun had turned Mama’s old truck a pale gold color. The entire world—the fuel pumps, the parking lot rails, the grass bent in the breeze—was washed golden. Like old pictures in an album, all the ugly was softened and made lovely.
The next thing she saw was a long-tailed frisky puppy wriggling and wagging in the bed of her truck, regarding her as if he had just found Jesus.
She swiveled her head around to see the black No Fear truck disappearing down the entry ramp to the interstate. She looked at the empty spot where it had been beside the pump, and then again at the puppy. A dark-gray-and-brown mutt, a sort of German shepherd mixed with something equally big and clumsy.
She threw her sack onto the seat, hoisted the thirty pounds of puppy out of the bed, aided by aggravation, and went back into the store.
“That dang guy in the black truck just dumped this dog on me. Right in my truck.” Maybe she didn’t have proof of this, but she just knew it was so.
The clerk said, “People have nerve, don’t they? People drive up here all the time and leave dogs and cats, and once somebody left fightin’ roosters. I imagine they’d leave children, if they thought they could.” She shook her head with wonder. “Why don’t they just drown them?”
Rainey said maybe they didn’t have water. She suggested the clerk call the police or the dog pound, but the clerk said the police didn’t handle it, and there wasn’t any dog pound to call.
“Just leave him outside. Either someone will take him, or he’ll get hungry and go off lookin’ for food, or he’ll get runned over.”
A line was forming behind Rainey. A sweaty man in a fadedT-shirt and Bermuda shorts made impatient sighs at her shoulder. The clerk, who had seemed to be her compadre ten minutes earlier, now regarded her in a far less favorable light.
“You need to move your rig,” the clerk said. “There’s a customer waitin’ to use the pump.”
As Rainey turned for the door, a mother jerked her son away from her, saying, “No, you can’t have that dog.” Then she shot Rainey a weak smile.
Outside, Rainey set the puppy down and strode away quickly, picking up the pace until she was fairly running to jump into her truck.
The puppy’s head was almost caught in the slammed door.
She looked out the window. He gazed up at her, an expectant, hopeful light in his marble-brown eyes.
Jerking back inside, she started the engine, having the idea that the powerful roar would scare the puppy away. As she shifted into gear, the image of the puppy squashed beneath one of the wheels filled her mind.
Pressing the brake, she peeked out the window again. She didn’t see the dog.
A horn honked. In her side mirror, she saw a rusty gold Cadillac Seville nosing the bumper of the horse trailer. Apparently there was a wide lack of knowledge about the unwritten rule of the road.
She strained to catch a glimpse of the puppy, hopefully wagging up to someone else. Not seeing him, except in the horrendous picture continuing in her mind, she jammed the lever into park again and jumped out of the truck. The guy in the Cadillac started yelling at her.
The puppy came wriggling from in front of her rumbling truck, wagging his tail and again looking at her as if she were his beloved savior.
She could not bear to look at him as she lifted him and put him over into the truck bed. She squinted out of one eye.
“Don’t jump out, or that’ll be the end of you,
“I guess—unless I get one confused with the other,” she told her, smiling in response as she handed over several bills.
It was funny how the tiniest thread of friendly connection coming out of nowhere could be immensely precious. It made her grateful in that moment to be alive, made her think that life was worth living after all.
She thought this as she carried out her grocery sack of snacksand saw that the setting sun had turned Mama’s old truck a pale gold color. The entire world—the fuel pumps, the parking lot rails, the grass bent in the breeze—was washed golden. Like old pictures in an album, all the ugly was softened and made lovely.
The next thing she saw was a long-tailed frisky puppy wriggling and wagging in the bed of her truck, regarding her as if he had just found Jesus.
She swiveled her head around to see the black No Fear truck disappearing down the entry ramp to the interstate. She looked at the empty spot where it had been beside the pump, and then again at the puppy. A dark-gray-and-brown mutt, a sort of German shepherd mixed with something equally big and clumsy.
She threw her sack onto the seat, hoisted the thirty pounds of puppy out of the bed, aided by aggravation, and went back into the store.
“That dang guy in the black truck just dumped this dog on me. Right in my truck.” Maybe she didn’t have proof of this, but she just knew it was so.
The clerk said, “People have nerve, don’t they? People drive up here all the time and leave dogs and cats, and once somebody left fightin’ roosters. I imagine they’d leave children, if they thought they could.” She shook her head with wonder. “Why don’t they just drown them?”
Rainey said maybe they didn’t have water. She suggested the clerk call the police or the dog pound, but the clerk said the police didn’t handle it, and there wasn’t any dog pound to call.
“Just leave him outside. Either someone will take him, or he’ll get hungry and go off lookin’ for food, or he’ll get runned over.”
A line was forming behind Rainey. A sweaty man in a fadedT-shirt and Bermuda shorts made impatient sighs at her shoulder. The clerk, who had seemed to be her compadre ten minutes earlier, now regarded her in a far less favorable light.
“You need to move your rig,” the clerk said. “There’s a customer waitin’ to use the pump.”
As Rainey turned for the door, a mother jerked her son away from her, saying, “No, you can’t have that dog.” Then she shot Rainey a weak smile.
Outside, Rainey set the puppy down and strode away quickly, picking up the pace until she was fairly running to jump into her truck.
The puppy’s head was almost caught in the slammed door.
She looked out the window. He gazed up at her, an expectant, hopeful light in his marble-brown eyes.
Jerking back inside, she started the engine, having the idea that the powerful roar would scare the puppy away. As she shifted into gear, the image of the puppy squashed beneath one of the wheels filled her mind.
Pressing the brake, she peeked out the window again. She didn’t see the dog.
A horn honked. In her side mirror, she saw a rusty gold Cadillac Seville nosing the bumper of the horse trailer. Apparently there was a wide lack of knowledge about the unwritten rule of the road.
She strained to catch a glimpse of the puppy, hopefully wagging up to someone else. Not seeing him, except in the horrendous picture continuing in her mind, she jammed the lever into park again and jumped out of the truck. The guy in the Cadillac started yelling at her.
The puppy came wriggling from in front of her rumbling truck, wagging his tail and again looking at her as if she were his beloved savior.
She could not bear to look at him as she lifted him and put him over into the truck bed. She squinted out of one eye.
“Don’t jump out, or that’ll be the end of you,
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