The Loop by Nicholas Evans Page A

he explained, was on what was known as a ‘temporary’ basis. That meant she was employed for a fixed term of a hundred and eighty days, which he could then renew. She was to be paid a thousand dollars a month, no benefits.
    ‘No health insurance, disability or retirement pay, no rehire entitlement. Basically, being temporary means you don’t exist in the federal system. You’re invisible. We have temporary people who’ve been working for us for years.’
    ‘Do I get to have a scarlet letter T painted on my forehead?’
    ‘That’s entirely optional, Miss Ross.’
    ‘Do I get a truck or is it just a bicycle?’
    He laughed. ‘I’ll show you. Want to take a drive out there?’
    ‘To Hope?’
    ‘Sure. Not right up to the cabin. We can do that tomorrow. But I thought maybe you’d like to have a look at the town, then maybe we could go get something to eat. If you’re not too tired.’
    ‘Sounds good.’
    As they went out to the parking lot, Dan said they could either check her into a hotel for the night or she could stay at his place. Ginny was at her mother’s, he said, so Helen could have her room.
    ‘Are you sure? That’d be great. Thank you.’
    ‘And this is what you’ve really been waiting to see.’
    He stopped by the old Toyota pickup. In the sunshine it didn’t look too bad. He’d taken it through the car wash and discovered that the paintwork when cleaned was more or less the same color as rust, which was handy. The chrome was even trying to shine. He slapped the hood affectionately and the wing mirror fell off. Helen laughed.
    ‘This is mine?’
    Dan bent down and picked up the mirror and handed it to her.
    ‘Every last bit of it. In fact it has to be. All federal vehicles have to be of US manufacture and I don’t have one available. I can only give you mileage. Thirty-one cents a mile.’
    ‘Gee, Prior, you sure know how to spoil a gal.’
    She drove. The steering felt like dancing on rollerskates, you had to plan each turn well in advance to have any chance of making it. But Helen soon got the hang of it and followed Dan’s directions out of town, heading with the sun toward the mountains.
    They had talked all afternoon and it didn’t feel wrong to be quiet for awhile. It was cooler now and the wind had blown itself out. On either side of the road, the land stretched away as far as she could see, cropped a pale gold and scattered with hay bales like giant Tootsie Rolls.
    Both sky and earth seemed to Helen immense, their every angle boldly drawn. The roads ran straight and purposeful to ranches confidently placed. She found herself both thrilled and daunted and somehow inconsequential to it all. And she thought of Joel, as she still did a dozen times each day, and wondered whether he felt anchored in his new world or detached as she now was in hers, a watcher wanting to belong but somehow always floating past.
    As the mountains loomed larger, the land before them crumpled into a badland sprawl of rocky bluffs, sliced randomly by sudden scrub-filled creeks. Cresting a hill, she saw a line of cottonwoods converging from the south and through their foliage the glint of water.
    ‘That’s the Hope River,’ Dan said.
    The blare of a car horn made them both jump. Looking at the river, Helen had let the pickup wander and in the mirror now she saw a black truck right behind them. She yanked the steering wheel so hard to the right that they lurched and shuddered briefly onto the verge. She quickly got control again. She narrowed her eyes and didn’t look at Dan.
    ‘One crack about women drivers and you’re dead.’
    ‘I’ve never seen a woman drive better.’
    ‘You’re dead.’
    The black truck pulled out to pass. As it drew alongside, Helen turned and beamed her sweetest apology at the two inscrutable cowboy faces that surveyed her. They were maybe in their early twenties but with an attitude that made them look older. Dan gave a friendly wave. The one in the passenger seat touched the