way.”
“We’ll make it,” Hannah said with a confident smile. Jenny, however, was in tears.
Kat was squeezed in between Hannah and Clint, almost sitting on his lap. “I think you are our guardian angel, Clint.”
Clint laughed and put the truck in gear. He pulled out of the driveway, saying, “Lots of things I don’t know, but I’m positive about one thing—I’m no angel.”
The truck moved slowly away from the brownstone mansion, mingling with the busy New York City traffic. Lewis Winslow, sitting in the back, caught one final glimpse of the estate and knew that life would never again be the same for his family. He closed his eyes, remembering some of the happier times he and the children had had in the short time they’d lived there. He put his head down as the truck rumbled through the streets of Manhattan. Georgia seemed like another world to him, and in his heart he said good-bye to all he had ever known.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Long, Tiring Journey
A solid gust of frigid air struck the old Studebaker, nearly wrenching the wheel from Clint’s hands. We picked a bad time to be on the road, he thought as he brought the truck back to the right side of the highway. But then, I guess we didn’t have much choice.
The weather had roughed up the land, and the late-afternoon November sun was nothing but a pale disk, giving meager light and no heat. Glancing to his right, Clint noted the weariness etched on the faces of both Hannah and Jenny. Recent events had been hard on them.
They had just crossed into Maryland, and he kept close watch for a place to camp. Twenty minutes later he crossed a small bridge and, putting on the brakes, eased the truck down onto a dirt road that paralleled the stream. He brought the truck to a halt and turned to say, “We’d better stop for the night while we’ve got light enough to see by.”
Jenny said nothing, but Hannah, who was sitting next to Clint, found a smile, weary though she was. “It’s been a long trip. How far do you think we’ve come?”
“We’re almost to Baltimore. I guess we’ve made close to two hundred miles.” Getting out of the car, Clint stamped his feet to restore circulation, then moved to the back and opened the gate. “Everybody out,” he said cheerfully.
Kat, bundled in the warmest clothes she owned, had transferred to the back an hour earlier and fallen asleep. She cameawake at once and jumped down to the ground. She stamped her feet and said, “Where are we?”
“Almost to Baltimore. You fellas all right?”
Lewis was wedged in, his back against some boxes, a mound of blankets pulled up over him. Slowly he stirred and got out stiffly. His face was pale in the late afternoon light, and he looked around for a moment without speaking. The trip had been hard on him. He was unaccustomed to roughing it, and now the cold wind nipped at his face. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his overcoat and said, “We staying here tonight?”
“It’s not fancy, but it’s free,” Clint said. He glanced at the mound of blankets in the back of the truck and realized that Joshua had not moved. Clint called again but got no response. “See if you can get him out of there, Mr. Winslow. We’re gonna have to work quick before it gets dark.”
“All right.” Lewis crawled back into the truck and began pulling at the still form, calling Josh’s name.
Clint leaped up in the back and grabbed the tent and tossed it on the ground, then jumped down. “We’ll set this up against those trees. They’ll be a breaker for that north wind.”
When they got the tent opened up, Joshua finally descended from the truck, but the odor of alcohol was on him, and his replies were short. Clint showed the two men and Kat how to put up the tent. It was a fine wall tent, large enough for the women to get in out of the cold, and as soon as it was ready, Clint jumped back in the truck. He came out bearing three folding cots under his arms and bent to set them up inside
“We’ll make it,” Hannah said with a confident smile. Jenny, however, was in tears.
Kat was squeezed in between Hannah and Clint, almost sitting on his lap. “I think you are our guardian angel, Clint.”
Clint laughed and put the truck in gear. He pulled out of the driveway, saying, “Lots of things I don’t know, but I’m positive about one thing—I’m no angel.”
The truck moved slowly away from the brownstone mansion, mingling with the busy New York City traffic. Lewis Winslow, sitting in the back, caught one final glimpse of the estate and knew that life would never again be the same for his family. He closed his eyes, remembering some of the happier times he and the children had had in the short time they’d lived there. He put his head down as the truck rumbled through the streets of Manhattan. Georgia seemed like another world to him, and in his heart he said good-bye to all he had ever known.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Long, Tiring Journey
A solid gust of frigid air struck the old Studebaker, nearly wrenching the wheel from Clint’s hands. We picked a bad time to be on the road, he thought as he brought the truck back to the right side of the highway. But then, I guess we didn’t have much choice.
The weather had roughed up the land, and the late-afternoon November sun was nothing but a pale disk, giving meager light and no heat. Glancing to his right, Clint noted the weariness etched on the faces of both Hannah and Jenny. Recent events had been hard on them.
They had just crossed into Maryland, and he kept close watch for a place to camp. Twenty minutes later he crossed a small bridge and, putting on the brakes, eased the truck down onto a dirt road that paralleled the stream. He brought the truck to a halt and turned to say, “We’d better stop for the night while we’ve got light enough to see by.”
Jenny said nothing, but Hannah, who was sitting next to Clint, found a smile, weary though she was. “It’s been a long trip. How far do you think we’ve come?”
“We’re almost to Baltimore. I guess we’ve made close to two hundred miles.” Getting out of the car, Clint stamped his feet to restore circulation, then moved to the back and opened the gate. “Everybody out,” he said cheerfully.
Kat, bundled in the warmest clothes she owned, had transferred to the back an hour earlier and fallen asleep. She cameawake at once and jumped down to the ground. She stamped her feet and said, “Where are we?”
“Almost to Baltimore. You fellas all right?”
Lewis was wedged in, his back against some boxes, a mound of blankets pulled up over him. Slowly he stirred and got out stiffly. His face was pale in the late afternoon light, and he looked around for a moment without speaking. The trip had been hard on him. He was unaccustomed to roughing it, and now the cold wind nipped at his face. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his overcoat and said, “We staying here tonight?”
“It’s not fancy, but it’s free,” Clint said. He glanced at the mound of blankets in the back of the truck and realized that Joshua had not moved. Clint called again but got no response. “See if you can get him out of there, Mr. Winslow. We’re gonna have to work quick before it gets dark.”
“All right.” Lewis crawled back into the truck and began pulling at the still form, calling Josh’s name.
Clint leaped up in the back and grabbed the tent and tossed it on the ground, then jumped down. “We’ll set this up against those trees. They’ll be a breaker for that north wind.”
When they got the tent opened up, Joshua finally descended from the truck, but the odor of alcohol was on him, and his replies were short. Clint showed the two men and Kat how to put up the tent. It was a fine wall tent, large enough for the women to get in out of the cold, and as soon as it was ready, Clint jumped back in the truck. He came out bearing three folding cots under his arms and bent to set them up inside
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