About four feet away, the man stopped. His gaze roamed slowly down Nora’s body, then slid over to Tyler. She felt cold and sick inside. She tried not to squirm.
Nora said, “Like what you see, liver-lips?”
With a snarl, he whipped the antenna. It whistled by their faces.
“I’m shaking,” Nora said.
He pointed the antenna at a cluster of bushes beyond the ditch. “Get going,” he said.
“It can talk,” Nora said.
“Move!”
“What’ve you got in mind?”
“Gonna fuck your asses.”
“No fooling. With what?”
He lashed her shoulder. She flinched and gritted her teeth. “I’m gonna take you down, buddy,” she muttered, and lunged at the man. He rammed a knee into her belly, doubling her, and flung her sideways. As she tumbled into the ditch, Tyler drove a fist at the man’s face. She felt his nose smash under her knuckles. He blinked and shook his head. Blood gushed from his nostrils. Snarling, he clutched Tyler’s throat and shoved her backward. The front of the car collapsed her legs. He slammed her down on the hood. His other hand tore at her blouse. Blood spilled onto her face. She punched the side of his head. She kicked, but he was between her legs, leaning down on her, mashing her against the hood. Blinking his blood out of her eyes, she saw his fist rise like a hammer about to strike. Then he looked over his shoulder. He thrust himself off her and whirled around. Raising her head, Tyler saw his pickup racing toward them.
“Hey!” the man yelled.
Tyler sat up, slid forward, and got her feet on the ground as the truck skidded to a stop. She glanced to the side. Nora was scurrying up out of the ditch, hair in her eyes.
The truck’s passenger door flew open. A lean man in white pants and a polo shirt jumped down. He nodded to someone inside. The truck rolled forward. It veered to the right. The other door door swung open. A man leaped out, windmilling as he caught his balance.
“No!” the big man roared as his pickup nosed down the slope of the ditch. It stopped abruptly with a crunch of metal, a tinkling shatter of headlights. The man covered his ears. He fell to his knees as Nora, coming up behind him, lashed his back with the antenna.
Now that the truck was out of the way, Tyler saw a blue Mustang parked a distance up the road.
Nora tossed the antenna aside. She nodded at the pair of strangers who were standing just in front of the cowering man. “Are you ladies all right?” asked the one in the polo shirt. He looked from Nora to Tyler.
Tyler pulled her blouse shut, and nodded.
“Too bad about the truck,” said the one who had crashed it, shaking his head and sounding extremely sincere as he stared at the man. He was shorter than his friend, with a crewcut and a chubby boyish face. His neck was thick. His T-shirt was stretched taut over his broad shoulders and bulging chest. The brass buckle of his belt read Colt. He wore blue jeans that looked brand-new. Their cuffs were rolled up about three inches. He wore scuffed cowboy boots with pointed toes. Tyler figured he must be gay. That would mean his friend was, too.
The friend squatted down, bringing his face close to the kneeling man. “Now here’s the plan,” he said in a calm voice. “You get to your feet and apologize to the ladies. You pay them for the antenna. Then you go back to your pickup and stay there.”
“What if I don’t?” he muttered.
The man patted his shoulder. Gently, he said, “I’ll let Jack rip your face off.”
They stood up. The big man turned to Nora and Tyler. He kept his head down. He rubbed a sleeve across his mouth to wipe the blood away. He made gasping, sobbing sounds as he reached into a rear pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled out a tendollar bill and held it out to Tyler with a shaking, redstained hand. Jack leaned in close, and eyed the bill. “Cheap bastard,” he said. He snatched away the wallet. He plucked out a twenty, took the ten from the man, and gave them both to Tyler. Then he handed the wallet back.
“Now apologize,” said the lean one.
“Sorry,” he murmured without looking up.
“It’s quite all right,” Nora said. She took a step toward him, arms stiff at her sides, and shot a fist into his groin. His breath exploded out. He dropped to the ground clutching himself, and Nora slammed a knee into his bleeding nose. The blow knocked him backward. The lean man hopped out of his way. The blocky one named Jack ginned at Nora and began to clap.
CHAPTER THREE
“Nora Branson.” She offered her hand to the muscle-bound man.
“Jack Wyatt,” he said, shaking it.
“Tyler Moran,” Tyler said, and shook hands with the lean one.
“Abe Clanton.”
“Names like a couple of gunslingers,” Nora said, shaking with Abe as Tyler squeezed Jack’s hand. She was surprised by his gentle grip.
“Yup,” Jack said. “We’re mean hombres.”
Looking past Abe, Tyler saw the big man stagger down the side of the ditch and climb into his pickup.
“I guess this was our lucky day,” Nora said.
“We saw him force you off the road,” Abe explained. “We were right behind you.”
“Good thing. That was great of you guys to stop. A lot of people would’ve kept on going.”
“Yes,” Tyler said. “We sure appreciate it.”
Abe nodded slightly. He looked into her eyes with a steady, probing gaze. It made her nervous. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. “Did he hurt you?”
Tyler shook her head. “Not much.”
“That’s his blood, I hope.”
“I think so.”
“Look,” Nora said, “you guys are heading north? Why don’t we all stop somewhere, we’ll buy you a drink?”
The suggestion made Tyler’s pulse quicken. She glanced down at her torn, bloody blouse. “I can’t go in anywhere like this.”
“So change,” Nora said.
“I guess I could.”
“How about it, fellas?”
“Fine by me,” Abe said.
Jack rubbed his hands together. “All right.”
“Why don’t you follow us?” Nora asked. “First decent place we spot, we’ll pull in.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Whoops,” Nora said. “One second. We’re stuck here.” She nodded toward the rear of the car.
“Gotcha,” Jack said.
Abe leaned over the driver’s seat. He released the emergency brake. He gripped the steering wheel and open door, and pushed while Jack shoved the rear end. The little Omin rolled away from the ditch. Abe reset the brake. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll wait up ahead for you.”
“See you in a bit,” Nora said.
As the men started toward their car, Tyler knelt on the passenger seat and took a plastic container of Wet Ones from the glove compartment. She crawled out. Plucking one of the moist towels from the pack, she scrubbed her face. The paper came away smeared brown-red. “Did I get it?”
“Most of it.”
“God.” She gave the pack to Nora.
They went to the rear of the car. While she opened the hatchback and unfastened her suitcase, Nora cleaned herself. Her arms were dirty and grass-stained and scraped from her fall into the ditch. The knee she’d driven into the man’s face was smudged with his blood.
Tyler waited for a car to pass, then took off her blouse. She stuffed it into a corner of the trunk. “Damn,” she muttered, seeing the blood spots on her white bra. Well, she couldn’t change into a clean one—not here by the road. Her skin, too, was stained as if sunburnt in splotches. Taking a towelette from Nora, she cleaned most of it off her shoulders and chest and belly. She turned to Nora. “Is that it?”