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Authors: Janci Patterson
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Dad jerked open the driver’s-side door. I hadn’t even seen him approach. Ian settled back in his seat, and I whipped around in mine. I expected Dad to chew me out for not waiting for him in the store, but he just glared, first at me, then at Ian. He climbed into the cab and pulled his sunflower seeds out of the glove box, grabbed a gas card off his clipboard, and walked around to the pump.
Ian leaned forward in his seat.
“Hey, bounty man,” he said. “I gotta pee.”
Dad nodded at him but took his time running his card through the pump and putting the nozzle in the gas tank.
A girl in a University of Wyoming sweatshirt pulled up at the next row of pumps, giving us a dirty look. Looking back, I could see that the trailer blocked all three pumps in our row.
“Shouldn’t you pull back?” I yelled at Dad.
Dad shrugged. “Then we’d block the driveway. We’ll only be another minute.”
The girl left her car running and headed into the station.
“Hey, bounty man,” Ian said again. “You don’t want me to go on your seat, do you?”
The thought of smelling Ian’s urine all the way to Denver made me want to heave. I glared at him, but he grinned back. “Kidding,” he said, in a voice quiet enough that only I could hear.
Dad walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the back door, unchaining Ian’s feet. He pulled another length of chain out from under the seat and hooked it to Ian’s cuffs, pulling it taut. “Come on out, then,” he said.
As Ian climbed out of the truck, Dad stepped back, letting go of a length of chain so Ian could walk in front of him. Ian looked like a dog on a leash.
Dad and Ian walked toward the building. Dad opened the bathroom door and checked inside. I climbed out of the truck to watch them, leaning against the side of the gas pump.
Dad took the cuffs off Ian’s wrists but hooked another on his ankle, so he’d still be attached to the chain. As Ian walked into the bathroom, he bumped against Dad, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady himself. Dad’s hand went to his side, but Ian just smiled at him and slipped into the bathroom. I wondered if Dad really had a gun in his pocket.
Dad forced the chain under the door and closed Ian in, keeping hold of the leash. A Jeep pulled up to the parking spaces by the station door, and the driver gave Dad a strange look as he walked into the store. Dad gave the guy a nod but didn’t explain himself.
While we waited for Ian, I grabbed a squeegee and wiped the bug splatter off the windshield. The truck was so tall I had to climb up onto the fender to reach the windshield. It wasn’t that I wanted to help. I was just sick of looking at grasshopper guts.
As I finished I heard Dad knocking on the bathroom door. “Come on,” he yelled. “Let’s get moving.”
A moment later the door swung open, and Ian came out of the bathroom with his hands up, chain dragging on the concrete floor behind him.
“Hands together,” Dad said, reaching toward Ian with the cuffs.
Ian turned toward Dad and stuck his wrists together, but then whipped them up and socked Dad in the chin instead. Dad fell backward, and Ian gave him a shove, then twisted away and sprinted toward me. Dad lifted the chain, and I held my breath, expecting Ian to trip when he came to the end of it. The chain pulled taut but then slipped out of Ian’s shoe, clinking to the pavement. He must have unlocked the cuff and then tucked the chain into his shoe so Dad wouldn’t notice.
Ian raced past me and jumped into the still-running sedan, swinging his legs in and slamming the door. Dad reached for his hip and ran forward as Ian peeled out. Ian gave one wave to Dad over his shoulder. I could see his grin in his rearview as he pulled out of the parking lot.
I stared at the car, heart pumping. What would happen now? Dad said no high-speed chases, but Ian had stolen that girl’s car. I’d let him run by me; did that make me some kind of accessory to his
Ian leaned forward in his seat.
“Hey, bounty man,” he said. “I gotta pee.”
Dad nodded at him but took his time running his card through the pump and putting the nozzle in the gas tank.
A girl in a University of Wyoming sweatshirt pulled up at the next row of pumps, giving us a dirty look. Looking back, I could see that the trailer blocked all three pumps in our row.
“Shouldn’t you pull back?” I yelled at Dad.
Dad shrugged. “Then we’d block the driveway. We’ll only be another minute.”
The girl left her car running and headed into the station.
“Hey, bounty man,” Ian said again. “You don’t want me to go on your seat, do you?”
The thought of smelling Ian’s urine all the way to Denver made me want to heave. I glared at him, but he grinned back. “Kidding,” he said, in a voice quiet enough that only I could hear.
Dad walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the back door, unchaining Ian’s feet. He pulled another length of chain out from under the seat and hooked it to Ian’s cuffs, pulling it taut. “Come on out, then,” he said.
As Ian climbed out of the truck, Dad stepped back, letting go of a length of chain so Ian could walk in front of him. Ian looked like a dog on a leash.
Dad and Ian walked toward the building. Dad opened the bathroom door and checked inside. I climbed out of the truck to watch them, leaning against the side of the gas pump.
Dad took the cuffs off Ian’s wrists but hooked another on his ankle, so he’d still be attached to the chain. As Ian walked into the bathroom, he bumped against Dad, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady himself. Dad’s hand went to his side, but Ian just smiled at him and slipped into the bathroom. I wondered if Dad really had a gun in his pocket.
Dad forced the chain under the door and closed Ian in, keeping hold of the leash. A Jeep pulled up to the parking spaces by the station door, and the driver gave Dad a strange look as he walked into the store. Dad gave the guy a nod but didn’t explain himself.
While we waited for Ian, I grabbed a squeegee and wiped the bug splatter off the windshield. The truck was so tall I had to climb up onto the fender to reach the windshield. It wasn’t that I wanted to help. I was just sick of looking at grasshopper guts.
As I finished I heard Dad knocking on the bathroom door. “Come on,” he yelled. “Let’s get moving.”
A moment later the door swung open, and Ian came out of the bathroom with his hands up, chain dragging on the concrete floor behind him.
“Hands together,” Dad said, reaching toward Ian with the cuffs.
Ian turned toward Dad and stuck his wrists together, but then whipped them up and socked Dad in the chin instead. Dad fell backward, and Ian gave him a shove, then twisted away and sprinted toward me. Dad lifted the chain, and I held my breath, expecting Ian to trip when he came to the end of it. The chain pulled taut but then slipped out of Ian’s shoe, clinking to the pavement. He must have unlocked the cuff and then tucked the chain into his shoe so Dad wouldn’t notice.
Ian raced past me and jumped into the still-running sedan, swinging his legs in and slamming the door. Dad reached for his hip and ran forward as Ian peeled out. Ian gave one wave to Dad over his shoulder. I could see his grin in his rearview as he pulled out of the parking lot.
I stared at the car, heart pumping. What would happen now? Dad said no high-speed chases, but Ian had stolen that girl’s car. I’d let him run by me; did that make me some kind of accessory to his
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