Read Online Girl on a Slay Ride by Louis Trimble - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louis Trimble
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at the wheel paid no attention to them as Mallory went past. He realized he was holding his breath. He let it out gustily. Graef laughed at him.
Past the town, Mallory lifted his speed to fifty again. No one spoke. Denise continued to hold the carton of coffee tightly in her fingers. Graef sat looking straight ahead. Mallory glanced in the rear-view mirror. Thoms was lounging in a corner of his seat. Blalock seemed to be asleep, his head dropping toward his chest.
Graef said suddenly, “There’s a junction ahead. Keep straight on.”
Mallory saw the sign that indicated the federal highway was turning east. A blacktop road led north, into mountains that separated the valley which they were in from the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The straight itself separated the Olympic Peninsula of Washington from Canada. Mallory was not particularly surprised at Graef’s directions.
As soon as they had passed through Forks, he had been fairly sure of Graef’s probable destination.
What did surprise him was the apparent skill Blalock had shown in originally choosing this section of the Olympic Mountains in which to hide the money. Mallory remembered hunting in this spur range of the Olympics years ago. And, except for blacktop having replaced the miserable gravel path he had driven over then, nothing seemed to have changed. The mountains which rose on either side of them were still heavily timbered, the grand if not hospitable guardians of wild, uninhabited country.
Mallory tried to remember the exact shapes of the valleys which he knew lay cupped in the high jagged peaks. He made an effort to decide which one might have been large enough for Blalock to land a ski-plane. He decided his memory wasn’t that good. But he was sure that Graef would have him turn east up near the summit of the road. The mountains on the west sloped quickly to the ocean. That much he remembered.
Graef ordered the right turn just as Mallory had expected. The road they turned onto was graveled for the first mile. Then it began to rise sharply and grow narrower. The gravel disappeared, leaving a surface of rough dirt. Mallory shifted down as he felt the frame of the wagon shiver under the strain of its heavy load.
He said, “We can’t go too far on this road. I think it ends pretty soon.”
“I know what it does,” Graef said. “Do you think I came in here blind? Nick and I rented a jeep and explored it thoroughly less than a month ago.” His voice was heavy with satisfaction. “I told you, Mallory, that I leave nothing to chance.”
Mallory said, “This is no jeep. You can’t get this wagon much farther.”
“It’ll go where I want it to go!” Graef said.
Mallory did not reply. His eyes were exploring the road ahead. At the moment the wagon was climbing sluggishly through a thick stand of timber. He could see a logged-off area some distance ahead. The road was still ditched along here, maintained by the Forest Service. He glanced into the rear-view mirror. The road vanished into trees behind them. They had already come five miles since leaving the blacktop. The empty aloneness about them was broken only by the straining pound of the motor.
Mallory glanced briefly at Denise. She still held the sandwich and the carton of coffee in her lap. He said, “Drink your coffee, Denise, before it gets cold.”
“You see, my dear,” Graef murmured, “Mallory is really very solicitous of you. I don’t think you should be angry with him.”
“I’m not interested in what you think or don’t think,” Denise told him.
Graef kept his smile. “Then you might pass your food back to Nick or Blalock.”
“Give it to Blalock yourself,” she said. “Thoms told me all about him. I wouldn’t touch the ugly beast.”
Mallory could see Blalock in the rear-vision mirror. He was awake again. He sat lumpishly, his coat collar turned up, his fedora hat drawn down. As Denise spoke, he lifted his head. His eyes were no longer milky and empty. They were a
Past the town, Mallory lifted his speed to fifty again. No one spoke. Denise continued to hold the carton of coffee tightly in her fingers. Graef sat looking straight ahead. Mallory glanced in the rear-view mirror. Thoms was lounging in a corner of his seat. Blalock seemed to be asleep, his head dropping toward his chest.
Graef said suddenly, “There’s a junction ahead. Keep straight on.”
Mallory saw the sign that indicated the federal highway was turning east. A blacktop road led north, into mountains that separated the valley which they were in from the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The straight itself separated the Olympic Peninsula of Washington from Canada. Mallory was not particularly surprised at Graef’s directions.
As soon as they had passed through Forks, he had been fairly sure of Graef’s probable destination.
What did surprise him was the apparent skill Blalock had shown in originally choosing this section of the Olympic Mountains in which to hide the money. Mallory remembered hunting in this spur range of the Olympics years ago. And, except for blacktop having replaced the miserable gravel path he had driven over then, nothing seemed to have changed. The mountains which rose on either side of them were still heavily timbered, the grand if not hospitable guardians of wild, uninhabited country.
Mallory tried to remember the exact shapes of the valleys which he knew lay cupped in the high jagged peaks. He made an effort to decide which one might have been large enough for Blalock to land a ski-plane. He decided his memory wasn’t that good. But he was sure that Graef would have him turn east up near the summit of the road. The mountains on the west sloped quickly to the ocean. That much he remembered.
Graef ordered the right turn just as Mallory had expected. The road they turned onto was graveled for the first mile. Then it began to rise sharply and grow narrower. The gravel disappeared, leaving a surface of rough dirt. Mallory shifted down as he felt the frame of the wagon shiver under the strain of its heavy load.
He said, “We can’t go too far on this road. I think it ends pretty soon.”
“I know what it does,” Graef said. “Do you think I came in here blind? Nick and I rented a jeep and explored it thoroughly less than a month ago.” His voice was heavy with satisfaction. “I told you, Mallory, that I leave nothing to chance.”
Mallory said, “This is no jeep. You can’t get this wagon much farther.”
“It’ll go where I want it to go!” Graef said.
Mallory did not reply. His eyes were exploring the road ahead. At the moment the wagon was climbing sluggishly through a thick stand of timber. He could see a logged-off area some distance ahead. The road was still ditched along here, maintained by the Forest Service. He glanced into the rear-view mirror. The road vanished into trees behind them. They had already come five miles since leaving the blacktop. The empty aloneness about them was broken only by the straining pound of the motor.
Mallory glanced briefly at Denise. She still held the sandwich and the carton of coffee in her lap. He said, “Drink your coffee, Denise, before it gets cold.”
“You see, my dear,” Graef murmured, “Mallory is really very solicitous of you. I don’t think you should be angry with him.”
“I’m not interested in what you think or don’t think,” Denise told him.
Graef kept his smile. “Then you might pass your food back to Nick or Blalock.”
“Give it to Blalock yourself,” she said. “Thoms told me all about him. I wouldn’t touch the ugly beast.”
Mallory could see Blalock in the rear-vision mirror. He was awake again. He sat lumpishly, his coat collar turned up, his fedora hat drawn down. As Denise spoke, he lifted his head. His eyes were no longer milky and empty. They were a
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