Free Leaving Unknown by Kerry Reichs Page B

left was the door we’d exited last night. I went through it.
    Daylight revealed a beautifully decorated house with a Native-American motif. Through an arched doorway on the left was a sunken living room, with more doors beyond. On the right I could see a comfortable social room with a number of small tables and a television. I kept walking. Ahead was presumably the front door we’d ignored the night before. Before reaching it, I turned into the kitchen, pulse accelerating out of uncharacteristic nervousness.
    Ruby Ransome was sitting at the long table, red reading glasses studded with rhinestones perched on her nose, perusing a paper. She didn’t look up when she said, “There’s coffee.”
    I helped myself to a cup from the carafe on the sideboard, loading it with milk, and listened absently to the low murmur of talk radio. I avoided a bowl of boiled eggs with a shudder. As I tried to decipher what the program was discussing, I realized that it wasn’t the radio, but live voices. Human voices, not Lulabell’s uncomprehending mimicry. The fireplace dominating the far wall was a through and through, another hearth opening into the room opposite. The voices were coming from that room.
    I sat across from Ruby, curious. Three minutes passed while she finished reading, then with meticulous movements, she folded the paper and placed it aside.
    “Good morning.” She assessed me. “Did you sleep well?”
    “Yes ma’am, thank you,” I said.
    “No more ma’am,” she said, and I knew it wasn’t a “don’t, stop, don’t stop” thing. She meant no more ma’am.
    “Sure,” I said. There was a burst of laughter from the other room. “Is this a hotel?” I worried about paying her.
    “More of a boarding house. People live here,” she said. “Tell me your plans.”
    More like the great sucking sound of a complete lack of plans, I thought. “I’m driving to California,” I said. “Or, I was. I drove across from New Mexico yesterday, through Tombstone. I’ve been on the road a few weeks, but it should only take a few more days now. I’m going to Los Angeles. To start over.” I mentally groaned. Why had I said that last bit?
    “What are you starting over from?” Ruby pounced.
    “I needed a change,” was all I said. What else was there to say?
    She nodded. “You’re going to have some setbacks, I’m afraid. Unknown’s mechanic, Barney, is out of town for a bit. You barely missed him. He wasn’t supposed to leave until tomorrow, but when that fool Ronnie put the lights out Barney decided to leave early.”
    I nearly laughed out loud. Could my luck have been worse? “A bit?”
    “Yes. You never know how long with Barney and these trips. Sort of depends on his luck at the tables. Simon Bear will drive over from Sierra Vista with the tow truck and bring your car to PIGS in a few days, but Barney could be gone anywhere from a week to a month.”
    “PIGS?” I ignored her last statement. No way he’d be gone a month. I denied.
    “Politically Incorrect Gas Station.”
    “But…surely there’s someone else.” Ruby looked at me.
    “How many towns did you pass on your way from Tombstone?” she asked.
    “One,” I answered, dreadful awareness sinking in. “If it counted as a town. It was more like an intersection.” I recalled Sonoita.
    “It counted. Around here you won’t find a stoplight until Nogales.”
    My mind raced. There had to be a way out. I was desperate to get to California. The idea of being stalled in the middle of nowhere made me want to scream. Maybe I could rent a car. Or catch the Greyhound. Or…as my brain churned, my heart conceded. I wasn’t going to abandon Elsie. First of all, I loved her. Second, I couldn’t afford a new car. Hell, I had no idea how I was going to pay for the repair…a horrifying thought cut through.
    “I don’t have the money to stay here,” I confessed. “I just have my tent and enough gas money to get to California. I don’t know what to do.” The