Wilder Boys (8 page)

Sharon laughed. “Believe me, most times I do. Took me three years to save up for her, but now that she's all bought and paid for, I can start saving for my next project.”

“What's that?” Jake asked.

“Aw, tell you later. Time to hit the road. Who wants to ride shotgun?”

“Me!” Taylor shouted, hopping into the front passenger seat. Sharon lowered a little bench seat for Cody to sit on, while Jake sat perched on the bed, which was up a couple of steps from the main cab. From there, he could look out the front, but also out his own side window.

Sharon started up the truck, and Taylor and Jake both watched in amazement as she began shifting through the gears.

“How many gears are there?” Jake asked Sharon as she swung onto Interstate 88 West.

“You can buy 'em with different numbers, but I got a fifteen-speed transmission.”

“Fifteen gears!” Taylor exclaimed.

“That's right, and I use every one of 'em. Now shush up for a spell while I make my way out of this traffic.”

From the truck stop, Sharon drove west on the interstate, and at first, Chicago never seemed to end. For more than an hour, they passed one shopping center after another. Finally the giant buildings began giving way to farmland, and for the first time in days—maybe
weeks—Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Pittsburgh and Bull felt far behind him, and he was driving into the kind of country he'd only read about in books.

Sharon had turned on a country music station on the radio, and she and Taylor carried on an easy conversation in front. Jake let his brother do most of the talking, while he sat, riveted, by the ever-changing landscape.

After another hour Sharon shouted, “Mississippi River coming up!”

“What?” Jake exclaimed, leaning forward.

“You never seen it before?” Sharon called back.

“Not even close,” Taylor answered for both of them.

“Well, then, this calls for a celebration!” Sharon reached up and pulled a thin chain hanging from the roof of the cab. The truck's horn blared a series of deep loud blasts.

The boys laughed out loud, but as they rolled onto the wide bridge that separated Illinois from Iowa, they gasped.

“The Mississippi's even bigger than the Ohio River back home!” Taylor exclaimed.

“Look!” Jake pointed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“You betcha!” Sharon answered. “A bald eagle!”

The eagle flew right over the bridge in front of their truck and continued its search for food on up the river.

At Davenport, Iowa, I-88 merged into Interstate 80, which continued straight across the state. By the time they passed through Des Moines, the sun was beginning to sink like an orange fireball on the western horizon. Jake
couldn't believe how wide open and flat the country was. Farms spread toward every edge, dotted by barns and silver grain silos.

I'll bet I can see fifty miles in every direction,
Jake thought.

It was dark by the time Sharon pulled into a truck stop outside of Omaha for dinner.
TRAVELER'S REST
flashed in neon green above the building.

“My treat,” Sharon told the boys as they made their way into the restaurant and slid into a booth.

A waitress approached with water and menus. “Hey, Sharon. I see you got company tonight.”

“Sure do,” Sharon answered, giving the waitress a wink. “But let's keep that to ourselves, okay? Don't want their wives to find out.”

The boys and the waitress all laughed.

“You already know what you want?” the waitress asked.

“I'd like a—” Taylor began, but Sharon cut him off.

“We're all having the meatloaf special, with plenty of mashed potatoes and green beans. Milk for the boys here, and I'll have coffee.”

“Comin' up,” the waitress said, flipping her order book closed and walking away.

“Sorry, Taylor,” Sharon said. “I couldn't live with myself if you didn't try the meatloaf. It's the best meatloaf this side of Des Moines.”

“But the last sign said Des Moines is only a hundred miles away,” Taylor objected.

Sharon grinned at him. “You catch on fast.”

While they waited for their dinner, Jake asked, “How does that waitress know you? Do you drive through here a lot?”

“At least once a month. I've got friends along the whole interstate highway system.”

“It must be cool drivin' a truck,” Taylor said.

Sharon's blue eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment, then they snapped back toward the boys. “It's like anything. Got its good and its bad. Sometimes, there's nothin' better than hittin' a wide open highway with plenty of scenery and no one lookin' over your shoulder.”

Jake could tell from Sharon's voice that she wasn't telling them the whole story.

“Do you have a family somewhere, or do you drive all the time?” he asked.

Sharon sipped her coffee and slowly spun the cup in its saucer. “Yeah. Two kids. A girl about your age, Jake. A boy two years younger.”

“Where are they? Do you ever get to bring them with you?” Taylor asked.

Sharon frowned. “Nope. Fact is, I'm only allowed to see them a couple of times a year, and only with a legal guardian present.”

“Whaaaat?” Taylor and Jake looked at each other.

“That's right,” Sharon said. “I got my life straight now, but I made some mistakes when I was younger.”

“Mistakes?” Jake asked.

“Well,” she said. “I don't tell this to too many people, but I got into drugs. Booze, too.”

“No way!” Taylor exclaimed. “You?”

Sharon nodded. “Yep. I liked nothing better than to party. But soon I wasn't using the drugs. They were using me, and I tell you, that was a dark road to drive down. I got arrested, thrown in jail.”

“No way!” Jake's jaw dropped, revealing a mouthful of half-chewed crackers.

Sharon stared hard at her coffee cup. “Yep. A buncha times. The courts took my kids away and sent me to the state penitentiary for two years. Inside, I kept being a real badass, until I found Jesus and cleaned up my act.”

“When did you get out?” Jake asked.

“Five years ago.”

“And they still won't give you your kids back?”

“Nope. They live with a foster family. But I'm savin' up for a good lawyer, and soon I'm goin' to try to make us a family again.”

Suddenly Jake realized why Sharon had been so kind and helpful to him and Taylor. He'd never thought about what it would be like for a parent missing a child; for him it had always been the other way around.

Sharon wiped moisture from her eyes, and they all sat silently for a moment. Then the waitress appeared with their dinner.

“That's what I'm talkin' about!” Taylor said, picking up his fork.

“Not so fast, young man,” Sharon told him. “Just because we're in a truck stop, don't mean we eat like barbarians. Put your napkins in your laps.”

Jake and Taylor did as they were told, then Sharon reached across the table with both hands to say a short prayer. The boys glanced at each other, then reached out and linked hands. As they prayed, Jake thought about how far they'd already come, and how grateful he was to have found an adult who would help them instead of getting in their way.

“Now, let's do us some damage to this meatloaf.” Sharon said. “We've got a lot of hours to put in on the road tomorrow—and I plan to get started nice and early!”

10
Sharon wasn't kidding.

That night she booked the boys a motel room outside of North Platte, Nebraska, while she slept in her truck. Jake felt like his head had barely hit the pillow when he heard a loud knocking on the motel room door. He sat straight up, heart pounding. For a sickening moment he thought he was back in Pittsburgh and that Bull was trying to break down the door. Then he recognized the motel room and hurried to the door, Cody at his heels.

“Who is it?” he muttered.

“It's me, Jake.”

He opened the door to see Sharon smiling, holding a cup of coffee. She wore a fresh T-shirt that read
A BAD
ATTITUDE IS LIKE A FLAT TIRE. YOU CAN'T GO ANYWHERE UNTIL YOU CHANGE IT.
Jake couldn't help but smile.

“Time to crank up your engines, boys,” Sharon said. “We got a lot of road to reel in. Meet me at the truck in fifteen minutes.”

Jake had to splash water on Taylor to wake him up, but the boys went to the bathroom, got dressed, and staggered out to find Sharon checking over the tires on the eighteen-wheeler. The three of them jumped into the cab and pulled back onto the interstate just as golden streaks of dawn were creeping over the horizon. The boys scarfed down a couple of yogurts each, along with some bagels and cheese that they found in Sharon's mini-fridge.

“Will we make it to Wyoming today?” Taylor asked Sharon.

“Ought to be there in a couple of hours.”

Taylor spun around. “Did you hear that, Jake? We'll be in the Tetons in two hours!”

“Whoa, cowboy! I didn't say that,” said Sharon. “I said we'll be in
Wyoming
in two hours. Wyoming's a big state. If you're goin' to the Tetons, I think the best place to let you off is Rock Springs. From there, you gotta head north.”

“How much farther is it?” Jake asked.

“About another three hours.”

Sharon shifted into a higher gear. “I wish I could take you myself, but I'm already runnin' late with this load. If I don't get it to Reno on time, I won't get paid.”

“That's okay,” Jake said. “We'll figure out something.”

While Sharon drove and chatted with Taylor, Jake pulled out his father's journal and letter, scouring them for clues. He studied the map with the sketch of the lake with the waterfall coming down into it—or near it, he couldn't decide which.

Look across the moose's neck,
he read again. What did that mean?

Jake shook his head, and for the first time he wondered if they'd made the right decision leaving Pittsburgh.

It's crazy trying to look for Dad,
he thought.
How are we going to find him in millions of acres of wilderness? And what about Mom? Maybe we should have stayed with her. Bull might have left us alone; maybe social services wouldn't have separated us.

But Jake didn't really believe any of that—he couldn't be sure that he and Taylor weren't in danger while Bull was around. The only person who could help them now was their father.

What if we can't find him? What if we do find him? What would I even say? Would I even recognize him? Will we make it before the police stop us and things get complicated?

A loud voice brought him back to consciousness.

“Wake up, sleepyheads!” Sharon said. “We're here. Rock Springs.”

“Huh? Already?” Jake sat up from the truck's bed and looked out the window to see yet another truck stop, with
a town and mountains beyond that. He glanced at Taylor, who had fallen asleep in the front passenger seat and was now yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Make sure you get all your stuff,” Jake told his brother.

Taylor stepped up to the truck's “living room,” and the boys double-checked that nothing had fallen from their backpacks. Then they and Cody hopped out of the truck.

Sharon walked around to meet them by the truck's front grill.

“Well,” Jake told Sharon. “Thank you for the ride.”

“And everything else,” Taylor added. “It was cool riding in your truck.”

Jake couldn't imagine how else they would have come so far in so short a time—riding in the truck was a thousand times better than the dirty and cold freight train.

“To tell you the truth, I enjoyed the company,” Sharon said, but her face was scrunched up in concern.

“What's wrong?” Jake asked her.

Sharon hesitated, then said, “Listen, boys. I've been thinking about this, and the more I think about it, the more I just don't feel right about you headin' up to look for your dad all by yourselves—even if you do have a trusty guard dog with you.”

Jake glanced down at Cody, who was wagging his tail, ready for action, but then Jake returned his gaze to Sharon.

“Your mama must be worried sick about you,” Sharon continued. “And if you're really worried about her
boyfriend—what's his name, Bull?—well, I'm thinkin' you can ride out to Reno with me, and we can get in touch with social services.”

“No!” Jake blurted, alarmed. He'd thought Sharon was on their side, and now she was talking about getting the authorities involved. “C'mon, Taylor, we'd better go.”

Taylor looked uncertainly between Sharon and Jake.

“Now, don't get all torqued out of shape,” Sharon told them. “It was just an idea. You might look older, but I know you kids aren't sixteen.”

“Yes, we
are
.” Jake tried to control the quaver in his voice. He knew Sharon was just trying to look out for them, but he couldn't let anyone else get involved. They had to find their dad for themselves.

“My point is that there are a lot of bad people out there—people who will try to take advantage of two boys on the run, no matter how old you are. I'd like to help you out if I can.”

“Thank you. You really helped us a lot. We mean it, but . . . But we can take care of ourselves.”

Sharon didn't give up. “Jake. Taylor. I'd want someone helping you if you were my kids and on the run.”

“We don't need any more help,” Jake repeated more forcefully. “C'mon, Taylor,” he said, grabbing his brother's arm. “Let's get out of here.”

The boys and Cody quickly headed for the truck stop, Taylor calling a quick good-bye over his shoulder.

“Jake, Taylor,” Sharon called after them. “Can't we at least talk about this?”

Sharon took several steps after them, but she stopped when Jake shot her a fearful glance over his shoulder.