In Plain Sight

“Isn’t that okay?”

“Yeah. I just don’t feel the same way about her anymore,” she said. “I feel really guilty about that. I used to think she was so cool and now, well, I know she’s weird but it isn’t her fault.”

“Things change,” Joe said.

“I wish I could be more girly-girl,” Sheridan said. “I wish I could see Julie and squeal and pretend nothing was wrong, but I just can’t. Other girls can do that, but I can’t.”

Joe reached over and patted her on the leg. “You’re okay, Sherry,” he said, meaning it.

“Look at the ducks,” Lucy said, pointing out the window at a body of water that had once been a pasture.

THE BUS ARRIVED at the same time Joe did. Because they were now living so far out of town, there was only one student on board—the first to be picked up. Julie Scarlett pressed her face to the window and waved at Sheridan as the girls climbed out into the mud and skipped through puddles toward the bus.

Joe waved at the driver and the driver waved back.

27

“I NEARLY DIDN’T MAKE IT THIS MORNING,” JULIE Scarlett told Sheridan and Lucy. “Uncle Arlen had to drive through a place where the river flooded the road and we nearly didn’t make it. Water came inside the truck . . . it was scary.”

The school bus had another five miles to go before picking anyone else up on their way to Saddlestring. The three girls were trying to have a conversation but it was hard to hear because huge wiper blades squeaked across the windows and standing water sluiced noisily under the carriage of the bus.

“I still don’t know why they’re having school,” Lucy said. “It’s stupid.”

“For once I agree with you,” the bus driver called back over his shoulder. “They should have given us all a day off.”

“Why don’t you call them and tell them we’re flooded out?” Lucy suggested coyly, and the driver laughed.

“What is this?” the driver said, and the bus began to slow down.

Sheridan walked up the aisle and stood behind the driver so she could see.

A yellow pickup truck blocked both lanes of the road, and the bus driver braked to a stop.

“What an idiot,” the driver said. “Maybe his motor quit or something. But I’m not sure I can get around him because of all of the water in the ditches.”

Sheridan watched as a man opened the door and came out of the truck. The man wore a floppy wet cowboy hat and was carrying a rifle.

Her heart leaped into her mouth.

“I know him,” she said, then called to Julie over her shoulder, “Julie, it’s Bill Monroe.”

Julie screwed up her face in puzzlement. “I wonder what he wants,” she said, getting out of her seat and walking up the aisle next to Sheridan.

Monroe was outside the accordion doors of the bus now, and he tapped on the glass with the muzzle of the rifle.

“You girls know him, then?” the driver asked cautiously, his hand resting on the handle to open the doors.

“He works for my dad,” Julie said. “But I’m not sure what he’s doing out here.”

“Well, if you know him . . .” the driver said, and pushed the door handle.

The smell of mud and rain came into the bus as Bill Monroe stepped inside. Sheridan gasped as he raised the rifle and pointed it at the face of the driver.

“This is where you get off,” Monroe said.

Beside her, Sheridan heard Julie scream.

A HALF-HOUR LATER, the phone rang at the Longbrake Ranch. Missy was having coffee with Marybeth and reading the Saddlestring Roundup. Marybeth was ready to go to work. Joe was in their bedroom, doing who knows what.

Missy answered, said, “Hi, honey,” then handed the phone to Marybeth. “It’s Sheridan.”

Marybeth frowned and took the phone. Sheridan had never called this early because she shouldn’t be at school yet. Maybe they had canceled school after all, Marybeth thought. Maybe Sheridan needed someone to meet them on the highway so they could come home.

“Hi, Mom,” she said.

Marybeth sensed something was wrong. Sheridan’s voice was tight and hard.

“Where are you?”

“I’m on the bus. I need to ask you a question. Is it okay if Lucy and I go out to Julie’s house after school tonight?”

Marybeth paused. The scenario didn’t work for her. She asked Sheridan to repeat what she had said, and Sheridan did. But there was something wrong in the tone, Marybeth thought. There was something wrong, period. What were Julie and Sheridan cooking up? And why would they want to include Lucy in it?

“You know I don’t like it when you spring things like this on me,” Marybeth said. “What are you girls scheming?”

“Nothing,” Sheridan said. “We just want to hang out. There probably won’t be practice.”

“You want to hang out with your little sister?”

“Sure, she’s cool.”

“That’s a first,” Marybeth said. “Let me talk with her.”

“Just a minute.”

Marybeth could tell that Sheridan had covered the mouthpiece of the phone so she could discuss something that her mother couldn’t overhear. Marybeth sat forward in her chair, straining to hear. She could sense Missy looking at her now, picking up on her alarm.

“She can’t talk,” Sheridan said, coming back. “She has food in her mouth.”

“What?”