Texas! Lucky

"Two hundred three Main Street, Dallas, Texas?"

"That's what it says."

Lucky was familiar enough with the city to know that the two-hundred block of Main Street was downtown in the heart of the commercial district. He suspected Ms. Smith of duplicity. And Smith! Mary Smith, for crying out loud. Not even very original. Where had "Dovey" come from?

"Did she give a phone number?"

"Nope."

"Car tag?"

"Nope."

"Which credit card did she use?"

"Says here she paid with cash."

Lucky swore. "Driver's license number?"

"Nope."

"Great."

"Sounds to me like the lady was covering her tracks."

"Sounds that way to me too," Lucky mumbled, his mind on where and how he might pick up her trail. "When a guest pays with cash, isn't it procedure to get some form of identification?"

"It's procedure, but, you know," the clerk said, shrugging, "we don't always do it. I mean, people traveling together get the hots, check in for a quickie, things like that. Most times they don't even stay overnight."

Knowing the clerk was right, Lucky combed back his hair with his fingers. He'd washed it with bar soap, and it was drying in a helter-skelter fashion. "What times does the other guy come on duty? The one who works this desk on the evening shift."

"Four."

Lucky tossed his empty disposable coffee cup into the wastepaper basket and ambled toward the door. "Thanks."

"You bet. Come again," the clerk called cheerfully.

Lucky shot him a withering look before he went out into the bright, new East Texas sunlight that was just breaking over the tips of the tall pine trees and spearing through his eyeballs straight into the back of his skull.

He slipped on the sunglasses he'd left on his dashboard the day before and pointed the Mustang toward home. He would start tracing her at the place later this afternoon. Not only did she owe him an apology, but now he was due an explanation as well. In the meantime he couldn't devote the whole day to tracking her. Even though there wasn't much work to do, he and Chase felt better about business if they looked and acted busy. The drive home would normally have taken an hour, but Lucky was anxious for more coffee and some breakfast, since he hadn't eaten the evening before. He floorboarded the Mustang, and in a little over thirty-five minutes was turning off the farm-to-market road into the lane leading to his family's home.

The narrow blacktop road was lined with pecan trees. In summer, when they were in full leaf, their branches formed a thick green canopy over the road that sunlight could barely penetrate. The only time he didn't appreciate the trees was in the fall, when his mother sent him out to pick up the crop of nuts that covered the ground. Still, the effort became worth it when the pecans showed up in homemade fudge and pies.

They raised only enough cattle to keep them in fresh beef, and stab

led a few riding horses. Sage had spoiled them and turned them into pets, and they offered little challenge to hell-bent riders like Chase and Lucky. As he sped past, Lucky honked at the small herd grazing on the thick grass that grew on the acreage surrounding the house. The two-story structure was built of painted white brick, and had black shutters on the windows opening onto the deep front porch. His father had built the house when he and Chase were youngsters, but Lucky never remembered living anywhere else. When Sage came along, quite unexpectedly, another three rooms had been added on to the back side to accommodate the Tylers' growing family.

It was a handsome house, and homey. Lucky knew the day would come when he would marry and move out as his brother had two years earlier, but he dreaded thinking about it. This was home. His fondest memories were directly connected to this house.

He knew every nook and cranny of it. He knew which stairs creaked when someone stepped on them. His initials were carved on every peach tree in the orchard. He'd smoked so much of the grapevine that grew along the fence, it was a wonder there was any of it left. He could almost recall each individual Christmas, and one particular Easter stood out in his memory because he and Chase had replaced the hard-boiled eggs his mother had dyed for Sage's Easter basket with raw ones, and had got a spanking for ruining her day.

"Oh hell."

This morning he was none to happy to see Chase's car parked in the curved drive in front of the house. It was early for him to be out. Lucky had hoped to give the swelling around his eye a few hours to go down before confronting his older brother.

Resigned to the inevitable interrogation, followed by a lecture about maturity, image, and responsibility, he parked his Mustang and loped up the front steps.

Entering the wide, airy foyer, he followed the smell of fresh coffee toward the kitchen situated in the southeast corner of the house.