He grew up on a farm in the Sacramento Delta, so of course he can. Question is, does he want to? Here, he gets an occasional chance to play, like last night. I dont imagine therell be many opportunities for a guitarist on some dumb ranch.
Garcia removed his foot from the low wall. Suit yourselves. Ive got a months vacation due. I cant promise my replacement will be as easy on vagrants as I am.
Were not vagrants, Jenny blustered. Me, Eric, Greg and Shawn are down on our luck is all. Well get work for our band soon. Youll see.
Yeah, yeah. Shaking his head, the cop started to walk away.
Wait, Miranda called. Its been a while, but Ive lived on a farm. You think this ranch owner might let me keep, uh, Fido? Her gaze swung from the cop to the terrier.
Maybe. Hop in and Ill give you a lift to the precinct. I left the extra flyers in my desk. Theres a map on the back showing how to locate the ranch.
Mirandas uneasiness about visiting a police station came to the fore.
Jenny correctly read her discomfort. Hey, Randi, Ill give you Erics flyer. I owe you for lunch. Thatll be a fair trade.
Sounds good. Thatd be better, Officer. Ive got no idea how well the mutt does in cars. Wouldnt want him to pee on your upholstery.
Garcia laughed. Wouldnt be the worst my upholsterys had done to it. But I know you kids are leery of visiting the station. You say youre new here? Can you promise me there arent any warrants out for your arrest?
Miranda blanched. Wes Carlisle would use every means at his disposal to get her back under his thumb. Everybody in the business said his contracts were airtight. If a warrant was necessary, there might be one. But because Garcias eyes hardened in the fading sunlight, Miranda declared firmly, No warrants. My folks areboth dead. I just decided to see the country before I settle down to work a day job.
Tough life. Theres lot of thugs on back streets ready to prey on skinny little girls like you.
A ripple of unease wound up Mirandas spine. It was Jenny who waved Garcia off. Were not stupid, you know. Come on, Randi. Lets go.
LINC DROVE his new Ford Excursion along a lumpy path that led to his new home. At this moment, everything in his life was newright down to this gas-guzzling monster vehicle hed bought to replace the silver Jag. There was growing resentment in the U.S. against purchasing gas hogs, but hed let the salesman talk him into this one because it would carry a bunch of kids into town in a single trip. Now, after seeing the condition of the road, he knew buying a workhorse SUV had been smart. Rascal Ranch? Ugh. Linc grimaced as he drove beneath the arch bearing the ridiculous name.
First to go would be that sign, he mused. Linc recognized the house from a picture John Montoya had taken. It was the photo Linc had copied onto his flyer. In two weeks, John had promised hed pass the flyers to a cop friend who knew street kids. Two weeks ought to allow Linc enough time to set up the basics.
An old car stood inside the carport where hed planned to park. Staring at it, Linc swung around and stopped in front of the house. Surely a rep from Oasis didnt own that rusty monstrosity. But then, Linc had only ever dealt with the firm via phone, fax and John Montoya. Perhaps the former owners felt compelled to transfer licenses and keys in person.
Sliding off the leather seat, Linc started for the steps. The day was waning, and he saw that a light burned inside the house. Torn and stained lace curtains rippled as if someone was watching from within. The next thing he knew, the door flew open. A bald man dressed in overalls and a dumpy middle-aged woman squeezed through the door simultaneously.
About time you showed up. Lydia and me went off Oasiss time clock at noon. Nobody asked us to stick around an extra six hours to look after the brats. You owe us a hundred bucks. Orwell settle for eighty since Lydia didnt cook them no supper.
Them? Lincoln gaped at the couple. Who are you, and who are you callingwell, brats isnt a term Id use under any circumstance.
I wouldve thought your man, Montoya, wouldve passed along our names. Were George and Lydia Tucker. We spent the last four months as houseparents for Oasis Foundation. Never been so glad to get done of any job. So if you pay up, me and the missusll be on our way.
Linc withdrew his booted foot from the top step of a porch that wrapped the weathered house. In doing so, he glimpsed three ragtag children on the porch, ranging in age, hed guess, from four to eight or nine. All peered at him distrustfully.
Oh, you have a family. Lincoln reached for his wallet. I dont think I owe you, Mr. Tucker. But rather than hold you up, Ill give you the money and settle with Oasis later. He handed over the bill, which Tucker snatched and shoved in a pocket. Without further ado, he and his wife shot past Linc and jumped into the dilapidated car. Theyd shut their doors before Linc realized the children, one of whom sat in a wheelchair, remained on the porch as if glued there.
Hey. Wait! Feeling as if hed missed some vital part of the conversation, Linc rushed to the drivers door and pounded on George Tuckers window.
The man rolled it down an inch or so. Hed already started the engine and the car belched blue smoke. Coughing and waving the smoke away, Linc gasped, Arent you forgetting something? Like your kids?
Aint ours, George declared. Top dog from Oasis came last night. He left the foundations Social Services contract with the state on the kitchen table. Said it lets you continue on the same as before. Ted Gundersons his name. George fumbled a business card from his shirt pocket and passed it to Linc. The areas getting a new Social Services director, a Mrs. Bishop. Ted said shed be by one of these days to see how youre doin. Step aside, son. This buggy dont have much gas.
Aghast, Linc shouted, Butbutwhat about those kids? He stabbed a finger toward them, not liking one bit how they all cringed and drew closer together.
Theyre your problem now. The nine-year-old swears like a trucker. Oh, and he bites somethin fierce. Outside of that, cuff em upside the head a few times and the others wont give you no lip.
What? No, George. You dont understand. My facilitys a haven for street teens. I wont be accepting young children. And special-needs kidswell, absolutely no way, Linc added, frowning at the wheelchair.
Youre the one who dont get it, mister. The kids are wards of the court. Oasis left the lot of em to you. Good luck findin houseparents. Were the third set in less than a year. Too far from town for most folks. George took his foot off the brake and the old car started to roll.
Linc latched onto the side mirror. Hey! Hey, give me ten seconds. Just until I contact my liaison who dealt with Oasis. Im sure well clear this up. There are probably foster parents in town where Gunderson intended for you to drop the children.
No. But fine, call. Just make it snappy.
Linc already had his phone out and was furiously punching in John Montoyas number. John, its Linc. Yeah, Ive arrived. Whats the deal with the kids? Three of em, he yelled. Little ones. Then, because three sets of wary eyes unnerved him, Linc turned his back to the children and lowered his voice. No, you most certainly did not mention them to me, John. Hearing his voice rise, Linc took a deep breath. I dont just sound pissed off, pal. I am pissed off. You know this place is for teens. What am I supposed to do with three little kids? His frustration peaked. Linc stood his dark hair on end by raking one hand through locks that needed more than a trim. This isnt funny. How could theyOasis, or for that matter, youhow could you foist off innocent children? Theyre not livestock included in the transfer, for pitys sake!