Short Cut to Santa Fe by Medora Sale Read Free Book Online

boundaries for you. My name is Karen, and my job is to make sure that your visit to New Mexico is as pleasant as it can be.” A snigger from Mr. Donovan made her blush self-consciously. “Our first stop will be Taos. Since we’ll be there in less than two hours, we’ll be having dinner at our hotel, but in the meantime, your bus is equipped with a small galley, and as soon as we are under way, I will be serving drinks, coffee, tea, and snacks. The rest room is at the very back of the bus,” she added, on an anticlimactic note. “Behind the galley. Does anyone have any questions?” she asked, praying as fervently as she ever had in her life that the response would be negative. She had been lifted from a waiting list for the job only yesterday, the regular guide having failed to appear, been flown up to Santa Fe this morning on the company plane, and her training had been nominal, at best. Most of the background material on the tour had been handed to her an hour ago, and she had been planning on using this evening’s light schedule to digest it all.
    â€œI do,” said Donovan, with a leer. “Just how pleasant can we expect you to make the trip? And is it extra, or does it come with the godalmighty high price we’ve paid already?” He laughed and looked around him for the applause that he felt his wit deserved.
    Karen’s frosty look—much practiced—was one of her most effective skills; she was pleased to note that it seemed to dampen him slightly. Without a doubt, Mr. Donovan was a jerk. And drunk. She would make sure that damned little of the company’s free booze went in his direction.
    The hatch to the hold was slammed shut, and the surly-looking relief driver climbed into the bus. He moved his tool kit over and sat down next to the aisle. Surely the company didn’t send an emergency mechanic on every trip, thought Karen. Surely not. Or did you need a mechanic on a trip into a world that stretches the boundaries? And exactly what boundaries were going to be stretched? And how, not to say why? If the rest of the patter she had to memorize made as little sense as this, she was going to rewrite it. Maybe this job wasn’t going to be worth five hundred bucks and all you could eat.
    â€œJesus, Gary,” said the relief driver. “Let’s git the hell outta here.”
    With a clash of the gears, Gary threw the idling bus out of neutral. It lurched forward at an astonishing rate of speed, barely negotiating the turn at the airport gate, and tore in the direction of the setting sun like a charging rhinoceros.
    â€œIsn’t Taos somewhere north of Santa Fe?” asked John.
    â€œMmm,” said Harriet. “Definitely north, and somewhat to the east, I think.”
    â€œThen why do you suppose we’ve gone from driving straight into the sunset to heading south?”
    â€œTo avoid all the crowded suburban roads running between the interstate and the airport? I really don’t know,” said Harriet irritably. Doubt was creeping into her voice as she spoke. “You know—longer but faster. There. Look—the bus is turning right up ahead. We’ll probably connect with the road to Taos any minute now. Why don’t you check the map and see if you can figure out where we are.”
    â€œI always get the impossible jobs. Why can’t I chase the bus, and you try to work out where we are?”
    â€œBecause it would be tricky to change drivers in mid-stream, so to speak. And if we stop, we’ll lose them. They’re moving at a hell of a clip. I trust they know more about the location of radar traps and all that than we do. How are the kids doing? By the way—there’s food in the cooler right behind you. I’m famished. Did you eat on the plane?”
    â€œAre you kidding? I value my life and health more than that,” said Sanders. “How about you two?” he asked in a muffled voice as he