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

searched through the cooler sitting between them on the seat. “Anyone feel like a sandwich? By some stroke of luck, we seem to have four sandwiches here—they all appear to be ham and cheese on dark bread with lettuce and pickles and stuff. In addition, there’s cheese, piles of fruit, and things to drink. Coke?” he asked, passing out the wrapped sandwiches. “Here. And in the paper bag at your feet is the world’s most enormous bag of cheezy things. Really, Harriet. I begin to doubt your taste and refinement. Also four boxes of crackers.”
    â€œI was hungry,” she said. “So I bought lots. Is it still cold?”
    â€œVery,” said John. “An extremely efficient cooler you have. Have a sandwich.” He unwrapped one and gave half to her.
    â€œGorgeous. Hang on a minute, though, they’re speeding up again, and the road is getting worse. I hope you kids don’t get carsick.”
    A muffled chorus from behind declared their immunity from such childish ailments.
    And indeed, the van, admirable though it was for transporting large amounts of photographic equipment, was not designed for high-speed chases over bad roads, and at the moment it was rocking and bouncing like a small boat on a choppy sea. Suddenly, in a terrific crash of sound, the bus made a rapid right turn and disappeared from sight.
    There was a worried exclamation from behind.
    â€œI’m sorry,” said John, turning toward the backseat to hear better. “I didn’t quite catch what you were saying.”
    â€œWe said that he’s turned the wrong way.” Caroline was speaking softly, as if she were afraid to voice her concerns out loud. “Our regular driver never goes this way.”
    â€œAnd he isn’t the regular driver?” asked John.
    â€œNo. The regular driver’s Bert, and Lesley’s the regular guide on this kind of tour. Lesley does historic sites and Susie does desert flora and fauna. That’s plants and animals,” added Caroline politely, in case their traveling companions didn’t have a scientific bent. “Someone at Dallas said that Lesley was sick today, but Bert never gets sick. He always drives. He’s nice. We really like Bert.”
    Her brother nodded.
    â€œI hope he isn’t lost,” said Caroline. Her voice was carefully neutral. “I hope he drives past our road.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid, Car—of course he’ll go past our road. He’s just been heading around the city a different way.” Underneath his bravura tone Harriet heard the panic of a small child lost and far from home.
    â€œOkay—what if we don’t drive past your road?” interrupted Harriet. “Let’s consider the possibilities. What do we know? Two things. The bus driver is new, and the bus is leaving the city—or has left the city—via a route unfamiliar to you. In these situations one begins, always, with the worst-case scenario. The new driver is just taking what he thinks is the best and most rapid route to Taos. Let’s say it doesn’t intersect with your road. When we get to Taos, we call your parents, who will be very pleased to know you’re okay. Then we whisk you down to the hotel.”
    â€œDo you work for the CIA?” asked Stuart. “You sound a little like a CIA operative.”
    â€œStuart asks everyone that,” said Caroline. “Our dad says he has a friend who works for the NSA, but he won’t tell us who it is, in case we drive him crazy.
    â€œOr her. We love spy stories,” added Caroline.
    Harriet shook her head. “I’m a photographer. Not nearly as exciting, is it?”
    â€œA news photographer?”
    â€œNo. I only photograph buildings. But I have a good friend who’s a news photographer. She’s had pictures on the covers of
Time
and
Newsweek
,” she added. “Do you read magazines?”
    â€œOf course we do,” said