Invincible

“He never bathed,” he pointed out.

She glowered at him. “Beside the point. How about the Miller brothers? They never married. Their sister was widowed and moved back in with them, and they’re all single now. They seem perfectly happy.”

He looked down his nose at her. “Who spends half her time in department stores, ogling baby booties and little gowns?”

She flushed and averted her eyes.

“Just what I thought,” he added.

“Listen, there really aren’t many communities in Texas smaller than Comanche Wells, or even Jacobsville. Most of the men my age are either married or living with somebody.”

“I see your point.”

“The others are having so much fun partying that they don’t want to do either,” she continued. “Come on, Dad, I like my life. I really do. I enjoy working for the chief and having lunch at Barbara’s Café and playing my game at night and taking care of you.” She gave him a close scrutiny. “You know, you might think about marrying somebody.”

“Bite your tongue,” he said shortly. “There was your mother. I don’t want anybody else. Ever.”

She stared at him with consternation. “She’d want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he insisted. “I’m married to my church, pumpkin. I love what I do now.” He smiled. “You know, in the sixteenth century, all priests were expected to be single. It wasn’t until Henry VIII changed the laws that they could even marry, and when his daughter Mary came to the throne, she threw out all the married priests. Then when her half sister Elizabeth became Queen, she permitted them to marry, but she didn’t want married ministers preaching before her. She didn’t approve of it, either.”

“This is the twenty-first century,” she pointed out. “And why are you hanging out with McKuen Kilraven?” she added, naming one of the federal agents who sometimes came to Jacobsville.

He laughed. “Does it show?”

“I don’t know of anybody else who can hold forth for an hour on sixteenth-century British politics and never tell the same story twice.”

“Guilty,” he replied. “He was in your boss’s office the last time I was there.”

“When was that? I didn’t see him.”

“You were at lunch.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t volunteer any more information.

“I need to go buy a new dress,” she said. “I think I’ll drive up to San Antonio after work, since it’s Saturday and I get off at 1 p.m.”

“Okay. I’ll let you borrow the Cobra.” He laughed at her astonished look. “I’m not sure your truck would make it even halfway to the city, pumpkin.”

She just shook her head.

* * *

IT WAS A CONCESSION of some magnitude. Her father loved that car. He washed and waxed it by hand, bought things for it. She was only allowed to drive it on very special occasions, and usually only when she went to the big city.

San Antonio wasn’t a huge city, but there was a lot to see. Carlie liked to stop by the Alamo and look at it, but El Mercado was her port of call. It had everything, including unique shops and music and restaurants. She usually spent half a day just walking around it. But today she was in a hurry.

She went from store to store, but she couldn’t find exactly what she was looking for. She was ready to give up when she pulled, on impulse, into a small strip mall where a sale sign was out in front of a small boutique.

She found a bargain dress, just her size, in green velvet. It was ankle length, with a discreet rounded neckline and long sleeves. It fit like a glove, but it wasn’t overly sensual. And it suited her. It was so beautiful that she carried it like a child as she walked to the counter to pay for it.

“That was the only size we got in this particular design,” the saleslady told her as she packaged it on its hangar. “I wish it was my size,” she added with a sigh. “You really are lucky.”

Carlie laughed. “It’s for a dance. I don’t go out much.”

“Me, either,” the saleslady said. “My husband sits and watches the Western Channel on satellite when he gets off work and then he goes to bed.” She shook her head. “Not what I thought marriage would be like. But he’s good to me and he doesn’t cheat. I guess I’m lucky.”

“I’d say you are.”

* * *

CARLIE WAS IN the Jacobs County limits on a long, deserted stretch of road. The Cobra growled as if it had been on the leash too long and wanted off. Badly.

With a big grin on her face, Carlie floored the accelerator. “Okay, Big Red,” she said, using her father’s affectionate nickname for the car, “let’s run!”

The engine cycled, seemed to hesitate, and then the car took off with a growl that would have done a hungry mountain lion proud.

“Woo-hoo!” she exclaimed.

She was going eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-six and then one hundred. She felt an exhilaration she couldn’t remember ever feeling before. The road was completely open up ahead, no traffic anywhere. Well, except for that car behind her...

Her heart skipped. At first she thought it was a police car, because she was exceeding the speed limit by double the posted signs. But then she realized that it wasn’t a law enforcement car. It was a black sedan, and it was keeping pace with her.

She almost panicked. But she was close to Jacobsville, where she could get help if she needed it. Her father’s admonition about checking the truck before she drove it made her heart skip. She knew he’d checked the car, but she hadn’t counted on being followed. Someone was after her. She knew that her father’s friends were watching her, but that was in Jacobsville.

Nobody was watching her now, and she was being chased. Her cell phone was in her purse on the floor by the passenger seat. She’d have to slow down or stop to get to it. She groaned. Lack of foresight. Why didn’t she have it in the console?

Her heart was pumping faster as the car behind gained on her. What if it was the shadowy assassin come for a second try? What was she going to do? She couldn’t outrun him, that was obvious, and when she slowed down, he’d catch her.

She saw the city-limit sign up ahead. She couldn’t continue at this rate of speed. She’d kill someone at the next crossroads.

Groaning, she slowed down. The black sedan was right on top of her. She turned without a signal into the first side street and headed for the police station. If she was lucky, she just might make it.

Yes! The traffic light stayed green. She shot through it, pulled up in front of the station and jumped out just as the sedan pulled in front of her, braked and cut her off.

“You damned little lunatic, what the hell were you thinking!” Carson raged at her as he slammed out of the black sedan and confronted her. “I clocked you at a hundred miles an hour!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you were going a hundred, too, because you were right on my bumper. And how was I supposed to know it was you?” she told him, red-faced with embarrassment.

“I called your cell phone half a dozen times, didn’t you hear it ring?”

“I had it turned off. And it was on the floor in my purse,” she explained.

He put his hands on his slim hips and glared at her. “You shouldn’t be allowed out by yourself, and especially not in a car with that sort of horsepower!” he persisted. “I should have the chief arrest you!”

“Go ahead, I’ll have him arrest you, too!” she yelled back.