the Salem Knob.
Decision made, Rachel tromped the accelerator. Her car’s wheels spun in the loose gravel and dirt, leaving behind a cloud of powdery red dust. It was a blessing that Max was driving the bus, because he knew where he was going. She’d lived around here all her life and she still sometimes got turned around when she left the highway. An inexperienced person like Sean, using the same map she’d been given, would be likely to get lost.
Seeing more dust ahead was encouraging. Rachel cautiously increased her speed. She didn’t want to go too fast. The roads had recently been scraped by county graders, making the center smoother but uncovering and scattering enough sharp rocks to make driving more hazardous than usual. Previous vehicles had left tracks in passing; Rachel tried to keep her tires in those same ruts to avoid unnecessary risk.
Rounding a corner she came upon a sight that made her heart pound. Bus seven! Now, all she had to do was get it to pull over so she could be certain Samantha was still safely aboard.
Approaching the slow-moving bus she flashed her lights and honked. Small faces peered out the bus’s rear windows at her, grinning and waving. She signaled as best she could, but the children apparently thought she was merely being friendly because they returned her greeting with renewed vigor.
According to the map, it was miles before the next bus stop. Rachel was too frustrated to wait that long to learn Samantha’s fate, yet it was unsafe to pass the lumbering bus on such a treacherous road.
“Give me patience, Lord, and hurry,” she muttered, laughing at the contradiction. God is in charge, God is in charge, she reminded herself.
Finally, she laid on the horn and held it. That worked. Max pulled the bus over. Rachel stopped behind it, jumped out and was immediately enveloped in a noxious cloud of exhaust fumes and unsettled dust.
Ignoring the discomfort, she forged ahead, waving her arms wildly, and circled to the front of the bus. Max had already opened the folding doors.
Sean was standing on the top step, steadying himself by holding on to a chrome support pole. He wasn’t smiling. “Are you nuts?”
“Yes.” Rachel coughed as she boarded and pushed him aside. “Where’s Samantha?”
“Right there.” He pointed. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Or do you always drive like a maniac?”
Aside from being choked up by the fumes, Rachel was also dizzy and breathless with relief. She wavered, then plunked down next to Samantha, speaking to the wide-eyed child. “I was so worried. This isn’t your bus, honey. It won’t take you to Mrs. Brody’s.”
The little girl’s eyes grew moist. She blinked. “Oh.”
Sean made himself part of their conversation and addressed Rachel. “Then, why did you let her get on it in the first place?”
She raised her gaze, her expression a clear challenge. “I made a mistake, okay? I know that now. I thought I’d be… Oh, never mind.” Getting to her feet she reached for the little girl’s hand. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home.”
Sean blocked her path. “Over my dead body. You’re far too agitated to drive. The way you were acting just now you shouldn’t even have been behind the wheel of a car, let alone consider transporting kids.”
“I beg your pardon.”
Facing him, Rachel stood as tall as her short stature would permit and tried to appear formidable. Pitted against his broad chest and wide stance, her effort seemed more pitiful than confrontational. He’d removed his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. If anything, that made him look even more rugged, more powerful than usual.
“You should beg everybody’s pardon, lady.”
Before Rachel could reply, Max cut in. “Save your breath, folks. Miz Rachel ain’t goin’ nowhere. Looks like she’s gettin’ herself a dandy flat tire.” He leaned to the left to get a better look at her car in his rearview mirror.
“That’s impossible,” she insisted. “I was very careful. And I wasn’t speeding.”
“Out here it don’t matter much,” Max said. “You’d best go check before I head on down the road with these here kids. It’s a mighty long walk to town.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She edged past Sean and hurried back to inspect her car. It was definitely listing to one side. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, no.”
Sean had quietly followed. “I’d help you change that tire,” he said, “but unless you carry two spares, we’d still be one short.”
“What?”
He pointed at one of the rear wheels. “Looks to me like you’ve got a second tire going flat.”
Thunderstruck, Rachel realized he could be right. Her eyes widened. “I don’t believe this!”
“I do. I may be from the city but even I know better than to go racing around on rocky roads like these.”
“I wasn’t racing!” Disgusted with everyone and everything, she let it show in her expression.
“Tell that to your car,” Sean said.
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to rub it in.” Pausing, she considered her current options. “I suppose I could walk to the nearest house and call a garage.”
“You could. Or, you could just leave your car where it sits and ride back to school on the bus with us. That way, you and I could take Samantha home in my car, then I could drive you back here afterward.”
“What good will that do if there’s more than one ruined tire?”
“Simple. We’ll take them off, load them in my trunk and find a garage that’ll patch them.”
Rachel was astounded. “You’d do that for me?”
“No problem. I’m glad to help—as long as I don’t have to ride with you,” Sean chided, ignoring the face she was making at him. “I don’t think I’m that brave.” He chuckled softly, enjoying her discomfiture. “I don’t think anybody is.”
Chapter Four
By the time Max had dropped off his last regular passengers and returned to Serenity Elementary, it was nearly five p.m. There were only two cars in the parking lot—Sean’s black sedan and a silver-colored, dusty van.
Rachel led Samantha up the front walk toward the school office as she spoke over her shoulder to Sean. “Before we go, I need to phone Mrs. Brody so she knows everything is all right.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he said, gesturing. “We’ve never met, but I’d say she’s just found us.”
Oh dear. He was right. She was about to face another irate grown-up. Hannah Brody had thrown open the door of the van and was shuffling rapidly across the parking lot, shirttail flapping, bangs glued to her forehead with perspiration. Rachel had never seen the poor woman look more frazzled.
“Hannah! I’m sorry if
