A couple of minutes later, we came to the dirt road.
Slim waited until we were all there. Then she said in a quiet voice, “Let’s just stay on this and stick together. A lot easier than traipsing through the woods.”
“What if a car comes?” Bitsy asked.
“We’ll duck out of sight same as last time,” Slim said.
Clustered together, we began walking up the dirt road toward Janks Field.
Soon, a car came along from behind us. We heard it and saw the glow of its headlights in plenty of time to hide. It no sooner passed us than another was on the way. When both had gone, we returned to the dirt road.
“Early birds,” Slim said.
“After the best seats,” Rusty suggested.
“Or the best parking places,” I said.
“We’ve got the best parking place,” Slim said. “A good safe distance from the action.”
“You still got the tickets?” Rusty asked her.
“Yep.” She patted the seat of her cut-offs.
To Bitsy, he said, “You sure you got plenty of money?”
Nodding, she patted her purse. She had let go of me while we’d been waiting for the cars to pass. Now she was over to the side and slightly ahead of me. The white purse, hanging from her shoulder, seemed to be floating by her hip.
“You better have enough for a ticket,” Rusty warned, “or the deal’s off.”
“I’ve got plenty.”
We heard another car coming, so we ran for cover.
Our way was blocked by a fallen tree. All four of us scurried over its trunk and ducked behind it.
As we waited for the car to pass, I suddenly wondered why we were hiding and why we’d bothered to conceal Slim’s Pontiac. If we hoped to buy a ticket for Bitsy, use our tickets to enter the grandstands, then sit among the other paying customers, we were sure to be seen and recognized. We would probably be surrounded by people from Grandville.
We started to rise, but then another car came along. It went by. As we began to climb over the trunk, another glow of headlights appeared so we dropped out of sight again.
“I’m not sure why we’re hiding,” I said.
Slim, crouched close to my left side, nudged me with her elbow and muttered, “So they don’t see us, Mr. Brain.”
“A few minutes, we’ll be in the middle of them.”
Was I the only one who’d thought of that?
Slim turned her face toward me. I couldn’t see her expression, and she didn’t speak.
“What’ll we do?” asked Bitsy. She was crouched on my right.
“Should’ve brought disguises,” Rusty whispered.
“It’ll be all right,” Slim said.
“I don’t...” My voice stopped and I listened to the approaching engine. It had a powerful sound.
Hands on the rough, moist bark, I eased myself upward and peered toward the dirt road. A pickup truck was speeding along the dirt road, shaking and bouncing.
Its headlights ruined my night vision.
There seemed to be only one occupant, the driver. But I couldn’t make out who it was—not even whether it was a man or woman.
As the pickup sped away, however, I was able to see its color in the glow of its tail lights.
Red.
A red pickup truck, the same as Lee’s.
“Was that her?” Rusty asked.
We were all gazing over the top of the fallen trunk.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Sure looked like her truck,” Slim said.
“I bet it was her,” Bitsy said.
“Did you see her?” I asked.
“No, but I bet it was.”
“I hope so,” I muttered. “Thing is, it’s not like she’s got the only red pickup in town.”
“Did anyone see the driver?” Slim asked.
“Nope.”
“Huh-uh.”
“I wish.”
“Might’ve been her,” Rusty said.
“She’s supposed to come,” I added.
“Well,” said Slim, “we’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”
Chapter Forty-five
We walked for a couple of minutes on the dirt road, but then another car came so we hid again. This time, we crouched behind a clump of bushes about twenty feet from the roadside.
“We’re never gonna get there,” Rusty said.
“Maybe we’d better cut through the woods,” Slim suggested.
“Have we gotta?” Bitsy asked.