Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I come from Seattle,” she said finally. “I really don’t know a whole lot about reservations….” Even in her own part of the country.
    He shrugged. “Most people don’t. And some are better than others. The one I was raised on is dirt poor and it kind of encourages kids to dream of escape.”
    “Is that why you settled on truck driving? To escape?”
    “Partly. Partly it had to do with a guy I met when I was about twelve. There was a truck stop on the edge of the res and I hung around over there looking for odd jobs. I could pick up a dollar here and there to do things like empty the trash, wash a windshield—whatever. Anyway, there was this trucker named Chigger who used to lay over there for a day or so every couple of weeks. For some reason he took a shine to me. Taught me how to play poker and introduced me to science fiction. He kept a whole bunch of his favorite books in the cab, said they were his best friends. I’ll never forget when he gave me a copy of The Foundation Trilogy. I still have it.”
    Esther was touched. “He sounds like a wonderful man.”
    “He was.” Craig smiled faintly. “He also filled my head with tales of being on the road. Action, adventure, new sights, new people. He made it sound like going on a voyage of discovery. As if truckers are the world’s great explorers.”
    “Do you still feel that way?”
    “Oh, maybe not as much as when I was a kid. But I still love it. There’s something about climbing up in the cab to set out on a fresh trip that just—” He broke off and shrugged. “I felt free.”
    Esther pushed her plate to one side, having eaten all she could. She preferred breakfast to be a light meal. “You must feel very confined now, then.”
    “I reckon.”
    A sound from the screen door drew her attention. Guinevere stood there, looking expectant. “So you finally decided to get up, sleepyhead?” Esther smiled and explained to Craig, “Guin always sleeps late in the morning. Usually I’m out in my studio and working for hours before she finally decides to get up.”
    Guin woofed and Esther rose, going to let the dog out for her morning run. But Guinevere had an itinerary of her own and instead came over to make Nighthawk’s acquaintance. He greeted the dog with his palm up and Guinevere quickly decided that he was okay. She accepted a scratch behind her ears, then dashed off the porch and out into the fields.
    “She loves it here,” Esther said. “So much freedom. In Seattle I had only a really tiny fenced yard for her to play in.”
    Craig rose, stretched mightily, then gathered up his dishes. “I need to be getting back to work. So do you, probably. I’ll just carry these things in for you.”
    Esther stayed where she was on the porch, not wanting to make him uneasy by going into the house with him. He made two trips, even though she told him just to leave things, thanked her for a great breakfast, and drove away.
    The morning was suddenly quiet again, except for the harsh cry of a hawk, the whisper of the breeze and the steadily fading growl of the truck engine.
    Standing at the porch rail, Esther watched the dust cloud raised by Craig’s truck as it traveled down the rutted drive to the road. Finally it vanished and the day was still and empty again.
    In his absence, Esther realized what a powerful presence Craig Nighthawk was. Not even Guinevere’s eventual return filled the gap.
    Strange, she thought, then headed out to her studio to paint before the morning light was gone.
     
     
    In a burst of extravagance, she had replaced part of the north side of the barn’s gambrel roof with skylights, so that light poured into the barn. As long as it wasn’t raining, she always had the best light by which to paint. If the day turned gloomy, there were other tasks to fill her time, such as sketching new ideas.
    Today she worked on a planned landscape of the Rocky Mountains as they appeared to her from her property. It was one of her most ambitious