The Long Ride Read Online Free PDF

for someone to ride with me. She called right up, long-distance, and told me I was taking an awful chance.” Mrs. Landry laughed. “Well, imagine—such nice people have wanted to ride with me. But I promised her I’d find out about everybody. So you tell me something about yourself, Mr. Benson.”
    “All right. I’m a widower, Mrs. Landry.”
    “Oh, my goodness. You poor boy. How long, child?”
    “A little over a year.” John Benson looked at his hands. “My wife was killed in an automobile accident. One of those things that should never have happened. But it did. We lived in Lafayette, Indiana. It was icy—” He shrugged. “She was alone. The driver in the other car was killed too.”
    “Poor fellow. I shouldn’t have asked.”
    “It’s all right,” he said. He shrugged again. “I have two boys—seven and eight. They’re with my wife’s parents right now. My own family is dead.”
    “And where are your wife’s parents?”
    “Chicago. I had a small advertising business in Lafayette. I was doing pretty well as a matter of fact. But when my wife—well, everything went flat. I decided to go west. I left the boys with their grandparents in Chicago. I stopped here in Loma City to see an old friend of mine I went to college with at Indiana. When I was ready to go on, I decided I’d had my fill of being alone. I saw your ad in the paper. I decided I’d much rather travel with someone in a car than as a stranger on a train. I don’t like to fly, so—”
    “Wonderful, Mr. Benson,” Mrs. Landry said, nodding positively. “That shows very good sense. When Mr. Landry died in nineteen forty-nine I felt the same way. I felt all lost and so depressed, and I sat around in this house and didn’t even want to see my friends and neighbors. Then pretty soon I realized that you just can’t do that. It isn’t healthy. You’ve got to go right on and be with people. And I’m just so glad you’re riding along with us, Mr. Benson. Aren’t you, Mrs. Moore?”
    Mrs. Moore nodded, an amused smile on her wide, handsome mouth. “Of course.”
    “Well, then. It’s all settled. Now, let’s see. That’ll be you two. And Miss Kennicot. And—”
    The door chimes sounded.
    “Just a moment,” Mrs. Landry said, and hurried off to the front door. In a moment John could hear the high, rather loud voice of a woman alternately laughing and talking.
    Mrs. Landry returned with a very tall woman who had large legs and wide hips and a thin, long torso. She wore a pink suit that somehow did not seem to fit well, although John could not immediately tell what was wrong or where. She wore a small black hat above a flushed, rather long-nosed face. She looked around, then laughed loudly. Mrs. Landry began to search the room and came up with a slender book. “Here it is, Miss Kennicot.”
    “Oh, my, thank you!” Miss Kennicot’s voice boomed around the room. “Oh, dear, oh, dear!” She clutched the book tightly. “My Shelley, you know. I don’t know how I could have forgotten it. I missed it when I got on my bus, and I had to get off and come clear back.”
    “That’s a shame, Miss Kennicot,” Mrs. Landry said.
    “Well—‘Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us,’” Miss Kennicot said, laughing. “That’s Wilde, of course. But I must have even forgotten my diary!” Miss Kennicot laughed so hard that tears formed in her eyes. John Benson suddenly realized she was looking straight at him, speaking as though for his benefit alone.
    “Miss Kennicot,” Mrs. Landry said, “these are two more of my guests on our drive to California. Mrs. Moore. Mr. Benson. This is Miss Kennicot. She’s a librarian for the Loma City Memorial, and she’s riding along too.”
    Miss Kennicot flashed a dangerous glance at Mrs. Moore, then fastened her stare on John Benson again, laughing violently. “The great adventure, isn’t it! Well, it’s just a lark for me. To California and back! ’Round the world and home again.