The truck shot around turns, spit gravel, and squealed louder than a wayward missile. Jenny braced one hand on the dashboard while the other gripped the edge of her seat. She didn’t know whether to be scared or thankful, but her need to get to the bank had her leaning toward thankful. The clock above the building read 12:20. Jenny looked through the large bay window as David squealed to a stop, and saw the financial manager still at his desk. She’d made it just in time. The bank closed 12:30 on Saturdays. A fact she’d forgotten when Stewart Davenport bumped up her deadline to this date. The bet didn’t end until 1:00 and if the prize money from the race wasn’t raised, she wouldn’t have been able to save her ranch. She and David hopped out of the front of the truck, while Wayne, Billie, Kevin, and Levi, who hadn’t wanted to be left behind, climbed out of the back.
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