Why the boy needed a big rig like that when he lived in New Orleans mystified Joe. Must be hell to find a parking space. He’d gone for a Porsche with his first bonus check back when he was young and dumb. His own truck had come later along with the ranch and Nell. Joe had some fond memories of putting that long bed to use before Bijou made off with it. God damn Bijou in a hundred different ways! “We could have been here sooner, but Howdy wouldn’t let me drive!” Cassie declared as she flung herself into the kitchen. “You were too upset to drive. I probably saved your life by keeping you from behind the wheel,” Howdy retorted. “She drives the way she barrel-races.” “You are so slow about everything! Absolutely everything, Howard McCoy.” “So, you two are friends now. I’m glad to hear that,” Nell said. “Sit down. Coffee? It’s decaf.” “Nothing. We had dinner before you called. How are we going to save Tommy?” “I’d appreciate some, Miss Nell,” Howdy said in that quiet way of his.
