The Highway Kind(11)

Brandon shook his head, puzzled. “That’s what you want?”

Pingston nodded. “Look, I suppose you’re thinking that if I restored that beast to its former glory, I could make a lot of money on it and you’re right. I’ve seen where some of ’em sell for seventy thousand or more in cherry condition. But I don’t give a crap about that. I want to fix it up and get it running. This one is too damned beat up to ever amount to much.”

“Then why do you want it?”

“It means something to me,” Pingston said. “That was the truck I drove every damned day I worked on this ranch. Twelve years, Brandon. I know that truck as intimately as I do Peggy.”

Peggy smirked at that. Brandon thought that odd.

Pingston said, “I know when to downshift going up a vertical hill, how to power through six-foot drifts, how to use that winch to pull myself up the side of a damned cliff. If I ever go elk hunting again, that’s the vehicle I want to take.

“Plus,” Pingston said with a wink, “it’s the truck I borrowed to go to town when your old man sent me up the river. I like the idea of that old bastard rolling in his grave knowing I’m riding around in high style in the Power Wagon he owned all his life. It gives me a small measure of satisfaction, if you know what I mean.”

Marissa said, “If we give you the truck, will you all go away?”

“That was rude,” Peggy said. She folded her thick arms over her bosom.

Brandon said, “I should discuss this with my brothers and sister, you know. We all have a say in how the assets are divided up.”

That’s when Wade stepped forward and said, “We don’t have the time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Brandon saw Marissa tense up and move back.

Brandon said, “If I give it to you, how are you going to get it out of here? I doubt it’ll start after all these years. I don’t even know if it still has a motor in it—or tires. And I don’t even know if it’s in the shed out there.”

“Oh, we brung a tow rope in the Jeep,” Pingston assured him.

Brandon hoped that the Power Wagon was not only in the shed but also in good enough shape for them to take it away that night. He was still basking in the relief he’d felt at the words I want that ’48 Power Wagon.

Even if it didn’t make any sense. Four people to retrieve a truck? In the snow? At night?

“If it’s there, it’s yours,” he said to Pingston.

Wade grinned and said, “Let’s go check it out.”

“I’m going too,” Tater said.

“No,” Pingston said sharply. “You stay here with your mother and Marissa.”

And Brandon felt the fear creep back inside.

“Why don’t you all come with me?” Brandon asked.

“No,” Pingston said sharply. “Peggy don’t need to stand around outside in this weather while we mess around with an old truck.”

But Brandon heard, I want my son to stay in here and keep an eye on Marissa so she doesn’t try anything.

When he looked over at his wife, Marissa nodded to him and mouthed, Go.


It took a while for Brandon to locate a set of keys in the old man’s desk that might open the old shed. While he searched, Wade kept a close eye on him from the door. More than once, Brandon caught Wade glancing toward the gun cabinet.

“Okay,” Brandon said when he found a ring of ancient keys. “I can’t guarantee anything but one of these might work.” None of them were marked or labeled.

“We’ll follow you,” Wade said, closing in behind Brandon as he left the room.

Brandon pulled on the ranch coat and looked over his shoulder at Marissa. “Back in a minute,” he said.

She nodded but her mouth was set tight as if holding in a sob.


Pingston and Wade followed Brandon outside into the snow. It was coming down harder now and the flakes had grown in size and volume.

He led them away from the house toward a massive corrugated-metal shed where the old man kept his working ranch equipment as well as the hulks of old tractors and pickups that no longer ran. The pole light that had once illuminated the ranch yard had long ago burned out, so Brandon had to peer through the snowfall to find the outline of the shed against the snow.

“I told Wade I wasn’t sure if I have the right key,” Brandon said in Pingston’s direction.

Pingston didn’t reply.

The shed had a side door but it was clogged with years of weeds that were waist-high, so he figured it hadn’t been used in a while. Brandon walked through the snow to the big double garage doors that were closed tight. A rusty chain had been looped through the handles and secured with a padlock.

Brandon bent over and tried one key after another in the lock.

“I need some light,” he said. “Did either of you bring a flashlight?”

Instead of answering, Wade extended a lighter in his hand and flicked it on. The flame lit up the old padlock in orange.

The next-to-last key on the ring slid in, and Brandon turned it. Nothing.

“Jerk on it,” Pingston said.

Brandon did and it opened. Tiny flakes of rust fell away from the lock into the snow below it. He closed his eyes with relief. Wade reached over his shoulder and pulled the chain free.

“Okay, step aside,” Pingston said, reaching forward with both of his hands and grasping the door handles. He groaned as he parted them. The old door mechanism groaned as well.