(Wednesday 20th)

“Alright… Paul and Quinn Can Camp Out, Smoke Pot, and Grow Hair.”

Paul wakes to the combining scents of bacon and marijuana; lifting his head enough to peek out a window, spotting Quinn, Harry, and George sitting by the campfire and staring into it. He carefully eases out of his blankets and quietly slips out, not wanting to wake Tim and KC. The small groggy man steps on a rock in his stocking feet, wincing and hopping toward Quinn, narrowly escaping a fall into the fire as the three watches in wonderment.

The quiet song man unmoved by the unscheduled entrance stares down at Paul as he lay looking up at him by the fire in the dirt. “Coffee?”

“Uh… yes.”

Quinn stands and walks over to his box of supplies, digging around until retrieving three more cups, walks back over to the fire, pours coffee into one, and hands it to Paul. “Want it there?”

“Uh… yes… yes. I’m good here. It’s kind of chilly. I think I would like to sit here near the fire.”

“Might want to back up some.” Quinn walks back to his spot a couple of feet farther from the fire than Paul and sits by Harry and George. “Need to get you some jeans and t-shirts.”

Paul looks up at him in surprise and down at his dress clothes. He stands, gingerly balancing his cup, finding a spot three feet farther from the fire; looking back over at Quinn. “That is better. And I think you are right. I need to find somewhere I can buy some more suitable clothes.”

“I have some you can borrow ‘til then.”

“Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate that.” Quinn nods and looks back at the fire; taking another drag from his left-handed cigarette while Paul observes. He looks over at him, holding it up. “Me? No, no. I’m good. Thank you anyway.” Quinn nods and looks back at his fire.

Paul sips from his cup, looking around at the different trees, wildflowers, large and small rocks amidst their campsite. Realizing he couldn’t remember the last time he was out like this. And almost enjoying himself, except for the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind concerning Lisa and what he’ll find when he does get home. Paul decides on trying to forget it; not knowing when that might be, anyway.

But, his thoughts keep circling back to it all again, beginning to feel himself growing anxious over it, trying hard settle his mind, knowing it will lead to a full-blown panic attack if he doesn’t. The small man starts shaking, feeling his heart rate increasing, along with his breathing and then remembers his anti-anxiety medication his college friend and informal psychiatrist Dr. Terry Blackenstock prescribed him for such times as this. Paul hates taking them with all the side effects, but the alternative is much worse. Knowing he can’t do without them this time, he quickly stands and looks around, thinking; he knows they were in his suitcase. But where is it?

Seeing him stop and start again for the bus a few times, and then do a three-sixty once, gains Quinn’s attention. “You okay, man?”

Paul spins around toward him, looking out of place. “Wha? Uh... yes… hey, do you know where my suitcase is?”

“In there,” pointing at the bus. Paul turns to look at the bus; considering going in, but not wanting to disturb the other two. Having traveled that very same path as the small pitiful man before him, Quinn knows what’s up. “Come over here, brother. Sit.” Paul peers to his right at the hippy. He doesn’t want to. But, he sees the certain compassion on the quiet man’s face. “Come on,” slowly motioning him over with his head and a slight smile.

A sweat bead trickles down Paul’s forehead, sliding in his right eyebrow and wipes it away, still looking at Quinn. He’s not only on the crest of an attack but also growing embarrassed and it’s showing. Hesitantly, Paul moves toward Quinn, and the thin, long-haired man points at the ground next to him, taking another hit from his smoke, holding it, and blowing it out; all while watching the small man slowly lower his shaky body to the dirt.

“I know you said ‘no’ brother, but,” holding the left-handed cig out once more; Paul just stares at it. “Look, I know what you’re going through. I did too for a long, long time. After leaving Oklahoma, I wandered for a while, becoming a drunk. I finally settled out in California and started seeing some doctors. I thought I would lose my mind. And I was. I wasn’t eating, sleeping, playing my music. I worked anywhere at anything for money to go from doctor to doctor. They all prescribed me their new wonder drug that made me feel worse than I was to start with. One day, this cat comes into a bar I was working at, asking about who to talk to for a gig. After telling him when to come back to catch the owner, I noticed this glorious Fender he was holding. We talked a little, and then he handed me a joint when he left. I didn’t smoke. And I looked at it just like you’re looking at this one. I put it in my pocket and went on with my business. Later that night, I was at my place… those thoughts started creeping back in… I remembered having that in my pocket. I took it out, lit it up, and felt the cares and thoughts slip out the door… bye-bye. I threw away all those pills that were making me sick,” still holding it up, looking at Paul staring back at him. “Just try it. Drag a little off, hold it, and let it out. If it helps, it helps. If it doesn’t, no harm done.”

Paul stares at it, thinking. He takes it and follows Quinn’s instructions. When letting out the smoke, a strange expression comes over his face; and then a peaceful one replaces it. He turns to Quinn, surprised. “I think it did help.” Quinn smiles and reaches for it. Paul takes another one. Quinn grins, watching. “Yeah… it did help,” handing it back. “Thank you,” smiling.

Quinn nods, smiling, taking it from him. “Helps me. Figured it would you too.”

“Well great, Quinnie. You already corrupted our lil’ Paulie,” KC grumbles, stepping sleepy-eyed down from the bus.

Tim’s behind her looking the same; eyebrows raised in astonishment. “Paulie? You smoking pot now?”

Paul gazes peacefully up at him and then over at the fire. “That bacon smells good,” staring longingly at it. The other three chuckles.

Quinn stands, “I’ll finish it up now that everyone’s awake,” handing the rest to Paul, “help yourself to the coffee you two. I’ve got you some cups ready.” Quinn gets their breakfast ready, and they discuss the plans at the end of the trip while eating.

“I figure we’ve got about a little over eight hundred miles left,” Tim says after taking his last bite of eggs and bacon, washing it down with a drink from his cup. “That’s about twelve, thirteen hours straight through. Or we can camp somewhere tonight and roll in about noon.”

KC looks around at the others. “Where’re we gonna roll in to? I know where we’re goin’, but where’re we gonna park this and stage from?”

Everyone then looks over at Quinn. “Keystone Lake. I’ve already got a campsite in mind there.”

Tim nods. “Sounds good. We camp there. I’ll ride my bike over to the ranch later and see about getting a job.”

“I’m goin’ too,” KC declares. “No one knows either of us, and we can find out more if there’s two at the ranch.”

“Alright,” Tim looks over at the other two. “Paul and Quinn can camp out, smoke pot, and grow hair.” KC starts laughing, Quinn and Tim grin; Paul smiles, a little embarrassed.

They finish up and begin clearing their campsite, putting supplies away. Nearing ready to leave, Paul looks around at the others. “Are we not going to talk about your apartments and cars being shot up?” Tim and KC exchange glimpses. “Or is this a common occurrence in your lives?”

Tim, working on his saddlebags looks up at Paul, glances at the others, and sighs. “There’s not really much to talk about, Paulie,” looking back down and latching the buckles tight. “I mean… it happened. No, it’s not an everyday occurrence. I think we know who’s behind it. I’m just thankful none of us were in there, and we’re all safe.” He stands and starts walking around the back of his bike, looking back at Paul. “Dave knows about it, and he’s on top of it. I planned on giving him a call here at the next town we stop at to see if he’s found anything out.”

“I agree with all that,” KC says. “But you owe me a car now, Tim. My Lucy’s all shot up because of you.”

He stares back at her. “So’s my Betty.”

“Yeah, but it’s all on you. Those dudes wouldn’tve even been comin’ around if it weren’t for your investigative journalism.”

“Alright, alright.”

Paul looks at Tim. “I would still like to know the connection Robert Bowman has with you and me.”

“Well, hopefully, Dave will be able to piece that all together soon,” throwing his long right leg over the back of his Harley and sitting, “let’s hit the road.”

Stepping up into the bus KC stops in the doorway and turns around. “Hey, I was wonderin’… why’re we beatin’ it to get there so soon? Can’t we kinda take in some sights and enjoy ourselves? Seems to me this might just be a once in a lifetime thing—all of us together like this. We’re not on any schedule… are we?” looking around at the other three; they all exchange glances.

“Fine by me,” Tim shrugs. “Paulie and I are off indefinitely. And it might be a good idea to stay gone a while.” He looks at Quinn and Paul. “What do you dudes think?”

Paul peers around at the others. “It’s just Wednesday, isn’t it?”

“What’s it matter, sweetie?” KC’s forehead furrows.

Paul looks back at her. “I don’t suppose it does. Okay with me.”

Quinn nods. “Sounds good to me. I only wanted to get as far away and as fast as I could. We’re golden as far as I’m concerned now.”

KC smiles big; seeing it relieves Tim. Still, he must mess with her. “You happy now, princess?”

“Shuddup.”

“You shuddup.”

Quinn and Paul shake their heads, grinning as they walk toward the bus to load up, stopping to wait for KC to end her stare down with Tim. She looks down at Paul. “And yes, honey, it’s Wednesday,” turns and steps up into the bus.

“Good to know. Thank you.”

Tim kick starts his bike and rolls out of the campsite. Quinn fires up the pot leaf bus, following. On the radio:

“I’ve been thinking about our fortune

And I’ve decided that we’re really not to blame

For the love that’s deep inside us now, is still the same

And the sound we make together

Is the music to the story in your eyes

It’s been shining down upon you now, I realize…”

They travel until Winslow, Arizona. KC lays on the bus horn, signaling Tim to stop; nearly scaring the life out of him.

Tim pulls into an empty parking lot; his v-twin rumbling as he watches KC bound off the bus, running at him. “What?!”

“I wanna stop here and look around.”

“Here? Why?”

“It’s Winslow, Arizona, Tim,” grinning excitedly.

“Yeah? So?”

KC scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Tim…” putting her hands on his right arm—his hands still gripping the handlebars. “Well, I’m a-standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona and such a fine sight to see,” Tim watches as she bounces, laughs and hangs off his arm, all while trying hard to maintain his cool factor, “it’s a girl, my Lord in a flatbed Ford slowin’ down to take a look at me. Come on, baby, don’t say maybe,” playfully tugging at him, “I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me… ooooo… ooooo…” grinning big, waiting for his response.

“That’s a good song. I get it. Yeah, let’s check out that corner, babe.”

“Whoo!” throwing her arms in the air, grabbing Tim by the neck and kissing his cheek, and then bouncing back to the bus. Tim turns around to watch her. It makes him happy to see her like this. He catches sight of Quinn and Paul doing the same as him. They all grin and shake their heads. Tim motions for them to go ahead and he follows. Quinn’s very much on board with the notion. Tim takes the opportunity to top off his tank. The four stay in Winslow long enough for KC to get her ’take it easy’ fix.

With little other roads in which to take the scenic route and not take the travelers several miles off course, they are stuck with staying on I-40 until Holbrook, Arizona. From there they are able to take Highway 180, heading in a southeastern direction, enabling them to take a less-traveled two-lane highway to soak up a little ‘local culture’ as KC called it. Tim soon begins regretting it, seeing very little to look at along the desolate road. After traveling a couple of hours since breaking camp, they are finally able to find somewhere to stop around noon at a roadside bar/café. The four get something to eat and some beers. After scarfing down his burger basket, and while the others are inside, Tim goes out to check the oil on his bike.

“Shovelhead?” a voice behind him queries. Tim in a squatting position checking his chain looks up over his shoulder at a tall, dark man smiling back at him; now giving his Harley a good once over in admiration. “I always wanted one. She’s a beauty.”

Tim’s stares at the stranger and stands, keeping his eyes on him the whole time, taking two steps back to his left. Still eyeing him, he wipes his hands on a rag. “Yeah, well, thank you.” Tim cuts his eyes to the left and then the right; checking for any friends the man might have coming. Feeling a little better not to find any, asks, “Are you from around here?”

The stranger still admiring the bike looks up in surprise. “Me? Oh. Oh no. I’m on leave from Twenty-Nine Palms Marine Base and headed home. My wife’s about to have our first baby,” smiling proudly.

“That’s great,” Tim smiles and sticks out his hand, “Congratulations,” stopping to look at his hands. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t shake your hand. I’m kind of dirty.”

“Yeah. Well, thank you just the same. I didn’t mean to take up your time. I need to be gettin’ back on the road, anyway. I just stopped to get a bite to eat.” The stranger walks toward a sweet black ’67 Camaro SS a few feet away and gets in. “Ride safe, bud,” the stranger calls out the window, smiling, and backing out. Tim waves—watching him get back onto the blacktop and go down the road—feeling like a jerk for being so skeptical. He goes back in and joins the others.

“Who was that you were talkin’ to?” KC asks.

“Just some dude that came up talking to me about my HOG.”

You crack me up how you always call it your hawg.”

“Well, it is. And it’s HOG, not hawg.”

“Shuddup.”

“You shuddup.”

“Okay let’s go,” Paul says getting up.

The three begin loading on the bus. The friends chatter about the coming sights. KC’s quietly noting Tim’s the instigator, actually excited about their slower trip and enjoying the company, even if there isn’t much to look at. Nonetheless, the visual brings a smile.

They only make ten miles when coming across Tim’s Marine on the side of the road with the hood up. He slows and pulls in front of it. Quinn pulls in behind the car.

Tim gets off his bike, “Looks like you’ve got some trouble, buddy. Know what it is?” walking up to him.

The Marine looks up from his engine, disgusted, and sighs heavily. “It’s probably the carburetor. I’ve had to rebuild it twice,” frowning, throwing his rag on top of the manifold. “Shoot!”

“Hey don’t worry. I know a lil’ somethin’ about cars. Maybe between the two of us, we can get you back on the road to your wife and baby soon.”

The Marine appears a little more hopeful. “Really? I’d sure appreciate it, mister—I don’t even know your name. I’m Bobby. Bobby Cantrell.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Bobby. I’m Tim Calloway,” pointing at the three now approaching from the bus, “this is KC, Paul, and Quinn.”

The Marine suddenly looks worried, hearing the introductions of more people, and turns toward them, “Oh I…” glancing back at Tim, at the three, and back at Tim. “I thought you were alone… I guess I just assumed.” One more glance their way and to Tim again, taking a step toward him, fidgeting. “Hey, I don’t want to hold you folks up. You’re obviously on your way somewhere. I’ll be alright.”

“Bobby, you might be here for hours before another car comes along. Even at that, there’s no guarantee they’re someone who can help you or will even stop,” Tim waves his hand, “it’s no problem. You get in and give ‘er a crank. Let me see what’s going on.”

Bobby clearly does not want to. He looks back at the three. “I don’t want to be a bother to you folks… really.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” KC waves walking up alongside the car, looking under the hood. “Tim’s pretty good at fixin’ things. We’ve got time.” Bobby looks over at Paul and Quinn; both nod.

“Well, okay, if you say so.” He walks to the driver’s side and gets in, attempts to turn over the engine. It cranks and cranks; nothing.

“Hold it!” Tim yells, staring down into the engine compartment. He fiddles with the mechanics under the shiny chrome breather, leaning in all directions, trying to get a good view. “Okay, try it.” And the same thing as before. He takes the breather off, sets it aside, fiddles with the opening of the carburetor. “Okay, try it.” Same as before—nothing. Tim stands up straight, still staring at it. Bobby gets out and joins Tim staring down at the engine. Tim scratches his head. “Brother, I’m afraid you’ve got another rebuild to do. At least tear into it. I think your floats are sticking on you.”

Bobby stares up at him. He sighs heavily again, frowns, rears back and kicks his tire. “I have to get home! I can’t let Cindy down again…” putting both forearms atop his head, turning his back to the other four standing around the front of the Camaro. “She’s waited for me so many times and each time I’ve failed her…” his voice begins cracking, “she waited for me to get back from ‘Nam so that we could even get married… I got shipped out again… she waited, prayin’ I’d even come back that time… it’s a miracle we had enough time to get pregnant.”

Tim’s staring at Bobby and suddenly feels the other three watching him. KC is eyeing Tim hard. He mouths silent words at her. She eyes him harder. He raises his eyebrows, arguing silently. She gives him one of her ‘looks,’ purses her lips, frowns, and points at Bobby’s back as he stares down the road in the opposite direction. Tim glances at Paul and Quinn; they’re both nodding at him. He accepts the defeat, pressing his lips together, and dropping his shoulders, reluctantly looking over at Bobby. “Listen, we can give you a ride to the next town. Maybe you can set up something from there.”

Bobby slowly turns his head halfway in their direction and looks down at the ground, hands on his hips. He sighs heavily once more and wipes the side of his face with his right hand. “Well… I guess that’s somethin’. Maybe I can figure out how to get on to Oklahoma from there.”

The other three watching Bobby snap their heads in Tim’s direction. Once more he’s feeling it and meets their eyes—the same inaudible chewing out as before commences.

Tim’s getting aggravated, as he is not one to change his plans often. “Look, Bobby, we’re going to Oklahoma. We can at least get you closer than you are now. But what’re you gonna do about your car? You can’t just leave it here.”

“Well, maybe there’s a gas station with a tow truck near here. If they can tow it to their place, I can make arrangements later to get it.”

“Are you sure? This is a very cherry ’67 Camaro, brother. You’re liable to come back and find it stripped.”

Bobby turns to him. “At this point, Tim, I don’t care about this car. Cindy and my baby mean more to me than this car does. They need me.”

Tim looks across the car at KC giving him a ‘see there’ look. He scowls at her. “Alright. Grab your gear and throw it on the bus. Let’s get going. I think we’d better turn around and head back the way we came, though. Our chances of finding anything in this direction’s gonna be pretty slim.” Tim picks up the breather housing and puts it back on, closing the hood. “Looks like we’re on a schedule now,” glaring at KC smiling back at him.

“I do appreciate it,” Bobby offers walking to the back of the car, opening the trunk and pulling out his heavy duffle bag. He slips his left arm into the strap and hefts it onto his shoulder, closing the lid.

Paul walks over to him. “Let me take that while you lock up your car.”

Bobby looks up at him, disappointed, yet mustering a smile. “Thank you.” Paul nods, taking it from him and heading for the bus. Bobby rolls the windows up and locks his car. KC and Quinn direct him onto the bus as Bobby looks over the paint job; KC stops to look back at Tim still standing by the car, giving him a smile. Tim shakes his head and gets on his bike. He kicks the v-twin into action, turns around, and takes off. Quinn fires up the pot leaf bus, has to make a few maneuvers to swing around, and follows him down the road.

They make it back to Holbrook and find a full-service gas station with a wrecker service. Bobby speaks with the owner, giving him his information and keys. The owner agrees to bring it back to his place, fix it, and keep it until Bobby can come back for it. Quinn and Tim top off their tanks, Paul and KC load up on junk food, and the five take to the road once again.

It is nearing late afternoon, and as Tim leads the way ahead, the four on the bus are able to get to know each other better. KC strikes up a conversation with Bobby right off; asking how old he is, how long he and his wife have been married, and all she wants to know about their baby on the way. Bobby obliges her—being grateful for the ride all the way to his home state—telling her anything she wants to hear. Another hundred and fifty miles puts them farther into New Mexico and Tim in need of another tank-full; they stop at Prewitt. KC catches him filling up and informs him they are not dropping Bobby off just anywhere in Oklahoma convenient for them, they are taking him all the way to his hometown. Tim’s exasperated until she finishes by letting him know it is in Shawnee—right by I-40—and they will be passing there on the way to Keystone Lake, anyway. “Fine,” he says, telling her to “go on.” She knows he’s angry their plans have changed, but also knows he will get over it; knowing Tim would have done the same thing, brow-beaten or not.

KC also finds out from Bobby after making a call home that Cindy still has plenty of time before delivering so Tim won’t have to stay on the bike several more hours to get the expectant father there on time. She doesn’t tell Tim that right away. Because KC’s ornery. Two hours later—the next stop off to fill both tanks—she feels sufficient.

It is just about six-thirty, dusk will be coming on within the hour, and KC sees Tim growing tired. At the roadside mom ’n pop store they stop off at, she spots a brochure for a roadside park up the road and inquires about it. The woman running the store highly recommends it; saying it’s a beautiful spot with all the amenities and a clear pond to cool off in if they are of a mind to. The woman knows because she and her husband also own it. KC has the proprietor cook them up five burgers with fries, buys three six packs, and the little firecracker goes outside to announce their plans to the four men, steering them into her way of thinking of when and where to stop for the night. Tim insists they push on to get Bobby home in time. That’s when Bobby tells him “there’s time” and, “didn’t KC tell you?”

As one would expect, Tim is ticked off to find she let him think otherwise all the previous hours and doesn’t speak to her for a good bit. Aggravating Tim is something KC seems to thrive upon. The others, not so much—and they are feeling uncomfortable. Much like stuck watching their parents fight. While they wait for their supper order to be complete, she passes beers to the others; handing Tim his, KC plants a kiss on his cheek. Aside from embarrassing him in front of the other men, it helps. She knows precisely how to work him. And it feels good to Tim to sit, drink a cold beer, and not have his backside inches away from his rumbling v-twin tearing down the dotted lines.

It is a beautiful New Mexico early evening; the warm sun turning an orange-red as it nears the mountain range in the west. About the time they finish their beers the mom half of the establishment comes out with three hot and succulent smelling brown sacks complete with condiments. Tim’s so hungry that the tantalizing scent from the burgers tempts him into tearing into his food then. KC reminds him if he did, he would be ready for a nap, and they must first get settled for the night. That doesn’t upset him, as he knows this is true. She adds they are only a block from where they need to go, so he’s okay with it.

Before leaving the mom ‘n pop place, Tim uses the phone and calls McCoy. He not only wants to let him know they are still alive and okay but wants to know what the detective has discovered. Tim’s unable to reach him and leaves a message from ‘Tom Peters.’ KC gets her brood to their campsite and quickly settled so they can eat. Afterward, they all work together in bringing the bed stuff out of the bus and setting it up by the fire Quinn built. Each ease into their chosen spots and opens a beer. Dusk is falling fast.

“So, Tim,” KC, after taking a drink, “Bobby tells us he’s a staff sergeant over at Twenty-Nine Palms.”

Tim has just taken a drink, sets his can down on his thigh; his long legs stretched out, crossed at his boots, back leaning against a sizeable blanket-padded rock. “Is that right?”

Hearing his name, Bobby looks at KC, then over at Tim, nodding. “Yes. I’m a trainer at the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Training Center.” The others raise their eyebrows, notably impressed.

“Do you know Eric Hanson?” Tim asks. “He’s stationed over there.”

Bobby thinks for a few seconds and shakes his head. “No. The name doesn’t sound familiar. But I’ve only been there a few weeks. I got reassigned from Camp La June about three weeks ago.”

“Ah,” Tim nods. “So, you mentioned you were in ‘Nam earlier.”

Bobby nods. “I don’t like talkin’ about it,” a sad, pained expression enters his face; he takes a drink and looks away.

The others see it. Tim glances around at them and back at Bobby. “No need to, brother. Just making conversation. So, you’re about to be a new daddy, huh?”

Bobby smiles; peering out of the corner of his eye at Tim. “Yeah… I’m pretty excited ’bout that… and scared.”

“Don’t be,” Paul says, “scared, I mean. That’s only natural. You’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Bobby turns to his left at Paul, feeling more at ease. “I hope so. You have kids, Paul?”

“A little girl,” nodding; beginning to appear saddened.

KC springs into action. “Okay, enough of this. Quinnie, we need some music, hon. How ‘bout you get your guitar out for us?”

Paul goes to relieve himself in some trees, and Tim follows for the same purpose. On their way back, Tim stops him. “You talked to Lisa finally, huh? It didn’t go so well, buddy?” Paul peers up at him in surprise. “K told me about it. I’ve been wanting to check on you and see how you’re doing, but there just hasn’t seemed to’ve been many opportunities until now. Are you okay, Paulie?”

“I guess so. I don’t have many options, anyway. I think I’m feeling numb more than anything. This… this whole last week has felt like I’m living someone else’s life. No… the last ten years.” He starts walking again. Tim watches and then takes off to catch him; stopping him once more. “Hey, listen Paulie… we’re going to get to the bottom of all this mess—the whole shebang. We’re going to find the truth about Penny and who’s behind it. We’ll find out who’s been making those calls and sending those notes to you too. We’re also going to see what in the world has gotten into Lisa and all this you ’having an affair’ business. I promise you, Paulie.” The two men stare back at one another for a good spell—Tim with all his confident persuasion and Paul with his merited defeat. Paul begins to ease; his wall visibly penetrated by Tim’s real confidence. He knows his old friend; knowing Tim Calloway to be a tenacious sucker once he sinks his teeth into something.

“I know we will, Timmy. I know we will. I think I’ve been preparing myself for all those answers.”

“You have been unusually quiet this whole trip,” Tim grins, giving him a shove on his left upper arm with his big right hand, “even for you, Paulie.”

“Hey watch it. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Tim laughs; Paul smiles.

He throws his big arm around his shoulder and starts walking them back to their campsite. “C’mon loverboy. Quinn’s got his guitar talking to us.”

Quinn plays, and the others occasionally sing along, drinking their beers.

Bobby gets up to go find the trees. Tim watches until he’s out of sight and then expeditiously gets the others’ attention. In a hushed tone, “When I spoke with Dave when we were leaving yesterday, he was very relieved to hear that everyone’s okay. I tried calling him earlier when we stopped for burgers and a second time at that mom ‘n pop place. Both times I wasn’t able to…” looking in the direction Bobby went.

KC’s listening intently, as are the other two. Seeing Tim watching for Bobby, she frowns and whisper-yells, “What’re you doin’?!”

Tim turns to her. “I don’t want to talk about this stuff in front of him,” looking back for Bobby.

“Oh Tim, you’re just bein’ paranoid. That guy doesn’t know us, and he doesn’t give a care ’bout anything that happened before meetin’ us,” leaning her head back to drink, keeping her eyes on Tim.

“You don’t know that. We don’t know this dude, either. There’s something odd about him. Listen, Dave said….” Tim stops, again looking in the direction Bobby went. “Here he comes. I’ll have to tell you later,” louder, “Quinn, play that song about… what’s it called? Something about mop bucket blues?” KC scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Mop bucket blues... made it up one night when I was a one-man show: bartender, waitress, janitor, and entertainment at one of my first jobs in California... goes like this…” Quinn goes into a bluesy melody, singing.

Bobby rejoins the others at the campsite. Tim looks up at him and grins. “Everything work out alright, Bobby?”

Teetering back to his spot while looking down at the ground, he lifts his eyes to his left as he passes Tim, grinning. “Yeah, yeah it did. Thanks for askin’.” Tim smiles and glances over at KC; she’s giving him her ’look.’

After a few songs and a few more beers, the five call it a night and hit their pallets they put together earlier.

Next Chapter: Chapter Six