(Thursday 21st)

“… Do the Local Cops Give You Any Trouble?”

All wake together right at dawn, drink coffee, wash up in the pond, clean up their campsite, and then head to Mom ‘n Pops’ for breakfast. Shortly after, they are on the road once more. Two more stops put them in Oklahoma. The fourth put them in Shawnee at Mack’s Mobil on the corner of Kickapoo and Independence.

It is just after four in the afternoon, and it is a warm one. When first pulling next to the pumps out front of the gas station, they see no one. Tim spots the self-serve island nearest the road on the north side of the building, starts his bike and drives over there. Quinn does the same.

Both begin filling up when KC bounds down the bus steps looking around and scopes out the restrooms. “Is this place open?”

Tim pulls the nozzle out of his tank and hangs it back on the pump, looking blankly at her. “Well, I’d say it has to be. I just filled up.”

She makes a face and then scans the drive and building. “I don’t see anybody. I need to go to the restroom.”

“No, you’re not!”

She spins around and stares at the building, as do Paul and Bobby now off the bus; Quinn and Tim peer around curiously.

Another car pulls in at the full-service island in front of the squared cement block building. Two young boys dressed in Garanimals come running out of it blazing past the car; the light strawberry haired one in front desperately trying to get away from the dirty blonde one.

“Gimme it back, Alan!” the dirty blonde howls gritting his teeth.

The strawberry blond laughs loud, dodging the dirty blonde while teasing him with a small stuffed doll in his hand. “Come get it, Lee!”

A burnt orange Monte Carlo zooms onto the drive, abruptly stopping at the sidewalk by the building front. Pretty blond twenty-something leaps from the car holding a department store bag and heads for the door of the business. The woman glances out at the two boys on the drive circling the vehicle with the driver inside watching them. “Alan give Lee back his Raggedy Andy! And get their gas!” pointing at the customer waiting patiently.

The five travelers exchange glimpses. The men are hesitant to go into the business; not KC, she needs the restroom. After securing the key and flashing a smile of success at the men still standing by the self-serve pumps, she unlocks the women’s door and enters.

Having seen combat on the other side of the world, Bobby ventures in to find a phone. Tim makes the next move inside to pay for his gas and wastes no time coming back out; having no desire to be in the crosshairs of what might be thrown. Seeing Tim’s success, Quinn darts in and pays for his gas, returning to the bus unscathed. Tim takes Harry for a walk to do his business. Paul stays put.

KC walks out the restroom door and gets smacked into by the dirty blond. “Hey! You need to be careful there, knucklehead. You’re gonna hurt somebody.” The dirty blond stares at her and walks away. His eyes still on her as he turns the corner of the building, the boy smacks into it with the side of his face. Embarrassed, eyes still on KC, he gets up and runs inside. The petite woman turns to look at her boys watching the whole scene and shakes her head. “At least they’re bein’ normal kids. Kinda nice to be back where kids are kids,” walking back inside to return the key.

After rejoining her boys by the bus, KC slips her hands into the back pockets of her cutoffs. “So, where’re we goin’?” looking around at the four.

Tim, now sitting on his bike, motions toward Bobby. “He spoke with his father-in-law. We’re going to drop him off at the Sonic Drive-in over on Harrison.” Before receiving the ‘look’ from KC concerning just dropping him off somewhere, he adds: “We’re meeting his father-in-law there, K. He’ll take Bobby with him to Cindy at Mission Hill Hospital in Tecumseh—just a few miles south of here. And before you say it, the man is glad to get out of the waiting room after being there for the last twenty-eight hours. So there,” sticking his tongue out at her.

KC makes a face and returns the sticking-out-the-tongue ritual. “Well good. And we can get somethin’ to eat there while we wait. Let’s go,” leaping up the steps, “I’m starvin’!”

Quinn’s right behind her, getting in and firing up the bus. Bobby loads up for his last few miles with the travelers. The daisy, paisley, pot leaf bus pulls out onto the roadway, taking a steep asphalt hill heading east that appears to be only residential.

KC looks around, puzzled. “Where’re we goin’, Quinn?” The driver doesn’t respond, only glancing up at her in his mirror above. “Quinn! Why’re we goin’ this way? This looks like all houses. Aren’t we supposed to be heading north?”

“Northeast,” quietly, “a couple of stop signs and a left turn take us to Tulsa. About an hour and a half. First, the Sonic on Harrison. It’s this way.”

“Oh. Okay.” Satisfied he knows what he’s doing, she leans back into her seat. The roar of Tim’s pipes behind them fill the bus. KC sits up, spins around and peers backward as does Paul. The two exchange grins and returns to their positions across from one another. “Forgot all about the jerk back there.”

Paul notes the humorless expression upon the small woman’s profile. Maybe out of uncertainty, he chuckles. She quick glances to her side, suddenly aware her words were spoken aloud, grins and then looks out her window at the row of modest-sized houses racing by in a blur.

After eating at the Sonic and handing Bobby over to the care of his father-in-law, Quinn has them on the two-lane highway aimed north. With full bellies, his two remaining passengers fall fast asleep, lulled by the vibration of the tires on the old blacktop highway, a flat monotone hum coming from them—and possibly, from residuals of marijuana smoke in the musician’s rolling bong.

Dusk is setting in when the bus comes to its final stop, waking KC and Paul. Quinn shuts off the engine and Tim brings his Harley to a halt alongside. They sit up, sleepily looking around, wiping their faces in a mutual stupor. Quinn pulls the handle to open the door, spins his body, and lifts his stiffened lanky frame. Seeing the two, he grins and steps down out of the bus. As he stands stretching his back, Tim swings his long leg over his bike and does the same.

“What are you doing here, man?!”

Still inside trying to figure out their surroundings, the loud chipper voice startles KC and Paul, and then see a large grinning tanned man walking fast for Quinn. He bear hugs the quiet musician, lifting him off the ground. Satisfied he sufficiently squeezed the stuffing out of Quinn, the man sets him down, releasing his grip around the skinny man’s back. The grinning man quickly pulls away and gazes into Quinn’s embarrassed face.

“I was beginning to worry after not hearing from you for several days, my friend. What are you doing here?” squeezing Quinn’s shoulder and giving a playful shake. Paul and KC disembark, peering at each other disembark, peering at each dumbfounded. “No matter. Glad to see you, Kevan. Come inside. I will get you and your friends some cold beers. Hungry? I bet you are hungry. We were about to fire up the grill. I can whip up some burgers and fries in a flash,” smiling warmly, looking around at the others. “Hello. I am Sanchez. Sanchez MacGillicuddy,” the gentle giant extends arms the size of Quinn’s legs, shiny jet-black hair neatly restrained by a black leather strap; thick ponytail effortlessly hanging atop his broad mid back. Sanchez’s expressive, inviting dark eyes twinkling. His wide, bright grin is encased by a beard, chin whiskers longer, with gray mixed seamlessly within.

“Hi, Sanchez. I’m Tim. This is Paul and the lil’ big mouth there is KC.”

“Hey!” KC yelps, frowning and hitting Tim’s left arm. She looks back at Sanchez and smiles sweetly. “I’m KC.”

Sanchez chuckles. “Hello everyone,” gazing around at the three. He then spots the slate gray Russian Blue in KC’s arms and black-white-gray-sable German Shepard sitting at her feet looking up at him. “And who are these two fine specimens?”

“This is George,” KC says, tilting her left toward Sanchez while looking down in her arms, “and Harry,” looking down to her feet.

He bends halfway, smiling, “Hello, Sir Harry,” and partially straightens, looking at the contents of KC’s arms. “Hello, Sir George.”

“Is it okay they’re here?” Tim asks. “They’re my boys, Sanchez. I had to bring them with us.”

“Yes, yes, they are welcome here as well.”

“And Benny?” KC queries.

“Benny?” Sanchez peers up at her, puzzling.

KC hands George to Tim, steps up into the bus, and returns holding up a pet carrier. “Sanchez meet Benny.”

Sanchez peeks through the wire door at the turtle. “Hello, Sir Benny. You too are welcome here, sir.” KC smiles and lowers the carrier.

Sanchez straightens fully, and then something else captures his eye. “My… my… now that is a sweet HOG,” gazing down at the Harley. Tim beams and sneers over at KC, she makes a face. This is all lost on the compliment-giving admirer of the motorcycle; his eyes fixed on the impressive machinery. “Kevan is an old friend we have been missing like mad, man,” abruptly looking up at the three. “You are his friends. You are our friends. Come on!” With that, he quickly turns and takes off for the curious looking domicile. “Come on in!” waving them onward.

The four follow Sanchez inside. One step in by each new visitor is an instant entrance into the past: Memorabilia from ‘’The Mother Road’ license plates, rock/folk/blues, sports heroes, anything and anyone who made theirs and its mark upon the era are strategically placed on the walls, ceiling, and even the wood floor. It is a pristine shrine to days gone by with style that will surely not come around the second time. While the three newcomers are ogling in wonderment at the memory-evoking nostalgic details of the old, yet well-preserved, structure, Sanchez directs them to the long ornate mahogany bar, sitting them down and pulling out cold, bottled beers from a cooler below; opening and placing one in front of each.

After taking a drink of hers, KC asks, “Aren’t you having one, Sanchez?”

He shakes his head. “I like my sweet tea,” smiling, holding up a tall light-green Tupperware glass. He and Quinn make eye contact. The quiet musician smiles.

“Where exactly are we?” Paul asks, gazing around and taking a drink.

“Well, people around here call this Party Cove Bay,” Sanchez lovingly wipes the vintage wood in front of them.

Tim, peering around in awe, “This was a bar, right?”

Sanchez chuckles. “Yes. My grandparents’ place. Pops built it in the forties after returning from WWII. He and my Grams had a pretty hopping place here. And it stayed that way for almost twenty years. I was in Korea and went back for ’Nam. Once I returned… well, it seemed the life had gone out of the party… pretty much for everything in the country...” his elbow on the bar, looking down in thought. The others switch from staring around in amazement to peering down at the sweat beads growing on the beers atop the shiny, bar. “Well! That is enough of that!” Sanchez belts; snapping the four from their sudden lamentations. “You never told me what you are doing here, Kevan.”

Quinn looks up at him in surprise; as do the others, turning to Quiet Quinn for his response. He glances at them and back at Sanchez waiting for his answer. “Road trip.”

“Road trip?” not buying it, Sanchez stares at him for more. He looks to Quinn’s left at the row of three, perched on the barstools like birds on a wire.

“Road trip, yeah,” Tim pipes in. “We all felt a need to get away… to catch some sights. It was just lucky each of us had some vacation time so we could get away from our jobs.”

Sanchez eyes Tim and slowly inspects the others; his mouth slightly askew. “Okay. You’re on a road trip,” wiping droplets of bottle sweat off the bar. “Are you staying long in these parts?”

“Possibly,” Tim replies. “Depends on what we find around here to see.”

“And how much time do you have off for your... vacations?”

Tim, Paul, and KC answer together: “Two weeks.” “One week.” “Three weeks.”

Sanchez stops with his wiping and looks at the three—resembling kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “That kind of puts a crimp in how far your destination and sightseeing can go, does it not?” He peers over at Quinn. Quinn’s watching him the whole time. “What gives, brother?”

The quiet musician picks up his beer and takes a drink, sets it back down, his hand on the bottle, staring at it. “Penny was Paul’s twin sister.”

Sanchez was staring intensely at him; then his eyes widen. “Ohhh…” he glances at the three staring at him and back at Quinn. Pointing at them with the hand holding the balled-up rag, “Now… which of these is Paul again? I know it is not the pretty little thing here.” KC smiles approvingly. Paul timidly lifts his right index finger in the air. “Oh. Okay,” biting his bottom lip, brow furrowed, thinking, “am I correct in assuming you are all here to find out what happened to Penny?”

“Yes,” the three answers in unison.

“Okay. Well, why did you not say that?”

No one answers. Sanchez keeps looking back and forth at them, puzzling.

Quinn takes another drink. “Probably because they don’t know you.”

“Yes… yes… I can understand that.”

“No offense,” Tim quickly adds.

“No, none was taken. I might have done the same myself.” Sanchez looks solemnly at Paul. “I am sorry about your sister. I hope you find all the answers you are seeking.”

Paul smiles faintly, “Thank you,” nodding.

“How far are we from the ranch?” KC asks.

Sanchez looks over at her, pressing his lips together. “About twenty miles as the crow flies. Thirty if he is walking it. We are about five miles or so south of Mannford.”

“Is Terlton a big place?”

Sanchez chuckles. “Darling, there are barely a hundred people there on a big day.”

Quinn sets his beer down following another drink. “I had in mind to stage from here, brother. Tim and KC are going over to the ranch to see about getting jobs. Paul and I will stay here on my bus. If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure it is, brother.” Sanchez looks at Tim and then KC. “You might want to show up separately over there—at least with another vehicle… if you are planning on riding your HOG over there, you are going to want more transportation.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tim looks at KC.

“Where would we find one to buy around here, Sanchez?” she wonders, wiping her mouth after a drink.

“I can find you something. Are you two going as a couple?” The two glances to their sides at one another. “I am only saying it might be a good idea. It might appear a little odd two people show up separately looking for a job out of the blue. That is unless you already are a couple. I am guessing you are not.” They exchange glances once more.

“We were. I got tired of his sorry tail.”

Tim squints and nods at Sanchez. “It was mutual.” KC hits him in his right arm, and he flinches. “She beat me regularly. I just couldn’t take anymore.”

Sanchez laughs. “She does appear a handful, brother.”

An extraordinarily beautiful young woman with long, flowing dark hair comes into view from a doorway to their right, directly behind their host. “I thought you were going to cook?”

He turns in surprise at her voice. “Come here, Sassy. I want you to meet some folks.”

The beauty hesitantly walks over to Sanchez while eyeing them. He puts his big arm around her shoulder.

“Is this your wife?” Tim asks.

Sanchez chuckles. “No. This is my daughter, Sassy. She is home from school, over at OSU, for the weekend. She does not have classes tomorrow, and I told her if she came back to visit her old man, I would put on a big feast for her.”

“And he didn’t,” frowning, playfully popping him in the chest.

“See? I know what it feels like, brother,” Sanchez says with a laugh, looking at Tim.

Quinn points in astonishment, “This is little Sassy?”

“Yes. My baby girl grew up beautiful. Did she not?”

“She always was,” Quinn looks back down at his beer, slightly shaken, eyes big. “I must’ve been gone a long time.”

“Ten years, brother. My Sassy is now twenty.” Quinn shakes his head at the thought of it, trying to take it in. “Baby,” Sanchez, looking at Sassy, “do you remember Kevan?”

The young woman stares at the lanky hippy down at the far end, suddenly appearing as if a curtain had been opened. “Yes. I remember him,” frowning. “He didn’t have as much hair then. He’s a lot skinnier, too.” Everyone laughs, and Quinn’s embarrassed.

“At least you didn’t say I look like an old man.”

“No, you don’t. A little older... but not much.” Quinn smiles pleasingly.

“So, what’re you taking?” KC asks, “at school.”

“Veterinary.”

“Yes, my baby is going to be a veterinarian!” Sanchez proudly announces.

“That’s great,” KC smiles.

“KC is a marine biologist,” Tim offers, lifting his beer, wanting to do his own bragging.

“Oh?” Sassy gazes curiously. “That’s cool! I would like to talk to you about it some if I can. Are you going to be here for a while?”

Sanchez is impressed himself by KC’s profession; pressing his lips together, nodding. “Yes, baby, they are staying for a while. And that would be great for you to talk to somebody who knows what you are talking about. Lord knows you lose me enough.” He chuckles. “Listen,” giving his daughter a gentle, playful shake, “I need to get that grill started. Did your brother bring the pecan wood for me?” Sassy nods. “Good,” Sanchez turns to the others at the bar across from them, “Grab your beers and follow me while I get it started.” The four begin following Sanchez and Sassy.

Curiosity gets the better of KC, frowning as she climbs off her barstool. “Girl, how’d you get a name like Sassy?”

Sanchez laughs. “Sassy is a nickname for Safire. When she was little, we called her Saffy for short. But, she could not say Saffy. It came out as Sassy... so it stuck.” He looks ahead of him at his daughter as the other four files in behind him. “Besides, it is pretty fitting... she is pretty sassy! Hahaha!” Sassy turns, popping him in the chest once more, Sanchez flinches, laughing louder.

Tim and KC take their four-leggeders out to the spacious manicured area behind the house to stretch their legs. They feed and water them; getting them settled.

Night begins falling. Several beers are consumed, and the scent of burgers is in the air as they pile up on the large platter chef Sanchez has next to his grill. The four are in chairs directly to his left, drinking their libations and enjoying not being on the road; just sitting and taking in the warm September evening. Harry is at KC’s feet, and George is on Tim’s lap. Benny is in his carrier behind KC, alongside the exterior wall of the house.

During this time people mill in at different intervals, introducing themselves to the four travelers and taking what quickly appears to be their usual spots on the large backyard deck and around the spacious landscape. Due to it, Sanchez keeps grilling and his son Hawk keeps prepping hamburger patties for his dad.

Tim, scanning the slow, consistent growth to the numbers queries, “Is this a usual occurrence, Sanchez? People dropping by like this?”

Sanchez grins wide. “Oh yes. You see, even though the bar has not been open for a good many years, people still come here. They pay for the cost of the food they eat, the beers they drink, and we have a good time. We are like a big family. We take care of one another. You know?” looking around, smiling; spatula in hand, turning back to them, “this is a place people can come after a hard week, be with friends, eat good food and drink some beers, hear good tunes and share some laughs. We do not generally have a large number on weeknights. But this is a special one. My baby girl coming home from school, you know.”

Tim, KC, and Paul gaze around in wonder at the twenty or more talking, laughing, sharing time with old friends as more consistently arrive one, two at a time. Quinn’s not amazed by the sight, having been one himself in the prior decade. Tim and KC are enjoying the atmosphere; noting to one another it bests any get-together at their apartment complex back home.

The scent of marijuana wafts their way, carried by a gentle breeze, mingling with the deliciousness emitting from the grill.

Tim peers up at Sanchez, “The local cops don’t give you any trouble?”

Sanchez looks over at him, briefly staring to find his meaning. Sudden awareness sets in and he glances at the others, chuckling. “No brother. They know we keep to ourselves and hold the peace. Besides, they also know where everyone is. And, anyone else doing bad stuff is somewhere else. They say it makes their job easier.”

“That makes sense,” KC, taking a drink of her beer, looking at Tim, then at Paul and around the crowd.

“Do you imbibe?” Sanchez asks, looking at Tim from his grill.

“Me?” Tim gives it brief thought and presses his lips together, wrinkling his nose, and lightly shaking his head. “Mnah… I just drink these,” holding up his bottle.

Sanchez looks at KC. “Same here,” she answers.

He smiles and then nods. “That is cool, that is cool.”

Tim motions to his left with his thumb at Paul on the other side of KC. “Paul here’s recently taken it up with Quinn, though.”

Sanchez, Tim, and KC look over at Paul, now embarrassed.

Sanchez smiles and raises his fist in the air, “right on, Paul.” The small man gives an uneasy smile and nods back, looking hard at his two friends smiling at him.

“Do you?” KC asks, looking at Sanchez.

“No, KC, I do not,” shaking his head, smiling. “I used to. But, I no longer do.”

“It’s pretty secluded back here,” Tim notes. “I don’t think I would’ve ever found this place if I wasn’t following someone in.”

“Yes. We all like it that way. Back here… you do not get found unless you want to be found.” Tim thinks on Sanchez’ words as the man smiles at him; they share a momentary gaze.

A little time passes when Sassy walks up to Sanchez at the grill. “Dad, do we have more pop?” holding up a can of cola. “There are only a couple more in the cooler.”

“Yes, honey. Hawk brought in six more cases this evening. I will ask him to put more into the cooler.” She hugs her father’s back, stands on her tiptoes and kisses the side of his face; Sanchez leans back to receive her loving action. “How about you go and talk with Kevan? He appears bummed. It would not hurt to include Paul. You know?” She peers over at the two sitting quietly down from the others.

“Yeah. I see what you mean. I’ll go talk to them.”

“Good girl.” The proud father watches his daughter ease over in the men’s direction, speaks and points to the long log bench on the far end of the deck. As she moves toward it, the two look at each other, rise and follow; sitting down at their pre-designated spots.

Sanchez still watching; looks to his left at Tim and KC observing too. “It truly tore my baby up when Penny died. They were so close. Sassy was only ten… but, after losing her mama the year before to cancer… Penny was a God-send to help her hurting little heart. Penny helped my boy Hawk too. Though he was only seven, he was lost just as badly… just as badly as me…” a single tear falls fast from his left eye; another rolls slowly down his cheek. He sniffles and reaches up with his left hand, wiping it away. Witnessing this, KC and Tim feel their eyes begin welling. The two sneak a glimpse at one another and back at Sanchez. He quickly looks their way and then down at the grill; smiling and sputtering. “You must think me a baby.”

“You’re a good man, Sanchez,” KC affirms.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “a good friend too.”

“Aw…” embarrassed, flipping a patty each onto two plates with toasted buns, handing them to KC and Tim. “Get over to that table for your fixings,” motioning with his head, “there is lettuce, tomatoes, onions, mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup and whatever else your little heart’s desire. Georgia has some fries over there if you are of a mind for them,” back at his grill, “Or there are potato chips,” placing patties onto three more plates. Walking past them, he adds, “There is plenty more if you can hold it.”

“Thank you,” they answer together.

Tim places George in a chair next to his and instructs Harry to stay. The two goes to dress their burgers and fill their plates. Finishing up, they cross paths with Sassy leading Paul and Quinn to do the same with their plates. KC and Tim grab another beer from the ice chest next to the table, go back and sit down, and commence eating.

One bite into his burger Tim’s eyes widen. “Now that is a good burger!”

Sanchez looks over and grins. “I thought you might like that. Harold and Robin over there raise their own beef. They keep our freezer stocked.”

“They do an excellent job at it!” Tim exclaims between bites, looking to his left at KC and jabbing her with his elbow. She confirms with nods while chewing. “You don’t do too shabby cooking it either, Sanchez. Man, that’s good!”

Sanchez laughs big. “Happy to see you enjoying it.” Someone out in a group of people off the deck catches his eye. “Excuse me.” Sanchez sets out in that direction, speaks briefly with a man, and brings him over. “KC this is Tom. I just remembered he has a vehicle he wants to sell. I think it would be perfect for you.”

KC wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Hi, Tom. What’cha got?”

“H-hi,” shyly, “I’ve, uh, I’ve got an ol’ ’72 Chevy… short bed… I lifted it up. Runs real good. Don’t really wanna sell it, but my sister’s havin’ a baby and her husband got hurt on an oil rig last week. I just need to help ‘em out.”

Looking up at him, “That’s sweet of you, Tom,” running her tongue across her front teeth for clearance. “Okay, when can I see it?”

“S-sure,” Tom’s eyes stay on KC while he points behind her, “it’s just out front here. You can look at it anytime you want.”

KC pops Tim on his arm. “C’mon,” standing. Tom instantly appears disappointed.

Tim looks up at her, frowning. “I’m still eating, K.”

“So. Bring it with you, princess. I’m takin’ mine. C’mon.” Tim scoffs, disgusted. Tom suddenly doesn’t appear as disappointed. Tim grabs his beer, plate in his other hand, stands and follows them out; instructing his boys to stay put. They are back before Tim finishes his food.

“Well?” Sanchez asks.

“Got me a truck. Nice one too,” KC sticks her hand out to Tom, and he takes it, smiling. “You write down all the info on your bank, and I’ll have a wire sent tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, ma’am.”

“No ma’am, hon. Just KC.”

Tom smiles, looking directly into her eyes, and nods. “KC. It’s nice to meet you, KC.”

“It’s nice meeting you, Tom,” smiling sweetly. Tim sees it, making no acknowledgment of it. Tom walks back down to the group of friends he was with; periodically looking up at her shyly.

Sanchez grins. “Looks like you have an admirer to go with it, little sister.”

Looking back in Tom’s direction, KC thinks about it. “Huh… kinda cute too,” taking the last drink from her bottle and standing. She looks down at Tim. “Wanna ‘nother beer?” He nods.

The get-together goes on for a couple more hours, nearing ten o’clock when the bulk of the people begin leaving; those who did not already earlier depart. Sanchez instructs Quinn to park his bus in the tree line out back of his place. He offers each of the four a place inside to sleep, knowing full well Quinn would not take him up on it, preferring the comfort and familiarity of his bus. It is such a beautiful night the other three choose sleeping out under the star-filled sky to enjoy it. Hours upon hours on the road have them out in no time.

Next Chapter: Chapter Seven