Snowbound Weekend & Gambler's Love Read online

  "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!" The contrite exclamation came from directly behind Jen.

  An understanding smile curving her generous mouth, Jen twisted around in the high-backed seat.

  "That's okay, no harm done," she assured the worried-faced girl leaning forward in her seat. About Jen's age, the girl was small and cute. The smile that replaced her concerned expression was singularly sweet. Bright blue eyes studied Jen a moment, lingering on her hair.

  "Are you Chris Angstadt's friend Jen?" she asked in a surprised tone.

  "Yes, I am." Jen's smile widened. "How did you know?"

  "Oh, Chris has mentioned you a couple of times," she said, grinning. "And she has described your hair." The grin broadened. "It's pretty hard to miss. But where's Chris?" Her grin was replaced by a frown. "If she doesn't get here soon, the bus will go without her."

  "She can't go," Jen sighed, then explained why.

  "That's too bad. I know how excited she was about this trip." The girl shook her head, then added, "Oh, that means you're on your own." At Jen's nod she offered, "If you like, you can kinda hang around with us. I'm Lisa Banks, and this is Terry Gardner." With a wave of her hand she indicated the young woman in the seat beside her. "We work in the same department Chris does."

  "Hi," Jen said, returning Terry's smile. "And thanks. You're sure I won't be intruding?"

  "Of course not," Lisa laughed. "But Terry and I do have an agreement not to cramp each other's style if something interesting turns up."

  "Something male, you mean?" Jen teased: She laughed softly as both girls nodded emphatically. "I'll go along with that agreement."

  "That is if we ever get there," Terry grumbled. "What the heck are we sitting here for?"

  Wondering the same thing, Jen turned to the front of the bus. At that moment Liz jumped up onto the high step. Shrugging disgustedly to the driver, she said tersely, "Go."

  The door was closed, the air brakes were released, and the big vehicle began moving slowly across the parking lot. Before Liz could seat herself, her name was called from a half dozen voices back through the bus. As one of the voices belonged to Terry, Jen turned questioning eyes to her.

  "Liz is the head of the committee that arranges these tours," Terry answered Jen's unasked query. "And I'll bet everyone wants to ask her the same thing: exactly what was the holdup?"

  Liz made her way slowly down the aisle, stopping every so often to speak briefly before moving on again. When she reached the empty seat beside Jen she smiled ruefully and launched into an explanation.

  "Sorry about the delay." Her sweeping glance included everyone on both sides of the aisle. "I was waiting for two people." She shrugged. "I don't know if they overslept or what, but we just couldn't wait any longer." She started to move on, then paused. "Oh, by the way, the rain has changed to snow. And the bus driver told me the last weather report before he left the terminal called for snow all along the East Coast today."

  All eyes, including Jen's, swung to the windows, but the darkness outside, combined with the tinted glass, made it impossible to see the fine snow.

  "Well, if it's snowing out there," Lisa muttered, "it must be very fine. I'm darned if I can see it."

  Fleetingly, Jen thought of her father's conviction that the bad snowstorms always start fine. Oh, well, she thought, and smiled at her reflection in the window, where we're going snow is devoutly to be wished for.

  After turning onto the highway, the bus picked up speed, Depressing the button on the underside of her right armrest, Jen tilted her seat back, shifting into a reasonably comfortable position. The excited buzz of conversation swirled around her for several miles, then petered out. Lulled by the steady hum of the engine and the now low murmurings of the other passengers, Jen's eyes slowly closed.

  A sudden jolting of the bus waked her. Sitting up stiffly, Jen gazed out the window at the gray morning. The snow could be seen now, still fine but falling steadily.

  "Well, good morning, glory," Lisa chirped directly behind her. "I was going to give you a few more minutes and then wake you. We'll be stopping for breakfast soon."

  "Mmmm—sounds good." Jen covered a yawn and glanced at her watch. "Good grief, I slept over an hour!"

  "I think most everyone on the bus did," Terry informed her cheerfully. "They're just starting to come alive now."

  "Probably hungry," Jen commented, sitting up straight to ease her cramped back.

  Smoothing her tousled hair, she peered out the window. The highway, though wet and slick-looking, as yet had very little accumulation of snow. As she studied the road, a gold Formula drew alongside the bus. The rack mounted on the roof of the sporty-looking car held one pair of skis.

  Someone else going skiing, Jen thought idly, staring into the interior of the car. The passenger seat was empty, and all she could see of the driver was part of one pants-covered leg and one hand on the steering wheel. Oddly, the sight of that hand sent a funny tingle through Jen's middle. In the few seconds the car paced the bus, the look of that right hand was imprinted on her mind. It was a big hand, the back of it broad, and somehow Jen knew the fingers that curved firmly, confidently around the wheel were strong. Yet the exposed wrist was very narrow, deceptively delicate-looking. For one uncanny instant Jen thought she could actually feel the touch of that hand. She shivered as the car moved ahead, passing the bus.

  Chiding herself for being fanciful, Jen pushed the image of that male hand from her mind. Liz's voice, heard clearly over the loudspeaker, helped to dispell the picture.

  "Listen up, people," she quipped. "We'll be stopping for breakfast in a few minutes. I'd like to keep our stopping time to an hour or less, so please don't dawdle over your food."

  While she was speaking, the bus driver drove off the highway into the parking area of a fairly large restaurant.

  "Don't let the number of cars here upset you. We are expected, and everything should be set up for us. Please sign the check the waitress gives you and hand it to me before coming back to the bus. Thank you and enjoy your meal." With those final words Liz clicked the mike off and sat down.

  Glancing out the window as the driver maneuvered the bus around the fringes of the lot, Jen caught sight of the ski-topped gold Formula parked near the front of the building. A picture of a hand flashed into her mind. Dismissing the tingle that came with the image, Jen smiled to herself. Maybe now I'll be able to attach a body and face to the hand, she reasoned in amusement.

  On entering the restaurant, she was quickly disabused of that idea. The place was full, and the majority of the customers were men. Unless she could go from man to man examining right hands, Jen thought whimsically, she didn't have the slimmest chance of adding a body to that narrow-wristed appendage.

  True to Liz's words, the restaurant's staff was expecting them, and they were swiftly herded into an empty dining room in the rear of the building. By the time Jen emerged from the building fifty minutes later, the Formula was gone, as she had been sure it would be.

  On the move once more, Jen settled into her seat for the long ride ahead. Mesmerized by the now large white crystals swirling in a downward slant, Jen stared out the window. The farther north they went, the heavier the snow fell, in spots so thickly she could barely see the countryside.

  A chorus of "Jingle Bells" rang out from the very back of the bus, and within seconds everyone had joined in. Everyone except the driver, whose eyes studied the highway carefully, a small frown beginning to draw his brows together.

  They had sung their way robustly through "Winter Wonderland,"

  "Let It Snow, Let It Snow," and even back to "Jingle Bells" when the first blast from the suddenly risen wind hit the bus broadside. Silence fell as a shudder rippled through the large vehicle.

  "I hope she stays afloat."

  The quip, from a deliberately dry male voice, produced the results intended. Female giggles and male laughter eased the tension that had blanketed the atmosphere. The second windy broadside was not as strong and so was met w
ith complacency.

  Jen's eyes had flown to the window at the first shock from the wind, widening in disbelief at the absolutely white world they encountered. Not only could she not see the countryside beyond the highway, she could not see the highway. Driven before the wind, the madly swirling snow, now falling heavily, had closed in on the bus, cutting visibility to zilch.

  Growing uneasy, Jen kept her eyes fastened on the window even though she couldn't see much of anything. Where exactly are we? Biting her lip, Jen strained her eyes in an effort to see the surrounding terrain. She knew they were in New York State as she had seen the sign some distance back when they had crossed the line dividing New York and Pennsylvania. A third shudder shook the bus, and Jen's hands closed tightly on the armrests of her seat.

  "This is beginning to give me the creeps," Lisa quavered behind Jen. "I know we're in some mountain range, and the last time I could see the road it appeared very narrow."

  "If you're trying to scare me," Terry squeaked, "you're succeeding very well."

  Jen was mentally agreeing when the bus swayed, the back end fishtailing as it was buffeted by a fresh assault from the wind. All conversation ceased abruptly, and Jen felt a shiver feather her spine at the frightened stillness. That the bus was obviously moving very slowly up an incline added to the apprehension growing among the passengers.

  A collective sigh of relief was expelled as the bus reached the summit and leveled off. But the sigh was followed by another collective gasp as it started its descent down the other side.

  "Oh, God!"

  The softly exclaimed moan came from a woman toward the front of the bus. A moment later Liz's voice, her tone even and steady, came from the loudspeaker.

  "Please remain calm. Our driver—whose name is Ted, by the way—has enough to contend with just keeping this bus on the road. As you can see, we're in the middle of a full-scale blizzard. Driving conditions are getting worse all the time. What we don't want here is panic. From my vantage point up here I can honestly tell you that Ted is doing one fantastic job of driving. You can all help him by staying calm. Now, are there any questions?"

  There were a dozen questions, all babbled at once. The mike came back on with an angry click.

  "One at a time, please," Liz snapped. "We'll have to use the schoolroom method of raised hands."

  Over a dozen arms shot into the air; the question and answer period commenced.

  "Are we going to have to turn back?" This from one of the men who'd stood in front of Jen in line.

  Liz had a hurried, murmured conversation with the driver before answering.

  "There is no decision on that yet." Liz held up her hand to stem the tide of comments that followed her statement.

  "Here's the picture," she said sharply, effectively cutting through the rumble. "We've been in the thick of this storm for over two hours. The big question is: Which way is this hummer moving? If we keep going, can we drive out of it? If we turn back, can we drive out of it? We simply don't know the answer. Ted's going to pull into the first service station we come to and try and find out. Until then, we keep going."

  While Liz had been speaking, the bus had inched down the descent and was now on a level road. There was quiet for several minutes. Then, from behind Jen, Terry asked, "Does it look as bad through the windshield as it does from these side windows?"

  Every person on the bus heard Liz sigh.

  "I won't try and con you," she said quietly. "It is grim. I don't know if anyone could see them, but we've already passed several cars that had pulled off the highway. Ted has a slight advantage in both the size of the bus and his elevated position."

  The mike clicked off, and she leaned close to the driver. After long, tense moments the bus lurched off the highway to the tune of one sharp outcry and several gasps.

  "Hold the phone, gang," Liz soothed. "We're pulling into a gas station."

  The minute the bus came to a halt the driver was out of his seat and through the door. At his exit the bus filled with sound. Everyone seemed to be talking at once.

  Jen, sitting rigidly straight, peered wide-eyed out the window. She could see very little, but what she did see sent a shiver down her back. There were two cars parked haphazardly very near the bus, and she wondered in amazement how Ted had managed to avoid plowing into them as they were both nearly covered with drifted snow. The snow still fell heavily, spiraling in a wild and crazy dance before the wind.

  "Scary, isn't it?" The frightened whisper came from Lisa.

  Twisting around, Jen looked into the girl's pale face, knowing her own cheeks were as devoid of color.

  "Yes," she murmured on an expelled breath.

  Their driver was gone about ten minutes. On his return a waiting hush filled the bus. After a short conference with Liz, he took the mike from her and clicked it on.

  "Okay, folks, here's the story." His brisk, confident tone went a long way in easing the almost tangible tension. "We are in a beauty. If you remember, Liz told you before we left Norristown that the report was for snow, but nothing like this. This storm ripped out of Canada and caught everyone with their pants down, so to speak."

  A nervous twitter rippled through the bus.

  "I think we should turn back," the woman across the aisle from Jen said loudly, nervously.

  "We are not going to run out of it," Ted stated flatly. "At last report, this storm is dumping snow on the East Coast as far south as Virginia. Right now, apparently, the center of the storm is stalled over New York and Pennsylvania. The station owner has a C.B., and he just told me he's been picking up reports of stranded motorists both ahead and behind us. There are, in fact, three cars stranded here now."

  "We're surely not going to stay here?" the same woman shrilled.

  "No, we're not," Ted answered quietly.

  Watching him closely, Jen decided she liked the driver's style. A man in his early forties, he had a tested, competent look that was reassuring. Still speaking quietly, he ignored the outburst that followed his last words and went on.

  "The station owner said there is a motel fifteen to eighteen miles further along this road." Ted paused for breath, his face settling into a determined mask. "I'm going for it."

  CHAPTER 2

  Over an hour later, the large bus hardly seeming to move as it crawled along at a snail's pace, Jen observed the very stillness of her fellow passengers and smiled around the apprehension gripping her own throat. The nail-biting quiet had settled on the group when the bus had begun its slow crawl forward.

  What amused Jen was the contrast between this very stillness and the furor that had erupted on Ted's stated "I'm going for it."

  Those four small words had sparked off pandemonium, albeit a very short-lived pandemonium.

  "I think we should stay here," the woman across the aisle from Jen shouted, conveniently forgetting she had moments before protested that very idea. A chorus of agreement followed the woman's agitated shout.

  "I want to go home." This teary wail, which came from a young woman near the front, received a look of scorn from Ted. Yet, illogically, a chorus of agreement, mostly female, also followed that statement.

  "Dammit, man," an angry male voice rose above the other voices, "you just finished saying there were motorists stranded all over these roads. Why take a chance on becoming one of them? I think the lady's right. We'd be safer staying right here."

  Just about everyone on the bus joined in vocal agreement with that advice. Everyone, that is, except Jen, who sat in mute fascination watching Ted's face harden.

  "I am responsible for this bus and everyone on it." Ted's cold tone, amplified by the loudspeaker, silenced the uproar. "The decision is mine and I've made it." An angry murmur rumbled through the bus, cut short by Ted's next words. "Now, if you'll be quiet, I'll explain why I made it."

  Her respect for the man growing, Jen's eyes shifted to study the sullen but now quiet passengers. When her eyes swung back to the driver she had to gulp back a surprised "Oh." Unless s
he was seeing things, Ted had winked at her!

  "Thank you," he drawled when the last mutter had died out. "The reason I'm going to try to reach that motel is for your safety and comfort. I've been in storms like this before. No one can ever predict their duration or severity. We could be held up for as little as one day. Or we could be stranded for as long as one week. Think about it."

  As he paused to let his words register, Jen watched the faces of the people nearest to her change from indignation to fearful astonishment. She could almost hear the same words ringing in their minds that were echoing in hers. One week!

  "Now"—Ted's calm voice drew their complete attention—"the reason I think I can make it is the obvious one, and that is simply the very size of this vehicle. This sucker can plow through much deeper snow than a car can. Also, as it carries a hell of a lot more fuel, I can take it slow without the fear of running out of gas. It may get a little hairy," he warned softly, then underlined firmly, "but I'll make it. No more questions. No more protests. I want it quiet as a church in here. We're moving."

  With that he had clicked off the mike, slid into his seat, and after flexing his shoulders, move they did, very slowly, very carefully—forward.

  Now, over a tension-filled, tautly quiet hour and a half later, the bus was still moving. They had had a few hairy moments. The worst was when a strong gust of wind had caught the back end of the bus, sweeping it off the highway. Moans of fright and several screams had accompanied the bus's rocking swing. Thankfully Ted's cool actions and quick reflexes had brought the lumbering vehicle back under control and back onto the highway. At least what was assumed to be the highway by the occasional sign sticking up out of the deep snow that they passed.

  Nervous perspiration beading her forehead, Jen, as frightened as everyone else, bit her lip against the demoralizing sounds of soft weeping that began suddenly with one woman and spread rapidly to others, including Lisa and Terry behind her. Nails digging into her palm, she hung onto her composure by hanging on to her faith in Ted.

  Although there wasn't the slightest resemblance, he reminded Jen of her father. Like her father, Ted's quiet self-confidence instilled trust. Ralph Lengle was a taciturn, unassuming man who went about the business of getting a job done with tenacity. As she had inherited a strong streak of tenacity herself, Jen could recognize it in others. Ted had it.