Death in Trout Fork by D. M. O'Byrne

Author:D. M. O'Byrne [O'Byrne, D. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Opal Books

***

The café was busy enough through breakfast to keep me from dwelling on Garrett, and I did my best to avoid looking in his direction. When I did finally steal a glance at his table, he was gone. Ashley had been giving me inquiring looks which I studiously ignored. At around midmorning, I told Alma I was taking a break.

“Take off ’til noon,” she said. “Ashley and I can handle it.”

Grateful for the chance to clear my head, I strolled along the boardwalk, hoping the cool morning air would help clear the jumble of thoughts plaguing me. I sat on the bench in front of Gil’s and leaned back, allowing the sun to warm my face. I watched Duane tinkering with his machine in the grassy area he and his friends were calling their temporary home. He saw me and waved, that ever-present expression of peace on his face. If there was ever a time I needed a little peace, this was it. I got up and headed toward him. He stood up as I approached, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Having a problem with your bike?”

“No. Just giving it a little tune-up.” He turned the ignition switch, and the bike hummed to life.

I ran my hand along the black leather seats, the one in the back the higher of the two. I had seen so many women perched up on those seats riding behind their men. What must that be like? Cruising along in the open air, nothing between them and the sky. The sensation of freedom must be amazing.

“Ever ridden one of these?” Duane asked.

“No. Never.”

He must have sensed the regret in my voice because he straddled the bike and said, “It’s time you did. Hop on.” He handed me a helmet.

I didn’t need urging. I pulled the helmet over my head and settled myself onto the seat behind him.

He put the bike in gear and slowly guided it through the parking lot. Once on the road, the bike accelerated smoothly. The trees flashed by, the wind whipping my shirt and jeans. The feeling of freedom was overwhelming and thrilling. My only regret was that the helmet prevented me from feeling the wind in my hair.

Duane maneuvered the bike expertly, leaning it over as we moved through the twists and bends in the road. The sensation of falling over was unnerving at first, causing me to grab Duane to hold on, but leaning into the turns with the bike soon became second nature, and I let go and relaxed, propped comfortably against the leather backrest.

We wheeled north along the same road I had driven on my way into Trout Creek, but this time it was as though I wasn’t merely seeing the scenery. I was part of it. The sensation was amazing, and I understood the attraction of the bikers’ lifestyle and why men, and women like Heather, were drawn to it.

After about an hour, we returned to Trout Fork and pulled into the lot. We dismounted, and I handed him the helmet.

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