The Silver Star by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781441270450
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2006-02-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jolie Fails the Test

“Hey, Pete! I think I’ll run down to the store and get us some red soda pops,” Easy said.

Peter Winslow was stretched full-length under a graciously curving palm tree, his hat pulled down over his face. The July sun had baked him a golden brown, and sweat stained the faded cotton shirt that he wore open to the waist to catch the breeze. Thumbing his bill cap back, he cracked one eye open and muttered, “Get a quarter’s worth of bologna and a box of soda crackers—and get some cheese, too.”

“Right.”

As Easy sauntered away, Peter turned his head lazily and viewed the car, thinking how much of his hard work and sweat had gone into its creation. “You’ve got more different breeds of car in you than a yard dog has ancestors,” he muttered. He and Easy had robbed parts from every conceivable make and model of automobile so that the original ancestry of the vehicle was impossible to determine. Now as it sat there gleaming, its fire-engine red radiating a color that almost hurt the eyes, the racing car looked fast even standing still—at least to Peter. He eyed the machine with satisfaction. “Wish we could’ve found a redder paint. It just doesn’t stand out enough as it is.”

“Doesn’t stand out enough?”

Peter, startled by the sound of another voice so nearby, sat bolt upright. Jolie had silently walked up and was looking down on him. “If it got any redder, it’d look like it was straight out of the infernal pit.” She smiled, her eyes laughing at his expression. “What’s the matter? You got a guilty conscience? I never saw a man jump up so quick.”

Peter’s hand shot out and grabbed Jolie’s ankles, and as she uttered a muffled scream, he jerked her so that she sat down abruptly on the sandy earth. “Learn to be respectful of your elders!” he said, hanging on to her ankle firmly as she squirmed.

Kicking at him with her free foot, Jolie cried furiously, “Let me go!”

Peter kept his hand clamped down on the slender ankle, a wide grin spreading across his lips. Just then her lightweight cotton skirt started to fly up as a breeze gusted, and he reached out with his free hand and pulled it down. “You ought to be more modest, Jolie. What would Brother Winslow think?”

Jolie managed to kick free and gathered her skirt as she stood up, her face flaming. “You’re a beast!” she announced, her lip pouted in a rather attractive fashion. “You have no manners! You’re . . . you’re uncouth!”

“Uncouth? You’ve been reading the dictionary again, Jolie,” Peter teased.

“Never mind if I have! You are uncouth!”

“I’m as couth as you are. Now, if you’ll sit down here, I’ll explain how I’m going to win the great race down in San Diego.”

Almost instantly Jolie forgot her irritation. She sat down cautiously beside Peter, her eyes wary. “You keep your big meat hooks off me!” she said. “What about this race? When are you leaving?”

“It’s the July the Fourth Race.

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