Wind in the Wires by Janet Chester Bly

Author:Janet Chester Bly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 1991, idaho, western romance, family history, cowgirls, contemporary christian fiction, western mystery, road adventure, ford model t, goldfield nevada
Publisher: Bly Books

Chapter Eleven

Seth drove out on the highway behind a huge logging truck piled with forty-foot poles. Debris blew all over them and the road. Ginny began sneezing. She shut her window tight and Reba turned off the air vent.

The trucks crept ahead of them as the road ascended to the top of the White Bird Grade. The Model T in Ruckstell high and with added Z head horsepower maintained about twenty-five mph. At the top they reached 4,245-foot elevation. Plenty of turnouts and truck ramps lined the highway with forest on both sides and high rock cliffs.

Reba and Ginny along with the Nez Perce family in their pickup turned left across the highway to accompany the Model T along the Old Grade road with lesser decline. Jace and the others headed down the steep highway and agreed to meet them in the town of White Bird at the city park.

A sign stated: White Bird Battlefield 7.5 miles. After a quarter mile trek, Seth stopped the Model T. He got out and began to pick up fallen rocks in the road. Reba, Elliot and Tucker jumped out and braced against the wind to help him. They journeyed on with steep drop-offs to the left of them. Yellow, white, and purple wildflowers seemed to grow out of the rock to their right. No Trespassing signs marked barbed wire and broken down fencing.

When the cliff hanging drop-offs alternated to the right side, Ginny shut her eyes and began to whimper. “Why didn’t you warn me, buddy?”

“Stay low. Hold tight. This too will pass.”

“Just hold on to that steering wheel and stop talking.”

Around the bend and past the deepest drop-offs, a red motorcycle and rider had stopped along the roadside. As the rigs passed, he pulled in behind them.

Ginny tried to read the graffiti on the guardrails around the curves. “Whoever had the nerve to risk their lives to splash words on a place like that?”

“You have your eyes open? That’s an advancement.”

“Barely. I’m squinting.”

They rounded a few curves with no guardrails and crossed several bumpy cattle guards that rattled their rig. A stretch of loose gravel ended the paved road.

“They sure do need to fix their fences,” Ginny muttered.

Reba’s mind flashed to Michael and Vincent doing fence duty at the Cahill Ranch. For the first time, it seemed right to her. Just miss me a little, okay?

An old, rusty tractor and other ancient implements sprawled near a swampy pond. Except for the telephone poles, the landscape mirrored the Old West. Another sign: White Bird Battlefield 1 Mile Ahead. They came to cattle holding pens and an upright fence. Near a knoll of trees a herd of horses clumped together. They reached the Trailhead of the Battlefield.

The Model T parked on the left side of the road beside a long driveway entrance to a private residence. Reba and Reine parked their pickups and trailers in the turnout at the trailhead. From there to the highway beyond stretched a valley of dips and hills. A closed gate blocked the trail.

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