Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 28

Part 28

“About damn time,” Peter muttered and watched Sally maneuver her big truck down the gravel driveway and under his tree.  He counted to fifty before climbing down.  Running across the field to his convertible, he drove as fast as he could to reach Sally's farm.  There he gingerly removed the sack from his backseat and carried it – arms stretched out in front of him – to the camping trailer.  For a second, he wondered where he could place the snake so that it would get mad enough to strike Wilson.

He decided on the shower stall.  With the glass door closed, it wouldn't be going anywhere.  That should be sufficient.  The bastard would have to strip down to nothing before entering...and zap!  No boots to protect his skin from those dangerous fangs.  Then no more Wilson.

He hid the handgun in a cabinet before leaving, but it didn't matter if he'd stuck around to brew a cup of coffee.  Sally took her sweet time in town.  She didn't get back for another five hours.

*****

While in the metro area, Sally decided to pop in on her brother at his motorcycle dealership.  Richard Sanborn sat behind his desk in his glass-enclosed office with his feet propped up and a crossword puzzle in his hands.

“Working hard?” she asked as she flopped down in a padded chair.

“Maybe I'm just getting old and hearing things, but I swear that sounds just like my baby sister,” he mumbled as he filled in a row of squares.  “But it can't be.  Haven't seen Sally in ages.”

“Smartass,” she retorted.

He grinned at her over his reading glasses.  “I didn't used to be until you started talking.  Who knew you could learn a lot from a baby?”

She glowered at him.  “You know, I come in here, hoping to visit with my loving, older brother for a few minutes, tell him I might be getting married soon, and this is the reception I get?  I think I'd rather not stick around.”  She hopped up and slowly made her way to the door.

A book smacked her on the back of the head.

“If you think you can waltz in here and say something like that, and then just walk away, think again, little sis.  Who the hell would want to marry you?”

She rubbed the sore spot.  Those paperbacks had a hard spine on them.  “You know, I used to love you, bubba, but you're such a pain in my ass...it's no wonder I don't come see you more often.”

“Sack the shite, Sally,” he growled.  “Who's the guy?  Are you pregnant?”

“It was so nice to see you, Richard...let's not do it again so soon,” she shot back childishly and stomped out.  Big jerk of a brother.  “'Are you pregnant?...Who'd want to marry you?'  Stupid dumbass, just like his son.  The whole bunch of them.”  She continued to mutter to herself all the way to the parking lot, where Richard finally caught up with her.

“Nice exit,” he said in his smartass way.  Insensitive prick.  “I think you could have knocked over the water cooler.  It would have been more dramatic.”

“Screw you, Richard,” Sally snarled.  She did not need this from him.  The rats, Peter, Wilson being gone all week… 

Richard draped a casual arm around her shoulder.  “Is that the best you can do?  I expected more from you.”  He gave her a quick, brotherly hug and grinned at her.  “So…you’re getting married.  Anyone I know?”

“No,” she said sourly, loving her brother regardless of his teasing behavior.  She’d always looked up to him.  It hadn’t been easy to bury a father and a mother when he’d been barely more than a child.  And then to take on a wife and Sally as a toddler at such a young age.  He’d been her leaning post for so long, until she went to college.  She loved him, respected him, and admired him.  But where the hell did he get that sarcastic attitude?  She wasn’t that bad…mostly…ah, crap, her family was messed up in the head.  Who was she to throw stones?