“Did you remember to lock the door when you sneaked out at six in the morning?” Lord Farley teased, hopping into the truck and pushing Chloe toward Mona.
“Chloe and I had to creep past the guards to get to the barn where we keep the farm vehicles.”
“I would beef up my security, Mona. If a woman with white hair and a white dog can get past all those guards, they must be taking a snooze. Even with the moon only a quarter full, they should have spotted you.”
“I thought the same myself.”
“I told my staff I was going to New York. What did you tell yours?”
“Left a note on Violet’s dressing table and told her the same. I’ll send a telegram from Richmond to Dexter letting him know that I’m gone. He’ll be the only one who knows of our expedition.”
“I don’t understand the need for all this secrecy.”
“Apparently, there are treasure hunters still looking for the Swift mine, and they would follow us.”
Lord Farley harrumphed. “There is no silver mine. This Swift story is one of the most ridiculous tall tales I’ve ever heard. All geologists say there is no silver in Kentucky.”
“If you feel that way, why are you coming?”
“To be alone in the woods with the woman of my dreams.”
“Well, you’re going to be disappointed. There are going to be others besides Hunt on this trip.”
“Tarnation. Why doesn’t anything go my way where you are concerned?”
“Tarnation? You are picking up the local lingo.”
“Woman, shake your tail feathers. Let’s get a move on.”
Mona laughed as she pressed on the gas pedal and put the truck into first gear. “Yes, sir!”
Both Mona and Farley grimaced as the truck made a racket heading out Farley’s driveway. Mona turned right on the country road.
“Where are we going?” Lord Farley asked.
“We are going to meet Rupert at Mary Breckinridge’s place in Hyden, Kentucky.”
“First name basis with Dr. Hunt, huh? When did that happen?”
“I guess at all the meetings we had concerning this venture, none of which you bothered to attend. You know Rupert is the same age as I am, and we share the same interests. We’ve become very close.” Mona stole a look at Farley.
He reacted impassively. “I figured you would have everything sewn up so why should I attend?”
“Then don’t buck me when things don’t go your way on this trip.” Mona changed gears, and the truck was doing a brisk thirty-five miles per hour.
“What’s in the back of the truck?”
“Supplies. Tents. Food. That sort of thing.”
Farley pushed Chloe off again. “Get off, Chloe. You’re crushing me.”
“She wants to look out the window. You’re blocking her view.” Mona hit a bump, and everyone in the truck bounced up and hit their heads on the roof.
“There is no view. It’s still dark. Let me drive,” Farley complained.
“You can later. I might want to take a nap after Richmond.”
“So I take it that we are going via London and then cut east over to Hyden.”
“It’s the most direct route but I think the road to Hyden is going to be a bit rough.”
“We’ll need to gas up before we hit London.”
“We can gas up the truck in Richmond and I brought extra fuel—just in case. It’s in the back of the truck.”
“Great. I hope no one hits us.” Farley cried out, “WATCH OUT! THERE’S A DEER!”
Mona swerved and narrowly missed the frightened doe before straightening out the truck. “We’re going to have this problem all the way. I’m keeping a lookout for them.”
“You do that. I am going to take a little snooze myself.” Farley took off his jacket and rammed it under his head. “Wake me up when we get to Richmond. We should eat when we get there.”
Mona said, “Look back behind the seat. There should be a basket with food. It will tide us over until we reach Richmond.”
“Better hang on to it. Richmond is only an hour or so away. After Richmond, the largest town will be London. There won’t be anywhere to eat in between.” Farley lay back and closed his eyes, impervious to the jostling the truck made on the single lane road until Mona pulled out onto US 25, which was the main two-lane highway going south.
Chloe situated herself so that her head and shoulders were resting on Farley’s lap. Occasionally her tail wagged until both she and Farley were asleep and snoring.
It had begun to drizzle and then the rain came in earnest—sheets of it. Determined to make good time, Mona kept alert at the wheel but heavy rain slowed her down. Finally, a frustrated Mona pulled into a Pure Oil gas station in Richmond.
A man in a rain slicker came running out.
Mona rolled down her window. “Fill ’er up, please.”
“Check the oil and radiator, ma’am?”
“No need.” Mona looked over the road to a restaurant. “Mister, that place over there good to eat? I see a lot of truckers stop there.”
“Only place in town open for breakfast,” the gas jockey said, before turning on the pump.
“That’s not much of a recommendation,” Mona muttered under her breath.
“What’s that,” Farley mumbled, stirring awake.
Chloe rose on the seat and shook.
“We’re in Richmond and filling up. There’s a place open across the street.”
“Good. I’m starving.”
Mona paid the attendant and drove the truck to the restaurant, parking off to the side. “Stay here, Chloe and guard the truck. I’ll bring you something to eat.” She jumped down and inspected the tires before following Farley into the eatery.
Everyone in the joint gave Farley and Mona the once over as they entered, but soon went back to talking amongst themselves. The only seats available were at the counter. Mona and Farley slid onto the round wooden seats.
A waitress chewing gum came over to them and slapped some menus down in front of them. “What can I do you for?”
“Black coffee, please. No cream for both of us,” Mona said.
The waitress shuffled off.
Farley opened his menu. “I’m going to get some eggs sunny-side up and bacon and some flapjacks.”
Lowering her voice, Mona said, “You are not going to order any such thing. Restaurants such as these are notorious for giving one the trots. No one inspects them. I’ve heard of a traveling salesman named Duncan Hines, who has a list of good restaurants to eat around the country. I hear he’s going to publish his list into a booklet.”
“Well, I’m hungry now. I can’t wait for this Duncan Hines.”
“Shush. I’ll order for you. Your English accent is a dead giveaway.”
The waitress came back with two steaming cups of hot coffee. Taking a pencil out of her brown wavy hair, she asked, “Ready?”
Mona answered, “Yes, we’ll both have scrambled eggs, country ham, and toast. I also want an extra helping of ham please.”
“Red-eye gravy with that?”
“Yes, please.”
While writing the order down, the waitress glanced at Mona’s and Farley’s hands. Seeing that Mona was wearing a wedding band, she became friendlier. Immoral women were known to travel with truck drivers. The owner of the restaurant didn’t like them coming into his place. They always caused trouble with the customers. She took in Mona’s simple blue printed feed sack dress, cardigan sweater, ankle socks, and sturdy shoes. A cotton scarf covered most of Mona’s hair but the waitress was startled at Mona’s white hair peeping out from the scarf and her amber eyes.
Noticing the waitress’ surprised look, Mona said, thumbing at Farley, “I saw a Jean Harlow movie and wanted to spice up our marriage but he hates it. Gotta keep my hair covered until the dye grows out.”
The waitress shot a look at Farley. “You can never please them. Never. My old man says I’m getting fat, but I’m the same weight I was when I married him. I don’t know what gets into men. They just like to complain.” She turned in their orders and rang customers up on the cash register before pouring coffee for others who waved at her. She stood and chatted with several of the men, hoping to inspire them to leave a good tip.
A bell rang in the window leading to the kitchen.
“Your order is up,” she called over to Mona and Farley.
“That was quick,” Mona said.
“Doesn’t take long to scramble some eggs,” Farley grumbled.
The waitress got their orders and topped their coffee before shuffling over to a new customer.
Farley looked glumly at his scrambled eggs. “I really wanted sunny-side up. These eggs look overcooked.”
“Eat. This way everything is heated through, and all the germs are killed. The yolks in sunny-side eggs may harbor dangerous bacteria, so it’s best to eat scrambled. Country ham is salt cured, so you can eat it unheated and it couldn’t hurt you.”
Farley shook salt and pepper on his eggs and cut into his country ham. Taking a bite, he said, “Not bad. Not bad at all, I must say. This gravy is most curious.”
“It’s made from the drippings of fried country ham mixed with black coffee.”
Farley took a few more bites before gesturing at Mona’s left hand. “What’s with the wedding band?”
“It’s best that I travel as a married woman. You are to pose as my husband.”
“Thanks for letting me in on the plan.” He drank some coffee and motioned to the waitress for more. “You know we can make that really happen. Give me a date and I’ll set it up. Maybe we can find a justice of the peace on this trip. You’ve already got the ring.”
“I told you I’m not ready to get married.”
“Can we at least tell people we are engaged?”
“But we’re not.”
“You said yes.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did, Mona. Keep this up and you will be too old to marry. The bloom on the rose won’t last forever, and I won’t want you when you’re fat and wrinkled.”
“Charming.” Mona stuck her tongue out at Farley who made a face at her.
They finished their meal and as Farley paid the bill, Mona went in search of a bathroom. She found an old-fashioned outhouse in the back. Gritting her teeth, she did her business and then went in search of a whiskey bottle she had put in the back of the truck.
“Why are you pouring good whiskey on your hands, Mona?” Farley asked, feeding Chloe country ham.
“You would too if you used their bathroom.”
“You’ll smell like a distillery.”
“I’ll douse my hands with water,” she replied, pulling out a large jug of spring water. She poured water over her hands and then poured water in a bowl for Chloe. “Come girl. Drink up and then do your business. We gotta go.”
Farley went in search of the bathroom as several men came out of the restaurant and upon seeing Chloe, pointed and laughed.
“Pay them no mind, Chloe,” Mona said.
“Give me some of that,” Farley said, hurrying back and thrusting out his hands. “I’m about to throw up. It stank so badly in there.”
Mona poured it over Farley’s hands as he washed with the golden liquid. Then she poured water on them.
Farley sniffed. “We both stink like a distillery now.”
“The smell will evaporate. Let’s get going.”
“Wait a minute.” Farley ran back into the restaurant and after several minutes came out with several little green bottles of Coca-Cola and a paper sack with four pieces of pecan pie wrapped in wax paper. “The bottles are cold,” he said cheerfully as he picked Chloe up and put her in the front seat of the truck before climbing into the driver’s seat.
“Oh, you spoke. You shouldn’t have done that, Robert.”
“Naw, I grunted as to what I wanted and pointed. Quit being such a worry wart.” Farley opened his hand. “Look. I got a hobo nickel back as change.”
Mona reached up and picked the nickel from his hand, inspecting the carved nickel. Hobos and tramps sometimes carved the figure on the buffalo nickel into a different configuration and put them back into circulation. “Can I keep this? I collect them.”
“Be my guest.” Farley looked in the side mirrors. “Let’s get moving. Get in, milady. Your chariot awaits.”
Mona went around to the other side of the truck and climbed in the passenger side. Opening a Coke, she gratefully drank. “The carbonation always settles my stomach.”
“Mine too,” Farley said as they headed out on US 25.
Mona took a nap and awoke as Farley pulled into another gas station in London. She rolled down her window. The rain had stopped and the mountain air smelled wonderfully fresh. Mona took a deep breath. “Magnificent,” she muttered to Chloe. “Smells differently from home.”
Chloe sniffed and then sneezed.
While Farley ordered gas from the gas jockey and checked the tires, Mona let Chloe out for a bathroom break and put her back in the truck after seeing other customers take note of Chloe. She used the gas station’s bathroom, grateful for its modern plumbing and toilet paper. After washing her hands, she hurried back to the truck and broke out the last piece of pecan pie, giving some to Chloe before eating the rest herself. Hungry, she pulled the picnic basket out from the back of the truck.
Farley found her eating a roast beef sandwich sitting at a picnic table the gas station owner had put underneath some trees. Other customers were eating their packed lunches as well at other tables as it had stopped raining. “Started without me?”
“The way you gobble up food, I had to. If I didn’t know how old you are, I’d swear you’re still growing.”
“I’ll let Chloe out.”
“No, don’t. Eat first,” Mona said. “I let her out as soon as we got here, and she got too much attention. Apparently, most folks around here have never seen a Standard Poodle.”
“That would make sense. You have to have a dog that will pay for its keep. I told you not to bring her.”
“She is a working breed. I’ll remind you that poodles are hunting and retrieving dogs. That’s why they were bred.”
“And I’ll remind you that poodles are now only kept by wealthy women as companions. Poodles haven’t been used as hunting dogs for fifty years now.”
“Well, it’s done now. I couldn’t leave her. She would have barked her head off if I had left her locked up in my bedroom. I’ll let her out when these folks leave, but let’s put her on a leash. If she runs off chasing a squirrel, we don’t have the time to find her in this rough terrain.” Mona sighed. “Let’s not argue. Here. Have a sandwich.”
Grabbing a sandwich, Farley looked around. “We’re deep in the mountains now. Where do we go from here?”
“We’ll turn east on Route 80. We lost good time due to the rain, but it shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“The truck is rough riding on these windy, curvy roads,” Farley said, stretching his back.
“It’s only going to get more curvy from here on out.”
“Great.”
“Do you think we’ll ever build roads like the autobahn in Germany?”
“We would be smart to do so,” Farley said. “Quick way to move troops, and it would be a pleasure to drive on a straight concrete road. Whatever you might say about the Germans, they are a clever and industrious people.”
“Do you think Hitler is building the autobahn to move troops?”
“Who knows? I hope Ramsay MacDonald is keeping a close eye on him. Hitler’s rhetoric bothers me greatly, and his hatred toward minority groups, especially the Jews, is bothersome. Somehow I don’t think the man is just spouting propaganda. Either way, he’s got everyone in Germany worked up. It’s bizarre how many Germans think he’s the second coming of Christ.”
“Maybe Hitler’s full of hot air and will calm down now that he’s in power.”
Farley threw wax paper into the trash bin. “Let’s hope so.” He looked at the sun. “After midday. We better get a move on if we hope to make the Frontier Nursing Service by this evening.”
“Look, everyone has gone. Let’s take one last potty break. Get some more Cokes, will ya, Robert?”
“Sure, but hurry. The sky is dark. It seems like the rain is following us. You go on. I’ll take Chloe for a short walk while you freshen up.”
Mona ran to the bathroom where she combed her hair and put on some lipstick after washing her face. She felt human again. When she came out, Farley and Chloe were already in the truck waiting.
She climbed up into the driver’s seat and put the truck into its hurly-burly, bouncy motion on Route 80. Hours later, Mona pulled into the Frontier Nursing Service headquarters in Hyden, Kentucky.