“That’s not on your schedule either, is it?” he said with anger, then stomped past her to the garage.
She stood still for a moment, looking toward the back of him. Had Taylor given him a copy of today’s schedule? Perhaps Dr. Montgomery was angry at himself because he saw how late he was or because he’d been in the bathroom when it wasn’t on the schedule.
He went through the complicated motions of starting his little yellow car, then backed it out of the garage and quickly moved it so close to her that he almost ran over her toes.
“Get in!” he commanded.
Amanda was only too happy to obey. There was something wonderful about the little car, and she smiled as she sank into the black leather of the passenger seat then held on to her hat as Dr. Montgomery let out on the clutch and they started moving. But it wasn’t moving like the limousine moved. She watched, fascinated, as he began to shift gears. The car began to accelerate. She had never traveled faster than 15 mph before and that had seemed fast, but now, with the wind tearing at her hair and face, her eyes batting quickly to keep bugs from flying in them—for there was no windshield except for a circle of glass before the driver—she knew she was traveling very, very fast. And she liked it. Oh yes, she liked it very much, liked the wind,
the openness of the car, liked the way the trees and fields tore past them at lightning speed.
They hadn’t gone very far, not as far as Amanda would have liked, when there was a loud sound and the car swerved quickly to the right. There was an angry expletive from Dr. Montgomery, and Amanda watched with interest as he fought the wheel of the car and began to slow it down. He kept his eyes, his feet and his hands busy and never once did she feel that he had lost control.
When, at long last, the car was under control, Dr. Montgomery turned and looked at her, his face, if possible, even more angry. “A blowout. This should mess up your little schedule real well.”
Since the objective was to get Dr. Montgomery out of Kingman for the day, Amanda hoped Taylor wouldn’t mind if they were late for the lecture. As for Amanda, she just wanted to ride in this fast car some more.
She leaned her head back against the seat, closed her eyes and smiled in memory.
Before she knew what was happening to her, he grabbed her from the seat and pulled her into his arms and then he was kissing her. Kissing her hard and passionately, just the way he drove.
She was so stunned she couldn’t react. She didn’t even have time to close her eyes, but just when she was beginning to realize what was happening to her and thinking she rather liked this, he thrust her from him so violently that her back slammed into the side of the car.
She put the back of her hand to her lips and stared at him wide-eyed.
“Was that on your schedule, Little Miss Prim and Proper? Did the ride scare you? Was something like speed too much for your perfect little world? You may think you can command every man around you but you can’t. You may have poor old Taylor in your palm because he wants your daddy’s ranch, but you don’t rule all of us.”
Furiously, he turned toward the back of the car and jerked one of the two spares off it and began to change the tire.
Amanda stood where she was. His speech, his kiss, indeed, his actions, were incomprehensible to her. She had no idea in the world what he was talking about and for a moment she was afraid of him. They were alone on a dirt road, ten miles out of Kingman, and there wasn’t a house or car in sight.
Courage, Amanda, she thought. She walked to stand behind him and, holding herself as rigidly as possible, she said, “Dr. Montgomery, I am very sorry that I have displeased you so. I am sorry that breaking the schedule distresses you, but now I think I should return home.” She turned and began walking west toward Kingman.
Hank slammed the tire on the wheel. “If you’ll just hold your horses, I’ll take you back and then I’ll leave your precious ranch and—” He heard the crunch of gravel and turned to see her walking away.
Serve her right to walk, he thought. It might do her some good to have to do something for herself. His hands on the spare tire, he stopped and rested his forehead against it. He didn’t think he’d ever been quite so angry in his life. Injustice was what made him angry, not pretty girls. He hated seeing people mistreated, hated tenements owned by rich landlords, hated to see poor sharecroppers, hated to see any person who lacked freedom.
Maybe that’s what made him so angry: Amanda had tried to take away his freedom. She had set him on a schedule and expected him to do just exactly like she wanted. Just like her father, he thought, J. Harker believed that anyone who worked on his land had no rights.
He turned and looked at Amanda, growing smaller in the distance.
Just like her father, he thought. Just like her father, always trying to control people, and that Driscoll was cut from the same cloth. The two of them would like to control the world and everyone in it.
Hank sat up straight, as if startled. “Control the world,” he whispered, “or just control one small daughter?”
He was on his feet and running instantly.
Amanda stopped when he blocked her way and hunched her shoulders as if prepared for a blow.
“Amanda,” he said softly, disgusted with himself for frightening her. “Tell me about your schedules.”
He didn’t look angry anymore, but Amanda didn’t trust him. “Taylor makes a schedule for me every evening.”
“And how long has he been doing this?” Hank asked, his breath held. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find out, but he had just a nugget of an idea.
Amanda was leery of him. Why was he asking questions about something as ordinary as a schedule? “Since I was fourteen. Taylor was hired to be my tutor.”
“The schedule I saw seemed to list every minute of the day.”