It spooked Hawkins. He let off the accelerator.
“No!” Because Dutch had driven this road a thousand times, he knew that this was the point where acceleration was necessary in order to make it up the first incline. “Give it some juice!”
“I can’t see nothing,” Hawkins screeched. He put the truck in neutral and let it idle while he swiped his coat sleeve across his face. Despite the frigid temperature, his forehead was beaded with sweat that smelled as acrid as the moonshine that had produced it.
“Put this truck in gear,” Dutch said, straining each word through clenched teeth.
“In a minute. Let my eyes adjust. All that stuff swirling around is making me woozy.”
“Not in a minute. Now.”
Hawkins frowned at him. “You got a death wish or somethin’?”
“No, you must. Because I’m going to kill you if this truck isn’t rolling in five seconds.”
“I don’t think a chief of police is supposed to be threatening private citizens like that.”
“One.”
“What’s going on up there?” Wes’s voice squawked through the two-way radio.
“Two.” Dutch depressed the button on his receiver and spoke into it. “Cal’s considering the best way to approach the incline.” He clicked off. “Three.”
“Dutch, you sure about this?” Wes sounded worried. “Maybe you should reconsider.”
“Four.”
“Bull can barely keep this Bronco on the road, and that’s with driving on sand. We can barely see beyond the hood and—”
“Five.” Dutch drew his pistol from the holster.
“Shit!” Cal ground the gear stick into first.
“It’s okay, Wes,” Dutch said into the radio with what he thought was remarkable calm. “Here we go.”
Cal let out on the clutch and pressed the accelerator. The truck rolled forward a few feet.
“You’re gonna have to give it some punch or it’ll never make it,” Dutch said.
“We got a heavy load, don’t forget.”
“So compensate.”
Hawkins nodded and shifted into second. But the moment he accelerated, the rear tires began to spin uselessly. “Ain’t gonna make it.”
“Don’t let up on it.”
“Ain’t gonna—”
“Keep trying! Give it more!”
Hawkins muttered something about Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, then did as Dutch ordered. The wheels spun but then found traction, and the truck lurched forward.
“See?” Dutch said with more relief than he was willing to show.
“Yeah, but we gotta make that first hairpin.”
“You can do it.”