"No, what were you going to do, sit there until someone came along to fix it for you?"
"If I had to, yes." It didn't seem unreasonable to her. "I wasn't about to get out in the rain and try to fix it myself. I don't know anything about changing a flat anyway. That's how I got in such a mess in the first place. I was planning on waiting until daylight and walking to wherever. Or staying here until someone did offer to help."
"And what if they'd have cut your throat instead of fixed your tire? Did you even consider anything like that?"
"Then I'd be dead and out of your hair. Besides, in your part of the country, that's highly unlikely."
"Don't you have a cell phone?" He asked.
"Yes...but...oh, it doesn't matter." She turned away to dispel a sudden rush of tears. Then biting them back, she faced him again. "I hate them...I hate gadgets, you can never rely on them." When he glanced at her strangely she went on to explain. "Okay, so that's weird too, these days. But haven't you ever noticed how dangerous a cell phone can be? Everyone carries them....everywhere! They drive with them, shop with them. People just quit paying attention to what they are doing. No one even looks at you they are so busy with those gadgets."
He glanced at her again, and something softened in his expression. He looked even better than the last time she'd seen him. Darn the man.
He nearly smiled.
Her whole body responded. How could that be? This man, this particular man, wasn't the least bit interested in her; he'd made that clear since the disturbance.
"Where are you taking me?" She asked when he started the squad car. "Not to jail again, I hope. Getting lost isn't against the law, is it?"
"No, but in your case it should be. To the dude ranch, isn't that where you are staying?" came his fast retort.
"Yes."
Then without warning, a loud noise alerted him to the fact that he had a flat too.
"For crying out loud, I don't believe it." He pounded his fist against the steering wheel. He glanced over at her and this time his temper flared. "What are you—a jinx?"
Savannah's mouth popped open, but she didn't have a reply.
"Stay here," he commanded as he got out of the car and checked the damage. She heard him mumbling something as he searched the trunk for a jack and slung tools and things around for several minutes.
Before long he was back and soaking wet. His expression more angry than before.
"What's wrong, why didn't you fix it?"
He grimaced and looked away, "The spare is gone."
"Gone?" she screeched, "but it can't be. I mean you are a policeman, and you are bound to have a spare."
"I usually do, yes, but now that I think about it, I borrowed his spare and forgot to replace it with another."
"And this isn’t your car…"
"Right. But I don't see as how I owe you an explanation."
She felt herself giggling, and tried to stop, but the more perplexed his face got the more she giggled.
When he sent her a frown she no longer withheld her laughter.
"This isn't funny," he bellowed.
"I don't know. It's pretty funny to me."
"We're not in a position to laugh right now." This time his face looked less serious.
"So what are we going to do?" she asked when he was silent too long.
"The old Dugan ranch is about a ten minute walk from here. You think you can manage to keep up with me in this weather?"