"Chalker, Jack L - DG1 - The River of the Dancing Gods" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chalker Jack L)

JACK L. CHALKER 5

yet of all of them in his face and features. He was used to the
look she was giving him and past minding.

"M'am?" he called to her in a calm yet wary baritone. "Don't
worry -- I don't bite. A trucker going the other way spotted you
and asked me to see if you was all right."

Oh, what the hell, she decided, resigning herself. / can
always jump out again. "I need a ride," she said simply. "I'm
kind of stuck here."

He walked over to her, seeing her tenseness and pretty much
ignoring it. He picked up her bag, letting her get her purse,
and went back to the truck. "Come on. I'll take you for a while
if you're going west."

She hesitated a moment more, then followed him and per-
mitted him to assist her up into the cab. He slammed her door,
walked around the truck, got in on the driver's side, released
the brakes, and put the truck in gear. "How far you going?"
he asked her.

She sat almost pressed against the passenger door, trying
to look as if she weren't doing it. For all he knew, she didn't
realize she was doing it.

She sighed. "Any place, I guess. How far you going?"

"El Paso. But I can get you to a phone in Fort Stockton if
that's what you need." ,

She shook her head slowly. "No, nobody to call. El Paso's
fine, if it's okay with you. I don't have enough money for a
motel or anything."

Up to speed and cruising now, he glanced sideways over at
her. At one time she'd been a pretty attractive woman, he
decided. It was all still there, but something had happened to
it, put a dull, dirty coating over it. Medium height -- five-four
or -five, maybe -- with short, greasy-looking brown hair with
traces of gray. Thirties, probably. Thin and slightly built, she
had that hollow, empty look, like somebody who'd been on
the booze pretty long and pretty hard.

"None of my business, but how'd you get stuck out here in
the middle of nowhere at three in the morning?" he asked
casually.