“He gets us on those back roads, no telling where we’ll end up.”

“I always get us home, don’t I?”

“Eventually.”

Pete glanced at Larry. A corner of his mouth turned up, lifting that side of his mustache. “Why do I put up with this, I ask you?”

Before Larry could come up with an answer, Barbara leaned forward and hooked a tawny forearm across her husband’s throat. “Because you love me, right?” she asked. She nipped the ridge of his ear.

“Hey, hey, calm down. You want to run me off the road?”

She wore a sleeveless blouse. A sprinkling of freckles showed on her deeply tanned shoulder. Though the air conditioner was blowing cool air into the van, the skin above her lip gleamed with moisture under a fine, curly down. Larry didn’t want to be caught staring, so he looked away. Just ahead, an old-timer dressed like a prospector was leading a burro along the road’s dusty shoulder.

Larry wondered if the guy was for real. Silver Junction, the town they were leaving behind, was full of characters in old west getups. Some seemed like the real article, but he had no doubt that most were simply playing the role for the benefit of the tourists.

“So how about it?” Pete asked as Barbara released him. “Want to do some exploring?”

“I think it’d be fun,” Jean said. “You in a hurry to get home, Larry?”

“Me? No.”

“He always hates to lose a day,” she explained. “I have an awful time trying to drag him out of the house.”

“The day’s already shot,” he said.

“Same to you, fella,” Barbara said.

“Whoops. Didn’t mean it that way. It’s been great.” It hadbeen a nice change from his usual seven-day work schedule. Fun being out with Pete and Barbara, wandering the old town, watching the gunfight on Main Street, having a burger and a couple of beers in the picturesque saloon. “I need to get out more, anyway, or I’d run dry.”

“Everything we do ends up in his books,” Jean explained, “but he still hates to be dragged away from his almighty word processor.”