“Flat-faced, two-story buildings stood side by side, like ponies tethered together in a corral. Late-afternoon shadows floated down the buildings and out onto the sidewalks past wooden boxes of wilting petunias. An array of pickups, all different colors and sizes, lined the curbs. She could still feel the warmth of anger in her face. She gripped the steering wheel as she swung the Bronco onto Highway 789 and held it steady all the way to Hudson. Anthony would have to level with her, tell her eve...rything. There was no other way. This wasn’t just his life, his future, for Christ’s sake. This affected the people. Everything Anthony might be able to do someday for the people could be lost at this moment, torpedoed into oblivion. It should be like it was in the Old Time, Vicky thought. In stories of the Old Time that grandfather had told her while she was growing up, the best people always stepped forward to help the others. Took their places, ran to their responsibilities, became leaders; chiefs looked out for the people.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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