Chapter 3

Just after noon, I rolled out of the Whitehorse yard on my way south to Seattle. The two trailers I was pulling felt light compared to the ones I usually had, and that promised to make for an easy trip. A quicker trip meant that I'd be back in Whitehorse, and in Linda's arms that much sooner.

Linda Coulter. Somehow, this young woman had managed to sneak past all the barriers and safe-guards that I'd ever put up to keep my heart from being trampled on. A part of this realization scared me, while another part welcomed the intrusion of her warmth and genuine shows of real feeling and caring. After a mere three days together, she had become a part of me that I cherished much more than I had ever known, cared for, or wanted from another human being. This new situation was something that I really had to think about, but with twelve hundred miles between me and Seattle, I had a few days to do that, and another three or four days on the way back if I needed or wanted them.

Despite the late start in the day, traffic was amazingly light, especially for June. Most of the motorhomes were heading the other way, which was the opposite of the traffic flow that I had encountered on my way up to Whitehorse. There was no rhyme nor reason to this appreciated situation, and I sure wasn't going to question the generosity of the "Powers That Be". Between the light traffic and the lack of weight, I sailed through Watson Lake in a record-setting five and a half hours, which was a good thirty minutes sooner than normal. I stopped long enough to phone Gordie at Muncho Lake to see how he had made out with Linda's car which had broken down on her way north. He said that he'd gotten it repaired and had done some routine maintenance for her as well. I asked him how much she owed him, which came to a couple hundred bucks, and gave him my credit card numbers so that he could have his money as soon as possible. He wondered when we'd pick the car up, and I gave him an estimate of about a week. That seemed to agree with him.

As much as I hate the Stewart-Cassiar Highway, that route would knock three or four hours off my trip, and I wanted to gain all the extra time I could. With the difference in log book rules between Canada and the US, I really had to watch my hours of service to be able to make the one hundred and fifty miles between Vancouver and Seattle legally. The last thing I needed was to have a run-in with the Washington State Patrol.

It was early Friday morning when the satellite phone's annoying "beep-beep, beep-beep" alarm woke me up. Glancing at the clock beside the bunk, I was shocked to find that it was actually seven-thirty. I had slept like a log, not waking once through the whole six-and-some-odd hours I'd slept. That wasn't a part of my usual routine, but the extra rest made me feel like I could drive all the way to Seattle in one shot. I clambered out of the bunk and answered the phone.

"Six-oh-seven. Blackstone" I croaked into the handset. Six-oh-seven was my truck number, and it was usually John Robinson, the Richmond dispatcher, that would call at such an ungodly hour of the morning.

"Well, good morning, Lover" the voice on the other end introduced itself. "Did I wake you, or are you in the middle of something important?" It was Linda, and the most welcome sound to start off my day. Just hearing her voice was almost inducement enough to turn around right then and there and head back to Whitehorse.

"Good morning, pretty lady!" I exclaimed. "Sounds like you got that phone card exchanged. So, how's my favourite lady this morning?" I greeted her.

"Tired, lonely, and horny as hell," she answered, "but I needed to hear your voice before I fall down and get some sleep. Last night was a bit of a rough one, and I'm fried. Where the fuck are you, anyways?"

"Just crawling out of bed" I told her. "I decided to take the short-cut down the Stewart-Cassiar. It'll knock a few hours off the run, but it has to be one of the shittiest roads in Western Canada. I may even break down and come back up this way too, just to be back there with you a little sooner." That message sounded really lame, even to a horny old trucker like me. "Shit, listen to me, would ya? I sound like a love-sick teeny-bopper! What, pray tell, have you done to me, Miss Coulter? If John Robinson finds out, or rather when he finds out, he's gonna have a shit-fit. And ya know what? I don't give a flying fuck what he thinks!" I added. Linda giggled softly at my tirade, her laughter like magical music to my ears.

"So how far do you think you'll get today?" she inquired.

"With a little luck, I'll make it to Abbotsford, then lay over just before the border. I gotta watch my hours so's I don't get my ass locked up in a Washington jail cell. Those State Patrol guys have no sense of humour, unless they've just gotten laid for the third time in the shift" I joked, then added, "Oh, by the way, Gordie has your car ready. He did a couple of maintenance things to it too. I told him we'd pick it up in about a week, and he seems happy with that. Well, as happy as Gordie ever gets anyway."

"Awesome! Maybe I can catch a ride down and pick it up before you get back. Can a girl make it that far and back, in sixteen hours?" Linda wanted to know.

"Not quite, unless you can fly real low both ways. With the summer terrorist season, I doubt you'd have enough open road to pull it off either. If you can stand all the hoofing around, why not wait until I get back and we'll make a two-day vacation out of it? The thought of lounging around in the Lliard Hot Springs with your gorgeous body to pleasure has a wicked appeal right now" I suggested.

"Lliard? Isn't that down towards Fort Nelson?" she wondered.

"Yeah, but it's more than worth the trip, believe me. Especially if we sneak into the hot springs around three in the morning when there's no one else around..." I teasingly mentioned, leaving a good part of my thoughts to her vivid imagination. I had visions of engaging in wild and uninhibited sex chasing through my head. I hoped she had the same ideas.

"Mmm, sounds delicious!" she enthused. "I just might have to get that prescription filled before you get back!" she added, referring to her birth control pills.

"Oh yeah. That sounds like a plan to me, even if we never do make it to the hot springs" I seconded. "I have all intentions of pleasuring that fantastic body of yours no matter where we go. And speaking of going, I'd better get going myself before you get my cock any harder than it already is. I haven't got time to beat off in desperate search of relief. Damn, but you can make an old man so fucking horny! I hope you're thoroughly ashamed of yourself, young lady, getting me into this state while you're eight hundred miles away. God only knows what shape I'm gonna be in by the time I get back" I chided her lovingly.

"Eww, driving with a hard cock. That must be absolute hell!" Linda teased. "Just think clean thoughts, and maybe it'll go away in two or three hundred miles. I'll let you go Lover, but you drive real safe. I'd hate to be left waiting for that hard cock, only to find it's stuck in some hospital somewhere." There was a slight pause, but before I could say anything, Linda softly added, "I love you, Ryan Blackstone. You'd better come back to me, or I'm gonna chase your ass all over Kingdom Cum, you hear me?"

Those three words. I'd spent almost fifteen years avoiding them. Now, they were something that sent thrilling tingles up and down my spine. "I love you too, Sweets," I breathed lustfully into the handset, "and I never thought I'd say that to anyone. Girl, you're gonna be the death of me yet, aren't you?"

"Oh shut up and get that thing back on the road!" Linda commanded. "The sooner you get back here, the sooner I'm gonna be able to fuck the hell outta you, ya big goof! And if you think you've got it bad, you're making me a walking, drippy-cunted hormone monster! Now get back to work!"

Reluctantly, I broke the connection, fired up the old K-whopper, and got ready to tackle another eight hundred miles of road; a road that ran in the wrong direction. Just as I was about to slip that Fuller transmission into second gear, the satellite phone beeped again. Somebody really didn't want me to move out of Delta Lodge in a hurry. I felt the hope that it was Linda calling again, but knew deep down that it probably wasn't.

"Six-oh-seven. Blackstone" I answered.

"Geez, I've been trying to get hold of you for fifteen minutes!" John Robinson bellyached. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Delta Lodge, and if I get one more fucking phone call, I'm gonna spend the whole fucking day here too. What can I do for you on this fine and shitty morning, Mr. Robinson?" I replied, the discomfort in my voice at being interrupted dripping from each and every word.

"Seattle's screaming for those wagons," John informed me, "although I told them that Whitehorse isn't exactly just around the fucking corner. How soon can you be down there?"

"If I don't get rudely interrupted with any more phone calls this morning, they should see me sometime tomorrow afternoon, so tell 'em about four o'clock. If I'm earlier than that, it's 'Bonus' time. Oh, and see if you can arrange a 'turn 'n' burn' outta there that comes north, would ya? I've got some unfinished business in Whitehorse to take care of."

"Forget it!" John intoned. "I've got a California hot-shot with your name on it, waiting to roll out of Seattle. You and Whitehorse ain't gonna see each other for another two weeks."

"California? What the fuck did I ever do to you, Robinson? You know I don't go south any more than I absolutely have to! Forget the hot-shot deal and find me a Whitehorse load!" I screamed, then added, "And keep in mind that 'Points North' is always looking for trucks. I'd hate like hell to have to move, but I don't do California unless I'm really desperate for miles. At this time of year, they're easy to come by, especially the ones going in the right direction!" There was a pregnant pause before John said anything.

"Yeah, okay, but no promises. I just don't have anything moving north of Dawson Creek at the moment. Shit, even Dawson's a tough one to find for some reason. What's the big attraction in Whitehorse anyway?" he queried.

"Nothing much. Just five-and-a -half feet of the prettiest thing I've ever seen, all packaged up in a body that won't quit." The sarcasm in my tone wasn't lost on John.

"Christ, just what I need, a love-sick truck driver!" John moaned. "I suppose this means that you'll be looking for some special considerations too, right? Blackstone, there are days when I wonder if you're fucking worth it! She must be one hell of a hot number to get you all twisted like that." John paused to take a deep breath, and I could hear the hiss of air across the phone as he exhaled. "Like I said, I'll see what I can come up with, and hopefully I can find someone for that California trip before you get to Seattle. But don't you drag your sorry ass in an attempt to stall. Call me when you get through the border so I can try and schedule something for ya. Just don't count on a 'turn 'n' burn' outta there. It's gonna be hard enough getting you back to Richmond, let alone all the way back up to Whitehorse." There was another short pause before John added, "and the next time you fall ass-over-teakettle for some woman, would ya make sure you're over on the Island, please? I've got enough extra traffic over there to keep three trucks going full-time until late November." That gave me an idea.

"John, I'll make you a deal. You keep me running the Alcan all summer, and I'll chase the Island for ya from after Labour Day weekend until you're cleaned up. Linda's back at SFU in September, and I think I'm gonna be looking for miles that'll get me back to Vancouver on weekends anyway, even if I have to leave the truck in Nanaimo and take the fucking boat back on my nickel."

"Yeah, okay. I'll have to think about it first though. Meanwhile, would you get your fucking horny ass back on the road, and get Seattle off my butt, please? Call me when you shut down tonight, even if you have to call the house. You've still got my number?"

As much as I really wanted to fire a sarcastic comment at him, I let John's subtle opening slide on by.

"Say 'Good bye', John. I gotta make some miles here, or my fucking asshole of a dispatcher's gonna have my balls for bookends. Talk to ya tonight." I hung up before he could add any more unwelcome news. A California hot-shot run usually paid good money, but not enough to keep me away from Linda any longer than absolutely necessary. John was probably wondering about the little sanity I still had left, right about now.

The trip down to Seattle and back to Richmond was spectacularly uneventful. Traffic was light, the border crossings were quick, and even the Washington State highway patrol seemed to have taken the weekend off.

John found a split load that wouldn't be available until early Sunday afternoon, but would get me back to Whitehorse. The lead trailer was bound for Stewart River, north of Whitehorse, but the pup only went as far as Dawson Creek. The revenue would pay my expenses, but just. As I considered all this, I realized that I'd have an empty wagon as I went through Muncho Lake, and if I could find a loading ramp, maybe I could pick up Linda's car and haul it up for her. That'd be a welcome surprise; might even be able to use her car for that trip to Lliard Hot Springs and a couple of days of luxurious love-making. My cock saluted the idea as I anticipated some of the activities we'd enjoy together.

Sunday midnight and I was sitting in Prince George again. I was about to fall into my bunk when the cell phone started to play that annoying music that preceded a call. Who the hell would be calling me at this time of day, I wondered? There weren't many people that knew the number, and even fewer that would use it. My curiosity got the better of me.

"Hello?" I answered the call.

"Hi, Lover. I had a couple of minutes to take a breather, and thought I'd check up on you. Haven't heard your voice for so long, I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost or run away on me. Where the fuck are you?"

Linda's voice was the best thing I'd heard for days, and it reminded me of just how much I'd missed her. Yeah, me, the Asphalt Gypsy, missing a girl I'd only known a short time. But the sound of that voice almost gave me enough energy and incentive to roll the seven hours to Dawson Creek right then.

"Hey, Sweet-stuff! Damn, but it's good to hear your voice. Can I assume that Byron is treating you like the lady you are?" I wondered.

"Yeah. I got settled into the room he assigned me, and it's not half-bad. Beats the hell outta those dorms he stuffs the girls into, that's for sure. But I'm gonna have to do something about this bed. It reminds me of your bunk; 'One wide, two high' ", and we both chuckled at the implications. "Mind you, I could get used to sleeping on top of your body all night ... especially with that magnificent cock buried deep in my sopping cunt. Damn, but I want you, Ryan! When are you gonna be back in town?"

"By the looks of it, probably Wednesday sometime. I've got a delivery in Dawson Creek, and I'm hoping to get that off tomorrow afternoon, then roll a few hours on the Alcan. I'm gonna try to load your car on the pup and be in Whitehorse in time for breakfast Wednesday. The lead trailer goes up to Stewart River, and if I leave early enough on Thursday morning, I should be back early Friday afternoon, then take the weekend off. Somewhere in there, I've got to get this poor scrap-heap serviced and cleaned out. Remember those laundry monsters I warned you about? Well, the little bastards are breeding back there" I teased her. "Out of curiosity, what days is the old goat letting you out of the kennel?"

"Saturday and Sunday. I finish around seven Friday morning, and don't have to be back until eleven Sunday night. Why? You have something nefarious in your perverted little mind that I should be afraid of?" Linda quizzed.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it? What's the matter? You don't like surprises?" I asked with a twinkle in my voice.

"I have no problem with surprises; at least, not the good ones. And in my mind, you constitute one of the good ones." Linda's voice betrayed her enthusiasm for any kind of sexual challenge I might be devious enough to spring on her.

"Linda, if I load your car up, that'll take me an hour or two, between loading at Gordie's and unloading at the yard. How about I call you when it's unloaded, and we'll grab something to eat together?"

"Mmm, I already know what I want, and you'd better plan on eating something special too. Me!" Linda lasciviously suggested. "Dammit, Lover. Just remembering that night you shaved my pussy is gonna have me leaving tracks like a slug! Oh, and speaking of shaving, I could use some of your magic on the stubble that's trying to grow in. Fuck, is it ever itchy!" she declared. The thought of licking her pretty little pussy had my cock hard and raring to go.

"Nice going, lady! Now I've got a raging hard-on to worry about. If you don't give me a break, I'm never gonna get outta here, and then we'll both be bitchy as hell on the weekend. Is that what you want?" I needled her. "How about we save this discussion for Wednesday? I still have work to do before I can be back there, ya know. But it sure is good to hear your voice. Makes me realize just how much I've missed you. Better let Byron know that you might be a little late for your Sunday night's shift, like about thirty or forty hours!"

"Don't tempt me, you cunt tease, you!" Linda retorted. "And just to make you feel real guilty, I've got to get off this phone so I can go change my soaking-wet panties!" Then her voice softened as she added, "I love you, Ryan Blackstone. You drive safe, you hear? I need you back in one piece, all healthy and rested up. Take care?"

"Love you too, Linda Coulter. And I promise not to run too many 'luxo-boats' off the highway, although a few less motor-homes won't hurt my cause any. Just makes for less interference on the highway for me" I cooed like a silly teenager. Damn, but this girl had a tight hold on my heartstrings.

By noon on Tuesday, I was looking at my favourite view of Fort Nelson, the one in the rear-view mirror. Muncho Lake was about another three hours ahead, and with only half a load on, even Fireside Mountain was an easy pull. I spent a little over half an hour in Muncho Lake loading and securing Linda's car onto the pup trailer, then was off to Watson Lake.

The last leg to Whitehorse was uneventful, but because of my anticipation it felt like the road was growing in length with every passing minute. I did the two hundred and fifty miles from Watson Lake in a little more than five hours. Unloading the car, then breaking the two-trailer set and filing my paperwork wasted another hour. Travis arranged a delivery time in Stewart River for the next afternoon, and I was off to the Golden Nugget hotel faster than a raped ape.

I ran into Byron patrolling the lobby, and that's about where the beehive of activity slowed to a crawl. He was in no hurry to have me stomping all around his building and waking his night staff. For the first time in all the years we'd known each other, I had a burning desire to arrange a dental appointment for him, and a reason for him to go to it.

"Geez, Byron, give me a break, would ya?" I pleaded. "It's been a long trip, and running solo seems to have lost its appeal for some reason. Hell, I'll even pay you to rent me the damned room for a day or two." Nice try, but Byron wasn't budging.

"You're not going in there," he growled, "so let's you and me go over to the lounge and I'll buy you a drink."

Well, the offer of free booze was hard to turn down. An offer like that from Byron Cooper only happened once in a lifetime. But the old guy must have gone semi-senile since I left, because I also got a steak sandwich from him on the same tab. I began to contemplate having to phone 9-1-1. This wasn't the same Byron Cooper I'd known for all these years.

Something was up, which left me feeling worried and a little queasy.

"Okay Byron, I give up," I started, "what the fuck's going on? Buying me lunch, drinks, and keeping me away from the woman I love? That's not like you, not in a million years. What aren't you telling me?"

"Ryan, we had a bit of an incident here last night. A couple of the guys from Faro got into a fight in the lobby. When Linda tried to get them to leave, they went berserk. I couldn't get to her fast enough, and they left her in ... well, one hell of a mess. I'll give her credit for one thing though. That girl sure knows how to fight back. But she's pretty badly bruised and scarred. She needs all the rest I can give her, and she's going to need all the time you can give her to heal." Byron paused as he stared at the table, then lifted his eyes up to look me right in the face. "She's going to need your support too, Ryan. Not all her injuries are on the outside. She's one scared girl, and I don't blame her. A couple of those scars are going to be permanent. She's scared shitless that you'll see the mess and walk away. And if you do, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you myself. That's a promise."

I jumped up, knocking my chair half-way across the lounge. Injured? My Linda? If that was the case, what the fuck was I doing sitting here filling my face and getting fall-me-down drunk? I leaned on the table as I pushed my face towards Byron.

"Buddy, I'm gonna count to three, and if you haven't gotten your slimy ass out of that chair by then, I'll smack you so hard you'll wonder what the hell is supposed to be on the top of your fucking neck! Now move your ass and let me in that room!" I was beyond angry at that point. Hell, I was just crazy enough to actually take on Byron right then and there, and to hell with the fifteen years we'd been good friends!

Byron slowly got up from his seat, reluctantly leading me out of the lounge and into the lobby. I expected him to head down the hall, but instead he veered towards the front door.

"Byron, where the hell are you going?" I yelled. "Linda's room is down that hall over there if my sense of direction hasn't failed me. Now quit fucking around and tell me what the hell is going on!"

"She isn't down there, Ryan," Byron replied in a subdued tone, "she's over in the hospital. Just shut your yap and follow me. I'll drive you over and you can see for yourself. Then after you've seen her, I'll answer any questions you have, but not before. Trust me my friend, because she's one scared lady, and she needs you, more now than ever before." Byron stopped and pivoted quickly, my collision with his bulk almost knocking me to the ground. "Ryan, if you don't help that girl, I'll make your life a living hell, and that's another promise" he growled in a soft menacing voice.

Byron's face was expressionless and I was trying my damnedest to hold my tongue, even as a million questions pounded in my brain. On the one hand, I wanted to shake Byron's head until I got those answers. On the other, I needed to find Linda, to talk to her, hold her in my arms.

We made it to the hospital in about ten minutes. It felt like ten hours, especially with me not knowing what was going on. As Byron parked his pick-up truck, I had an overwhelming urge to jump and run into the building even though it would do me no good. He was the only person I knew that could take me to where Linda was, or knew who we had to talk to in order for me to see her. We passed the front admitting desk and made our way to the second floor's ICU, where Byron talked quickly to one of the nurses then led me down the hall to one of the wards. Just before he opened the door, Byron turned to face me, and I gazed at a face with more determination on it than I've ever seen from that man.

"Linda's in pretty rough shape, Ryan. I'll let you see for yourself, but the cuts and bruises will heal. It's her mental condition that worries me. She's scared that you'll find her so repulsive, you'll walk away. Personally, I think she's wrong. I've known you too long to believe you're that kind of an asshole. Just don't make a liar out of me, or so help me..."

With trepidation in my heart, I walked into the room. Linda was laying in the bed, tubes in her arms and enough electronic equipment for a NASA space launch attached to her. Her face was badly bruised, and her left eye was swollen shut. I could see that the bruising extended down past her chest, and that there were several stitched gashes on her upper chest and shoulders. How much more there was, I didn't know. Yet.

"Sweetheart?" I called her softly as I sat on the edge of the bed. "Linda? It's me, Ryan." She managed to open that one eye enough to let me know she was still alive.

"Hi, Lover," she mumbled through swollen lips, "you came back after all. Babe, I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to see me like this. God, I must look a sight."

I leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead, noticing her wince in pain at the touch. At that moment, I'd have given anything, including my life, to make it better for her. But only time would heal the wounds and bruises. Time, and as much love as I could give this girl that had taken over my heart, my soul, and my life.

"Shit, Sweets, wild horses couldn't keep me away" I answered. "All I ask is to be able to help you in any way I can. Just let me know what I can do, okay?"

A smile tried to escape through her bloodied lips until she winced with the pain. "You mean you're not disgusted with the way I look?" Linda mumbled. "I was so afraid you'd take one look and run out of here so fucking fast. But now, I think you just might stick around, although I have no idea why. What I need right now though, is a big hug." With that, she raised herself enough for me to take her in my arms and gently hold her to me. I wanted to show her just how important she'd become, but I was afraid to make things worse or cause her any more discomfort than she was already enduring.

"Ryan, there's more, unfortunately, and it's pretty ugly. I think you should know, and see for yourself before you decide whether to stay or to leave. That bastard cut me deep and the damage is going to be permanent." Linda gently pulled back the covers to reveal a long row of stitches across her stomach and down to her right hip. I wasn't quite ready for that and it must have shown on my face. "My womb has been damaged bad enough that I'll never be able to have kids" Linda explained, the pain of reality showing on her face. "I've been thinking about that all damned morning," she added, "and I can't figure out why a man like you would want a defective woman like me. No matter how much you try to lie about it, I know you want kids, and I can't give you any. Shit, Honey, I'm so sorry..." and she burst into tears, her sobs racking through her as she tried to pull away from me in fear and self-loathing. There was no way I was going to let her go, and I resisted her attempts to distance herself from me.

"Hey, Sweets. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you anyway. All this last week, I've been trying to figure out why a pretty girl like you would love an old pavement jockey like me, and I still have no idea. I just know you do, and that's good enough for me. You just concentrate on getting better and I'll do the rest, whatever that takes. Keep in mind though, that I've fallen in love with you too, and this little setback isn't gonna change that one bit. You understand me, Miss Coulter? Not one fucking bit!" I took a chance and kissed Linda's forehead again. This time she didn't wince, but pressed herself against my lips in a show of accepted affection and love.

Byron had been quietly standing at the door, and volunteered that he'd be in the hall whenever I was ready. I stood and walked over to him, extending my hand towards his, shook it, then grabbed him in an appreciative bear hug.

Linda remained in the ICU for another three days then was moved to a four bed ward. I called every favour I was ever owed and had her in a private room, complete with TV and phone. She stayed in hospital until her stitches were taken out a two weeks later. Byron explained about the miners from the Faro that had burst into the lobby, completely drunk, had knocked the desk clerk out cold and smashed the door to Linda's office open. The RCMP had arrested them, and one was in custody in Edmonton awaiting trial for attempted murder. Those charges were laid at Byron's insistence. I noted that the surly desk clerk had been replaced with a new clerk, native, and built like a Sumo wrestler. No one was going past him without using a sub-machine gun.

Meanwhile, my dispatcher had miraculously set up a series of runs that had me working between northern BC and the Yukon. The net result was that I would never be out of Whitehorse for more than three days, and usually could spend a day or two with Linda every trip.

The doctor had hoped they could repair Linda's medical and physical problems, but her fallopian tubes had been damaged to a point where only a specialist might be able to salvage anything, I was told.

It was almost another three weeks before Linda could return to work and resume the life she'd had before the attack. We talked every day, and I visited her every chance I had. Her spirits mended faster than her body, and that gorgeous body that I was addicted to did a pretty good job of repairing itself too. Even the scars became lighter, although they bothered Linda a hell of a lot more than they worried me. Maybe the packaging was a little wrinkled, but the contents were just as beautiful as ever.