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Yale gritted, pulling Dara along in his wake. "Want me to take over?"
    "I'd appreciate it." Hank chuckled, nursing his injured hand. "That's my baby there." He pointed to a huge gleaming tractor-trailer truck which stood like a monstrous prehistoric creature in the back parking lot.
    "In you go, Dara ," Yale said briskly, practically tossing her into the cab and climbing in beside her on the driver's side. He started the engine as Hank bounced up into the seat beside Dara .
    "Yale, do you think we should be doing this? I mean, you're not supposed to leave the scene of a crime, or something like that. We're witnesses..."
    "Nobody but a fool would stick around a situation like that," Yale told her kindly, shifting the massive gears and setting the huge track and trailer in motion. "Trust me, honey. I know what I'm doing. This is my element, not yours."
    Ruefully acknowledging the truth of that, Dara subsided as the huge truck lumbered off into the night. Bemusedly she watched as the Interstate sign flashed past. Yale was taking them onto the freeway.
    Belatedly she remembered Hank's hand.
    "Have you got a first-aid kit? I should put something on that hand," she said, turning in concern.
    "Somewhere around here..." he said, rustling about behind her in the sleeping compartment . " Say, you seem to know what you're doing there, Ransom. Still doing it for a living?''
    "Not anymore," Yale replied, catching Dara's quick glance out of the corner of his eye and grinning wickedly. “Kind of feels good to get my hands back on the wheel, though."
    "Yeah, must as I complain about it, I'd miss it if I had to stop tomorrow," Hank said, dragging out a first-aid kit.
    Dara opened it quickly, pulling out necessary supplies and going to work on the cut hand.
    "I don't think it's too bad," she finally said, taping the wound carefully. “Be sure to change the dressing. I've tried to clean it up as best I can, but you should probably still have a doctor look at it."
    "I'll be home tomorrow. My wife can check on it," Hank said unconcernedly. "Thanks for the patching job, though. Between the two of you, you've been right useful tonight!"
    "It's, uh, certainly been an adventure," Dara agreed carefully, slanting a greenish glance up at Yale's hard profile. He looked right at home. "How far are we going with Hank?" she asked softly.
    "I don't know. Hadn't thought about it," Yale murmured. "Why don't you crawl in the back and catch some sleep? You were tired earlier this evening, so I expect you're exhausted by now."
    "Yale," she whispered, "we can't just go off like this! What about your car? How will we get back to Eugene? Where are we headed, anyway?"
    "Go to sleep, honey. I'll take care of everything," he instructed gently.
    "Go on, Dara ," Hank said soothingly. "Let your man have some fun. The sleeper's not as clean as it ought to be, but you'll be all right if you stay on top of the blankets."
    "Fun?" Dara eyed her escort. "Are you enjoying this, Yale Ransom?" she asked accusingly.
    "I don't know. Can't decide." He chuckled. "Stop looking at me like that and go to sleep. I'll wake you later."
    Dara licked her lower lip in thoughtful contemplation. But she was outnumbered and she was exhausted. And she had brought the whole catastrophe down on her own head, she remembered in a surge of self-honesty. And it really had been rather exciting.
    She smiled slowly to herself and climbed obediently into the sleeping compartment. Yale could handle everything.

 
     
     
    Three
     
     
    “Where are we?"
    Dara's voice was a sleepy mumble as she stirred awake some time later. It was the lack of the muted roar of the heavy diesel engine which had roused her, and she realized the big rig had been stopped.
    "A couple of hours south of Eugene." Yale's voice came calmly from the front seat. "Come on, honey, this is where we get off."
    "A couple of hours south! Good grief! How are we going to get back tonight?" she demanded, scrambling out of the sleeper