A Gambling Man (Archer #2)(20)

“Well, they just like to keep it realistic.”

They crossed into California and then doglegged southwest before entering the Sierra Nevada Mountains. As the ground rose swiftly around them, Callahan clutched the edge of her seat.

“You okay?” asked Archer.

“I didn’t know we had to go through mountains to get there.”

“You ever been to California before?”

“Never. You?”

“When I was in the Army. Trained at Fort Ord and then at Camp San Luis Obispo.”

As they passed close to the edge of a long drop, she closed her eyes and said, “Well, I prefer flat land.”

“Well, with the right-hand drive and the direction we’re going, I’m the one close to the edge, not you.”

“I’m close enough, thank you very much.”

They drove past slopes full of chaparral, flatter lands of grass savannas, stands of big-leaf maples and white alders, thick, rugged live black and blue oaks, and armies of Coulter pines.

“What the hell kind of tree is that?” asked Callahan.

They were passing what looked to be a whole forest of them. They seemed to reach to the stars, and an Army column, complete with armor, could have ridden through an opening in one broad trunk.

“Giant sequoias, biggest trees there are. We came up here to train a few times. Ended up just staring at those suckers for about an hour.”

They started upward again with jarring swiftness and Callahan clamped her eyes shut.

“How’d you end up in Reno?” asked Archer, trying to draw her mind away from the ascending elevation.

She slowly opened her eyes. “After the war, I wasn’t sure what to do. My brother was dead, and my parents both died before the war started. The factory I worked in closed down, and with all the boys coming back from fighting there weren’t any jobs left for the women. Those who were married went back to their homes and husbands, those who came back anyway. I worked at a diner in Tennessee for a bit, then decided to just pull up stakes and totally change the direction of my life.”

“So you headed west?”

“Yes, like a lot of people.” She eyed him with a heavy-lidded look. “Like you.”

“And the stint at the Dancing Birds Café?”

“I got to Reno and was wandering around town, checking things out when I literally bumped into Mr. Shyner. I guess he liked the looks of me. I started out working as the hostess, prancing around in my tight little gown, getting my butt pinched and my boobs felt up and taking dollar tips from gents for the privilege. Then I became a waitress. The tips were better, and the ass pinchers had a tougher angle to work with, but I couldn’t see a future in it. I was practicing my dancing and singing the whole time though, you see. Out in Hollywood, the girls have to be able to do lots of things. I read about that in magazines. If I can sing and dance, I can get parts. Bit parts, sure, but then people get to know you. And your roles get bigger. That’s how it works. And if you’re lucky enough and work hard enough, you get to be a star.”

“Sounds like you gave this a lot of thought,” replied Archer.

“You have to give it thought when you’re changing your whole life.”

Archer considered this. “I’m not sure I gave my course change a lot of thinking. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“I couldn’t afford to do that, Archer. This is my last chance at something big.”

“Why? You’re still young.”

“In the movie business, I’m getting close to middle age. I need to get going before the only parts left to me are playing the heroine’s spinster aunt.”

“Um-hmm.” Archer checked the mirror.

She noticed this and said, “You don’t think we’re being followed?”

“Never can be too careful.”

They passed over the San Joaquin River and watched the rushing water below. It was the fourth such river they had crossed. It seemed to Archer that California was a very well-hydrated state. It grew dark as they continued heading south through the San Joaquin Valley, which was flat and filled with plants of every description, and all lush and green.

“So are we done with the mountains?” asked Callahan, looking relieved. “This place is pretty level.”

“Valleys usually are, but no, we’re not. We have to go through the Diablo Range next,” noted Archer.

“Then is that it for the mountains?”

“No. There’s a whole mess of coastal ranges, north to south. After Diablo, we cross the Santa Lucia Range to get to Bay Town, which is where I’m going.”

“Lots of Spanish names in California,” she said suspiciously.

“Well, they did discover it first.”

“Where are we stopping for the night?” she asked as she lit up a cigarette and nervously blew smoke to her side of the car.

“There’s a place called Coalinga in Fresno County. Route 198 will take us there.”

“Never heard of Coalinga.”

“Neither have I. But it’s a place to stop.”

“Do we go through the Diablo mountains to get there?”

“No, it’s still pretty much in the valley. It’s farmland, mostly level.”

“How much farther after Coalinga to Bay Town?”