Tarotica

Card 10: The Wheel of Fortune

An hour out of Hot Springs, the rain began falling hard and grew steadily worse as Miranda drove east. Even at top speed, her wipers couldn’t keep the windshield clear.

It’s like being in a car wash. I should’ve stayed with Uncle Bright until tomorrow, she scolded herself. It didn’t look this bad when I checked the weather forecast. The wind had picked up, too, buffeting her little Kia about. She scanned the radio for an updated report, but all she got was static.

Squinting through the downpour, she searched vainly for a place to pull off the narrow country road. Maybe the deluge will let up after a while. She tapped her brakes as she rounded a curve, and felt the car hydroplane. The rear end fishtailed and pulled her across the oncoming lane. Struggling to control the vehicle, Miranda turned into the skid.

Luckily no one was coming in the opposite direction, and she sighed as the car righted itself. She eased off the accelerator and plowed on.

By the time she saw the fallen tree, it was too late. Instinctively, she cut the wheel to the left. The impact crunched the passenger side and spun her around. Unable to get a purchase on the wet pavement, the car skated off the road, landing nose down in a drainage ditch. The engine stalled.

Muddy water swirled across her windshield. At least I’m not hurt. She switched on her emergency flashers. Good, they still work. With shaking hands, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and flipped it open, only to discover she was out of range.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she swore. “What the hell am I going to do now?”

The only thing she could do, it seemed, was sit and wait, and hope someone came along to rescue her. Eventually, the rain would stop. Then she noticed the water was rising, inching up the doors. If it gets much higher, I won’t be able to open the door.

Would I be safer inside the car or outside? The idea of standing out in the pummeling rain held little appeal.

Just when she’d decided to remain inside and take her chances, the Kia shifted its position and sank deeper into the ditch. Water seeped in around the doors. Time to evacuate. She leaned against the driver’s side door, trying to force it open, but the pressure of the water held it fast. The crumpled passenger door wouldn’t budge either.

Yanking the keys from the ignition, she flipped the trunk lever and heard it spring open.

She slung her purse over her shoulder, scrambled across the console, and unlatched the fold-down back seats.

As she crawled into the trunk, the rushing water tugged at the car, undermining its precarious hold on the embankment. She pushed the trunk lid open and climbed out. Rain pelted her head and shoulders. Wind whipped at her hair. She slipped on mud and fell against the rear fender, banging her hip hard. Water sluiced around her ankles. Grabbing her suitcase, she heaved it out onto the wet ground. She dug her hands and feet into the soggy earth, dragging the suitcase behind her as she clawed her way toward the road.

Blinded by the rain, she felt the pavement before she saw it. She stood up, holding her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes, as the Kia tore away from the embankment and went bobbing downstream.

Tears ran down her cheeks, blending with the rain. What if the water comes up over the road? she worried. There’s no higher ground to climb to.

She was just about to start reciting Hail Marys when she spotted two white lights shining weakly through the rain. Over the roaring storm, she could hear the growl of a diesel engine. As the truck approached, its headlights picked out the tree lying in the road. Miranda hurried toward the tree, waving her arms. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The big dualie slowed and stopped. The driver’s door swung open and a tall man wearing a cowboy hat stepped out.

“You okay?” he yelled.

“My car got washed away,” she shouted back.

The man grabbed her arm and picked up her suitcase. “What happened?”

he asked as he helped her into the truck.

She told him how she’d hit the tree and skidded into the drainage ditch, barely escaping before the water carried off her car. “I’m awfully glad you showed up when you did.”

“Lucky you didn’t drown. These flash floods can be treacherous. I’ve seen ’em sweep away double-wides.” His windshield wipers slashed at the rain as he studied the fallen tree. “I think there’s enough room to drive around.”

He shifted into gear and eased forward, testing the soft shoulder to make sure it would hold the dualie’s weight as he maneuvered around the obstacle. When they’d cleared it, he braked and got out. Miranda heard him rummaging in the truck bed. What’s he doing? she wondered. A few minutes later he got back in the cab, drove a couple of car lengths, then stopped again.

Seeing her confusion, he explained, “Moving the tree off the road. Don’t want someone else to hit it.”

He climbed out into the rain once more to untie the tree. When he returned, he was soaked to the bone like Miranda. He tossed his dripping cowboy hat on the back seat and she finally got a good look at him. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, a slightly hooked nose. Black hair and coppery skin. Might have some Indian blood, she thought. He probably wasn’t much older than her, but fine lines already etched the corners of his brown eyes, the legacy of years spent in the sun. His wet shirt clung to his muscled torso, the body of a man accustomed to physical work.

He handed her a box of Kleenex. “Wish I could offer you a towel, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“Thanks for rescuing me. You’re my knight on a white charger.”

“It’s a Dodge Ram.”

Miranda laughed and wiped her face, then introduced herself.

“Clint Jackson,” he said. “What’s a lady like you doin’ out in this weather?”

“I was on my way to San Antonio. Now I’m not sure. There’s the little matter of the car…Fortunately, it’s a rental.”

“When we come to the next town you can report it, and we’ll see about gettin’ you another one.”

* * *

Clint waited with her while she explained what had happened and filled out a mound of paperwork.

“Sorry, ma’am,” the rental car agent apologized. “We won’t have another car available ’til tomorrow afternoon.”

“What am I going to do until then?” she groaned, staring out at the rain.

Clint touched her arm lightly. “I’ve got an idea, if you’d care to hear it.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I’m headed to do a little gamblin’ at a riverboat casino on the Texas-Louisiana border. You’d be welcome to come along.” He turned to the agent. “Could you arrange for this lady to pick up a car at Lake Caddo?”

“No problem.”

Miranda weighed her options. She could check into a motel and watch TV while she waited for a car, or she could spend an evening with a tall, dark, handsome man and maybe win some money along the way. It didn’t take her long to decide.

“You’re on,” she agreed.

The agent passed her another stack of paperwork and made a phone call. “You’re all set.”

* * *

Designed to resemble the paddlewheel riverboats that steamed through Lake Caddo in the mid-1800s, the Lucky Lady featured two decks for gaming. A third level held a restaurant, several bars, and a number of sleeping chambers. As they stepped inside, Miranda felt dazzled by the flashing lights, booming music, and the omnipresent click-and-whir of slot machines. Hundreds of men and women clustered around tables