The Wilder Sisters by Jo-Ann Mapson

Wilder.”
    “How’s my business girl? Haven’t heard from you in a while, so I thought I’d better check.”
    “Pop? Oh, Pop. I’m fine. I am so glad to hear your voice. Where in hell are you? You’ll never in a million years guess where I am. Go on, try. Fifty bucks says you won’t.”
    She listened to his creaky chuckle and waited. Obviously her father had no idea how many dollars per minute a car phone could rack up. “Well, Little Bit, your mother and I are in Austin, Texas. What you might call a true college town. As far as the eye can see there’s nothing but coeds in tank tops and young boys driving automobiles they didn’t pay for. They’ve got restaurants galore. A person could live here and eat out a different place every night of the week.”

    “Did you see the statue of Stevie Ray Vaughn? Did you take a picture for me?”
    “No, I didn’t, and no, I didn’t, but just now I do believe my wallet feels about fifty dollars fatter.”
    “Why is that, Pop?”
    “Because I know exactly where you are twenty-four hours a day, every day. You’re my daughter, which means you’re in trouble, aren’t you? Pay up.”
    Lily grinned. She should have narrowed the parameters consider- ably before she made the bet. “There’s a little trouble. Nothing major. It’ll pass or it won’t. I’m not sweating bullets. But Pop, listen, I’m about seventy-five miles from Gallup.”
    “Alone in your car? You’d better be carrying your .357.”
    “I’ve got Buddy here beside me.” She held the receiver out and told her dog to speak. He was more than happy to oblige. “What do you think of that?”
    “Sounds like a dog, all right. What a thoughtful daughter you are, coming to pay your old man a visit. Sad thing is, I won’t be home for a week or so. I’m settling some horse business down here, and your mother, God bless her, is busy making new friends or saving greyhounds. Every night it’s dinner with that professor who wrote those horse books or some whacked-out artist who can’t eat anything normal. I swear, my stomach’s a wreck. Raw fish, pasta in cream sauce, or some greasy French stuff that will likely bring on my gout.” “Order Caesar salad. Ask for the low-fat dressing, and you’ll be fine. I practically live on it. When you get back home I’ll cook you some real food, Pop. And we’ll trailer out and go riding in the mountains, maybe even camp a few nights. How’s that for something
    to look forward to?”
    Her father sighed. “About one step beyond wonderful. No bull- shitting around now, Lily. What in the devil is going on with you that your work can spare you like this? Did you get yourself fired?” She bit a hangnail and stared at the passing landscape. In some ways she was thankful it looked so desolate. It kept too many people from relocating. New Mexico’s total population was just over a million and a half; Los Angeles County alone was over nine million. Nine million! There wasn’t anything in the world there should be nine million of, unless it was tax-free greenback dollars nestled in
    her bank account.

    She might just have to extend her leave to forever. “Everything’s taken care of, Pop. Have fun in Texas, and go see that statue. It’s supposed to be very cool.”
    “Sooner or later you and I are going to sit down and talk, en- tienda ?”
    The phone crackled and buzzed. “Yes, Pop. Love you to pieces, but I’m losing reception. Gotta go. Bye now.”
    She pressed the phone’s End button, and Buddy gave her a ques- tioning look. “That wasn’t a lie,” she said. “There was some static on the line. Besides, holding back a little is not the same thing as ly- ing.” He licked her elbow and nudged her with a slimy nose. “Buddy, quit acting like a shrink.” She rummaged in her purse on the seat and, one-handed, unwrapped a berry-flavored PR bar. “Eat your snack and take a nap.”
    As Buddy worked on his treat, Lily wished like hell she could clear the dead bugs