========================================================================= Date: Wed, 6 Mar 1996 12:34:05 -0500 Reply-To: JJSWBT@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Wendy Tillis Subject: Hidden Potential 16/22 Hidden Potential By: Wendy Tillis March 1996 All standard disclaimers apply. Chapter 16 Richie checked the ropes holding his motorcycle in the bed of his new pick-up truck. They seemed secure. The truck wasn't exactly *new*- in fact it was past it's prime but it had been cheap and he figured it would last until they got to Barstow. After that - well, he'd worry about that later. He threw Maggie's suitcase in behind the driver's seat and went around to the passenger side of the truck. Maggie was just coming down the steps of her house, keys in hand. It was barely 9:00am and it was already 80 degrees. This summer had been unusually warm all up and down the west coast. She was wearing very short black shorts, a black and white striped T-shirt and sandals. Her hair was tied up off her neck. She was carrying a beach towel. "Ready to go?" Richie psyched. He had half expected her to back out when the time came but she hadn't. Last night they had dropped Angus off at Duncan's loft. Richie and Duncan had hardly spoken a word and they had only stayed a few minutes. Angus looked unhappy - if that was possible for a dog. Richie was glad to be free of the monster pooch- Angus gave him the creeps. Richie felt like the dog was always watching him and disapproved of what he saw. "Ready. The house is locked up. Mail and paper stopped. Mr. Creedy next door says he'll keep an eye on things, water the grass, etcetera. Guess we can go.'' Maggie spread the beach towel out over the front seat of the truck. The seats were vinyl and got uncomfortable fast in hot weather. They buckled their seat belts and Richie pulled away. They were taking the back roads south and figured to take three days to make the almost 1200 mile trek. They would go southeast to Kalmath, Oregon, then down the eastern border of California, through Carson City, Nevada, before turning west again to reach Barstow. Maggie had made much the same trip a couple of hundred years ago - it would be interesting to see if anything had changed. Driving south, they listened to the radio. When Maggie couldn't stand it anymore she reached over and turned the radio off. She wanted to talk to Richie about this race track venture - and what he planned to do afterwards. She wanted him to see that this was a short-term proposition at best. She didn't hold out much hope of it becoming a going concern. Richie didn't seem to have any idea about how much work the track needed, the availability of race dates on the national racing tour, concession licenses, business plans, anything. He thought she was being unnecessarily negative and by the time they reached the little town of Canby, California, she had stopped trying to discuss it. They found a tiny motel and got a room. After dinner at the local greasy spoon, they went back to their room. They made love on the lumpy old mattress while Saturday Night Live reruns blared from the motel owner's room next door. When Richie had fallen asleep, Maggie got up, found a nightgown, and went into the bathroom. She turned the shower on full blast and stood under the hot water. This was probably a mistake, she realized. Not just the idea of sleeping with Richie when she didn't really care for him. She had, in her long life, slept with many men she didn't care about. In those past eras when a woman could not live or travel alone, she had attached herself to willing partners and managed to get by. There had even been times when she had been held as a slave against her will. Richie was a decent bed partner and had certainly never hurt her. The trouble was, and she acknowledged to herself that it was selfish, this time there was nothing in the arrangement for *her*. Her altruistic urge to set Richie on the path of sweetness and light was probably doomed to failure - especially since it was in direct conflict with her non-altruistic urge to be with Duncan . Damn. The water started to turn cold, and she turned it off. She dried off quietly and put the nightgown on. She turned off the bathroom light before opening the door. Stepping into the bedroom, she could see the gleam of Richie's eyes. He was awake. He held up the covers to allow her to slide in. As he rolled toward her, his hands already pulling the gown over her head, she couldn't help thinking that she could have managed all this a lot better. Next morning they got a late start when the truck didn't want to start. Richie tinkered with it for an hour and eventually fixed it. Being Sunday there was almost no one on the roads. The landscape was mostly brown - brown fields, brown mountainsides, brown desert. Yes - she thought to herself - just the same as it was in 1743. And the pick-up truck was only a bit more comfortable than the buckboard she had driven last time. Richie *was* better company that those damned mules though. She smiled to herself at that thought. She looked away from the scenery and tuned back into the conversation. "Richie, be serious, after you get the race track up and running, what are you going to do then? Are you going to race?" They had been over this yesterday but she kept at it. "How long can you keep that up before it gets old - or you do?" She had to remind herself that she wasn't supposed to know what he was. "I don't know. I'm in good shape, I could race a long time. After that - I really hadn't thought about it. You and I can think about that when the time comes." " Excuse me?" She turned in the seat to face him. "I mean, we can make that decision together in 10 or 15 years. Maggie. I wasn't going to do this until we got there but - Maggie, um. . Margaret. . . would you marry me?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer. Maggie was thinking furiously. She had known he was thinking about it but she had hoped he would hold off until she came up with a good "out" . "Richie. This is so sudden." Classic stall. "I don't know what to say. We've only known each other one summer." She trailed off. and Richie took up the slack in the conversation. " But we're great together. I never met anyone like you before - as soon as I saw you I knew you were the woman I wanted to marry and spend the next 50 years with. Say yes. You've got to say yes. Please?" He looked like a big eager puppy. " I need some time to think, Richie. I hadn't planned on getting married. Certainly not so . . young. There are a lot of things we'd have to talk about." Stall, she thought, stall. " No , let's *not* talk about it. Let's just do it! I'm sure there is a Justice of the Peace in Barstow that can do it. It will be fantastic." " I'll think about it, Richie. Don't push , OK?" "OK. But I know you'll say yes. Think about it - I can race the dirt track circuit and you can come along and manage my career. When we get tired of that, we'll travel. Hop a tramp steamer to the Orient. Anything we want. Think about it." "I am, Richie, I am." That night they stayed in the tiny town of Lone Pine. Richie tried to bring up the idea of marriage again but she plead a headache and went to bed early. Lying awake all night, she stared at the ceiling and tried to think of a graceful way out of this. There was only one way - stay with Richie a few weeks, tell him it was over and then disappear. It would mean leaving Duncan too - unless she contacted him at some later date. That would be tricky - if she waited too long he would wonder why she hadn't aged. And she wasn't ready to tell MacLeod about herself yet. Damn. The next day they drove to Barstow and then out to the track. It was 20 miles south of Barstow on old route 247. It was, indeed, in the middle of no where. There was a run down, disreputable looking truck stop motel on the road - the track was actually 5 miles west down a dirt road. When they pulled up at the truck stop, the parking lot held 8 motorcycles and 2 pick-up trucks. Maggie and Richie got out of the truck and went into the restaurant portion of the building. Inside, Richie's partners were gathered. Mostly in their mid-twenties to early thirties, heavy into black leather and silver studded belts, hair generally long and dirty - they looked like extras from a bad biker movie. There were 5 or 6 women among them - all of who were very young, very skinny and very tough looking. Maggie and Richie looked like Preppies thrown into a den of Hell's Angels. "Richie, you made it. Who's the girl?" This from a large man with a snake tattooed on his upper arm. " Cobra! This is Maggie. Maggie and I are getting married! Soon as we can find a judge." Maggie tightened her hold on Richie's arm and whispered in his ear. "I didn't say yes , remember?" The others cheered raucously at the news and tossed Richie a beer. He handed it to Maggie and got himself another. They moved to a booth with the rest of the pack and Richie began to chat with the bikers. He was at the height of his glory - surrounded by his buddies. Maggie couldn't see how Richie fit in with this bunch - she assumed that they accepted him as a goofy younger "brother". The women looked at her - sizing her up. Several of the bikers were sizing her up too. Great - just what she needed, she thought, this will probably degenerate into hair pulling and bottle throwing before the day is out. Richie tossed his arm around her as he continued to talk to the men. Maggie took a drink of her beer and tried to smile. It was only noon - it was going to be a long day. That night, in their room at the truck stop motel, Maggie let Richie have it. " What the hell were you doing - telling them we were getting married?" " Well we are, aren't we? I mean, I know you haven't officially said yes - but you are going to, aren't you?" " Richie! I *told* you I had to think about it. That means I wanted to think about it - not that I was being coy! Shit! Didn't anyone ever teach you that 'maybe' meant just that? Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again with me. If I tell you I'm going to think about something, don't you *ever* assume you know what the answer is going to be." She was pacing around the room and came up next to him. " You smell like a brewery. Take a shower before bed. Is the air conditioning working? It must be 85 degrees in here." Richie checked the thermostat. It did read 78 degrees. He turned the setting down and the machine began to chug harder. He didn't see what she was so upset about. He supposed she was just tired. . . it was a long trip from Seattle and it was damn hot. Tomorrow she would feel better, they were going to ride out to the track early before the heat got too bad. Up before the sun, the whole gang rode out to see the track. Maggie rode behind Richie on his bike. Most of the "investors" had been down here for a month or more. Maggie couldn't see what they had been doing. The small grandstand was in pieces and unsafe to walk on or under. The track had cracked in the heat and little had been done to smooth it. Most of the safety barriers were gone or broken. Even Richie was taken aback by the place. A couple of the guys drove their bikes out onto the track and had someone drop a rag to start them. They raced off in a cloud of fine dust and sand. The rest of the crew gathered around to watch this make-shift race. After several laps a winner was declared and four other bikers took their turn. One of the women arrived with a pick-up truck filled with beer and the drinking began. They stayed at the track until the afternoon sun drove them back to shelter. Some went back to their rooms to sleep off the beer, others ate at the restaurant or worked on their bikes in the shade. When the sun started to go down they all gathered in the restaurant, which doubled as a bar and honky-tonk. The juke box played and tequila flowed. Richie and Maggie had slept most of the afternoon and Richie was raring to go by evening. He and Maggie joined the party and sat around drinking, talking, dancing until almost 3:00 am, then they fell back to their room. As the week went on, things got worse, not better. Richie was clearly enjoying himself. Maggie knew, from what Richie had told her, that he felt like Duncan had spent the last five years trying to *control* him. Here there were no controls. And when Maggie tried to question him about his plans now that they were here, he got defensive. His friends thought she talked too much and openly suggested that Richie put her in her place. By the time the weekend came around, Maggie was about ready to scream.