Bucky hunt affects everyone

Last night we had to rescue the girls. The transmission on the truck started giving them trouble on the big hill on the way home from college. We told them to find a safe place to pull over to wait, and hurried to town for some transmission fluid. Then we hustled south to meet them. It was a roughly half an hour drive to where they were parked in the driveway of an old hay barn.
With some added fluid, Liz and the boss limped home with the little Dakota, while Beck and I followed in the van.

However, what happened while they waited made us even more aware of just how intense and frightening the hunt for fugitive Bucky Phillips is, for both civilians and police.
The girls had been waiting there by the road for only a few moments when a county sheriff pulled up behind them after giving them a thorough once over.


He exited his car, strapped on a bullet-resistant vest and loosened his side arm before approaching the pick up to ask if the girls needed assistance. They explained the circumstances, and were very, very glad to see him. Becky tried to screw up her nerve to ask him to stay with them while they waited for us, but she couldn’t quite get the words out.

I’ll bet he would have been glad to. At least I am sure he checked to see if they got away all right. There is a very noticeable police presence on the roads even here, miles from the search scene. I for one am glad to see them. I turn the news on a dozen times a day hoping to hear that he has been captured. We are keeping things very thoroughly buttoned up and locked and dogs are loose in the house when we are out. I wish this would end.