Shaping up: Chapter 1

Hopefully will have a first draft of Chapter 1 soon. For the meantime, I have this much, which shows the definite shape of the thing. Hope you enjoy it. If not, let me know what you don't like, and I'll do one of the three things stipulated in the "Welcome to My Western" post. Cheers.

They had been walking for a while. She was on the road, the boy by the hedge, on the inside. The boy trod on dried mud, his soles overprinting the larger tractor tyre treads.
"Will you stop that? You'll ruin your shoes"
She heard the choking judder of a diesel. She turned around, but there was no sign of it, save for the sound. She held on for a minute, the boy carrying on along the raised dirt. There it came, a large, white, rusting van. She stuck out her thumb, and it stopped. Behind a hat on the dashboard, there was a dark haired man at the wheel. He lunged accross to push the door open.
"Howya. Where to?"
"Just into town there"
"What town?"
"Muck - where the road goes... Aren't you going there yourself?"
"Well, if that's where the road goes, that's where I'll go. There's no use fighting it. There's not much room to turn on this shit of a road. Hop in."
"Zack." the boy came back to as she climbed into the cab. The cab was large and smelled of dry cigarette smoke and the green cardboard tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Aside from dust and dried mud and packets of cigarettes, it was empty.
"Are you waiting there long?" She looked ahead, at the road, as he pointed to the windscrreen and said, "Oh, just in time, eh?" The wipers screeched accross dry glass, but slapped back, pushing the water drops from the glass. They'd only just got there, and they were obviously not welcome, but more of their kind came along anyway.
"Zack; there's a name you don't hear often. Howya, my name's Tommy. Tommy McDonagh." He held out a hand.
"It's short for Zachary. That means 'Rememebered by God'. Say hello, Zack" The boy looked at him, and he at the boy, then at her. Then, he looked back to the winding road and shook the van into life.
"Like driving an earthquake" he said and smiled, looking her. The van veered from one direction to the other, his hands pulling the wheel this way and that, the frequent bends taken by not reigning in the errant steering wheel.

He was there in the road as they turned around yet another random bend in the road. He was standing beside a car crumpled into the ditch. Water dripped from his cap, over his coat and joined a pool at his boots. He had his pen to his notebook, but was facing the van as it came round the bend. He raised his hand, and Tommy stopped.
"How can I help you Gard?" The Gard looked straight accross the cab to the girl.
"Mary."
"Shea"
"Mary, what in God's name are you doing?" I'd've thought you'd have more sense..." his words drifted off as he looked at Mary, the boy, teh driver and back to Mary. She looked at the dashboard, and when she looked back at him, she saw his head down, his face blushed. He looked up at the driver and said "Well, what about you?"
"Tommy McDonagh" he said cheerily enough. He held up the pink license, and the Gard waved it away. "I'm just looking for maybe some casual work. But, I'm a philosopher really. I'm travelling the land, seeking higher truths." The Gard gave him a look.
"And how's that going?"
"Not great. Kind of nihilistic"
"God bless. Lookit, what are you doing here" No one replied. No one knew if he was talking to her or him. Not even the boy. "Sweet Jesus, it's unusual to find a traveller with nothing to say." The Gard hung his head, then lifted it again, wiping away his last words with a thick, wet hand. "Lookit, that wasn't fair and I shouldn't have said it. I'm usually a reasonable man, but... but... Lookit, what is it you're looking for?"
"Nothing in particular Gard."
"And, are there more of ye coming?"
"No sir. I'm on me lonesome" The Gard looked at him for a moment, then spoke accross his chest.
"Right Mary, anyway, you and the boy come with me. I'll drop you home."
Looking through the windshield at the road, she said "There's no need. Tommy here is bringing us."
"Mary." She didn't move her head. "Alright. Well, look here. This is a small town. We don't need any casual traders, let alone fucking philosophers. You make sure she gets home alright. Mary, I'll be phoning you at home in twenty minutes. Now, you may be out with me, but if you don't answer I'll be looking for Plato here." He looked at Tommy, even as he spoke to Mary.
The Gard walked back to the wreck punched into the ditch, and glanced back to them. The van shook into life, and it went again juddering along the road.
He picked up a cigarette box, opened the lid and looked in. He threw it over his shoulder into the back of the van, and picked up another. This he also threw into the back of the van. All the time, the van wavered with the turns in the road, and across the road. As he picked up the third, the boy leaned across and handed him a box, the lid opened, one cigarette left.
"Thanks Jack."
"Zack", she corrected him.
"Right, yeah. Thanks Zack." He looked over; the boy was looking through the windscreen as the van went first left, then right, overcorrected each time. For his part, he was driving the clapped out piece of shit like a shopping trolley, avoiding the ditches. "As long as she stays on the tarmac, we'll be alright." He used a tone of voice, and looked sideways to them; they both looking out the windscreen, not even hinting at laughing. He groped around his shirt, and pants (the van taking more violent turns as he searched his pants). He pulled out a lighter, got a flame, and waved the lighter around the base of the cigarette, as he was thrown hin and yon by the road's turns, the van's suspension and his own attempts to compensate for both. He got it lit, and hastilly wound down the window. "Hope ye don't mind..." They didn't respond. He kept on driving, first this way, then that.