Ivy Get Your Gun

by Cindy Brown

  “Shoot, Nathan, did someone let the air out of your tires?” Billie clucked her tongue in sympathy.

  “Not just mine,” Nathan said. “All the cars in the lot. All of ’em.”

  Chapter 34

  “Everyone had flat tires?” asked Matt. “Every single car?”

  “Yeah.” I lay on my couch cradling my cell phone close to me. I wished it were Matt. “Employees’ vehicles were the last to be aired up. That’s why I’m calling so late.”

  “It’s okay. I’m going to be up for a few more hours working on this paper.” Matt yawned. “Do you think the flat tires are connected to the sewer system vandalism and the escaped reptiles?”

  “Seems like it. But I can’t figure out how Mongo’s death figures in. It seems like such a big jump from vandalism to murder.”

  “And why start with murder? Wouldn’t you start small?”

  “Me, the criminal mastermind?” I smiled at Matt through the phone line, or cell tower or whatever. “You’re right, I’d try something less extreme first…unless Mongo’s death gave me the idea to begin causing more accidents…”

  We were both quiet for a moment, thinking. Matt yawned again. “Sorry. Late nights. So, still no word about Annie?”

  “No…You’re not hoping that I don’t get cast, are you?” Arghh. I wanted the words back the second they were out of my mouth.

  A pause. “You know me better than that.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry, it’s just that…” What? What was my problem? “I’m tired.” That wasn’t it, but I was too tired to figure out why I was behaving like a twelve-year-old.

  “You do know I’m crazy about you, right? And that I want you to be happy?”

  “Yeah. I do. Thanks.” I hugged the phone again. “I’m just a tired idiot. See you tomorrow? At the cookout?”

  “You bet. Good night. Sweet dreams, Ivy.”

  “Good night.” We hung up.

  I lay back on my couch and studied the water stain on my ceiling. Sometimes it looked like a heart. Other times it put me in mind of a bloodstain. Tonight it was both. What was up with me? Was I really afraid that Matt didn’t want me to succeed as an actor? Getting the gig would mean a lot of time away from him, since Arizona Center Stage always had performances in Tucson as well as Phoenix. And it could lead to more jobs that took me away from him. But he had never said anything about that. Well, he’d talked—maybe complained—a little about my schedule. Or had he? Maybe that was me projecting my feelings. Maybe I was afraid…

  Next thing I knew sunlight was streaming in my windows, and I had a crick in my shoulder from sleeping the entire night on the couch. Great. I’d hoped to get out to Sunnydale early this morning, scope out the desert perimeter, maybe stake out the water hazards. Lassie had been gone for over a week. I didn’t like to think what that meant.

  I grabbed a quick shower and changed into a clean t-shirt and not-so-clean jeans. I made coffee in my French press, poured it into two big to-go cups (I didn’t have a thermos), and hit the road.

  I was too late to catch a glimpse of any night creatures, including Chihuahuas and pugs. I ran by all of the cameras, checking on photos. Coyote. Coyote. Coyote. Hey, was that a black curly tail? I peered at the small black-and-white photo displayed on the camera’s small screen. Might have been a pug-butt or might have been wishful thinking. I downloaded the photos onto a flash drive.

  On the way into the office, I pulled into the Whataburger drive-through for another cup of coffee and ooh…a honey butter chicken biscuit. I scrounged through my purse, already salivating. Almost enough money. I raised up in my seat so I could check my jeans pockets. Yes! A crumpled five-dollar bill and…

  The Kleenex Marge had given me that first night at Gold Bug. With blood on it. From me—and Nathan. “Woo-hoo!”

  “I’m sorry,” crackled the drive-through speaker. “We don’t serve Yoo-hoo. Would you like a chocolate shake?”

  “Yeah, I would. And a cup of coffee and a honey butter chicken biscuit.” What the hell. I was celebrating.

  The meal was gone by the time I got into the office. Uncle Bob was out on a call, but he’d left a note on top of my desk. “Found Acme Arizona,” he wrote. “Incorporated in Nevada. Looks like it’s owned by another business, Acme Alabama, which is also incorporated in Nevada. My antenna is up. Lots of shady folks have companies there or in Delaware or Wyoming—easier to hide stuff in those states. Asked my buddy in Nevada to check into it.” Huh. We might be onto something.

  I was packaging the DNA samples to drop off at a quick-turnaround lab when my phone buzzed. A text from Arizona Center Stage. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then looked. “Please let us know if you can make another callback at 3 p.m. this Wednesday.”

  I called Matt immediately, even before responding to the text. “I have another callback!”

  “Congratulations!” Matt’s voice was warm and sincere. Yep, I’d been an idiot.

  “I guess these big theater companies have more callbacks. Maybe because they have so many more people auditioning. Not sure.” I’d never gotten this far with Arizona Center Stage before. Getting the first two callbacks was a coup. Getting the third one was nothing short of miraculous.

  “It’s fabulous, Ivy,” said Matt. “And so are you.”

  I hung up, happy happy happy. I texted the theater back, then powered up my computer. I grabbed the flash drive from my bag, slipped it into the USB port, and scrolled through the photos, holding my breath and…omigod, what a day. “It’s Lassie’s butt!” I said when Arnie picked up. “Your new camera took a picture of Lassie’s rear end. He’s alive!”

  After I hung up, I did a little happy dance. We had a lead on the Gold Bug case, my acting career and love life were on the rise, and Lassie was alive. The world looked pretty good.

  Until that night.

  Chapter 35

  Five men in black hats took up the breadth of the street, walking slowly toward us, squinting in the late afternoon sun. The haunting strains of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” hung in the dusty air.

  “Installed those speakers today,” said Josh, who stood beside me on the saloon’s porch. “Love that music.”

  Nathan burst out of the swinging doors behind us and scuttled down the steps like a beetle. “Welcome to Gold Bug Gulch.” He walked toward the group, who now stood still in the middle of the street, like a posse waiting for a hanging. “Glad you could make it for our Sundown Showdown cookout.”

  “Showdown?” I whispered.

  “Nathan added a gunfight.” Josh had swapped out his blacksmith duds for a tan Stetson, Wranglers, and a fitted Western shirt. He cleaned up nicely, but there was still something…untamed about him. Like a pet cougar. “We’re supposed to be surprised by bandits. Well, one bandit in this case. Chance.”

  “One bandit doesn’t sound like a showdown.”

  “I shoot him. And don’t worry.” He patted the pistol he wore on his hip. “I checked both guns. All blanks.”

  “Umm.” I bit my lip.

  “You can check this one.” Josh handed me his pistol. “But you’ll just have to trust us on Chance’s gun.”

  I shook the round out of Josh’s gun and into my hand. All blanks. It was pretty easy to tell: live ammunition has a projectile at the end of the bullet, while blanks are shorter, with the tips crimped closed.

  Josh took the gun and put the blanks back in the chamber, showing me as he did it. “Satisfied?” I nodded, though I really wished I could check Chance’s gun too.

  Nathan clomped up the stairs to the porch, followed by the The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Josh tipped his hat. “Howdy, partners.” He stuck out a hand. “And I do mean partners. I’m Josh Tate. One of your fellow investors. Pleased to meet you.” He turned to me. “This is Ivy Meadows, one of our actors. She’ll be along for the ride tonight.”

 
I was in costume as Rose, so I curtseyed and demurely lowered my eyes like a good ingénue. Through my eyelashes, I could see the men checking me out. Glad I’d said no to the saloon girl outfit.

  Nathan held the saloon’s swinging door open with his body, so he had hands free to greet the men. “Mario.” He glad-handed a short portly fellow. “Great to see you again. Alfonso, how’s your mother?” he said to another. After greeting all the men, he said, “Josh, why don’t you join us for a minute?” Then to me, “I’ll be out when we’re finished with business. Don’t bug me until then. If your guests arrive beforehand, they’ll just have to wait.” Nathan’s face was bathed in a fine sheen of sweat, even though it was five o’clock and a very pleasant seventy-eight degrees. “Got it?”

  I swallowed a smart-aleck reply about understanding simple commands and nodded. Nathan followed the investors into the saloon. I turned my attention to the horses, who waited patiently in the dirt road, tied to the porch railing of the jail across the way. They were all turned away from me, their tails twitching at unseen flies.

  I knew nothing about horses. Never even been up close to one. Uncle Bob, Matt, Cody, and Dad wouldn’t arrive for a little while, so I had a few minutes to appease my curiosity. I walked over to where the horses stood facing the building. Wow. They were so tall and muscular. “You all are so handsome,” I said, creeping closer.

  “Ivy!” My dad’s voice. “Don’t you know better than that?”

  I stopped.

  “Don’t walk up behind a horse. You’re likely to get your teeth kicked in.”

  I backed up a little and faced my family. “Oh, these horses know me,” I lied. “Long as I talk to them, they’re fine.”

  Why did I lie? I didn’t know, probably something to do with not looking stupid in front of my dad, though from the look on his face he wasn’t fooled. Uncle Bob swallowed a smile too. Cody just hugged me. “Olive-y. You look pretty.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir.” I smoothed down my dress, which I suddenly realized was white and not exactly the thing to wear on a trail ride. Oh well. “Hey, where’s Matt?”

  “I told him he didn’t need to come along, since I was in town and could pick up Cody,” my dad said, making his way to the horses. “Nice of him to offer though.”

  “I wish he came,” Cody whispered to me.

  “Me too.” I really did. Not just because I missed him, not just for moral support, and not just because I thought he’d have a good time, but because it was me who kept him in the role of Cody’s caretaker rather than my boyfriend. My secretiveness screwed up his chance to be here. One more arrow in his “let’s not keep our relationship secret” quiver.

  “I wish Mom came too,” said Cody. “She never comes.”

  “She’s not much for horses.” My dad stroked the nose of a tall brown one.

  She wasn’t much for her offspring either, but I didn’t go there. Having Dad with us was miracle enough.

  “You work here?” Cody looked around him, wide-eyed. “It’s like a movie.”

  “Cool, huh? And yeah, I heard Nathan was just approached by a film crew yesterday.”

  “That should be profitable,” Dad said.

  “Maybe.” I’d worked enough in the acting business to know that film stuff often fell through. “So what breed is this one?” I pointed to a small horse with a sad-looking tail. He also had ears that seemed a bit too big for his head, but a nice fuzziness the other horses lacked.

  “That,” said Uncle Bob, “is a Don King.”

  “Like the fight promoter?”

  “A donkey.” Cody laughed, but not at me. “Haven’t you ever seen a donkey?”

  “I thought they were smaller.” This one was pretty tall. He did however, look like a donkey. And I looked like an ass.

  “Ivy, you like Toby?” Josh joined our little group.

  “Isn’t he big for a donkey?”

  “Sort of,” said Josh. “Do you want to ride him?”

  Toby looked at me with liquid brown eyes that seemed kind, in a donkey sort of way.

  “That would be great,” I said.

  “All right, I’ll get him saddled up.” Josh looked at my outfit and frowned.

  “I know. Hope this dress bleaches okay.”

  “And hope you can ride sidesaddle,” said Josh. “I’ll get you one in a minute. Anyone else see a horse they’d like to ride?”

  My dad patted the tall brown one he’d been with the whole time. “I’d like this one.”

  “Okay, you take Jack. I think you might like Sassy,” he said to Uncle Bob, giving him the reins of a whitish gray horse. “And you,” he said to my brother, “should ride Cody.”

  “Cody? That’s my name.” My brother smiled so big he looked like he had an extra set of teeth.

  Josh handed him the reins. “If that ain’t a coincidence.” He winked at my dad. Must have heard him say Cody’s name earlier.

  Josh showed each of the men how to mount with the help from a little portable set of stairs: “a mounting block,” Josh called it. Then he traded the donkey’s saddle for a sidesaddle. “Okay, Ivy, now you. See this here?” He placed his hand on a bit of the saddle that looked like two very sturdy rabbit ears, about ten inches high, mounted slightly to the left of center. “This is the pommel. You have two. The other saddles have just one.”

  “They’re sort of like handles for us,” Dad said, showing me the knob on the front of his saddle.

  “That’s right,” Josh said. “But for you, they keep your legs steady.”

  “Does this mean I don’t get a handle?”

  “That’s right. Let’s get you up. Situate yourself so that your rear end is behind the pommel and both legs face me.”

  I used the mounting block to get onto Toby’s back and did as Josh said.

  “Now wrap your right leg around the pommel and bring it back to this side. Your left leg tucks under the other part of the pommel.”

  “The downward facing bunny ear?”

  “Yeah. That’s a pretty good description. I may use that.”

  I arranged myself—and my dress—around the pommel. The sidesaddle made me sit further back on my rear than the men, but the position was surprisingly comfortable. “Now put your left foot in the stirrup and grab the reins.”

  “I really don’t get a handle?”

  “You can hold onto the top pommel—”

  “The one covered by my skirt?”

  “And we’ll go slow.”

  “It’s okay,” Cody said. “She’s a dancer. She can do almost anything.”

  I loved my brother.

  Josh stood beside his own horse, a shining muscled black beauty. “It’s gettin’ on sunset. Let’s mosey on down to the cookout.” He swung into the saddle in a practiced, effortless move, without the use of the stair thingie. “The others can catch up later.”

  “Do they know how to get on a horse?” Cody asked Josh.

  “Nathan says he knows all there is to know about ‘cowboy stuff.’ We’ll hope he meant it.”

  We rode slowly out of the corral. Toby and I were a head shorter than the rest of the crew, but I didn’t care. Less far to fall, and besides, Toby’s ears were so soft.

  We headed down Gold Bug’s dirt road and into the desert. Late afternoon light threw everything into high definition, creating shadows and depth that had been flattened out by the sun just an hour earlier. It was gorgeous and romantic and made me miss Matt.

  As we rode, Josh told stories of the town and the desert. I listened for anything he hadn’t told me, but it was pretty much the same story, maybe cowboyed-up a little for effect.

  “Why do they call it Gold Bug Gulch?” asked Cody. Dang. I couldn’t believe I’d never asked that question.

  “The stream that runs through the property is Gold Bug Creek,” Josh said. “Some folks say it’s
because of these big bugs we have in the springtime. They have a kind of iridescence, so they shine gold in the sun.”

  “And other folks?” Uncle Bob never missed a trick.

  “Other folks say it’s because they used to find gold nuggets the size of beetles. Maybe they did once upon a time.”

  “There was gold here?” Cody asked.

  “Yep. In fact, we’re coming up on the mine right now.” The industrial-looking structure I’d seen from town now loomed out of the shadows at the foot of a rocky hill. Triangular and made of wood, it looked a little like the pictures of old oilrigs I’d seen, except that one of the triangle’s legs went into a deep hole. “That’s the headframe,” Josh said. “It had cables that could raise or lower men or buckets.”

  Uncle Bob leaned over in his saddle to get a better look as we passed by. “Looks like that hole goes straight down.”

  “Pretty much. There are a bunch of horizontal shafts that lead off of it.” Josh said. “It’s deep too—about two thousand feet.”

  “I thought there was talk of giving mine tours.” I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to step foot in that gaping black hole.

  “Yep,” Josh said. “But they’re thinking about using the original entrance, right over there.” In the side of the hill was a tunnel, framed by wood beams. “That’s the hole where it all started, where my great granddad first discovered gold.”

  “That looks more like what I think of as a mine,” I said.

  “Better for tourists too, I think,” Josh said. “They can walk right into this entrance.”

  “Can we go in?” asked Cody, beating me to the punch.

  “Too dangerous,” said Josh.

  “’Cause it’s dark?”

  “Because its dark and you can get lost, or fall down a mine shaft, or wind up in a dead end where the gasses build up.”

  “Or run into bats,” I added.

  “Bats won’t hurt you,” Josh said.