Ivy Get Your Gun

by Cindy Brown

  “Okay. Yeah, I’m okay, but I think I’ll take a couple of days off. No, everything’s all right. Promise.” He hung up and removed the gun from my neck. “Papa says you’re all right.”

  “Whew.” I turned around to see Nathan holding a curling iron. “That was what you held me at gunpoint with?”

  “Yeah.” Nathan chucked it on the couch. “I hate guns.”

  Chapter 61

  “Why should I tell you?” said Nathan. “My father wanted you to find me. You found me. You don’t need to know why I’m here.”

  “Is it the investors? The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly? Are you afraid of them?”

  “No,” said Nathan, but I caught the slightest nod. A micro-expression, they call it. He was hiding from them. “And you’re not telling anyone where I am. Capiche?”

  Capiche? As if the micro-expression wasn’t enough subliminal evidence. After a bit more haggling, I agreed to stop asking questions. Nathan was safe, and I’d done my job. Part of my job. A very small part of my job. Like swatting a fly during a swarm of locusts.

  I drove back to Gold Bug in a foul temper. Even as I berated myself for being a bad detective, I understood something bigger was to blame for my mood.

  I hadn’t heard from Matt since our fight Friday night. I knew, oh I knew, that I was as much to blame as he was (if not more), and I knew Marge was right about trust, but every time I picked up the phone, that little wrestler inside my head said, “Right. You’re calling the guy with the fiancée?”

  So when I heard the ping and saw that I had a text from Matt, I nearly drove off the road. Instead, I pulled off onto the shoulder. I don’t text and drive and there was no way I could wait until I got to the Gulch to see what he said. “Coming with Cody today. See you then.”

  No hugs or kisses or emojis, but still, he’d made the first move. I suddenly felt ten pounds lighter. I texted back (“Great!”), pulled onto the road, and shushed the overly security-conscious voice in my head with a loud country song I found on the radio. I drove to Gold Bug with the windows rolled down, letting the warm desert wind ruffle my hair, almost happy.

  But the day went by with no sign of Matt or Cody. Luckily I had theater to save me. When I was onstage in the melodrama or out in the streets channeling Annie Oakley, I was in the present moment: trying to get away from the evil Neville Blackheart or happily shooting bells and flour sacks and hats off heads. Theater had been my safe place ever since Cody’s accident. A place I could relax and be myself, which seems odd considering that I was always playing a role onstage. I guess it was because I felt accepted in the theater, so I could soften the shell that protected me from the harsh outside world. The only other place I felt comfortable enough to let down my guard was in the company of Uncle Bob or Cody, and recently with Matt. Lately though, I’d felt the shell harden again, like a thin layer of ice that protected my heart. And froze it.

  That shell grew a little thicker as the hours passed without seeing Matt, but when I bowed during curtain call for the last melodrama of the day, I heard a voice yell, “Yay, Olive-y!” Cody. Yes, there he was, his blond hair catching the light. And next to him sat Matt. A warmth spread through me. Because of Cody? Because of Matt? I didn’t care. I was just glad to feel a bit of a thaw.

  Cody hugged me as soon as I stepped outside of the stage door. “You played three people! You were so good.”

  “I second that.” Matt hugged me too, and I rested my head against his chest where I could hear his heartbeat. He let me go. “We haven’t missed your gunfight, have we?”

  “We’ve got one more. Wow, you wouldn’t believe…” I stopped. Oh, this was hard. I wanted to tell Matt about everything that happened the day before—Gunther/Chance, Frank’s sabotage, the scorpion, Nathan—but I couldn’t with Cody there.

  Wait. With Cody there. The little voice whispered inside my head. Was this Matt’s way of manipulating me so I would tell Cody that Matt and I were a couple?

  I only had a second to contemplate this unpleasant new thought when I heard, “Olive!”

  “Dad?” I turned around, and yes, there he stood in scuffed cowboy boots and a pearl-snap-button Western shirt. He looked like he’d been born in those clothes, they suited him so well. My heart ached, just a little.

  “Sorry I missed the melodrama. There was an accident between Prescott and Wickenburg. Stopped traffic for a while.”

  “An accident?” Cody’s eyes grew wide.

  “Don’t worry. No one hurt.”

  Not only did my dad drive down here to see me in a show (a first), but he recognized Cody’s fear. Things were definitely looking up.

  “I promise to catch the show another time,” Dad said. “Maybe with your mom.”

  Like that’d happen.

  “But there’s still another gunfight today, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, right before sundown.” I looked at the clock mounted on the bank. “We have about twenty minutes. Want a quick tour of the town first? I need to practice. I’m supposed to start giving tours one of these days.”

  My emotions were a jumble as I led them down the dusty street. I was worried about Matt and happily confused about my dad’s newfound interest in my life. Only Cody felt safe, so I took his arm as we walked. I pointed out the saloon. “Did you know that men used to trade bullets for whiskey?” I said. “That’s where the term ‘shot of whiskey’ came from.”

  “Cool,” Cody said.

  We passed the reptile house. “What’s the most dangerous animal in the desert?” I asked them.

  “Rattlesnake?” my dad said.

  I shook my head.

  “A Gila monster?” Matt said.

  “Nope.”

  “Vampire bats?” Cody said.

  “No vampire bats in Arizona,” I said. “Give up?”

  They all nodded. “Man,” I said. “Men—and women—are more likely to kill you than any other animal.”

  “Trick question. No fair,” Cody said.

  “And that’s why we have the jail right here.” I pointed out the adobe structure.

  “Nice transition,” Matt said.

  “Thank you.” I gave a little curtsey. “And that’s the hanging tree…” I stopped. A noose hung from the tree. I swore it hadn’t been there last week. Decoration, or something more sinister?

  “Cool,” Cody said again.

  “Yes, indeed.”

  I’d ask Nathan about the noose later. Right now I was going to focus on my family, who had come all this way to see me. I entertained them as we made our way to the end of the Gulch, where a small crowd stood in front of the blacksmith’s forge. Josh’s hammer banged against the anvil.

  “It sounds mad. Like a mad bell,” Cody said.

  The ring of the hammer did sound angry. Was Josh too? I stood on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of his face when I heard another bell.

  “And that sounds like you have a text,” Cody said. “Who from?”

  I took my cell out of the pocket on my Annie Oakley costume. “Not sure. Oh, I have two.” I didn’t recognize the numbers, so I checked the texts. “First one is from…Arizona Center Stage.” I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice and failed. “They’re asking me about my schedule. They want to add another week in Tucson.”

  “Sounds like you got the part,” Matt said quietly.

  “They didn’t say that,” I said. “I’m supposed to call them.”

  “Who’s the other one from?” Cody was always interested in my life. I liked it.

  “It’s from a friend of Uncle Bob’s in Nevada. I need to call him later. Looks like he found some info I needed.”

  “Is he a PI too? What did he find?” asked Cody.

  “Remember that gold mine we saw during the horse ride in the desert?”

  “Can we go in it now?”

  “Not yet. I was just findi
ng out…” I felt a tap on my shoulder. Uh-oh. I wasn’t watching the time. It was probably Chance or Frank or…“Arnie? What are you doing here?” He looked horrible, his shirt wrinkled, his glasses dirty and slightly askew, his pant leg riding up his walking cast.

  “I’m pulling you out,” he said too loudly. “You need to stop this investigation.”

  “Arnie,” I said, trying to shush him.

  “Investigation?” my dad said, as if one person blowing my cover wasn’t enough. I looked around to see who might have heard, but I was hemmed in by a group of tall teenage boys.

  “On top of everything that’s already happened, the sabotage, the deaths—”

  “Arnie.” I’d been keeping everything on the QT, and now look where we were.

  “Now Nathan won’t come out of hiding. I talked to him again, but he said no. It’s too much. Something’s seriously wrong.”

  “Arnie,” I said pointedly, though the damage was already done. “Nathan’s just tired from everything going on. Plus he has a hell of a hangover.” Could be true. There was that empty bottle of JD.

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re out, Ivy. No more gunfights. I don’t want to lose someone else I love.”

  “But we came all this way to see her in the gunfight,” Cody said. “Even my dad came.”

  “What?” said someone near us. “No gunfight?” Another person picked up the news and the “no gunfight” grumbling escalated.

  “It’ll be okay.” I touched Arnie’s arm. “I’ll recheck Chance’s bullets, just to be sure. Not to worry folks,” I shouted to the crowd. “Annie Oakley does not dodge a challenge. The gunfight will go on as scheduled.” Then quietly, to Arnie, I said, “I’ll just do this one gunfight before calling it quits.”

  “I’m calling this quits too.” I really wished Arnie had learned to talk quieter. Or put his hearing aid in. “If I have anything to do with it, this is Gold Bug Gulch’s last day in business.”

  That news spread through the crowd even faster than the “no gunfight” news. The clanging from inside the forge sounded louder and angrier.

  “Really? Are you that worried?” Then I remembered something else. “You said ‘lose someone else you loved.’ What did you mean?”

  “Lassie’s dead.”

  “What? Did something happen?”

  “Oh, Ivy, you know as well as we do. He’s been gone for two weeks. You haven’t seen any sign of him for nearly a week.” Arnie’s eyes shone wet behind his glasses. “Even if he did find enough food and water, there are the coyotes and…” The tears that had gathered in his eyes spilled over.

  “I’m so sorry I let you down. I really wanted to find him. I wish…” I couldn’t say any more. Instead I hugged Arnie hard, so he couldn’t see I was crying too.

  Chapter 62

  “Folks, we hear word there might be a gunfight coming up,” the dishwasher’s voice said over the loudspeaker. My cue to be in place for the gunfight. I released Arnie, nodded goodbye to my family and Matt, and ran the half block to the opera house dressing room. I grabbed my rifle off its hook and checked the chamber as I ran to the staging area where Chance and I convened before the gunfight. Everything was just as I left it, bright red nail polish indicating the gun was filled with blanks. I met up with Chance and checked his gun. All good. I made sure that the dishwasher was in place to ring the bell, ran to the middle of the street, and began the show. “So I heard you all here in Gold Bug are down a sheriff,” I said to the crowd. “I’m right sorry to hear about his passing.”

  “Yay, Olive-y!” I couldn’t see my brother, but I knew he was there. And my Dad. And Matt. I was glad they were here to see what would be the last gunfight at Gold Bug Gulch.

  “I also heard you might need a little protection ’til your new lawman arrives in town…”

  The crowd was the biggest in Gold Bug Gulch’s short history, and they were really into the gunfight, roaring at the slightest joke and applauding at pretty much anything Annie Oakley did. “Don’t look so sour,” I sang as I aimed at the flower sack. Poof! It exploded and the crowd went wild.

  “Anything you can shoot, I can hit cleaner,” sang Chance. “I can hit anything better than you.”

  We argued back and forth in song. The crowd loved the show. I did too. I was going to be sorry to give this up, even with other theater work on the horizon. “No you caaan’t,” I sang with gusto as I took aim at Chance’s hat. I loved Annie. I loved this role. I loved feeling so strong, so sure, so—shit!

  As soon as I pulled the trigger for my last shot I knew something was wrong. The gun kicked way too much for a blank. And now I knew what people meant when they said time slowed down for a moment. I saw the hole in Chance’s hat, the look of confusion on his face, the splintering of wood as my bullet hit a wall behind him. And then it was over and the crowd cheered and I bowed automatically. Chance did not. He just picked up his hat and hightailed it out of there.

  I stood shaking in the middle of the road.

  Cody ran up to me and hugged me. “Is badder a real word?” he asked. “And why are you shaking?”

  “Nerves.” And because I could have killed someone, I thought. How did this happen? Someone must have disguised a real bullet, color-coded it so it would it look like a blank in the chamber. Someone who knew about my nail polish trick and knew where I kept my gun. Which could be almost anyone. I’d bragged about my brilliant idea in front of Chance, Frank, Nathan, and even Josh.

  “Everything okay?” Matt’s hand on my shoulder was gentle.

  “Um…” If I told him, he’d insist I stop the investigation right now. Which was smart. But if I stopped now, I’d have failed Arnie, Billie, and myself too. “Just upset about Lassie.” As I said it, that cold reality hit me again, and my eyes filled. I wondered if he’d been set upon by coyotes or hit by a…I shook my head to get rid of that vision. Not what I needed to concentrate on right then.

  “Your dad’s going to take Cody home for a visit,” Matt said. “I thought maybe you’d like to come home with me.”

  I wanted to, more than anything. But I had to find out who put live rounds in my gun, why Nathan was hiding, and yes, okay, there was Katie the fiancée…“I can’t,” I said.

  Matt walked away.

  I called 911.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  I wanted to say that I just let the best thing in my life walk away from me. Instead I said, “Someone put live rounds in my gun.” I spoke quietly into my cell phone. The crowd was leaving for the day, but still I stood apart from them, careful not to alarm anyone. “It’s supposed to be filled with blanks.”

  “Is anyone injured?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Then it’s not an emergency. You can call—”

  I hung up and called Uncle Bob. “I’m on a well-deserved vacation,” said my uncle’s voice. “So I’m off the grid for a few days.”

  “Dammit.” I felt madder than I knew was reasonable. “Remember when I was worried about you getting together with Bette, and you said you wouldn’t abandon me? Feeling pretty abandoned right now, Mr. I’m-Off-The-Grid. Oh, and someone tried to make me shoot someone.” I hung up and calmed myself down before making the next call. It went to voicemail too. “Good thing you taught me to shoot,” I said to Pink’s voicemail. “Someone did it again, switched blanks for bullets. No one was hurt, thank God, but…” But what? Why would someone have done that? So I’d kill Chance? “Gotta go.”

  I headed in the direction Chance had taken. Who would want to kill Chance? And why? I guess it meant that Chance was innocent of Mongo’s death. Unless…

  Unless he wanted to put the blame squarely on someone else’s head. But what a stupid dangerous thing to do, knowing I could kill him. Then again, I’d heard of suicide by cop. Chance could be broken up over killing Mongo and losing Billie. And getting shot in a gunfight would be th
e way a real cowboy would want to die.

  Wait. I stopped in my tracks. Chance was either the victim or the perp. Either way, by chasing him I was putting myself in danger. I stopped, reversed, and ran back through the town, sidestepping the few tourists straggling down the street in the fading light. I ran to the stage door, into the opera house, and down the hall to my dressing room. My duffel bag was on the counter underneath the mirror. At the bottom of the bag, I found the box of shells I’d bought for target practice. I began to load my rifle, then stopped. Were there one or two fewer bullets in the box? My red nail polish shone like a stoplight on the counter next to my blush and powder. I picked it up. The top wasn’t screwed on tight. Did whoever replace my blanks use my nail polish to disguise my own bullets?

  It didn’t matter right now. I loaded my rifle with live ammo and was almost out the stage door when my cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

  “Ivy,” Frank said. “They’ve got me.”

  Chapter 63

  “Where?” I slung my rifle over my shoulder as I ran out of the opera house. “And who has you?”

  “In the mine. I’m in the mine, and God help me, I think there’s a body…” The line went dead. I redialed but, dammit, I was beginning to think cell phones were the work of the devil.

  I ran to the parking lot, jumped into my skunky pickup, and tried to start her. And tried. Finally I popped the hood and took a look. It was nearly dark outside, but I could still see that my battery was AWOL. Literally AWOL, as in gone.

  I suspected it hadn’t walked off by itself, but there was no way I’d let some battery-rustling varmint get the best of me. I called Pink again and left a message asking him to meet me at the mine and to bring a battery for my truck. I ran down the dirt road through the now-empty town. Dang, why was I such a slow runner? The mine was about a mile and a half away. Who knew what would have happened to Frank by the time I got there?

  I had a brain wave. I jogged to the corral. Yes, the horses were still there, saddled up and everything. I opened the gate to the corral and left it ajar. I headed toward my fuzzy friend. “Hey, Toby, remember me?” The donkey looked at me with big eyes as I approached. “We shared some coffee.” He stayed still. I hiked up my skirt and managed to get on his back without the mounting block. Amazing what adrenaline will do for you. “I need you to take me to the mine.” Toby regarded me over his shoulder. “And we need to go fast, okay? Fast.” I pressed my heels against his sides and he took off at a trot. I steered him out of the corral and down the road toward the mine into the rapidly darkening desert.