A Side Order of Deception

by Constance Barker

  “When did we get old, Mercy?” Brody asked me, his brow was furled, like he was serious. “The Beer Garden was always the first place I wanted to go at the fair, but it didn’t even sound good when Justin asked.”

  I gave him my snarky look. “I’d say you got old a long time ago, old man” I mean, he was five years older than I was. “I, however, am still young. If they had a Margarita Garden I would have been all over it. I only like beer on hot days and during football games.”

  “I appreciate your heartfelt support, Mercy. Maybe you’re too young for an old man like me.”

  I took his arm as we walked into the gallery. “Don’t worry about it, Brody. As long as you don’t take up knitting in your rocking chair, you’re still young enough for me. Now let’s see if you can outshoot me tonight.”

  “Fat chance of that. What do I get if I win?” He had a mischievous look on his face as we picked up our rifles at the counter.

  “Same thing you get if you lose,” I said with a wink. “See how many duckies you can hit with ten shots, Sheriff.”

  He aimed the rifle and fired at the medium sized moving bunnies in the middle row.

  “Ten for ten,” he said to me with a smile.

  “You’re hot tonight, Brody.”

  “Choose anything from the red shelf, sir,” the attendant told him.

  He picked a cute stuffed raccoon and handed it to me. “Your turn, Mercy.”

  I went for the small, fast-moving ducks on the top row. “Those poor ducks never had a chance. Ten for ten, Brody.”

  “Top shelf ma’am. Pick whatever you want. Good shooting.”

  I pointed to the stuffed toy on the end, and he brought it to me. “Here you go, little darlin’,” I said to Brody as I handed him the huge pink bunny in a pretty pastel blue skirt. “This is for you. You don’t mind carrying it around all night, do you?”

  “It’s no worse than holding your purse at the mall while you try on clothes.” He took the stuffed toy proudly in his arm and kissed my cheek.

  I loved my man...and I think my smart mouth was starting to wear off on him.

  “If you don’t want to take me out for dinner when we leave here, you can buy me one of those foot-long hot dogs,” I said, licking my lips.

  “I like taking you out for dinner.”

  I really wanted that hot dog. “We’ll get to my place an hour sooner if we go with the hot dog now.”

  He stepped up to the hot dog stand. “Two foot-longs, please. Hold the onions.”

  It was a fun night. Ruby won honorable mention for her pudding, and Smoke surprised everyone by walking away with the blue ribbon for his Harvest Dream muffins. He whipped up a batch – with sugar instead of salt – and got to the fair in time to enter his tasty treats.

  “Hey, Mercy! Guess what?” Ruby came into the diner Sunday morning, her eyes filled with excitement. Justin walked in right behind her.

  I looked at Justin and then gave Ruby a sly smile as I raised my eyebrows twice.

  She stopped, seemingly aghast at my silent suggestion. “Noooo! He picked me up this morning for breakfast.”

  Justin crossed his heart and held his hand up like he was taking an oath. “It’s not that I didn’t try to spend the night, Miss Howard, but this little filly has some old-fashioned ideas.”

  Ruby gave him a little punch.

  “Some wonderful, old-fashioned ideas,” he added.

  I walked around the counter and pointed them to the last open booth. “Sit, sit!” I said, taking one side of the booth so she would have to sit next to Justin. “So, what’s the news that you’re all excited about, Ruby?”

  She looked at Justin and then back at me. Then she started talking, a mile a minute. “Well, you know that I didn’t get a ribbon for my pudding last night. I think they just unfairly look down on pudding, that’s why, because it was really so delicious! Anyway, there was a gentleman there – one of the judges – from a big food company. They make flour and cereals and baking supplies. Well, he just loved my pudding and he came up to meet me after the awards...”

  I just loved watching the joy in her childlike eyes as she told me her story. I would not have been able to get a word in edgewise even if I wanted to interrupt, but I just wanted to listen.

  “...and he said to me, ‘Are you Ruby Owana?’ and I said yes, I was, and he told me how much he loved my persimmon pudding, and he voted for it to be the first place winner. Isn’t that something? Then we got to talking and he asked me if I had any other family recipes. It turns out, his company is putting together a cookbook of old family recipes, and I told him about my grandma’s molasses chocolate chip cookies. Remember? I brought you some when I moved in and I came over to introduce myself. Well, he asked me to bake some for him, so I got up early and baked a batch. He stopped by at nine o’clock sharp, just like he said he would, and guess what? He loved them! And he wants my pudding and cookie recipe for his cookbook, and he wants to put the cookies on the cover. Isn’t that wonderful! They want to put me and my cookies in a TV ad to promote the cookbook and their flour, and he thinks they’ll want to put the recipe right on the flour sack too!”

  I was out of breath just listening to her, but she was truly excited.

  “That is wonderful, Ruby. Congratulations! But, didn’t you tell me that it was a secret recipe? Your grandmother wouldn’t even give it to you because you’re not married yet, so you had to get it from your sister.”

  I might as well have reached into the poor girl’s chest and ripped out her heart. She deflated like a penny balloon that got away before you could tie it. I put my hand on Ruby’s.

  “Your grandma loves you, doesn’t she, Ruby?”

  “Of course. I’m her favorite.”

  “Give her a call. She’ll be happy for you, and proud.”

  “I don’t know. She’s pretty protective of her recipes, Mercy.”

  “Do it Ruby. I know she'll be fine with it.”

  “Mercy!”

  I turned to see who was calling my name.

  “Mercy! Over here!”

  My 33-year-old neck doesn’t turn as far as it used to. I stood up to look, and Liberty was two booths behind me, having breakfast with Junior. I gave Ruby and Justin a smile as Babs came up to take their order and sat in the booth next to Liberty. There wasn’t a lot of extra room next to Junior.

  “Good morning, young lovers. It’s really nice to see you so frequently, Liberty.” She was a sweet girl, and really starting to come out of her corporate shell now. I never would have guessed that it was possible, but I think Junior has been a good influence on her life. And she’s been good for him too.

  “Wasn’t Junior just wonderful yesterday, at the rodeo?” She looked at Junior with adoring eyes. “They raised over nine-hundred dollars for the kids!”

  “That’s wonderful, Liberty. Junior, you have quite a knack for theatrics. Everyone loved it.”

  “I’m not really a bumbling cowboy, Mercy,” Junior said, as he shoveled half an omelet into his mouth.

  “He isn’t!” Liberty confirmed. “He’s an expert rider, and he’s an award-winning roper. Did you know he puts on a show for the kids at Sister Susie’s home almost every weekend in the summertime? He can twirl a lasso and drop a rope around a calf or a post at thirty feet. The kids love it.”

  I was impressed. “I didn’t know you worked with orphans and foster kids, Junior. Good for you. And your roping days must have been while I was living in the city. You learn something new every day.”

  “Yeah, I was pretty good. But it’s more fun with a small audience of kids who think you’re Roy Rogers and Superman all rolled into one.”

  “So, Mercy,” Liberty said, “the reason I called you over – I was wondering how well you know Dimitri, the contractor who is doing the excavation out back.”

  “Not well at all. Smoke talks to him every day, and he comes in for lunch most days. Why?”

  “Well, you know my good friend Sylvia – Sylvia Chambers, the Medical
Examiner for the county – well, she was going out with him.”

  “Mmhm. I remember he took her to the rodeo, and he was there at the courthouse with her when the fire started in the Deeds office.”

  “Well, I’m worried for her. She wasn’t crazy about him or anything, but she likes him and she has another date lined up with him this week.”

  “So, what’s the problem, Liberty?”

  “Okay, well, you know I’m supervising the dig out back for the historical society. We still have the corner lot cordoned off, and they are digging out the other lots. Dimitri lives in the trailer he has parked back there – the same one he uses for his office.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I get there early some days when we’re using his big shovel machine to dig, and I got there extra early on Friday.”

  “Because she was coming from my place,” Junior said, “and Pops and I had to be at the construction site by 5:00.”

  She gave her man a grimace. “Anyway, on Friday that woman from the fortune teller shop across the street was coming out when I arrived. She looked alarmed to see me and then hid her face and rushed to the street behind us. Her car was parked halfway down the block.”

  “Do you think something is going on between them? Maybe he asked for a reading or wanted her to take a look at some artifacts.”

  “We have all of the artifacts, Mercy. And I don’t think it was a reading. He came out a minute after her. He stood on top of the steps to yawn and stretch his arms – breathe some morning air, I suppose. But he didn’t have a shirt on, and his belt was hanging open. I think she’s living there – with him.”

  That was a disturbing thought. If they were living together and hiding it, that means that they’re up to something. But, wouldn’t we have noticed by now? My Sherlock juices were flowing, and I was thinking out loud trying to figure this out.

  “So...I wonder? What could Maggie DuChayne be up to with Dimitri Premecat?”

  Liberty laughed. “Is that his name – Premecat?”

  I nodded.

  “My mom speaks Slovak – she came from the old country. Premecat means to get something really wet, soak it with water. I didn’t mean to laugh at somebody’s name. It just struck me as funny, that’s all.”

  My mind clicked. “Soak with water? You mean like, drench?”

  “Mmhm...ohhhh!”

  Junior wiped off his mouth and threw the napkin on his empty plate. “Huh. So he lied and she swore to it.”

  “What, Junior?” I was still processing this new information. Then I realized what he meant. I would have thought of it myself in another minute. “You might be right, Junior. He buried some bones, a medal, and a tin box, and she made it all seem legitimate. She predicted the Civil War soldier from the bone right before the medal was dug up. Then the fire burned up all the old deeds and property transfers right before the box with the Drench deed was discovered. It was all planted ahead of time.”

  Someone was just walking past me to take the last seat at the counter, but they stopped short. I turned my head and saw Maggie DuChayne. She had heard the end of our conversation.

  “Oh, hi, Mercy!” she said, turning back towards the door. “I just remembered, I have an appointment for a reading in ten minutes. I’ll see you later.”

  I really wanted to talk to Brody about all of this, but he had a big ride coming up in a few hours. I didn’t want to get him distracted. He had to hang onto those reins, or he could be thrown.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a beautiful, sunny fall day as we filed into the grandstand. A nice breeze had dried things up from the rain, and they were spreading out a dump-truck load of dry dirt and gravel onto the field.

  The two Jakes and their ladies sat down in the front row, right by the bronco corrals, so I would be able to see Brody when he got on his horse. He had drawn No Mercy for the trials and hoped he would draw her again. He saw us sit down and texted me:

  Didn’t draw your name today, Mercy. Hope I still have your luck. Riding ‘Demon Thunder’

  What a coincidence! I texted back. My middle name is Demon Thunder! Saddle up, cowboy! I’m right there with you.

  I saw him waving from quite a distance away behind the corrals and blew him a kiss.

  I was looking around for Deloris as the first rider came out. She said she would try to meet us here after Ketty got to the diner to relieve her. I sent her a text to let her know where we were sitting.

  The first two riders fell pretty quickly. The third was Harry Drench, riding No Mercy.

  “Throw him off, girl!” I shouted.

  “It’s a boy,” Jake said.

  “Used to be a boy,” Junior corrected. “All the broncs here are geldings.”

  He rode out his eight seconds pretty well. “Was that a good ride?” I asked the boys.

  “The cowboy should score pretty high, but they score the horse too,” Jake told me.

  Junior added, “But the horse wasn’t giving him a very rough ride. So that will keep the score down. Brody has a tougher horse, so that will give him an advantage.”

  “If he can hang onto that Demon Thunder,” Jake said. “Not many riders can.”

  Drench’s score was posted.

  “They gave that ride an 88?” Junior said shaking his head. “They gave him ten extra points for being Harry Drench, if you ask me. That’ll be hard to beat. It’ll take a perfect ride, especially since the judges all want Drench to win.”

  Drench was still in first place when it was Brody’s turn to ride. The second-place rider had an 82, so there was plenty of room for Brody to get the second spot, if the judges really were throwing it for Drench.

  Brody had his game face on when he got in the saddle of Demon Thunder. The large brown animal was beautiful, with energy spilling out of him. He snorted and moved his head wildly as the tenders tried to settle him down. Brody looked at me briefly and gave me a nod, which I returned with a serious look of encouragement. You’ve got this, Brody.

  He looked down and fixed his grip. He fixed it again. Then he pressed his hat down and took in a slow breath. He looked at the gatekeeper with steely eyes and gave him the nod.

  The gate opened, and the silent world of determined concentration became one of fury and bounding chaos. But Brody had a way of turning the animalistic leaps and twists of a tortured beast into a delicate ballet of choreographed splendor. I could see why he was the champion of his time. He anticipated every movement of the wildly bucking animal as artistically as Ginger Rogers followed every movement of Fred Astaire.

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, and it felt like the ride would never end. I saw Jake and Junior getting to their feet with their mouths open, applauding every step of this twisted Tango. The crowd was loud, very loud...boisterous as the buzzer sounded to end the eight seconds of my personal torment. Everyone was on their feet, as the rider galloped out to release the bucking strap on Brody’s horse and retrieve Brody.

  He waved his hat to the crowd from the back of the other cowboy’s horse, and the wind took it. He jumped down to get it as the other cowboy grabbed the reins of Demon Thunder and brought him back to the corral. The crowd was still cheering wildly. I slowly returned from my netherworld as Brody waved his hat to the crowd from the center of the field.

  Suddenly, Junior leapt to his feet and motioned his head for his dad to follow him. The two men rushed to the front of the stands and jumped down onto the field. Then they raced towards the corral and grabbed ropes from a post where the calf-ropers were getting ready. Then I saw why they were in a hurry.

  Someone had opened the gate to the pen of Son of Satan, the killer bull! He bolted out onto the field, a little disoriented at first. But then he spotted Brody, facing the other way, completely unawares. He snorted and dug his front hoof into the ground several times, preparing to charge, as the crowd tried to warn him.

  “Brody!” My heart was in my throat, and I said a silent prayer. He was casually dusting himself off as
the bull began its charge. Brody! Get out of there! Run!

  He turned suddenly, but the bull would get to him before he could get to safety on either side of the field. Junior was running right behind the bull, lasso twirling above his head. He let it fly and caught Son of Satan right around the neck. He pulled back on the rope as Brody dove to the bull’s left, narrowly avoiding being gored.

  Now the bull was angry. He turned to face Junior, who was running with the rope to the side by the corrals.

  Before the bull could start another run, a lasso came in from the other side of the field. Jake Senior had looped the angry beast too. Brody jogged safely to the fence while the bull was engaged with the father-and-son saviors. Junior wrapped the end of the rope quickly around a cement pillar by one of the gates and got over the fence just before the bull arrived, horns first. I think he would have gotten Junior good, but Jake tugged on the other rope and pulled the bulls head back just before his horns reached his son. The clowns quickly wrangled the beast into the pen and closed the gate.

  Babs and Liberty were in tears, hugging each other. Like me, they were frightened, proud and relieved. I didn’t cry...except for that one little droplet that just started to roll down my cheek. It was probably from some dust the wind had blown in my eye. The three of us walked slowly down to the field.

  “I don’t think this day could get any stranger,” Babs said to us, sniffling back her last tear.

  However, her statement turned out to be a little optimistic. We heard a shotgun blast from behind the corrals, and everyone turned to look. The horses were rearing up at the noise and commotion. Then a gate in the middle opened slowly. A cowboy came walking out slowly, his hand on his head. It was Harry Drench.

  “Keep moving, there, pardner,” A familiar woman’s voice said.

  It was Deloris! She was aiming her Winchester at Drench’s back.

  “I know you’re not going to kill me, old woman,” Drench said disdainfully.

  “You might be right about that, cowboy. But I will splatter your man-parts all over this side of McClean County.”