We are NOT Buying a Camper!

by Karen Musser Nortman

  Chapter Eight

  She needn’t have worried. As they returned to their campsite, soft giggles came from the girl as Sally made animal noises to entertain her. As they began lunch preparations, Sally returned to the group. Her face glowed.

  Frannie arranged sandwich makings on the picnic table. “Looks like it went pretty well.”

  “Lyssa is so sweet. She loves birds and knows almost every bird call! She’s amazing.”

  “Does she go to school yet?” Jane Ann asked.

  Sally grabbed a handful of potato chips. “Next year. Her mom is pretty nervous about it.”

  Lunch was the usual chaos, and afterwards they sat at the table discussing plans for the afternoon. The day was heating up and only huge, rolling clouds gave relief from the sun.

  Mona pushed her hair back from her face. “I wish they had swimming here.”

  Her father grinned. “What about an afternoon of tubing? There’s a rental place upriver from here.”

  A chorus of “Cool!” “Yes!” and “Awesome!” from the teenagers greeted that suggestion.

  “I kind of had a nap in mind,” Larry said.

  “You don’t have to go,” Mickey said. “Stay here and sleep your life away.”

  They continued to argue while the kids raced to don swimsuits, old tee shirts, and shoes. Frannie found some old shorts and a cast-off cotton shirt of Larry’s. Larry stuck with his plan to nap, so Mickey drove with Jane Ann, Frannie, and Sam in the cab. The girls rode in the pickup bed. Mickey said the rental place was only a half mile up a blacktop road from the park.

  They had just pulled out on the camp road when Teri, Lyssa’s mother, stepped out in front of the truck, waving her arms. She had a panicked look on her face.

  Mickey slammed on the brakes, causing the girls in the back end to scream, of course.

  He rolled down his window. “What’s the trouble?”

  “Have you seen Lyssa? Have you seen my little girl?”

  Mickey shook his head, and Sally hung over the side of the truck.

  “What’s happened?”

  Teri spotted her and moved toward the back. She wrung her hands and fought back tears.

  “I went inside to get her lunch, and decided to put a few things away—so it was probably ten minutes or so—and when I came back out, she was gone!”

  Larry had walked over from his lounge chair. “Have you notified the authorities?”

  “No, my husband isn’t even here. I don’t know what to do. Do you know where I could find the ranger?”

  Larry led her toward a lawn chair by their trailer. “I’ll take care of it. I’m a cop and will get a search going. I’ve got a cell phone.”

  Mickey called out the window, “We’ll all help look. Sit down girls!” He put the truck in reverse and backed into his own site. Sally was out of the truck the minute it stopped.

  “Would she go into the woods, d’ya think?” she asked Teri.

  “I don’t know—she’s never wandered off.” The tears came.

  Jane Ann patted her on the shoulder. Frannie looked toward the woods and the trail they had followed earlier. Her eye caught the pickup camper that had pulled in during the night. She hoped the scruffy guy wasn’t connected to the disappearance, but she hadn’t seen him all day.

  Sally took charge. “Let’s start looking while Dad finds the ranger. Sam and Mona, you guys take your bikes and go around the campground—check all of the sites and don’t forget the shower house. Justine, why don’t you and Uncle Mickey check the woods on the other side of the campground—there’s another trail over there. Aunt Jane Ann, can you stay here with Teri? Mom and I will check that trail we took this morning.”

  Frannie looked at her daughter in surprised admiration. Larry raised an eyebrow at her as he headed toward his truck. “Just like her mother—bossy.”

  Sally was ready to go, “C’mon, Mom!”

  As they headed toward the trail, Sally lost some of her confidence and worry crept into her voice. “I bet she just wandered off and got confused. I don’t think she’s used to being on her own.”

  “Most five-year-olds aren’t.” They passed the pickup camper, but Frannie saw no sign of Scruffy Guy on the other side either.

  On the trail, they began to call Lyssa’s name. Frannie scrutinized one side of the trail while Sally inspected the other. They got to the river with no sign of the little girl.

  “Did she tell you much?” Frannie asked. “What does she like to do?”

  “Mostly she talks about birds.” Sally pushed aside a straggly elderberry along the trail and peered beneath it. “She can’t see much, but does know colors. So she described birds to me and then mimicked their sounds. Pretty amazing.”

  Frannie trudged ahead a few minutes and then said, “Did she talk about anything she wanted to do while she was camping?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  They continued in silence until they reach the ridge. The Scruffy Guy nagged at Frannie’s imagination. She should have told Larry about him, even though there was no reason to suspect him of anything. She caught a glimpse of something silver laying under a dead tree branch.

  “Sally! Aren’t these the toy handcuffs Lyssa had?”

  Sally stopped and turned them over in her hands. “They must be. They look just like them.” She stared at her mother, her earlier confidence replaced by uncertainty and a little fear. “She must have come this way.”

  “Or someone brought her,” Frannie said. She told Sally about the suspicious man. “I hate to accuse someone, but he was acting funny and when a child goes missing—“

  “Oh, Mom—I hope not. Should we go back and tell the others that she must have come this way? Get everyone out here looking?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a ways back and I hate to lose the time. Maybe you should go and I’ll keep looking—“

  “Mom! I just thought of something. She talked about wanting to find a cowbird. There’re supposed to be some in this park.” She turned and called “Lyssa! “Lyssa! Where are you?” The woods were silent.

  “Let’s go down to the boardwalk and see if we see anything. If not, you go get the others.”

  They hurried down the path toward the boardwalk, calling all the way. The boardwalk was empty and woods quiet. Frannie stopped.

  “Sally, can you make a cowbird call?”

  “Of course! I learned bird calls in Girl Scouts.” She began a distinct whistle and continued it as they walked along the boardwalk, looking in every direction.

  Frannie kept silent, listening. They had just about reached the cave when she heard it—an answering call. Maybe it was an actual cowbird, but maybe not. She stopped and looked at Sally.

  Sally whistled again. The same response, coming from below them. And then a very faint voice. “Sally?”

  “She’s below us,” Frannie whispered. “You go. But be careful—it’s awfully steep.”

  Sally climbed over the railing on the cliff side, carefully searching for footholds. The ground sloped fairly sharply under the walk. She disappeared.

  Frannie could hear her moving back the way they had come. “Lyssa?” she said softly. “It’s me—Sally.”

  The little girl began to cry.

  Sally called up. “Mom? I’ve got her. She’s all scraped up. I’m going to hand her up to you.”

  Frannie leaned over the railing and Sally appeared with Lyssa in her arms. The slope was rather rocky and she was having trouble keeping her footing. “Lyssa, this is my mom. I’m going to hand you up to her so I can climb up, okay?”

  Lyssa cried more. She shook her head and hugged Sally’s neck tighter. “Just for a minute and then I will hold you again. Please? Your momma is very worried about you.”

  Rocks tumbled down the slope under Sally’s feet. She gently removed Lyssa’s arms, one at a time from the grip on her neck. “You just count to ten and then make a cowbird whistle and by that time I will be beside you, okay?”

  Lyssa slowly started t
o count. Sally lifted her under her arms up toward Frannie’s waiting hands. Just as Frannie grasped the child, Sally started to slip. She disappeared beneath the boardwalk.

  Frannie caught her breath as she clutched the little girl. “Sal? Are you okay?”

  A moment’s pause and Sally said faintly, “Be right there.”

  Together Frannie and Lyssa reached out their hands to help Sally up. All three collapsed on a bench built into the rail of the walk. Sally started to laugh and Lyssa joined her, climbing back into Sally’s lap.

  Frannie smiled and shook her head in amazement at her daughter’s mature reaction to the whole situation. The same girl who had been teasing her brother, sticking out her tongue, and whining about doing dishes a couple of hours before. Wonders would never cease.

  They made their way back to the campground as expeditiously as possible, which wasn’t too fast since Sally had to carry Lyssa and needed to stop frequently. At the river they met Larry.

  “Oh good! You found her!” He tried to take Lyssa from Sally. She would have none of it.

  “It’s okay, Dad. It’s not much farther,” Sally said between breaths.

  He shrugged and dropped back to walk with Frannie. “ A young guy named Tim—camped in that pickup?—just came out and said he had seen her head down this trail. He thought she was catching up with her parents or something. He’s a botanist and had been out photographing specimens or something.”

  “Oh,” Frannie said, inwardly embarrassed by her speculations. “Well, our daughter saved the day. I’m terribly proud of her.”

  “Are you guys talkin’ about me?” Sally said over her shoulder. Lyssa giggled.

  “Only good things,” Larry said.

  They emerged from the trees to find the ranger and Lyssa’s parents talking with a man in sheriff’s garb.

  Scruffy Guy, Sam and Mona, and Jane Ann stood on the fringes.

  Sam spotted them first. “They’ve got her!”

  Lyssa’s parents ran up to them and Sally thankfully relinquished the little girl to her mother. Sally then leaned against her own mother and looked up at her with tears in her eyes. Frannie squeezed her and said, “Time to celebrate.”

  And a celebration it was. Sally and Lyssa sat side by side on the picnic bench. Lyssa leaned on Sally and watched the people around her with wide eyes and no other expression. Lyssa’s dad, Dennis, went in to town for hot dogs and buns.

  Mickey took over as cook. The ranger, Scruffy Guy—Tim—, the Ferraros, and the Shoemakers all gathered around Dennis and Teri’s picnic table for dogs, chips, and beans, followed by Frannie’s brownies. By the end of supper, Lyssa’s eyes were drooping and everyone took their leave.

  Back at their own fire, Jane Ann said to Sally, “We were so proud of you today. That was wonderful how you found Lyssa.”

  “Mom was the one who thought about using a bird call.”

  Jane Ann patted Frannie on the knee. “Nice goin’, sister-in-law.”

  “Did Lyssa tell you why she took off like that?” Frannie asked.

  Sally shook her head. “The only thing she would tell me was that she climbed on the railing of the boardwalk and slipped off. Good thing she wasn’t hurt worse. I think maybe she heard a bird and tried to follow it, but her sight isn’t good enough.”

  “Well, it’s been quite a day,” Mickey said. “I’m ready for s’mores.” He raised his eyebrows at his daughters.

  “Your turn to get the stuff out,” Mona said to Justine.

  “I did it last night.”

  Mickey cleared his throat. “Girls! Maybe you could make it a team effort so it wouldn’t be so difficult?”

  They caught his drift, giggled, and got out of their chairs.

  Mickey strummed some background tunes on his guitar and the kids enjoyed their s’mores like six-year-olds.

  Frannie felt totally relaxed and was ready to call it a night, when Sally said in a loud whisper, “What is that?”

  Justine looked where she was pointing. “A cat?”

  Sam started to laugh. “Try calling it, Jus’. ‘Here kitty, kitty.’”

  Justine looked at him puzzled. “What?”

  “It’s a skunk,” Sam said.

  The adults all sat up and stared into the dark. “Where?”

  “It just ran under our trailer.”

  Larry jumped up. “What? Sam, we don’t want a skunk under there! Anything that alarms him is going to stink up the whole camper!”

  An older man came walking along the campground road just then, with a small, shaggy dog. The dog stiffened as they approached and began to growl. It strained on its leash toward the Shoemaker trailer.

  “Uh-oh,” Mickey said, and put down his guitar.

  The man tried to coax the dog on down the road, but she was having none of it. Mickey explained what was attracting her interest. The man paled and scooped up the little dog. He hurried down the road with the squirming bundle in his arms.

  “Now what?” Larry said to Mickey. “I don’t think any of us should go in there, do you?”

  Mickey shook his head. “Let’s wait a bit. Maybe he’ll come back out.”

  “Sam,” Larry said, “move your lawn chair back there where you can see the rear of the trailer.”

  “Okay, but Sally has to bring me s’mores.”

  “I’m not going back there!”

  Larry showed Sam where to place his chair so that they could still see him and he could see the back of the camper. Sally agreed to go that far to deliver s’mores. She picked up a stick from the woodpile just in case.

  Mickey took up his guitar again. “I’ve been working on a couple of cowboy songs. This is an old Roy Rogers song called ‘The Cowboy Night Herd Song.’”

  Larry sat back down in his chair and groaned. “C’mon, Mick. We’ve got enough stress without cowboy songs.”

  But Mickey was not easily daunted. He sang a couple of verses, and then said, “This is the hard part.”

  “Oh, Lord, he’s going to yodel,” Jane Ann said.

  Sure enough, he began to yodel the chorus as a pickup truck came around the corner and stopped, pinning the group in its headlights. A park ranger got out, just as Sam jumped up and yelled “There he goes!”

  Mickey put the guitar down while Larry doubled over in laughter. “That skunk obviously doesn’t care for your yodeling, Mick!”

  The ranger reached them. “Sounds like you folks are enjoying your evening,”

  Mona overcame her usual shyness around strangers. “Dad just scared a skunk away with his singing!”

  “A skunk?”

  “One ran under our camper,” Frannie said, pointing. “We didn’t know how to get it out of there without it spraying. It just ran out when Mickey was singing.” She too could not keep from laughing.

  The ranger looked at the camper and smiled. “It was probably my headlights. They don’t like bright lights.”

  “No, we’re sure it was Dad’s singing,” Justine insisted, and giggled.

  Mickey threw up his hands. “Greatness is never appreciated.”

  “Well, have a nice night,” the ranger said, and chuckled as he returned to his truck.

  Frannie got up and folded her chair. “Okay, I’m not sleepy any more, but I’m going to bed anyway before anything else happens.”

  The kids wanted to stay around the fire, but Frannie insisted they help her set up their beds first. That chore was not without its hitches. The couch opened up easily enough, but lowering and securing the dinette table was a little trickier. Finally, Sam and Sally were able to spread out their sleeping bags and pillows and return outside.

  Frannie and Larry got into bed. Just as she was about to drift off, Larry said, “Don’t leave me.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been a tough couple of days. But promise you won’t leave me if I say I want to keep camping?”

  She snorted, trying to hold in the giggles, but couldn’t control it. The bed started to shake, and Frannie let loose
with a coyote-like howl.

  “Hush!” Larry said, and laughed even louder. They heard the outside door open.

  “Mom? Are you okay?” Sally asked.

  “Fine. We’re just discussing our next camping trip.” And they both broke up again.

  “You’re disgusting. I think you two had too much wine,” Sally said.

  “Yes, Mom,” they both said.

  Sally waved them off and went back outside.

  “Seriously,” Larry propped his head up on his hand. “The problems yesterday were all our own fault—we’ll learn. And what happened today with the runaway child—that’ll probably never happen again. But it is a great getaway, especially with our jobs.”

  “I know—it’s easier to deal with our own two kids than one hundred other people’s eighth graders.”

  “And I don’t have to worry about any crime sprees or lawbreakers.”

  “So true.” Frannie snuggled into his arm.

  Larry may have been too hasty in dismissing crimes and lawbreakers. Follow the adventures of the Shoemakers and their friends in the Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries. All of the books include recipes and camping tips.

  Get the first one, Bats and Bones, FREE if you sign up for my Favorite Readers email list to receive occasional notices about my new books and special offers.

  Go to this link:

  www.karenmussernortman.com

  Happy Camper Tips

  The Frannie Shoemaker Mysteries include camping hints and recipes--great for camping but also at home. Here’s a sample:

  Happy Camper Tip #1

  Jane Ann’s Cowboy Beans: Brown 1lb. hamburger with a diced medium onion. After browning, add 1 can each of drained black beans, pinto beans, white beans, and pork and beans. Then add 1/2 cup ketchup, 1/3 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup yellow mustard, 3T of Worcestershire sauce and a few dashes of hot sauce. Place in Dutch oven and over campfire for about an hour or two till nice and hot, or in crock pot for 4 hours on low.--Julie Biver

  Happy Camper Tip #2

  Shut It! Frannie and Larry ran into trouble because one of the faucets wasn’t turned off. This happened to us on our second trip. And Frannie didn’t latch the refrigerator tightly causing a huge mess. Many campers have had the gross experience of starting to dump their tanks and taking the cap off the sewer hose housing to find the individual dump valves aren’t closed. Not good. Open windows or vents while traveling can cause other problems. And if you wonder what can happen if you travel without shutting and locking your outside compartments, read The Space Invader. So, as I said, Shut it!

  Thank You

  To all of my readers who sent accounts of their camping experiences and my Beta readers: Butch, Marcia, Ginge, Elaine, Julie, and Dee who made great suggestions and catches. Also to our own camping buddies for providing some of the inspiration.

  The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries

  The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mystery Series: Indie BRAG Medallion Honorees. Camping can be murder. Oh, sure, there's the stunning scenery, socializing with old friends and new acquaintances, amazing food cooked outside, and so on. But what if a dead body turns up on one of your hikes-for-fun-and fitness? For more information and other books, check my website: www.karenmussernortman.com

  Bats and Bones: A Fourth of July weekend explodes with more than fireworks when the campground hostess is found dead.

  The Blue Coyote: Frannie worries more than usual about her grandchildren’s safety when another young girl disappears from the campground in broad daylight.

  Peete and Repeat: A biking and camping trip to southeastern Minnesota turns into double trouble for Frannie Shoemaker and her friends.

  The Lady of the Lake: Frannie Shoemaker and her friends take in the county fair, reminisce at a Fifties-Sixties dance, and check out old hangouts. A trip down memory lane is fine if you don’t stumble on a body.

  To Cache a Killer: Geocaching isn't supposed to be about finding dead bodies. But when retiree Frannie Shoemaker goes camping, standard definitions don't apply.

  A Campy Christmas: No murder but definitely a mystery when the Shoemakers and Ferraros become snowbound in a Missouri park on their way to spend Christmas in Texas.

  The Space Invader: A cozy/thriller mystery! The starry skies over New Mexico, the "Land of Enchantment," may hold secrets of their own. The Shoemakers and the Ferraros, on an extended camping trip, find themselves picking up a souvenir they don't want and taking sidetrips they didn't plan on.