Ben and Nancy walked into the campsite carrying lawn chairs and their Boston terrier/beagle, Chloe. Chloe’s rabbit-like ears perked straight up, not to miss any new sounds. Ben Terell, with his reddish blonde hair and short beard, resembled a leprechaun more than anything else, but in real life was a physical therapist and his small stature belied his upper body strength. His optimistic sunny disposition and laid back manner usually complemented, but sometimes clashed with, his wife’s bent for organization
“Hey, guys,” Nancy said now. “Glad you made it okay. Larry, hate to tell you but there’s a kid here with training wheels. I reminded Mickey to put the stew on and I made some biscuits to go with it. I think Jane Ann brought some coleslaw and dessert.”
Frannie pointed at Mickey and said, “Busted!”
Mickey shrugged. “What can I say? I was just going to do it when Nancy reminded me.”
“Right.”
“I already heard the wheels,” Larry said.
Nancy set up her chair and tethered Chloe to it. “What a crazy summer it’s been! We haven’t camped with you guys in ages.”
“And it shows, Nance—we’ve developed bad habits—total lack of organization,” Mickey said.
“Come off it, Mickey. Not even Nancy can organize you,” Jane Ann said. And to Ben and Nancy, “We really missed you on the Minnesota trip. That is a great bike trail.”
“How many went on that one?” Ben asked. “Did you say twelve or fourteen?”
“We had eighteen for supper on Saturday night. Mickey smoked a brisket and everyone brought stuff—took a whole picnic table just for food!” Jane Ann laughed.
“Well, I just couldn’t get out of that conference.” Nancy grimaced. “And then with the house remodel, we thought we’d better keep our noses to the grindstone.”
“And the kitchen’s done now?” Larry asked.
“The kitchen is,” Ben said as Nancy stood shaking her head behind him, “but there’s still tiling in that half bath that we added.”
“There’s lots of little things yet to finish in the kitchen,” Nancy said. “Trim, hardware, touching up paint...”
“But it’s usable,” Ben insisted.
“Usable isn’t finished,” Nancy said.
“You’ve had this discussion before, I think,” Larry grinned.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Mickey said. “Jane Ann said you put in a six-burner range.” Mickey loved to cook and loved the accoutrements even more.
“We did, and we can’t wait for you to cook us something on it,” Ben said.
“Where are the boys this weekend? They didn’t come?” Frannie asked.
“They’re at their mom’s,” Ben answered.
“That means Monday will be another deprogramming day,” Nancy added with a grimace.” Ben had two teen-aged sons from his previous marriage who often balked at Nancy’s efforts to regulate their lives.
Ben gave her a sharp, hurt look. “They’ll be fine. It’s only a weekend.” Nancy started to reply but apparently thought better of it.
Sabet and Joe rode their bikes back into the drive, Joe skidding his a little for effect.
“Guess what!” Sabet said, hanging her helmet on her handlebars. “There’s somebody across the road, and it looks like the girl is my age!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t see any boys,” Joe grumbled, as if that negated any value of Sabet’s news.
Frannie glanced across the road where Sabet pointed. A family was bustling around a small fifth-wheel trailer, setting up their campsite. A young woman with shoulder length dark hair was spreading a tablecloth on the picnic table, helped by the girl Sabet had spotted.
“Can I go talk to her?” Sabet begged.
“You can go introduce yourself, but we’ll be ready for supper soon. Maybe I’ll walk over with you and introduce myself too,” she added, thinking of Sam’s warnings.
Sabet grimaced slightly but decided to be a good sport about it. “Okay. Maybe Cuba wants to go, too.” At the sound of her name, the dog was by Sabet’s side and she switched out the tether for the leash.
“We’ll be right back,” Frannie told Larry, and they headed off to meet the newcomers.
The dark-haired woman looked up as they approached and smiled. “Hi.”
Frannie introduced herself and explained. “My granddaughter was excited to see that you have a girl about her age and wanted to meet her. This is Sabet and she’s nine.”
The woman held out her hand. “I’m Peggy Barnes and my daughter Tessa just turned ten earlier this summer. That’s my husband Jody,” she indicated a slender blond man who was pulling lawn chairs out of a storage compartment in the trailer. He looked up and gave a little wave. Tessa, pixie-looking with doe eyes and dark bobbed hair, smiled shyly at Sabet and mimicked her father’s wave.
“Did you bring a bike?” Sabet asked Tessa.
“Yeah.” Tessa noticed Cuba and dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around the dog’s neck.
“We’re going for a bike ride just around the campground after supper,” Sabet said. “Can she go with us, Gran?”
“Sure, if it’s okay with her parents.”
“Tessa, would you like to go?” Peggy Barnes asked her daughter.
Tessa looked up and her face lit up. “Yeah.”
“We’ll stop by after supper then,” Frannie said. She and Sabet started back to their own campsite.
“She’s nice, dontcha think, Gran?” Sabet said.
Frannie smiled at her, thinking how wonderful the world was when you could decide someone was nice based on two ‘yeahs.’ “Yes, she is.”
When they got back to the trailer, Joe, sitting at the table, looked up from his video game.
“Is it time to eat, yet, Granny Fran?”
“Just about—and I could use some help bringing stuff out.”
“I will,” Sabet bounded up the trailer steps while her brother headed to the campfire to add a log or stir the coals—whatever the fire tenders would let him do.
Inside, Frannie got down plastic plates for the four of them and put them on a wooden tray. Sabet was an experienced helper and got the silverware caddy out of the cupboard, counting out the necessary flatware and adding it to the tray.
“Do we need knives?”
“You bet—Nancy made biscuits. Better get the napkin holder, too.”
Sabet very unselfconsciously turned an awkward pirouette, left over from her brief dancing lesson days, in the cramped space on her way to get the napkin holder. Frannie thought wistfully of uninhibited youth, so evident in this delightful granddaughter, and probably about to disappear soon in the agony of the preteen years. Sabet was so nicknamed because when little brother Joe came along and tried to twist his novice tongue around Sarabeth, ‘Sabet’ was the best he could do and it stuck.
Frannie impulsively gave her a hug as she twirled the napkins back to the tray and realized with a jolt that Sabet was about to pass her up in height. Of course, Frannie had never been a target for any basketball recruiters.
“Don’t grow up too fast,“ she begged.
Sabet pulled back and looked at her grandmother in surprise. “Gran! I can’t grow up any faster or slower than anybody else!”
Frannie raised her eyes in surrender—flummoxed again by nine-year-old logic.
“Okay, let’s get this stuff out there.”
“How do you like your new abode?” Jane Ann was asking Ben and Nancy. The Terells had recently traded an older popup camper for a new hybrid—a small trailer with canvas and mesh enclosed beds that dropped open from each end, giving them more space but a fairly small unit to tow.
“We love it!” Nancy said enthusiastically. “Just having an actual bathroom, no matter how small, is fantastic. I just about got everything organized, but Ben, of course, keeps putting things in the wrong places.”
“It’s only wrong to you, my dear,” Ben said to his wife. “It seems right to me.”
Nancy ignored him and placed a flyer on the tab
le. “One of the rangers is giving a talk tonight about snakes at the nature center. I thought the kids might be interested,” she said to Frannie.
Joe nodded his head vigorously while Sabet said, “Ewww!” Whereupon her grandfather grabbed her lightly on the back of the neck and she jumped and screeched.
“Larry!” Frannie admonished him.
“What time is that?” Jane Ann asked.
“Seven.”
“Plenty of time,” Frannie said, checking the stew in the cast iron dutch oven on the fire. “This is about ready.”
The assortment of tableware was arranged on the long picnic table, covered with a yellow plaid vinyl tablecloth. Nancy placed a basket with steaming biscuits wrapped in a homespun cloth in the center and Jane Ann contributed a bowl of coleslaw. Everyone found seats and Frannie began to ladle out the stew with Cuba standing at her side fixated on the spoon. A familiar grating sound started building to a crescendo.
“Oh, no,” said Mickey. “Here she comes again.”
“You would think...” Larry began but was drowned out by the noise. Finally the bike progressed far enough that conversation could continue.
“I love this stew,” Nancy said. “Why did you cook it over the fire this time? What happened to Stew in the Sink?”
Frannie laughed. “Well, that was what I thought was a great idea that I found online. You put a meal in a slow cooker, secure the lid with a bunge cord, set the pot in the sink of your camper and plug it in before you travel. In theory, it cooks while you are on the road and is ready for supper when you arrive.”
“I remember,” Nancy said. “And you did it several times. It was great!”
“We thought so too—especially with this recipe,” Frannie answered. “But then this summer someone told me that the outlets in a camper don’t work on the road because they don’t run off the batteries.” She paused as the grinding noise built again and waited for it to pass. “What I was actually doing was starting the stew at home and putting it in the camper when the power was still plugged in. It would cook until we pulled out. We would usually take off in the afternoon, drive a couple of hours, and by the time we got to our destination, plugged the camper back in, and got everything set up, it was hot and ready to eat.” She laughed again. “Actually, we discovered it wasn’t cooking at all while we were traveling. Lucky we didn’t get food poisoning—I guess because the trips weren’t very long.”
“Really!” Nancy said. “It must have stayed hot enough to keep cooking a little, though.”
“I guess. But now I’m afraid to chance it. So I cooked it at home and Mickey reheated it. Since you reminded him,” she finished with a grin.
“Oh, the challenges we brave in the wilderness!” Ben said, scooping a generous helping of the stew onto his plate.
Rasp, rattle, grind. The purple bike labored by again.
“Everyone bring bikes? There’s a good trail here,” Larry said, making a concerted effort to ignore the obvious. Everyone had.
“There’s a great little golf course near here, too,” Mickey offered. “You guys bring clubs?”
“I put them in once but Frannie threw them out,” Larry said.
“Right. You just never thought of it,” Frannie answered.
“You threw out Grandpa’s golf clubs?” Joe asked Frannie, just now picking up on the conversation.
“No, I did not. Joe, you have to understand that when these guys get together, you can’t believe anything they say.” Sabet giggled at her grandmother’s comment.
Larry grabbed another biscuit and said, “These are great, Nancy. How’s work going, Ben?”
Ben groaned. “Football season, you know. Lots of high school injuries.”
“You just hired another therapist, though, didn’t you?” Mickey asked.
“Yeah, and I think he’s going to be great. He’s Connie Calhoun’s nephew, grew up in Des Moines.”
“Really? That’s nice for him—that he knows someone, I mean,” Frannie said.
“Actually, he’s staying with the Calhouns until he finds an apartment.”
Jane Ann brought out a rhubarb pie and offered it around.
“Where did you get rhubarb at this time of year?” Nancy asked.
“I didn’t. I had the pie in the freezer.”
“Wow, even better!” Frannie said. Fortunately, they were distracted by the pie when the purple bike made two more passes. As they finished eating, Sabet leaned over and whispered loudly to Frannie, “Gran, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Larry turned to Joe. “I think you and I are the dishwashing committee for tonight—okay?”
Joe agreed enthusiastically. Frannie had noticed through the years that children are always eager to do chores until they are old enough to be good at them. She said, “We’ll ride our bikes over to the shower house and you guys can catch up with us when you’re done. Then we can do our little ride around the campground before the nature talk.” They tended to use the campground facilities during the day to save on their own limited water supplies. As Larry and Joe started clearing the dishes, Frannie and Sabet high-fived each other and got their bikes and helmets.
“Gran, I think the boys should always do the dishes,” Sabet said as they walked their bikes over to the Barnes’ campsite.
“Absolutely. And then we can just ride off into the sunset.”
“Actually, the sunset is the other way,” Sabet pointed out.
“It won’t be when we get around the corner.”
Tessa was waiting for them with her bike and helmet. They mounted their bikes and headed down the road.
******************
Happy Camper Tip #2
Turkey-Thigh Meat Stew—One of our favorite camping meals, thanks to friend Linda. In a large cast iron Dutch oven or slow-cooker crock, whisk together 1 can of tomato soup, 1 cup of red wine or turkey broth, and 1/4 cup flour. Add 3 pounds cubed turkey thigh meat, 3 carrots, cut diagonally in 1-inch slices; 2 onions, quartered; 4 potatoes, coarsely chopped; ½ cup coarsely chopped celery; 8 whole mushrooms; 2 beef bouillon cubes; 1 tablespoon Italian seasoning; 1 bay leaf; and salt and black pepper to taste. Stir to combine.
Cover and cook over the fire for 1-2 hours, stirring frequently until turkey is tender or cook in slow cooker on low for 8-10 hours.
Chapter Three
Friday Evening
The evening promised to be cool and crisp, and dusk was fast approaching as they rode along, checking out other camping groups and units. When they got to the corner where their loop joined the main campground road, they came to the host site, festooned as usual with a wide variety of lawn ornaments. A late middle-aged couple were sitting in lawn chairs in front of their fifth-wheel trailer.
Frannie nodded and said, “Nice evening.” The woman replied but Frannie didn’t hear what she said, so she stopped and straddled her bike. “Pardon?”
“I said, there’s a good program at the nature center tonight that your little girls might want to see.”
“Oh, yes, we saw the flyer. We were already planning on that.”
“Good. We try to let everyone know what’s going on. They have some good programs here.”
“Thanks. Have a nice evening,” Frannie climbed back on her bike, looking ahead to see what had happened to Sabet and Tessa. They had stopped their bikes a couple of sites down when they realized Frannie wasn’t behind them. Two middle-aged men in safety orange vests stood arguing and sipping beer near a small, shabby trailer. A third twenty-something man was talking to Sabet and Tessa. The dark shock of curls falling on his forehead, perfect smile and flashing eyes brought to mind a singer in one of the boy bands of the week that Sabet followed. As Frannie approached them, he ducked his head and moved away from the girls. Frannie nodded to the men, and tried unsuccessfully to catch the younger man’s eye, hoping to convey her displeasure. She said to Sabet, “We’d better keep going.” They continued toward the shower house.
Ahead of them a young mother herded a toddler alon
g the road. Sabet looked at her grandmother and Tessa, giggling at the tiny girl’s strut and wanderings criss-crossing the road. The little girl wore patterned tights, a hot pink flouncy skirt, and a long-sleeved purple shirt stretched taut over her little round belly. She tottered along with her left hand behind her arched back, palm out, and her right arm swinging at her side like an out-of-control metronome. She looked like an official inspector and indeed frequently stopped to examine some intriguing item on the ground.
They soon caught up with the mother, exchanging pleasantries as they passed. The mother again waited patiently while her daughter completed her examination of a couple of ants crossing the road.
Several campers had fall decorations by their campsites—a small scarecrow leaning on a stack of pumpkins, a miniature hay bale, orange and yellow lights glowing from their awnings. It never failed to amaze Frannie what efforts people put into a weekend sojourn.
Before they reached the shower house, they noticed a path off to the side leading through the woods to their loop.
“Look, Gran, a shortcut!” Sabet said. Frannie hesitated a moment, remembering a path she and another camping friend, Donna Nowak, had followed months before that had put their lives in danger. But they could easily see their campers and Larry and Mickey milling around the fire through the trees, so she quickly put aside those thoughts and said, “That will be handy.”
While they were washing their hands after using the restrooms, Frannie asked Sabet, “What was that man back there talking to you about?”
“What man? Oh, the guy in the orange vest?”
Frannie nodded.
“He was just asking us stuff, like where we are from and where we are camped...like that.”
The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) Page 2