Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2)

by Nancy G. West

  Vicki obviously couldn’t reveal more about Rickoff, or her charges would scatter like mice. I didn’t know his entire history, yet I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive.

  We moved toward an area ringed with benches in a half circle. Off in the distance, waist-high tripods placed thirty feet apart held round four-foot-diameter targets. Rickoff stood with one foot on a bench, a shotgun resting across his thigh, and stared glumly at our dusty herd of approaching novices.

  “This is Captain Wayne Rickoff,” Vicki announced. He nodded. No change of expression. “Monty’s setting up the trap machine,” Rickoff said. “I’ll show you how to hit those bulls-eyes out there.

  “Cover your ears.”

  He took his stance, aiming at the round, padded targets. They were painted with concentric rings in different colors with red bulls-eyes in the center. Rickoff fired shots at each target and moved to the next. When he was through, each bulls-eye had fresh holes torn through its center.

  Sam muttered under his breath. “Damn.”

  “Can you do that?” I asked.

  “Not that well. Not without practice.”

  Goosebumps raced across the back of my neck. If Sam grew worried, I’d freak out.

  Rickoff continued shooting. We saw Monty way off in the distance to the right.

  A new man sauntered up to our group. He wore earphones under his cowboy hat and had his face painted like a clown. Ranch guests turned to look at him. When the barrage finally stopped, Vicki introduced him. “This is Sunny Barlow, camp cook and singer.” Her delivery was more animated than usual. Barlow smiled and welcomed everyone to the ranch.

  “Sometimes I clown at rodeos,” he said, “and occasionally, I clown for kids. Hope you don’t mind my wearing clown makeup here at the ranch.” We all shook our heads. He exuded charm.

  “It takes a while to put the face paint on,” he said. “Sometimes I get last-minute calls. This way I’m ready to go.”

  We nodded. When Sunny Barlow smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. I squelched the urge to go over and hug him.

  “I like to watch Rickoff shoot,” Sunny said. He nodded to Vicki, stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to watch the show.

  When Jangles maneuvered closer to him, he lifted one earbud. “You’re going to cook dinner?” she asked. “Tonight? On a campfire?”

  “That’s right. It’ll be cooling down soon. Sunset should be beautiful.”

  “You’re the one who sings, too?” Millie inched toward Sunny in her first spontaneous move since she’d leaped onto the cabin table.

  “That’s me.” His clown smile grew wider. He had the kindest eyes. I wondered if Vicki knew if there was some other reason he wore a disguise.

  Rickoff stood with his gun shouldered. “Y’all want to see this trap shooting or not?” he barked. In the distance, Monty had worked his way into position, ready to start the trap machine.

  Rickoff turned toward him.

  “Pull,” he yelled. Monty yanked a lever. A clay target shot high in the sky and arced to the left. Rickoff blasted it to smithereens. He shouted again, “Pull!”

  The bombardment continued for five or six volleys until Rickoff yelled “Pull,” and nothing happened.

  “Dang thing’s broken again,” Monty yelled. Rickoff cursed.

  “I brought some minis just in case,” Monty shouted. “I’ll throw ’em up fer ya.”

  At Rickoff’s command, Monty threw up three smaller clay targets in succession. Rickoff pulverized them.

  I heard Jangles whisper to Stoney, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom. It’s too far to walk back to the cabin.”

  “Go out there in the bushes,” Stoney murmured, “way back behind us. Get far enough away so you can’t see us.”

  “I couldn’t possibly...”

  “Nobody can hear a thing. Give me those bracelets. I’ll watch where you walk and mark your direction.”

  Jangles slipped off her trinkets, handed them to Stoney and headed for the brush. The women instinctively closed rank with our backs to her so the men wouldn’t see her leave.

  “Pull!” Rickoff shouted. Monty threw up a clay target, and Rickoff blasted it. They repeated the stunt for a good ten minutes. My ears rang. I was amazed at Monty’s ability to toss clay disks in the right place, time after time, and in Rickoff’s ability to annihilate them.

  A cool breeze blew through our ranks. Sam sidled close. “It’s great sharing my vacation with a crazed sharpshooter.” He winked at me. At least his sense of humor had returned. If he knew the veteran’s whole story, he wouldn’t be joking.

  Rickoff turned to reload. He was apparently going to impress us with another feat.

  Monty came loping up. “I’m out of minis. I’ll get more in town later.” Rickoff looked disgusted. He probably could’ve shot all day.

  Somebody screamed.

  Rickoff and Monty leaped backward. “A snake!” someone screeched.

  Monty zoomed to the nearest fence and sprang to the top in one jump.

  Rickoff fired his gun over our heads.

  Jangles crashed out of the bushes and came stumbling toward us, pulling up orange gauze bottoms.

  “Somebody’s shooting at me,” she shrieked. The flimsy fabric on her flailing arms snagged every bush she passed.

  Sunny Barlow stood closest to Rickoff. Millie, intrigued by Sunny, had managed to inch up beside him. A red, yellow and black snake slithered two feet in front of them.

  Rickoff aimed at the reptile. He looked like he was about to pull the trigger when Millie whimpered, fainted, and fell on top of the snake. Its head poked out from under Millie’s rib cage. We froze, terrified it would bite her. It wriggled out from underneath her and slithered toward the brush.

  “Let’s get her up,” Sam said. He and Sunny pried Millie’s limp form off the dirt and hoisted her to her feet. Supporting her dead weight between them, they maneuvered her back toward the road, trying not to wake her up until they could distance her from where she’d collapsed on the crawler.

  Jangles struggled to pull up her gauzy pants. She stared at the spot where the snake was last seen and started to hyperventilate. Stoney ripped shredded fabric from Jangles’ mangled sleeves and fanned her with it.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Stoney said. “Take a real deep breath. That’s it. Let it out slow.”

  “Dang it all,” said Rickoff, “I hate coral snakes.” He scratched his head and squinted. “Coulda been a scarlet king.”

  Everybody whirled and started walking at a good clip toward the lodge.

  Curse words spewed from the men. Thoroughly shaken, Meredith and I tried to catch up.

  Sam and Sunny were still holding up Millie. She was regaining consciousness when Jangles and Stoney overtook them.

  “Thank you, guys,” Jangles said, red-faced, with shredded clothes and blackened feet. “We’ll take care of her.” She and Stoney got on either side of Millie. “She’ll be all right, won’t you, Mill?” Jangles said.

  “Just an accident,” Stoney said. Millie nodded, her jaw slack.

  “This is outrageous,” Selma said.

  Stony and Jangles talked into Millie’s ears so she couldn’t hear the others discuss what had happened.

  “They should capture these snakes and put them in a zoo where they belong,” Selma huffed. “They’re not supposed to be out here scaring people to death.”

  “They live here, Selma. It’s their habitat,” George blared.

  “Shut up, George.” Selma stomped ahead. “If you’d been as close as I was to that slimy creature, you’d have died of a heart attack.”

  “I can’t believe this happened,” Vicki said. “I haven’t seen a snake the whole time I’ve been here.” Jangles and Stoney kept talking to Millie while we trudged through
the heat. Sunny starting singing Reba McIntire’s “How Was I to Know?” By the time he finished the song, everybody had grown quiet except Vicki.

  “I’m in charge of you guys,” she said. “I’m supposed to make sure we’re always standing in a cleared area. We were in a cleared area. I don’t know why the stupid snake was even there. Bertha’s liable to fire me on the spot.”

  I insisted what happened wasn’t her fault, but she peeled off on a side path with her head hanging. “I’d better go to the lodge to make sure everything’s ready for tonight’s barbecue.”

  Sunny Barlow watched her go. He’d already removed his ear protectors. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through black curly hair. “Let’s not mention what just happened to Bertha…okay, everybody? We might get Vicki fired,” he said. “Nobody wants that.”

  We might not have heeded his plea, except for his winsome smile. Who can resist a clown? Several people mumbled, but I thought they’d keep quiet about the incident, at least for a while. The heat and snake had sapped the fight out of them.

  Vicki was succeeding at the ranch, despite having made enemies, but her luck couldn’t get much worse. Her lousy brother saw her as a meal ticket.

  He apparently wanted to demean her to their parents and steal her trust fund. Bertha fussed at her, and Ranger Travis and George Tensel leered at her. Sunny Barlow seemed to be the only person at the ranch who gave a flip about the girl.

  Vicki was trying to find herself, like me at her age. I had believed Lester and I truly loved each other. Until he took off. When Aunt Novena and Uncle Charlie died, I was eighteen with no place to go. Sam and Katy Vanderhoven were wonderful, but they didn’t know what had happened with Lester. I’d been deserted. Katy was the only one who knew about the baby. When I told her, all our lives changed.

  I understood why Vicki felt the need to disappear. And now this snake incident. In the pit of my stomach, sadness and unease welled up for Vicki Landsdale.

  Our prospects for a peaceful vacation didn’t look promising.

  Eight

  We approached our cabin. After I watched the girls go inside, I signaled to Sam and Meredith we needed to talk. I wanted to update them in case something really bad happened. After Selma and George passed us and were beyond earshot, I spoke in a whisper. “This place may be more than we bargained for.”

  I told them Trey was Vicki’s brother with a fondness for drugs, alcohol and her money, and that Vicki felt the need to disappear to get away from him.

  “She also said Bertha’s aunt and uncle, the Vernons, died five years ago in a remote corner of the ranch from heat stroke and dehydration. They left Bertha the ranch, which didn’t sit well with the Vernon’s son, Herb, even though he never liked living here. Vicki also said Bertha and Monty resent it when Ranger Travis flirts with her.”

  “Looks like there’s more sneaking around here than snakes,” Sam said. “There might be more to Monty’s story about attacking that guy. Then there’s Wayne Rickoff.”

  I relayed Vicki’s account of Rickoff’s pointing a gun at a horse, then at her. “Vicki said he’d spent time at a VA hospital.”

  “He seems so angry,” Meredith said. “I think he’s scary. Maybe we should leave this place. I wish I already had enough material for my articles.”

  Sam’s brow furrowed. “Looks like Rickoff wouldn’t mind lining up guests for target practice. It’s unusual for a skilled shooter to fire off a gun in the middle of a crowd to scare a snake.”

  “Vietnam must have made him jumpy,” I said. I didn’t mention Rickoff might suffer from PTSD since I didn’t know for sure. Now that Sam and Meredith knew about Rickoff’s actions, I thought I should try to find out more about the veteran before labeling him. “Did you bring your gun?” I asked Sam.

  “Yep. Baby Glock’s in my pocket. I carry it when I know there’s going to be firearms around. A .27 is easy to conceal.”

  “Did you consider shooting the snake?” Meredith asked.

  “I didn’t want to advertise I was armed. Besides, people worry me more than snakes. I think we should cut this vacation short.”

  “Some of these people might need help,” I said. “Don’t you think we should stay a while longer?”

  He frowned and looked off into the brush.

  “Poor Millie,” Meredith said. “Thank goodness that snake didn’t bite her.”

  “Maybe it was stunned. Did you see its shiny mouth?” I said.

  “Probably the sun reflecting off white scales,” Sam said. “Okay. I’ll keep my eye on Rickoff and River Rat. Right now I’m going to clean up.” He tromped toward his cabin.

  It appeared we weren’t leaving the ranch. At least not yet. Having told them everything I knew, I felt safer. Sam was armed and would watch the men. The other wranglers seemed more intriguing than dangerous.

  I was learning to enjoy being in the great outdoors and looked forward to watching sunsets with Sam. And I was determined to find a way to help Vicki so she didn’t feel compelled to leave.

  Meredith and I noted Jangles’ blackened rhinestone flip-flops on their front porch and traipsed through our cabin and the breezeway to check on the girls. Stoney was patting Jangles’ scratches with a square gauze soaked with rubbing alcohol.

  “Whooeee, that stings.”

  Jangles had showered off sweat-streaked make-up and powdered her cheeks, which were still beet red from her sprint through the bushes. She’d captured her clean hair with a rubber band and poofed it into a beehive. Her soft flared jeans and flat-heeled boots looked serviceable. She wore a blouse with long sleeves she could roll down to cover her scratches.

  Stoney’s teased and sprayed hair reminded me of a prickly pear bush. Her earrings, necklace, and belt shone with enough coral and turquoise to impress Mayan royalty. I hoped she didn’t have to run anywhere. The weight of her jewels would slow her to a crawl.

  “Where’s Millie?” I asked.

  Stoney pointed up toward the corner. Millie lay prone on her top bunk with her arms and legs flopped over the sides. “Says she needs to rest,” she whispered. “We didn’t tell her when she fainted, she fell on a snake. We suggested she shower and put on jeans and a wrinkle-free shirt before she crawled up there. We’ll wake her up in time to primp for the barbecue.”

  Meredith and I left our suitemates and returned to our cabin. I told Meredith that while she showered, I needed to check my email for letters to Dear Aggie.

  Before I went to work on my column, I wanted to research Trey Landsdale. It occurred to me that if Vicki’s brother abused drugs, he might have a criminal record.

  My WebCrawler search indicated he had none. His clean record made it more reasonable their parents would send him to watch over Vicki. If they believed he had only minor problems, they might think giving him some responsibility would straighten him out. Maybe they realized Vicki was the stronger of the two children.

  Yet, I still had misgivings about River Rat, Trey Landsdale. Since he’d grown up in Wisconsin, I looked up the state’s marijuana laws: possession of marijuana was punishable by six months in jail and/or a fine of $1,000 for the first offense. Conditional discharge was available for first offenders. Subsequent offenses incurred three-and-a-half years in jail and a fine of $10,000.

  Suppose authorities had previously caught Trey with marijuana. The Landsdales might have paid the $1,000 fine and had him conditionally discharged.

  At that point, they might have suggested he adopt a different name and get a job in Texas at the dude ranch where Vicki worked.

  He could keep an eye on his sister and himself out of jail.

  In Texas, possessing marijuana incurred 180 days in jail and a $2,000 fine. Having two to four ounces drew a year in jail and a $4,000 fine.

  Possession or sale of stronger drugs carried greater penalties in both states. Trey Land
sdale must have known that if he went to Texas, he’d have to be very careful. If he got caught using illegal substances, his parents might balk at paying the price of keeping him out of jail.

  On the other hand, the Landsdales might prefer having Trey jailed in Texas. They’d have a better chance of keeping his misdeeds out of the Wisconsin papers.

  I still had time to check my email before dinner. Sure enough, somebody had written to Dear Aggie.

  The paper would have to email her my answer. This reader needed advice fast.

  Dear Aggie,

  Our friends have a ranch. They insisted we visit them. Dinner and camaraderie were great, but tomorrow we’re going on a three-hour hike. I’d just as soon jump off a cliff, but I can’t get out of it. Any suggestions?

  Creeped-out in the country.

  Dear Creeped,

  First, wear cool, comfortable clothing with a sweater and COMFORTABLE walking shoes. No boots you haven’t broken in. Don’t even consider flip-flops or espadrilles. High-topped tennis shoes are good. If you wear regular tennis shoes, stuff your jeans into tube socks. Wear sunscreen and a hat. You don’t want to survive outdoor life only to look like a hag. Use bug repellant. Mosquitoes either love you or hate you. Why chance it?

  I know you’re thinking about snakes. Most are not poisonous and avoid people. If that doesn’t make you feel better, wear gloves and sprinkle granular Snake-Be-Gone around you as you walk. Or sprinkle it on your shoes.

  Better still, walk in the open. If your host starts to walk though brush, walk directly behind him.

  Remember: heat, Deet, and feet.

  Aggie

  I was glad we weren’t taking any prolonged, age inducing hikes. I could hardly wait to get the dirt off, even in a primitive shower using lye soap. Fortunately, I discovered I’d packed a bar of Ivory.

  Meredith and I were in our underwear, mid-way through blow-drying our hair when the power went out in the building. Cabin electricity apparently couldn’t support two hair dryers. We groped around in semi-darkness, trying to find clothes that matched.