When I reached the building, I eased up the front porch steps and slid into a rocker. Bertha might not be awake, or at least not ready for company.
I’d leaned my head back against the rocker when I heard a scream inside the lodge.
Eleven
I sprang up, yanked open the lodge door and charged into the dining hall. The cries came from the kitchen. When I blasted through the swinging doors, Maria, the cook, shrieked as she stared into the open horizontal freezer. I zoomed to her side and looked down. Bertha closed in behind me, puffing hard. Across the top of the freezer contents lay a stiff snake. A tiny piece of wire protruded from its scaly mouth.
Bertha put her hands on her hips. “Somebody’s got a weird sense of humor, Maria. This snake ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s dang near frozen. It’ll be a stick in an hour. I’ll throw it out later. Help me get breakfast ready.” She slammed the freezer door shut.
Maria whimpered, her eyes huge.
Her pulse was probably sprinting faster than mine. She stumbled in the general direction of the sink. I hoped she didn’t need anything else from the freezer. Bertha’s tone meant Maria should work on breakfast, snake or no snake.
I made my way back to the dining room, took eight or ten deep breaths and plopped myself on a chair.
Meredith bounced in the front door, followed by Sam wearing jeans and a khaki shirt—the same type shirt he wore with outlandish ties at SAPD. His shirttail hung out.
I longed to run to him, have him hold me and rest my cheek against the chest hair peeking out above his shirt button. As he dragged his boots across the floor, I remembered the wranglers had scheduled him and George Tensel for a morning horseback ride.
“Tensel snored like an elephant last night,” Sam said. “I could hear him through the bathroom. Selma bitched at him, but he never even woke up.” He studied my face. “You look a little pale.”
“Not enough sleep.” I turned to Meredith, “I was amazed you slept through the racket in cabin six. Jangles thought she heard a shot. The sound woke me, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe a car backfired.”
Sam’s scrunched his eyebrows. “Why would anybody be driving around eighteen hundred acres at night?”
“Maybe somebody was shooting rabbits,” I said. I was too sleep-deprived to discuss possibilities.
“If Rickoff shoots in the dark, he’s even crazier than he looks.”
I didn’t tell them about the snake in the freezer. Why ruin Meredith’s breakfast? I wanted to ponder why somebody’d dump a snake in there. Why play a cruel joke on Maria?
After everybody conquered the breakfast buffet, the Tensels left their table and joined us at ours.
“I can’t believe I’m going to climb on a horse,” George said. “I haven’t ridden on anything but a car seat in forty years.”
“We know that, George,” Selma said.
“I’m looking forward to gauchoing through the countryside,” Sam said, winking at me. He was clearly beginning to enjoy himself. The smile on his face made me wonder if he was considering springing a surprise on George during the trail ride.
Twelve
When the men headed for the stables, Selma, Meredith and I returned to our cabins to put on swimsuits. Meredith and I wore tank suits and flip-flops. We thought we looked outdoorsy and ready for a dip in the river. Selma strolled up to join us in a high-cut suit with shorts over it. Both garments bulged. I’d eat smaller portions at tonight’s campfire.
The cabin six girls had apparently gone ahead. We three trod to the waterfront.
“Texas is home to a wider diversity of snakes and lizards than any other state in the nation,” Meredith said. “Think we should tell Millie?”
“Only if you want to see her run full tilt to her car,” I said.
“I might follow her,” Selma said.
“Actually, lizards aren’t venomous. Neither are most snakes. They’re deadly to prey, but not to humans,” Meredith said. “Only a couple of types are venomous to humans—pit vipers and coral snakes like the one…”
“Don’t remind us. Not if you want us to get in that river,” I said. “Don’t people swim in the Guadalupe and Medina Rivers all the time?”
“Exactly. Snakes avoid people.”
When we reached the waterfront, we saw a Navy SEAL outfitted in full-body diving gear.
We realized it was Millie.
She announced she wasn’t about to touch anything slimy.
Meredith whispered to me, “Think I should tell her if she sees a snake floating at rest, she should avoid it?”
“Don’t think I’d mention it.”
Stoney wore a competition tank suit. She had tied a warm-up top around her hips and wore obsolete tennis shoes.
Jangles had covered her swimsuit with a striped tent dress. Her frock spread out over the dock like a porch umbrella. Rehabilitated rhinestones sparkling from her sandals peeked out from underneath her tent. She awaited River Rat’s instructions.
River Rat smiled seductively. “Let’s get you tadpoles and fish in the water and see how you swim. You first, Millie. Put on these swim fins.” He must have feared she’d sink, encased in so much rubber. He led the shivering creature down a gentle embankment and glided her into the water, talking softly in her ear while he held her hand.
Millie had a death grip on River Rat’s arm. He called to Jangles. “You’re next, Jangles. Come on in.” She threw off her tent and waddled into the shallows, a broad smile on her face.
“Good, good,” said Rat. “That’s it. Get a little deeper. Up to your chest. Good. You’re going to float just fine, Jangles. Ready, Stoney?”
Stoney yanked off her warm-up, kicked off her tennis shoes, flung her towel at the discard pile and plunged off the dock.
“Good thing you did a flat dive,” Rat said. “It’s pretty shallow there.”
Stoney beamed and plowed through the water like a plumber’s snake.
“Go ahead, Selma.” Rat called.
Selma slipped in cautiously and paddled around, keeping one eye on the bank.
Rat watched them navigate for a while, then nodded for Meredith and me to get in. We put on life jackets, slid in and swam around. The water was cold. Shaded by oaks and cypress trees, this part of the Medina River wouldn’t warm up until the sun reached full potential later in the day.
“You’re okay in the water,” Rat said to Meredith and me. “Why don’t you get out and drag a canoe to the water’s edge.”
We crawled up the bank and walked over to study three canoes and three kayaks lined up perpendicular to the shoreline. We selected a canoe and tugged it toward the water. Rat told Meredith to steady the craft sideways to shore while I climbed in and perched on the front seat. He told me to use my oar to hug our boat close to the bank while Meredith slid onto the back seat.
“Aggie,” Rat said, “you’re the paddler who determines the direction of the craft. To do that, you paddle your oar on one side, then the other to guide the canoe.”
Meredith sat still with her oar across her lap. “Your job,” Rat told her, “is to steady the craft. Instead of paddling, you place your oar upright in the water on alternate sides, turning it like a rudder to steady the canoe as it glides along.”
His instructions were clear, and we started moving. Mostly forward. We laughed at our ineptitude but learned how to maneuver. Jangles swam over to join our fun and looped her elbows over the side of the canoe.
“You make it look easy,” she said.
“Hey, don’t…”
“Uh-oh…”
We knew we were capsizing.
We dove in on either side of Jangles, pushing our feet against the canoe. Fortunately, the canoe didn’t hit Jangles when it flipped. We bobbed around and found oars while Jangles sputtered apologies.
It floated like a slice of upturned cantaloupe. Rat had to swim to the bank with Millie, convince her to let go of his hand and push her up on solid ground. Then he could deal with the boat. He plunged back in and righted the canoe. By that time, everybody had crawled back up on the bank. Meredith and I sat quietly, feeling foolish and knowing that Jangles felt worse.
I concentrated on squeezing water from my hair until the backs of my legs started to burn. I jumped up screeching and danced around rubbing the backs of my thighs. My legs were on fire from hips to ankles. “Something stings!”
“You must have sat in poison ivy,” Rat said. “Don’t rub it. Get back in the water.”
I held my nose and jumped in.
Meredith pointed at the culprit. “See that green ivy-like plant with three leaflets? That’s poison ivy, all right.”
At least some creature hadn’t stung me. I treaded water and let cool water ease the burning. Maybe I could just stay in the river until class ended.
“You’ll have to walk to the lodge,” Rat said. “Bertha has first aid remedies. We’ll be along shortly. Come on, everybody. Back in the water.”
I found Rat somewhat lacking in sympathy. Maybe he’d been given instructions never to let his river class end prematurely. Perhaps marijuana time came after class.
“I’ll come with you,” Meredith said.
I waved her off. “Enjoy the river. I’ll be fine.”
Thirteen
I scurried up the bank, slid into flip-flips and scooted toward the lodge as fast as I could with my beet-red thighs stinging as if they were on fire. I was dying to scratch. The sensation was worse than when curiosity made my feet itch.
Bertha’s yellow Jeep was parked by the lodge. An unfamiliar car was parked alongside. I heard angry voices inside the lodge—an increasingly regular event at the BVSBar Ranch.
A man bellowed, “Maybe you sped up the dehydration. What’d you put in those thermoses?”
“I didn’t put anything in their thermoses.” Bertha yelled back. “And I’ll never sell you this ranch. You never cared one whit about it.”
I hated to interrupt, but I couldn’t stand still much longer and eavesdrop with my backside burning. Clearing my throat, I charged through the door.
“Bertha, I’m sorry to intrude, but I sat in poison ivy. River Rat said you had remedies.”
“Come to my room. I’ll fix you up.” She flipped her wrist toward the couple. “This is Herb and Bitsy Vernon. Herb’s my cousin. His parents owned the BVSBar.”
Herb, who looked about Bertha’s age, muttered something that sounded like, “Still should.”
Bitsy, much younger than Herb, smiled from under her bleached Barbie Doll helmet.
I nodded at them and whipped into Bertha’s room.
Bertha slammed the door. “Go into the bathroom, get your swimsuit off and stand in the tub with your rear facing the faucets.”
My face probably turned as red as the backs of my thighs, but I didn’t have much choice. She opened a huge medicine chest and whipped a gallon bottle of rubbing alcohol off a shelf.
I recognized a bottle of diet pills and diuretics. The other labels weren’t familiar.
“I’m going to pour this on the backs of your legs and rinse you with cool water. We can’t rub it on. Rubbing spreads the oils that are makin’ you itch.”
She poured alcohol on me and rinsed me with cool water. I felt relief from the stinging but shivered from the cold. She gave me a towel to wrap my upper body.
“Don’t get that towel near the poison ivy area. You’ll spread the toxin around.”
I promised I wouldn’t. Standing naked in her bathtub with my legs stinging, I’d have promised just about anything.
“Do Herb and Bitsy come here often?” My teeth chattered.
“He hates the place. Always has. Just shows up when he needs money. I sure don’t have any extra to give him. He wants some oil company to drill on the ranch so he’ll get royalties.”
“But it’s your ranch, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. Herb and I each own half the minerals, but I own executive rights. I decide who can drill. Nobody’s going to bring in a bunch of trucks and drilling rigs and make a mess of this gorgeous piece of land.”
“You wouldn’t have to work so hard…keep operating the place as a guest ranch and watch over Angora goats and cows like you do...”
She sloshed me with alcohol. “That’s what they say. But instead of this beautiful ranch, I’d have a job site with nuthin’ but a bunch of roads and trucks and land full of holes.” She doused me with colder water.
My goose bumps might become permanent. My skin would look like cottage cheese.
“Besides,” she said, “most oil fields are drilled south of the Hill Country.” She stared at me. “How’d you know we have Angora goats?”
“I read about the ranch before we came. I heard your aunt and uncle died on this ranch and you found them.” My teeth were still chattering. “That must have been awful.”
She drenched me with alcohol and water twice before she answered. My whole body quivered from the cold.
“It was awful,” she said. “And that little snot”—she gestured toward the closed door—“thinks I…” She wheeled around to the medicine cabinet so fast, I twitched. When she opened the cabinet again, I saw more pill bottles: vitamins, diuretics, blood pressure medicine, plus other unfamiliar drugs. She grabbed another jug. When she closed the cabinet door, I noticed papers on top of the adjacent cabinet and saw the words “drilling…well…Bandera County.” Some oil company had approached Bertha.
When she turned back toward me, her face was dark as a rain cloud. “Turn around,” she said.
I turned slowly. What was she going to do? The hair on my neck stood up. When she squirted something cold on my legs, I almost jumped out of my towel.
“That’s calamine lotion. After you shower, get somebody to drip it on you.” From the corner of my eye, I saw her reach toward me. I whipped around. She handed me the jug of lotion.
“I’m going to give you this bottle of Clorox mixed with water.” She handed me the other gallon jug. “When you think you can’t stand any more itching, get in the shower and pour this Clorox over your legs. Rinse with cool water. Warm water spreads the poison ivy oil.”
There was no way I could wrench on my swimsuit without touching my legs.
Bertha loaned me a pink, over-the-head housedress splotched with gigantic purple flowers.
I’d have to walk back to my cabin wearing this obnoxious muumuu and lugging two jugs. I’d probably bump into Sam. To lighten my dour thoughts, I pictured River Rat’s face with Millie clutching his hand the whole time I was gone.
I donned the muumuu, slipped past the Vernons, muttering, “Pleased to meet you,” and stepped onto the front porch. I eased toward the left side of the lodge, put down the jugs and flattened myself against the side of the building, trying to hide in my purple flowers. As long as I wasn’t itching, I might as well stick around to hear what the Vernons and Bertha said to each other. They talked loudly.
“Don’t you ever check the place where they drilled?” Herb barked. “I remember when I was a kid seeing a bunch of trucks and that tall drilling rig out there somewhere. It was so dang hot and dry, there wasn’t much else to do besides watch guys drive around and struggle with equipment. When I’d come to the house, all Mom and Dad talked about was how long the drought was going to last—how they couldn’t make a living on this sorry piece of land. When they sent me to school in San Antonio, I was plenty ready to leave this wilderness. You need to find that well, Bertha. Might not be dry anymore. Might be oil all over the damn place.”
“Forget it, Herb. That was over five years ago. Nothin’s gushin’ out there. The whole area’s probably covered over with mesquite by now. Nobody’s gonna’ drill on the BVSBar. You want to try to find some dry hole? Go search. Then get off my ranch and leave me in peace.”
There was certainly no love lost between Bertha and cousin Herb. If an oil company had drilled and come up with a dry hole, they must have abandoned the well, like Bertha said. Was the abandoned well the ‘treasure’ the Vernons had sought five years earlier when they perished? In five years, the area probably had grown over. But it wouldn’t have been covered over when the Vernons went there. What had drawn them to that well? What happened there to cause their deaths? I wondered if there was some way to locate the original drilling site.
Herb was cursing. He and Bertha exchanged a few more gruff remarks, but I couldn’t make out what they said. When Herb shoved Bitsy through the door and let it slam back against the wall, I had to slide farther back down the side of the lodge and flatten myself against the stone so my purple flowers wouldn’t give me away. At least the limestone felt cool. The backs of my legs weren’t stinging.
Herb and Bitsy stomped down the steps to their car. Herb turned and looked back at the building and spotted me. He snapped at Bitsy. “Get in the car.”
Fourteen
I cringed against the building, but I knew Herb Vernon had seen my flowers. I picked up my jugs and walked toward him with a smile on my face. “I thought I’d walk to the river, but these jugs are awfully heavy.”
Frowning, he stopped three feet in front of me. “Kind of a strange time to be taking a stroll, don’t you think? Suffering with poison ivy? Carrying two jugs?”
“You’re right. I’ll take the main path to our cabin, like always.” I attempted to walk around him. He moved left and blocked me. I sensed rage building inside him.
Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) Page 7