“Has she had any more trouble from down in the city?”
“No, and I don’t see that happening. Book’s closed.”
“Good. Go on and let those dogs outside now. Tyrone’s fine with Finch and Cus. He’ll be fine with D.A. before long.”
Ryder obeyed, nudging the still reluctant pug out with the toe of his boot. “Beckett and his brood just pulled up. Dogs, too.”
“Oh, well, maybe I should—”
“Willy B, you let that pug socialize,” Justine ordered. “You’re going to make a neurotic out of him otherwise.”
“Everybody’s bigger than he is.”
“And you’re bigger than anybody else. You don’t hurt anyone.” She opened a cupboard, took out three bubble- shooting guns she’d already loaded, and took them out to the boys.
Seconds later Clare came in with a bowl.
“Whatcha got?” Ryder asked as he took it from her. “Potato salad? You’re my favorite sister-in-law.”
“I’m your only, but not for much longer. Avery and Owen are right behind us.” She stepped over to kiss Willy B’s cheek.
“You sit right down here, get off your feet.”
“I’ll do that, and snap the rest of these beans.”
“Okay then. I’m going to go out and …”
Clare lifted her eyebrows as Willy B hurried out the door.
“He’s worried the other dogs will traumatize that bug-eyed rat of his.”
“They won’t, and Tyrone is adorable.”
“He looks like a dog from Mars.”
“Maybe a little.” She snapped beans while boys shouted, dogs barked. Male laughter rolled over it all. “Go on outside. You know you want to. I’m fine here. It’s like a small sanity break.”
“If you say so.”
He did want to go out, especially since he’d stowed the old Super Soaker in the shed for just such an occasion.
When Hope pulled in, a war raged. Kids, dogs, grown men, all soaked to the skin, battled with a variety of water shooting weapons.
She eyed the combatants warily. She could probably trust the boys not to aim in her direction. The dogs simply had to be avoided. But she knew very well grown men could rarely resist a fresh target.
She got out carefully, using the car door as a shield as she reached in the back.
And caught the gleam in Ryder’s eye through his dripping hair.
“I have pies!” she called out. “If I get wet, the pies get wet. Think about it.”
He lowered his weapon. “What kind—” And, vulnerable, took a shot in the back from the youngest water warrior.
“I got you good!” Murphy shouted, then screamed in hysterical delight as Ryder gave chase.
Hope took advantage of the distraction, and her cherry pie shield, to make a beeline for the house.
“Everyone out there’s soaked,” Hope announced, then spotted Avery, wineglass in hand, a man’s work shirt draped to her knees. “Casualty?”
“I gave as good as I got, but they ganged up on me. Men can’t be trusted.”
“Now everybody’s here.” Justine gave Hope a quick hug. “Willy B, why don’t you start the grill?”
“Well …” The pug curled in his lap, Willy B gave the door a dubious look.
“Oh, I’ll fix that. Hope, get yourself a drink.” So saying, Justine walked out. Curious, Hope walked over, looked out. Watched Justine turn on her garden hose.
She fired without warning or mercy as cries of
“Time for a truce. Y’all dig up some dry clothes and clean up. We’re eating in a half hour or so.”
WARDROBE MIGHT HAVE leaned toward eccentric, but the food struck a perfect note. There was restaurant talk as Avery was counting down in days now. Construction talk, town talk, baby talk, and wedding talk.
Plates cleared, the kids and dogs raced back for the yard restricted by female decree to bubbles and balls.
“Now then.” Justine leaned back. “I’ll let you know where things stand on my end. There’s an old family Bible.” She patted her sister’s hand. “Carolee managed to track it down to our uncle. Our father’s brother Henry. Uncle Hank. When my daddy’s daddy passed, Uncle Hank and his wife loaded up. Some people are just that way. God knows what he wanted with all that stuff, but he filled a damn U-Haul. Twice. And the Bible was in there. It goes back a ways so if Billy’s ours, he’d be listed. All we have to do is get it back.”
“He says we can borrow it,” Carolee put in. “Once he finds it. Claims it’s stored, which probably means it’s buried somewhere in the piles.”
“He won’t be in any rush to dig it out,” Justine continued. “But I talked to my cousin, his daughter. We always got along, and she’ll nag at him for me. Meanwhile, he doesn’t remember a Joseph William Ryder; my father doesn’t either. But Daddy thinks he heard stories from his grandfather about a couple of his uncles fighting in the Civil War, and one of them, he thinks, died at Antietam. But I can’t swear that’s a fact. It might just be Daddy’s remembering it that way because I asked that way.”
“It’s a start,” Hope said. A frustratingly slow one. “I can’t find any Joseph William Ryder listed as buried at the National Cemetery.”
“I’ve got nothing so far,” Owen added. “But there’s still a lot to go through.”
“Daddy said he knows there was an old Civil War bayonet, and some other things—shells, a uniform cap. Even old cannonballs,” Carolee added. “What he didn’t know is if they came down in the family or if they just got dug up in the farming. A lot of old stuff gets dug up.”
“I barely remember the farm,” Justine told them. “It got sold off before you boys were born. Houses planted on it now, and the Park Service bought some of it. But Daddy said—and this he was sure of—there was a little family cemetery.”
Hope straightened. “On the farm?”
“People buried their own in the country sometimes rather than in churchyards or cemeteries. He said it was down an old, rutted lane, backed by some trees. It might still be there.”
“I can find out,” Owen said. “If they exhumed, it takes paperwork to move graves.”
“On the old Ryder farm.” Frowning, Ryder considered his beer. “There’s a pond. A little one.”
“Daddy said they had a little swimming hole. How do you know that?”
“I dated a girl who lived in one of the houses they put up. There’s a small cemetery, an old one. It’s got a low stone wall around it, and a plaque. The Park Service type. I didn’t pay much attention. I was more focused on trying to get her naked and into the pond.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?” his mother demanded.
“I don’t usually tell you about girls I’m trying to get naked.” And he smiled at her. “Mom, I was like sixteen. She was the first girl I took around after I got my license. What the hell was her name? Angela—Bowers, Boson— something. I didn’t get her naked, so it didn’t stick. And I didn’t think of any of it until now. I do remember thinking, shit, some of those dead people are relatives, then it was back to hoping for naked.”
“A guy’s attention span’s short at sixteen,” Beckett put in. “Except for naked girls.”
“It’s still there,” Justine remembered. “We should’ve known that. It’s disrespectful we didn’t, Carolee.”
“Daddy just wanted off the farm,” Carolee reminded her. “He wanted away from everything to do with farming. And he and Grandpa were at odds over that for so long. It’s no wonder we didn’t know.”
“We know now,” Owen reminded them. “We’ll go take a look.”
“All right.” Justine rose. “Let’s corral the kids and dogs.”
“What?” Owen blinked at her. “You want to go now?”
“What’s wrong with now?”
“The sun’s going to set before long, and—”
“Then we shouldn’t waste time.”
“If we wait until tomorrow, I can go, take a look, let you know what—”
