them batons. You can spin it around your fingers if you've got the talent for it. You can toss it right up in the air and snatch it back if you're quick. Or you can let it fly and conk somebody on the head.' She smiled and plucked the zither from behind her ear. 'I do dearly love a parade.'
From behind Lulu, Caroline thought over the analogy and shook her head. It made a spooky kind of sense. She wasn't sure if she'd ever conked anyone on the head with the baton of life, but she'd certainly dropped it a few times. Right now she was doing her best to make it spin.
'That there's the Cotton Princess and her court,' Cy told Caroline. 'The whole high school votes on her every year. She was supposed to ride in back of Mr. Tucker's car, but since it got banged up, they rented that convertible from Avis in Greenville.'
'She's lovely.' Caroline smiled at the girl in her puffy-sleeved white dress and sweat-sheened face.
'She's Kerry Sue Hardesty.' Watching her made Cy think of Kerry's younger sister, LeeAnne. She of the soft, fascinating breasts. As the car cruised by, Cy scanned the crowd, hoping for a glimpse. He didn't spot LeeAnne, but he did spot Jim, and waved desperately.
'Why don't you go over and see your friend, Cy? You can meet us at the car when the parade's finished.'
He yearned, but shook his head and stood firm. Mr. Tucker was counting on him to stay close to Miss Caroline. They'd had a real man-to-man talk about it. 'No, ma'am. I'm fine right here. There's Miss Josie and that FBI doctor. He's got one of those lapel flowers that squirts water in your face. He sure is a caution.'
'He certainly is.' Caroline was scanning the crowd herself. 'I wonder what's keeping Tucker.'
'Nothing.' From behind, Tucker slipped his arms around her waist. 'You didn't think I'd miss watching a parade with a pretty woman, did you?'
Content, she leaned back against him. 'No.'
'You want me to fetch you and Miss Caroline cold drinks, Mr. Tucker? I got pocket money.'
'That's all right, Cy. I think Cousin Lulu's got what the doctor ordered in that jug down there.'
Cy jumped forward to take the cup Lulu poured and pass it back. 'That FBI man's watching from in front of the sheriffs office.'
'So I see.' Tucker sipped, savored, and handed the cup to Caroline.
Caroline took her first taste of mint julep and let it slide sweet down her throat. 'He doesn't look as though he thinks much of the parade.'
'Looks more like he smells dead skunk,' Cy commented.
'He just doesn't understand.' Tucker kept one arm around Caroline's waist, set his other hand on Cy's shoulder. 'Here comes Jed Larsson and his boys.'
When the fife and drum corps led by Larsson marched by playing 'Dixie,' the crowd roared. Those seated rose to their feet and cheered.
Caroline smiled and laid her head on Tucker's shoulder. She understood.
The Fourth of July meant fried chicken, potato salad, and smoking barbecues. It was a day for flag waving and pie eating and drinking cold beer in the shade. There were those gathered close in mourning, and the law continued its grinding quest, but on this bright summer day, Innocence tossed a cloak of red, white, and blue over murder and celebrated.
After the parade there were contests along Market Street and over in the town square. Pie eating, target shooting, foot racing, egg tossing, and-always a favorite-watermelon-seed spitting.
In silent amazement Caroline gawked at the junior division pie-eating contest, where seven- to fourteen- year-olds buried their faces in blueberry, slurping and swallowing to the cheers of the crowd. Pie after pie was consumed, and more glistening tins shoved under purple-stained faces. Encouragement and gastronomic advice were shouted out as one by one the young entrants fell by the wayside. Groaning.
'Look at Cy.' Caroline pressed a hand to her own stomach in sympathy. 'He must have eaten a dozen by now.'
'Nine and a half,' Tucker corrected her. 'But he's leading. Come on, boy, don't chew. Just let it slide on down.'
'I don't see how he can breathe,' she murmured as Cy buried his face in number ten. 'He's going to be sick.'
' 'Course he is. That's the way, Cy! Don't hold back now. He's got himself a nice rhythm,' Tucker said to Caroline. 'He doesn't just smash his face into it and hope for the best, he works in a nice steady circle from the outside in.'
She didn't know how Tucker could tell. All she saw was a boy buried to the neck in blueberries while the crowd cheered and stomped. She told herself it was a silly game, messy and certainly undignified. But she was rocking back and forth from toes to heels, pulled in to the simple excitement.
'Come on, Cy! Swallow it whole. Leave them in the dust. Look! He's going for twelve. Oh, Jesus, he's got it sewed up now. Just-' She glanced up at Tucker and found him grinning at her. 'What?'
'I'm crazy about you.' He kissed her hard and long as Cy, a
'Good.' She brushed her fingers over his cheeks and into his hair. 'That's good. Now maybe I should help the winner scrub blueberry juice off his face.'
'Let him get his own girl,' Tucker decided, and pulled her along to the next event.
They'd cleared the parking lot of the Lutheran Church for the target shoot. McGreedy's had supplied the beer bottles, and Hunters' Friend the ammo. The elimination rounds went quickly with frustrated hopefuls unloading their weapons and taking a place on the sidelines.
Tucker was pleased to see Dwayne preparing for the second round. It had taken a lot of fast, hard talk to convince his brother to participate in the day's events. He didn't want any gossip until it was impossible to avoid it. And he wanted Dwayne to continue acting normally. In Tucker's mind, normal equaled innocent.
'Both Dwayne and Josie are entered,' Caroline commented.
'We were all taught to shoot early. Old Beau insisted on it.'
'What about you? You're not after the grand prize of a smoked ham and a blue ribbon?'
He shrugged. 'I never cared much for guns. There goes Susie.' He waited until she'd blasted away three bottles with three shots. 'Lordy, she's a cool hand. Good thing she married a lawman. With that aim she could've taken up a life of crime.'
'Cousin Lulu.' Concerned, Caroline put a hand on Tucker's arm. Lulu swaggered up with a pair of Colts snug in a leather holster riding low on her bony hips. 'Do you really think she should-' She broke off as the old lady drew and fired. The three bottles seemed to explode as one. 'Oh, my.'
'She can handle anything from a.22 to an AK-47.' He watched, entertained, as Lulu twirled a Colt around her finger in three fast circles, then shot it back home. 'But if she asks you to stand with an apple on your head, I'd decline. She's not as young as she once was.'
It ended with Lulu edging out Susie and a very annoyed Will Shiver. The crowd began to gather back on the street for foot races.
'Sweetwater's doing well for itself.' Caroline accepted the cold bottle of Coke Tucker passed her. 'Aren't you going to run?'
'Run?' Tucker lighted a cigarette and flipped away the match. 'Darlin', why would I want to get all tired and sweaty just to get from one point to another?'
'Of course.' She smiled to herself. 'I don't know what got into me.' Sighing, she settled back against his chest while the first runners took their marks. 'So, you don't enter any event?'
'Well now, there is one I usually go for.'
She turned her head to look back at him. 'Which?'
'Wait and see.'
Greased pigs? Caroline had thought she'd gotten into the spirit of things, but when she stood behind the temporary paddock in the town square listening to the porcine squeals, she realized she hadn't come close.
Tucker had bowed off from eating pies, he didn't choose to shoot, and he yawned at the thought of racing. But he was standing in the paddock, stripped to the waist, waiting for the signal to go catch a lard-coated pig.
Baffled, Caroline rested an elbow on Cy's shoulder. 'How are you feeling?'
