“I’ll have Pleasant check it out.”
Senora Mari came flying out of the kitchen. “¡Vámonos! Your food is getting cold. If they send it back, you’re paying for it, not me.”
Lightfoot and I exchanged amused glances before heading back to our designated roles. Not for the first time, I longed to be free to sit down and share a pleasant dining experience.
After delivering the specials to Ellis and Lightfoot, I returned with another order for the bartender. The flow of customers had started to slow. Two of my tables had paid and no other customers had taken their place.
Our new bartender looked at me with eyes round with surprise. “I overheard what that cop asked you. Is that lady in some kind of trouble? Is she a wanted criminal?”
“No.”
“She asked me for the ladies’ room, but she never came back.”
“Anything else?”
“She left her purse.” From behind the bar, he retrieved one of those African-looking shoulder bags.
“Let me see that.” I took it from him. “I need one frozen with salt and a top-shelf margarita on the rocks with a sugar rim.” The restaurant was closing at nine o’clock. From previous experience, we knew that our customers would all be out at the fairgrounds for the fireworks by then. “I’ll take it to the hotel and leave it at the front desk.”
He shrugged. “Okay.” He proceeded to fix my drinks with one eye on the soccer game. And even though I watched him closely for slipups, he made no mistakes.
When he placed the drinks on my tray a minute later, I had to admire his skills. “Thanks,” I said loudly to his back as he stood mesmerized by the game.
Startled, he turned to me. “You are very welcome, Miss Josie.” He smiled a truly dazzling smile before giving me his back once again.
Keeping a skilled bartender in a town our size was difficult. Who was I to demand his undivided attention? What I should be concerned about was the location of Dani O’Neal. She’d told one too many lies. If she was at the Cogburn Hotel, then I was the next Miss Agave Queen.
Chapter 17
Fireworks
After dropping Dani’s bag at the hotel, I hurried out to the fairgrounds. The breeze was cool and the stars were bright as planets. Hanging close to the Earth like ruby red Texas grapefruits. Fort Davis to our north and Big Bend National Park to our south were official dark-sky preserves, which meant their tourists got the most stars for their buck. However, the night sky beyond the city limits of Broken Boot was no slouch. Very little spillover from Alpine and Marfa affected the blanket of celestial beauty that hung perpetually in our desert sky. The only disturbance to this peaceful backdrop was a parking lot full of cars, trucks, motorcycles, folding chairs, Igloo coolers, cooking grills, and an ice cream pushcart full of sparklers and other small-time fireworks.
In the distance, Frank Fillmore had built a platform and filled it with row upon row of rockets and missiles along with more complicated pieces of equipment, which hopefully meant his show was going to be a real doozy—one that I could honestly brag about on the town’s web page.
Out in the field of scrub just beyond the parking area and a far distance from Fillmore’s launching platform, folks had set up folding chairs and camp stools, all pointed toward the focal point of the evening’s entertainment, the thirty-minute fireworks display. This was around the rocks and cacti and in spite of the pebbles, mesquite, and tumbleweed.
Young and old, humble and rich, they’d come one and all to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.
“Happy Cinco de Mayo, Abuela.”
With an aggravated shake of her head, Senora Mari lifted her chin. “Not a celebration in Mexico, this Cinco whatever. Loco Americanos.”
“True, but we’re a ton of fun. Sí?”
She cast her eyes toward the sky. “If you say so.” She waggled her hand back and forth.
“Yip,” Lenny said.
Three dogs from across the field answered with opinions of their own.
“What about dancing in the parade?” I asked. “You know you enjoyed that.”
Shrugging in her usual way, she said, “Perhaps, but the chili cooking. No joy.”
“I have your chair, Mamá.” Uncle Eddie passed us, loaded down with chairs and a cooler. “Jo Jo, you have the flashlight?”
“Got it.” I’d brought the largest Maglite we owned, the better to kill snakes and millipedes with while waiting around in the dark.
“Help, the candle’s falling.” Aunt Linda went by with two citronella tiki torches, a camp torch, and a watermelon.
Lenny retrieved the candle in his mouth, tail wagging, so cute and proud of himself. “Thanks, buddy.” Aunt Linda gave him a grateful pat on the head.
I took it from him, laced my arm through Senora Mari’s, and lit the path for the three of us.
“Snakes will bite someone tonight, just you wait and see.” I was afraid Senora Mari had seen too many old-timey Westerns again. Snakes in the desert at night, sounded like a no-brainer. But snakebites were rare in Texas. A person had a better chance of being struck by lightning than being bitten by a rattler or any other venomous snake. “We couldn’t hold the fireworks on Main Street?” Aunt Linda called over her shoulder.
“Just think what happened over in Badger County; two children were bitten by snakes at a picnic last summer.” Senora Mari had rattlers on the brain.
“Where were the badgers when they needed them? Why call yourself a badger if you’re not going to kill a snake?” I asked with more than a touch of sass.
“Shh.” Uncle Eddie hissed. “Mamá, someone will hear you. Think of those parents.”
I glanced at her. She glanced at me. The corners of her mouth turned down dramatically, like one half of a comedy-tragedy set of masks. “Shoddy parenting.”
“Shh,” I warned. “There but for the grace of God.”
“God didn’t make them poor parents.”
Finally my uncle found a spot that was flat
