He didn’t look up from digging. “Not unless we’re given orders to get some bed rest.”
“Or on vacation,” Harvey added.
Natalie stopped stirring. “Which means you’re not supposed to be out here digging holes, Mr. Tourist.”
Coop grinned, still shoveling. “A man can only sit back and watch a woman struggle to do a job for so long.”
Natalie laughed and gave him the bird. “I was not struggling, Johnny Law.”
Claire thumbed in the direction of the cottonwood tree. “Those two don’t seem to have a problem with sitting back.”
“We’re supervising,” Chester said, puffing on his cigar.
“So, what exactly was Kate planning to do with her Taser gun?” Claire added another splash of water to the concrete mix for Natalie. “Hunt down the killer and immobilize him for ten minutes?”
“I guess.”
“Does she have some inside information the cops don’t know about?”
“I don’t know. Before Harvey recovered from being Tasered, she wanted to swing by Tank’s tow yard.”
“Did you?”
“No. We ate breakfast at The Mule Train Diner instead. The nurturer overruled the nutter in Kate. She felt bad about what she did to Harvey and took him out to breakfast to make up for it.”
“And she bought me a bottle of bourbon at the liquor store.” Harvey smiled at Natalie. “I like that girl. When she gets all lathered up, she reminds me of Sparky.”
“Who’s Sparky?” Claire asked.
“Violet. Harvey is her self-appointed bodyguard.”
“Leave Sparky Parker out of this,” Coop said. “I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Violet and Coop lock horns at nearly every turn,” Natalie told Claire.
Claire chuckled. “That must make it interesting.”
If Natalie’s best friend and her boyfriend were constantly battling, whose side would Natalie take?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Natalie asked.
Claire just shrugged. “How was Fort Bowie?”
Natalie’s cheeks darkened. “Interesting.” She pointed at the wheelbarrow. “You dump, I’ll smooth.”
After the concrete was poured, Claire asked, “Interesting in a historical re-enactment sort of way?”
Such as a replay of that night in the alley behind the Purple Door Saloon?
Her cousin’s gaze shifted to Coop for a second. “There were no re-enactments going on, just explanations about what happened long ago.”
Oh, a lot of hot air then. “That sounds a little boring.”
“Actually, it was nice. I enjoyed it.”
Hmmmm. “So, are the walls still in place?” As in the sabbatical ones Natalie was hiding behind.
Natalie shot a frown in Coop’s direction. “There’s a bit of crumbling, but the foundations are still there.”
“Bah,” Claire whispered. “Like I said, boring.”
Natalie wrinkled her upper lip in a mock snarl. “Go get me another bag of concrete, Jezebel.”
The three of them finished the remaining piers over the next couple of hours, taking turns digging, shoveling, and stirring. They were taking a break in the shade next to Chester and Harvey when Claire’s phone rang.
“It’s Ronnie,” she told the others and walked over next to the gravel pile to take the call. “Well, well, well,” Claire said in the phone. “If it isn’t the belle of the assassin’s ball.”
“Don’t be jealous now, evil stepsister Drizella. I’ll let you wear the glass slippers if it’ll make you feel prettier.” Ronnie’s voice sounded husky. Sleepy maybe. “What are you doing?”
Claire harrumphed. “I’ll tell you what I’m not doing—I’m not having sex in my Jeep, unlike you and the sheriff.”
“We did not have sex in your stupid Jeep.”
“Then why are there boot scuff marks on my dash and handprints all over my passenger window?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Okay, Sherlock. We tried to have sex in your Jeep, but there wasn’t enough room to pull it off.”
“I could have told you that.”
She and Mac had given it a whirl themselves one night on the back road near Ruby’s Lucky Monk mine. It had been a bit like playing Twister during an earthquake, leaving both of them bruised and sore the next day.
“Next time, have sex in somebody else’s vehicle, head cheerleader. It’s bad enough I can still smell sour milk every now and then from the pie fiasco at Thanksgiving.”
“Get over it, you big baby. Now, if you’re done chewing on me, I need a ride home.”
“Where’s Grady?”
“Sleeping, I’m told, and I don’t want to wake him, either. He was up all night and most of the morning.”
Mac was sleeping, too. He’d worked late so that they could come back early today, not knowing at the time that they’d need to rush back here for reasons other than the New Year’s Eve party at The Shaft.
“I’ll send someone to come get you,” Claire said. “Natalie and I have more work to do, and according to the message Mac got from Grady, you and I are not supposed to be alone together anywhere. It’s too risky.”
“He’s worried,” Ronnie said, her tone apologetic.
“So am I.” Claire sat on the gravel pile, shifting until the stones didn’t poke through her jeans. “Aren’t you?”
Ronnie blew out a breath. “Yes and no.”
“What do you mean ‘and no’?”
“I’m tired of running.”
“What about the stunt you pulled last night?”
“Who told you about that? Grady?” Ronnie asked.
“Kate texted me.”
“Yeah, well, I sort of snapped when Elizabeth and Katie got into it, which was my fault. Katie was protecting me.” The line went quiet for a moment, and then Ronnie added, “I think I’m screwing up everyone’s life here.”
“Shut up, Ronnie.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Claire scooped up a handful of gravel, letting the rocks clatter back onto the pile. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you and I and Kate are all in this together, come hell, deranged killers, bounty hunters, or Mom. Besides, I need you more than ever.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Kate’s brain is still taking a vacation in the Bermuda Triangle. She’s our monkey and this is our circus.”
Ronnie chuckled. “You know, when Butch first told us that Carter babies make women crazy, I didn’t believe him. Not really. But we’re only four months into this pregnancy, and our sister is swinging from chandeliers and throwing bananas at passersby on a daily basis now.”
It couldn’t get any worse, could it? Claire hoped not.
“Natalie
