Deborah swayed, almost dragging Ronnie to the floor with her. “Tired,” she mumbled in Ronnie’s face.
Ronnie cringed. “Jeez, your breath smells like a trash bin.”
Cursing and grumbling, Ronnie dragged her mom to the door, knocking over a shelf full of Vegas knickknacks on the way.
Outside, she heard the sound of a fire truck siren in the distance over the roar of the fire next door. Natalie appeared as Ronnie half-carried her mother over to the gravel drive, lending a hand at getting Deborah spread out on a picnic table in an empty camper slot a safe distance from the burning Winnebago.
Ronnie shoved her hair out of her face. “Where’s Grady?”
“Last I saw him, he was helping Manny unhook the propane tank.”
She frowned at the fire, the front of the Winnebago no longer visible in the smoke and flames. Please don’t let that tank blow.
The sight of Grady’s pickup spurred her back into action. She started back toward the burning Winnebago.
“Where are you going?” Natalie called, following her.
“I need to move Grady’s pickup so the fire truck can get through.”
Natalie hopped into the passenger seat as Ronnie started the pickup.
“Where’s Coop?” Ronnie asked, shifting into reverse.
“He’s moving Chester’s rig in case there’s an explosion. Manny told him where to find the spare keys.”
Chester’s Winnebago Brave was no longer parked across the drive from Gramps’s camper. Coop must have driven it away from the fire already.
“What happened to Coop’s shirt?” Ronnie asked as she backed Grady’s pickup next to the picnic table with her mother draped over it.
“Really?” Natalie asked. “You’re going to ask about Coop’s lack of a shirt after he was nearly burned to death in Gramps’s Winnebago?”
Ronnie shrugged. “The question popped into my head.”
“It’s a long story.”
She shifted into park and frowned at Natalie. “It’s one shirt. How long can it be?”
“It started in the alley behind the Purple Door Saloon in Deadwood a couple of years ago.”
Ah ha. Ronnie glanced down. “Is that why you’re wearing my robe and your hair is wet?”
“We didn’t have sex.”
“Not yet?”
“Something like that.”
The bright flashing lights of a fire truck came toward them. A crowd of bystanders in various styles of pajamas had gathered in the shadows, looking like sleepy zombie extras from an old George Romero film.
“We need to do some crowd control,” Natalie said, opening her door.
Ronnie pocketed Grady’s keys and followed, falling into step beside her cousin. “Any idea what started the fire?”
“No. I was in the shower for about twenty-five minutes. When I came out, the front half of the RV was in flames.”
They split up then, keeping the other campers safely back from the smoke and out of the way while the fire truck crew arrived and got busy with their hoses.
A half hour later, the fire was out. Gramps’s poor Winnebago looked like a charred, sad relic of days gone by.
Ronnie sat on the picnic table bench next to her sleeping mother, watching Grady and one of the firefighters walk around what was left of the old RV. The fire truck’s diesel engines rattled and growled, drowning out Deborah’s drunken snores. The strobe light on the second truck flashed red and white repeatedly, almost hypnotizing with its monotony.
Claire dropped onto the bench next to Ronnie. “I called Gramps.” She and Mac had arrived right after the first fire truck had pulled up.
Ronnie blinked away her worries about who might have lit the camper on fire, and if it had been meant to be a death trap for her, or Claire, or both of them. “Is he coming home?”
“He was going to, but I told him not to bother. The mess will be here waiting for him tomorrow.” Claire thumbed over her shoulder. “We have a problem.”
A gurgling laugh rasped from Ronnie’s throat. “We have a plethora of problems. To which are you referring?”
“Your mother is an alcoholic.”
Ronnie nodded. “It’s gotten worse since Dad was here.” Her gaze returned to Grady, who was now talking to Coop. Someone had given the guy a T-shirt. Judging by the words Dirty Gerties scrawled on the back, she suspected the provider was Chester.
A realization hit her. “Son of bitch!”
“What?” Claire asked.
“I need to borrow some clothes from you. Mine were in the Winnebago.” Ronnie didn’t have a bunch of money to throw at a new wardrobe right now either, damn it.
“Don’t worry. Kate and I have you covered.”
“Thanks. Where’s Natalie going to sleep?”
“There’s the couch in the rec room,” Claire said.
“Where am I going to live now?”
“You could move in with Grady.”
Ronnie blew out a breath. “I’m not ready for that yet.”
“I didn’t say you had to marry him.”
“Once you move in with someone, there is no moving back out and staying together.”
“You want to stop seeing Grady?”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want to rush moving in together. That’s something you ease into.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like me.”
Ronnie shoulder-bumped her sister. “You’re rubbing off on me. Next I’ll start scratching my butt and carrying a monkey wrench around in my pants.”
Claire backhanded her shoulder. “What am I? Some ass-scratching ape in your head?”
“More of a well-trained chimpanzee.”
“Kiss my monkey butt.”
They sat in silence for a while, watching the cops and firemen start the cleanup and investigation work. The shock of what had happened—and what had almost happened—left Ronnie feeling dried up inside.
Across the way, Mac joined Grady and Coop, his arms crossed, a frown lining his face as he looked at the burnt remains of the camper.
A thump on the picnic bench made Ronnie look toward Claire. Katie sat on the other side of her, scowling toward the dead Winnebago.
“This was no accident,” Katie said.
“Probably not,” Claire agreed.
Ronnie rubbed the back of her neck. “Grady came over a bit ago and told me the fire marshal was going to return in the morning to do a more thorough inspection in the light and try to determine the cause of the fire.”
Natalie strolled their
