(Friday 22nd)

“Can You Let Me Out?”

The next morning all four wake at the same time to bacon in the air. After quickly exiting their sleeping places, they spot Sanchez up on the spacious deck, finishing up on his grill. Sassy and Hawk are already eating.

“Good morning,” Sassy chirps cheerfully. Hawk gives a nod, chewing and cutting his gravy-lathered biscuit.

“Morning,” the others mumble with sleepy smiles.

Tim rubs his eyes as he walks up to Sanchez, “Do you cook every meal on this?”

The big man chuckles; walking with his plate in hand over to sit by his children. “If I can help it. Food tastes so much better on it. Grab a plate everybody!”

They shuffle their not-yet-adjusted-to-moving feet around the table of food in making a plate, while a flurry of activity from birds gathering their own breakfasts plays out around them. The generous array of southern comfort morning foods on display before them is quite a feast for their eyes, each having not had any of it in a long while. Eggs, sausage, bacon, cathead biscuits, and white flour gravy cooked in a cast-iron skillet.

All four from those parts and knowing well the joys of such bounty—except Quinn, as his origins are still unknown.

Cutting on one of his biscuits, Sanchez glances up. “So, you are heading over to the ranch for a job today?”

Tim looks up and back down at the pan of eggs he is working. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Hope it works out.”

“Don’t I need to wait on my truck?” KC asks, sticking a piece of bacon in her mouth, ambling over to sit on the other end of the deck near the other three.

“Oh!” Sanchez reaches into his pocket, juggling his plate with his other hand. “Tom dropped it off this morning. He left the title on the kitchen counter. Here are your keys,” leaning over to hand them to her.

The astonished look on KC’s face is priceless, evident by her previously gravy-lathered left thumb in her mouth and staring at him. She takes the keys with her right hand. “It’s already here? Lord! What time is it?”

“Seven thirty,” Hawk replies.

KC stares at him dumbfounded; for both hearing Hawk’s voice the first time and how early the folks around there get things done. “I thought I was an early riser… ‘spose I am, considering I live in Southern California. And people think I’m strange.” The others laugh as she glances around at them, sets the keys on her lap, and goes back to her plate. “I need to call my bank and have that wire sent to his bank.” She looks over at Sanchez, “Can’t believe Tom left it for me without paying for it first.”

“Darling, from your accent you are from somewhere around here,” Sanchez informs her. “Might be you’ve been gone long enough to forget our ways,” winking.

“I ‘spose so…” KC ponders the notion, “kinda nice. I missed that and didn’t know it.”

“It is nice,” Tim smiles. “I must admit I have, too,” chewing and reflecting. “So, you think we have a good shot at those jobs over there, Sanchez? What do you know about the place?”

“Oh,” setting his empty plate down on the table next to him and picking up his cup of coffee. “Only what I have seen being here the whole time it has been around… about fifteen or more years,” taking a drink. “Hawk here could probably tell you some,” looking over to his left. “You go to school with some of those kids from there, son.”

Hawk nods and stands, plate in hand. “There’s some ranch kids. Couple girls… three guys. They’re pretty quiet. Don’t talk much.”

Sanchez chuckles. “Son, you do not talk much. If to you, they do not talk much… they must not talk at all.”

“Very little. Keep their heads down.” The others are thinking on his words; some sharing perplexed glances. “Don’t cause any trouble. Just don’t talk to anyone. And not much to each other.” Hawk heads for the door leading to the kitchen. “I’m gonna take off. See ya.”

“Okay, son. Have a good day at school.”

“Have a good day,” the others call out.

It is quiet on the deck for a few minutes. Appearing that those there consider what life must be like for the kids of the ranch. It’s evident by not only the silence but the little eye contact taking place.

Sanchez, looking off in the distance of his property, “Guess it is just one of those things you get used to being around and do not give much thought. The ranch, I mean. You hear things… I feel sorry for the kids having to be there. But… glad there is somewhere they can go.”

That presses Tim. “What kinds of things?”

Sanchez looks over at him; staring briefly. “There have been a few runaways… one or two goes missing.” He looks down at the boards of his deck. “And then there is Penny.” Sassy stands and walks into the house. The others watch and look back at the father. “We just don’t know. It is all kept very hush-hush about the goings on over there. Except for when the ones that run away are seen by people who live around here… talk gets around.”

“Are they not allowed to leave?” Tim asks.

“As far as I know… no. Not unless they have a counselor with them.” He looks over at Quinn, causing the other three to do the same. The musician had been attentively watching Sanchez speak. Now that he’s being watched back, he’s growing uncomfortable from the attention.

“Y—” cough, and Quinn clears his throat. “Yes. Residents of the ranch could leave with supervision.”

Not feeling it the time to press in that direction—given the look of Quinn and now Paul—Tim changes the subject. “Quinn, do you think, it being Friday… this is a good time to go over to see about a job for the two of us?”

Quinn thinks on it momentarily and shrugs slightly. “Didn’t use to matter about a particular day when someone showed up for one. People came quick and quiet. Same as they went.”

“What positions do you suggest we go in for, hon?” KC wondering, “just so we look like we know what we’re doin’.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah, that’d help… but that is a good question.”

“Counselor. That covers everything.”

“Do you have to have any education or prior experience to be a counselor?”

“No. Just be a warm body. If they need you, they’ll put you where they want you.”

The other four watch Quinn, thinking. KC looks over at Tim, and he returns it. They both look over at Sanchez listening and watching them all, and then at Paul; the awkwardness of the moment is beginning to be stifling.

KC stands and starts walking toward the kitchen with her plate. “Sanchez, that was a mighty fine breakfast, sir. I haven’t had one like that since I was back home at my Aunt Shillie’s house in Texas.”

Sanchez smiles, “Oh? And how long ago was that?”

“Too long, I can tell you that. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Noooo, no, darling. It was my pleasure, and I will take care of them. You just do what you need to do. You are all my guests.”

KC shrugs. “Alright then. Thank you.” She set her plate and cup down on the table and begins walking toward the steps of the deck leading out to the immense opening between the house and tree-lined cove to the lake.

“Where’re you going?” Tim asks.

“To take a bath,” over her shoulder.

Quinn and Paul turn around to look at her walking away; Tim continues staring at her with a frown. Quinn turns back around and smiles, looks over at Sanchez doing the same. Paul turns around to see them. Baffled, he exchanges the same with Tim.

“You don’t have a tub on that bus, Quinn,” Tim ponders.

“Never said I did.”

Sanchez chuckles. “She is heading for the lake.”

Sudden enlightenment shows on Tim’s and Paul’s faces. “Oh,” Tim says.

In a few hours, Tim and KC are off for the Dusty Spur Ranch; Tim leads the way on his Harley and KC follows in her new pickup. The cherry ’72 Chevy with a lift kit and baby blue paint job suits her well.

Before leaving, Tim gives Paul Detective Dave’s number saying, “If anything should go wrong, call him. Like if we don’t come back.” After a quick protest at the ridiculousness of his instructions, Paul then thinks on it, and the notion shakes him. The gravity of what Tim and KC are about to embark upon flashes over him; Tim’s uncharacteristic serious, even grave, stare confirms it.

It is barely into the afternoon when they drive up the long steep tree-lined drive to the ranch. Tim stops and gets off his bike in the driveway at the outer edge of what appears to be the most massive structure on the property of many structures further to the west and winding southwest. KC joins him at the front of her pickup as the two peers around. “Well, this is sure an odd lookin’ place. Couldn’t really call these houses,” pausing to look around in wonder. “I don’t know what you’d call ‘em… buildin’s?”

Sharing in her assessment, Tim nods. “I think they’re old cabins… or barracks…. I’m not sure.” He turns toward the largest building in front of them, a massive old Victorian house. “Let’s see if we can find someone to talk to here,” slipping his keys into his front Levi’s pocket, starting up the grown-over sidewalk leading to it. KC gives all directions one quick scan and follows him.

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s here. Not in a while, I’d say. Grass needs mowin’, weeds pulled from around these buildin’s… it looks abandoned, Tim. Besides bein’ creepy as all get-out.”

Tim stops to wait for her, hands on his hips looking around skeptically. “Yeah… it doesn’t look too prom—” Tink-Tink-Tink

The two stare at each other and then skim the place with scrutiny for the crisp foreign sound interrupting their deliberations.

“What was that?” KC swivels her head back and forth, “did you hear that, Tim?”

“Of course I did. Why do you think I st—” Tink-Tink-Tink

It’s louder this time and where it’s coming from is more apparent—the last window to their left of the prominent residence before them. Tim fixes his attention on the window, slowly easing over toward it; KC follows closely, cautiously scanning in all directions. Tim stops, and she bumps him, her eyes peeled on their surroundings.

“This place is kinda creepy,” she turns to what Tim is standing in place gazing at—an old man’s face staring back at them—and shrieks. “Ahhh!!!”

“Shhh!!!” covering her mouth with his hand.

KC shoves it away. “Well, what in the world is that?!!”

From the other side of the dingy, cloudy glass. “Can you let me out?”

The two stare mouths agape at the window and then look at one another when the front door opens. They turn to the sound of it to see an elderly woman, much disheveled and in a foul disposition.

“What do you want?! And why are you creeping around my place?!”

Staring with mouths agape at the window and then at one another, the front door opens. An elderly woman, much disheveled and in the foulest disposition appears, taking three steps outward. “What do you want?! And why are you creeping around my place?!”

The pair stares blankly at the woman.

“W—well… ma’am,” Tim struggles to stay on point, “we… we were hopin’ to find work,” pausing to study her; KC’s eyes sweeping side-to-side to deflect someone sneaking up on them. “Would you happen to need a couple hands?” The cantankerous woman eyes them hard, unblinking. “Uh…” Quinn’s words finally come to him. “Counselors… counselors… could you use a couple of them… ma’am? Counselors?”

“You’re one of those grocery store checkout trash magazine reporters!” her bony finger pointing at Tim, one eye closed. “You get out of here!”

“No, ma’am. We’re just lookin’ for some work. However long you can spare.”

A tall young man sprints up from nowhere, landing on the concrete porch next to the old woman. “It’s alright, Mother Helen,” he calms, his hands on her arms, gently turning her around. “I’ve got this. They’re only looking for work,” in a soothing singsong manner, “You go on back inside now. It’s okay.” Unconvinced and holding her death stare on Tim, the young, tall man has more to do. “It’s okay, Mother Helen. You go on back inside. Mary Kate should have your lunch about ready. You go on now.”

“Alright, Buster. But you don’t let any more sleazy reporters in here,” now giving KC a hard glare and the little woman feels its penetration from fifteen feet away. “Papa Charlie and I can’t take their filthy lies no more.” Satisfied, the old lady slowly turns and looks up at the tall young man, his hands on her shoulders, gently moving her toward the open door. “You know what it did to us.”

“I know, I know. But these people aren’t reporters, Mother Helen.” He gets her inside and steps in enough to yell, “Mary Kate, come get your mother!” stepping out, closing the door, and looking up at them in embarrassment. He takes several long strides toward them and sticks his hand out at KC who is still wide-eyed staring up at the porch. “I apologize. I’m Craven Keaton. That’s my mother-in-law, Helen. She’s had a rough last few months.”

KC shakes his hand. As he moves to shake Tim’s, KC says, “You said your name’s Craven. She just called you Buster.”

He looks back at her puzzled. “Oh,” chuckling, “She sometimes thinks I’m Buster Keaton. Poor thing.” The three shares an awkward bit of silence and KC peers around. “So! I heard you saying you were looking for some work. We’re down a couple people, and we could definitely use you. Only temporary, though. Our cook had to go see after her sister for a few days. The handyman has been stepping in for her and…” waving his long arm outward. “And, as you can see, the lawn care’s suffered for it.” Craven looks back and forth at the two, hands at the base of his back. “Sound like it’d work for you?”

“Yes,” Tim answers. “That’s about all the time we’d need here to make a little change for our pockets. We’re travelin’ cross country and—”

“Traveling kind of light, aren’t you?” Craven interrupts, looking out at the bike and pickup. “That how you’re traveling? Separate modes of transportation?”

Tim quickly thinks. KC beats him to it. “No. Jimmy just bought that bike from some fella back at a bar outside Yukon. The guy needed the money, but this jerk here spent almost all ours on it,” hitting Tim on the arm for good measure. “Our van broke down not long after that, and we had to ride his dang bike to a gas station. The wrecker driver there took us back to our van. It and all our stuff were stolen! Would ya believe it?!”

Craven stares back and forth at them. Tim’s really hoping he believes it. As outlandish as it all sounded, he does.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can. People suck. They just flat suck sometimes. So it looks like you’re starting all over then, huh?”

KC nods, hands in back pockets, looking at the ground and kicking at it. “Pretty much.” She looks up at him, forehead furrowed and with all the charm she can muster, “Can you help us out?”

Craven gazes back at her, smiling and clearly taken by her efforts. “I think we can,” with a leer, leaving her feeling like a baby chick on the other side of a fence from a weasel. He starts fast-walking toward the open gravel driveway between the large Victorian house and the smaller outbuildings. The man stops and turns when realizing he’s alone in his travels. “Something else?”

“Well, yeah,” KC replies. “What’s this gonna pay?”

“I can give you a room, food, and twenty a day each.” Tim and KC look at each other, frowning. “Look, it’s the best I can do. That’s more than minimum wage and it’s cash. You don’t pay any taxes on it. A couple weeks minimum guaranteed work. Maybe even a month. What do you say?” The two nods. He grins and waves them in his direction. “Follow me and we’ll get you set up.” Tim glances at KC in astonishment. She grins and grabs his arm, dragging him in Craven’s direction. Tim looks over to the window at the old man’s face. Craven glances over his shoulder and sees it.

“Don’t worry about him. That’s Papa Charlie. He’s harmless. He just gets a snoot-full sometimes. We have to lock him in his room so he won’t hurt himself.” Craven turns back to his mission ahead. “These here are the cabins for the residents. The big boys there, big girls there, little boys and little girls there,” pointing at each as he names them off, “hey, you didn’t say how you came to find out about the ranch and us needing some temp help.”

Now walking alongside him, the two sneak side glimpses at each other. Tim spoke up. “Oh, well, the wrecker driver that K bought the pickup from told us he heard from someone else you were needin’ help.” KC gives Tim her ‘look,’ and he hasn’t a clue why.

Craven looks down to his right at KC. “Kay? Is that your name?”

“No. It’s actually Kim. He calls me K sometimes.”

Craven stops to look at KC, the two stops with him. “But I thought you said you spent all your money on that Harley? How’d you buy that pickup then?”

“Oh,” KC whips her hands out of her pockets and swats the back of her neck, stalling to think, “Man! A mosquito bit me! Yeah... yeah, I traded my weddin’ rings for it. The wrecker driver didn’t want his truck anymore. And, he’d never bought a nice set for his wife—weddin’ rings. So that worked out well.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I ‘spose it did.” Craven starts walking again. Tim peers over at KC, grinning; amazed the man is still buying all she is saying. She shrugs, grins, and follows Craven. Tim shakes his head and starts walking again. “Well, I hope you two aren’t offended by my questions. I have to look out for the old folks. They’re not as streetwise as I am. I come from Wichita Falls. I know what’s out there. You can’t just trust people right off.” The two exchange brief glances behind his back.

“So, Craven,” Tim’s feeling encouraged, “it’s a good thing they have you lookin’ out for ‘em. It does appear there might’ve been some unsettlin’ circumstances occur around here to upset Mother Helen the way it has. What’s this about trash magazine reporters?”

“Oh, well, we did have some misfortune around here a while back. And we attracted a lot of unwanted attention over it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But it’s over now. We suffered some losses from it. Some parents pulled their kids from the ranch, some didn’t. We were able to convince enough to keep their kids here so we could keep it open.”

“What sort of place is this, Craven?” KC asks looking around and then at him.

“It’s a troubled teen ranch,” looking at her with one eye in a squint, “thought you knew that.”

“Oh, well the driver didn’t go into it that much.”

“Yeah. People send their kids here when they can’t deal with them anymore. Pay mighty handsomely for it. They get the help they need, the kids do. I suppose the parents too, getting a break from them.” He looks over at the other two walking alongside him. “But… mostly the residents. We have a doctor that sees after them. Have activities and vocational training for them. They go to school over in Terlton during the school year.”

“I guess that’s why it’s so quiet around here right now?” Tim asks, looking around. “They’re all at school?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon over here and I’ll introduce you to our handyman Mano, and Alice and Summer, the other two counselors. That’s how I started out here…” he stops and opens the door to a building to the right of the other four smaller cabins. “I showed up pretty much like you two just did. Needing a job and they hired me. Now I’m married to one of the daughters. I’m family,” beaming from his last statement. His proud expression drops at the sight of something catching his attention in the distance behind Tim and KC. His face shifts into instant mean, swinging his head inside the building, yelling, “Mano! Mano!” through the partially open door.

In a flash, a slight Hispanic man in dirty work clothes comes running at the sound of Craven’s bellow. “Yes sir, boss.”

“Why am I seeing those boxes out of the storage building?!” pointing at a twenty by twenty building across the driveway with multiple boxes of various sizes stacked neatly outside it. Tim and KC turn to look over there.

The small man peers over there and fearfully back up into Cravens agitated face. “I—I… there was a leak in the roof from our last rain. It had got into some of the boxes, sir. I was drying them out.”

“Get them put back up! I don’t want them out! I don’t want to see them out in plain sight again! Do you understand me?!”

“Y—y—yes, sir,” the small man runs to the building and begins frantically moving the boxes.

“And none of what’s in them had better be spoiled! It will cost you if there is, Mano!” The small man glances warily at Craven as he feverishly works to rectify his previous actions. Tim and KC glimpse at each other, puzzling.

“Come… meet the ladies,” Craven says, his open smile suddenly back in place, standing in the doorway with his left arm outward. Tim steps inside with KC behind, spotting two women across the room at a table preparing food. “This is the cafeteria. The ladies are prepping tonight’s meal for the residents. They do early prep and then put it in the fridge for later.”

Tim nods. “So, are all the kids in school then?”

Craven looked at him. “Yes. I already told you that.”

“How many are here at this time?” KC asks.

“I don’t get into all that. And neither does anyone else. My wife handles those things.” He walks closer to the women, both clearly displeased to see him. “Alice, Summer, this is Kim and Jimmy. They’re going to be helping out for a little while to get us caught up from losing Gertie while she’s away.” The women briefly glance up from their work at the new arrivals to acknowledge them and back down at their work. “Well, let’s show you two where you’ll be staying. I’ve got some calls to make, and I need to get back to it. When you get settled in, you can meet up with Alice and Summer, and they’ll show you what needs to be done.”

Tim and KC nod, filing back in behind Craven taking his long strides for the door. As they go out, the two glance back at the women sneaking a look in their direction. Seeing they are caught, both quickly divert their eyes. Tim and KC exchange curious glances and walk out; Craven several paces ahead, forces the two to step it up to catch him.

“I’m putting you, Jimmy, in with the big boys. Mano can stay with the little boys now. I’ve had him staying outside both dorms to keep an eye on them,” Craven explains. “Kim, you can either stay in the little girls’ dorm with Summer or… I’m sure I can find you somewhere private you can stay.” KC looks at him, feeling her skin crawl from his grin.

“I appreciate that, Craven. I think I’ll stay with Summer and help her with the little girls.”

Disappointment is apparent on the odd man. He shrugs, continues walking, “Alright then.” A few more feet have them in front of Tim’s new quarters. “You’re here and Kim’s over there,” pointing at a cabin sixty feet to the south.

“Okay,” Tim anwers. “Hey, Craven, would it be all right with you if we went to pick up some things from town? We weren’t sure if we’d be gettin’ the jobs or not, so it left us without some basic things we need. You know… after gettin’ all our things stolen.”

“Sure,” walking off toward the big house. “Just get back here soon enough to wrangle your monsters before lights out. And if you want to leave your bike, you can ask Mano where best to put it.” The two watch as he walks on up to the house, disappearing inside.

“That guy gives me the heebie-jeebies,” KC says annoyed, sticking her tongue out and grimacing. “What a pompous blowhard. And he’s a dumb at that,” shaking her head, “dumb as a bag of dirt.”

“He is creepy for sure,” Tim nods. “But it’s a good thing for us he’s so full of himself and a numbskull to boot. He’s way too free with some information. That’s okay with me. But let’s not stand here and talk. I’m pretty sure we’re being watched.” Tim steps over and opens the door of the cabin where he’s to stay: a row of beds—five on each wall—and a wooden crate by each bed. “Pretty sparse digs.”

KC pokes her head in. “Yeah. Let’s go look at the little girls’ dorm.”

Once there, one look reveals it much the same. “I don’t know what these parents are payin’ for their kids to stay here,” the small woman surmises, “but it looks to me like they’re gettin’ screwed.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll soon find out. I’m going over to ask Mano where I can put my HOG. I’ll meet you over at the truck.”

KC nods, ponytail bobbing, taking off for her pickup. She spots Summer walking to the little girls’ cabin and steers over to talk with her while waiting for Tim.

Within a few minutes, Tim has his bike moving toward a large garage. Mano stands by the big opening, pulling the heavy metal door down once Tim rides past the small man. After grabbing the key and waving to Mano, thanking him for his help, he joins KC back at her pickup.

She starts it up and on the radio plays:

“Girl you’re gettin’ that look in your eyes,

and it’s starting to worry me.

I ain’t ready for no family ties,

Nobody’s gonna hurry me…”

Tim frowns, looking at the dash, “What’s this crap?” and then at KC as they

circle the big driveway in the middle of all the structures. She glances over at him when heading down the long drive on out to the main road. “What?”

“This… are you listening to country now?”

“Well… yeah. Comes with the whole truck theme and where we are. B’sides, I like country.”

“You do not. And I don’t like this song,” leaning forward to change the channel, still frowning.

“Hey! Leave my radio alone!” slapping his hand, frowning, “My truck, my radio. Walk, if you don’t like it.” They glare at each other as the pickup rolls down the two-lane highway. “I know why you don’t like this song and you do too.”

“Shuddup.”

“You Shuddup.”

The two friends ride quietly for a few minutes. Another song comes on and Tim’s snickers, catching KC’s attention.

“What?”

He points to the radio. “That song. That’s my boy, Elvis—singing your song.”

She glances at the radio and listens.

“Oh, Moody blue,

Tell me who I’m talkin’ to

You’re like the night and day

And it’s hard to say

Which one is you…”

KC frowns again. “Shuddup.” She drives on, Tim chuckling in the background with the music. “I like that song, though. That’s a good song. See? You like country too.”

Shaking his head vigorously, “I do not. Never. Never ever will I like country music.”

“This is.”

“Shuddup.”

“You Shuddup.”

They share a quick side glimpse and much-needed smile, go about a mile when KC begins revealing her first thoughts of the Dusty Spur Ranch. “Well, of those we’ve met here so far, they seem to be scared to death of that creepy Craven. I just ran into Summer and tried bein’ friendly in hopes she’d want to share a lil’ somethin’. No doin’. At least not yet, anyway. I don’t know what it is, but he sure has his bluff in on these three here.” Tim has his left arm resting upon the back of the bench seat, quietly looking at her, listening. Not hearing a response right away, she glances over at him. He turns his head to look at the road. “Whattaya think?”

He sighs heavy. “Same as you. There’s something wrong here. And I’m almost afraid to meet these kids. I think I know why Hawk said they act the way they do when they’re in school. At least this might be some of the reason. There’s a bad feel around here. Troubling… very troubling.” The two stay quiet on their ride to the convenience store a few miles away by the lake.

Getting out of the pickup Tim spots a wooden club in the floorboard between the passenger door and seat. He holds it up. “What’s this? Is it yours?”

“Oh, that’s a tire checker,” looking through the window after closing her door. “I guess Tom left it in here. Pro’bly so I’d have somethin’ to smack you in the head with if need be,” giggling.

Tim makes a face at her. A serious expression comes across his face. “Hey,” low, “I’m gonna use the pay phone to call Sanchez and update him. He can let Quinn and Paul know.”

“Okay,” stopping to watch him walk past her in front of the pickup. “You gonna see if you can reach Dave too?”

He nods and keeps moving toward the payphone on the outside wall of the store. Knowing Tim as well as she does, it’s unsettling for KC to see him already solemn at this early stage of their being at the Dusty Spur Ranch.

She goes on inside the store, thinking about it. A few minutes later she comes back out with a brown bag under her left arm and slurping a grape popsicle; spotting Tim leaning his backside on the pickup grill, head down and more troubled.

Walking up to him, she holds out the popsicle, offering him a lick. He looks at it and shakes his head. “What’s wrong? Did ya get to talk to Sanchez?” He nods. “Dave?” He shakes his head.

“That’s the third time I’ve left a message, K.”

“Well, maybe you guys just keep missin’ each other.”

He shakes his head again. “No,” shaking his head again. “I’ve tried his home too—twice. I keep getting the answering machine. I just hang up. I don’t want to, but I’m smart enough not to leave a message.”

Seeing him more upset, KC puts the bag down on the hood next to him and takes his hand. “Tim, you’re holdin’ somethin’ back again.”

He looks into her eyes for a short spell and then to the side; feeling her penetrating gaze. “When I talked to him outside ErnieC’s place before we left Tuesday, he said he found out blue windbreaker dude does some occasional work for a Columbian Cartel in exchange for drugs.”

“Paul’s blue windbreaker man? You mean that dude that was with him at the bar before he went all goofy and walked into Lawndale PD?” Tim nods. “You mean that same one that came runnin’ out of your apartment after Harry and George got a hold of ‘im?” He nods once more. “Well, we knew all that, Tim. Dave came by and told me, you, and Paul at your apartment Tuesday mornin’. Remember?”

Tim stares at her, hesitant. “Dave also told me blue windbreaker dude’s been doing recent work for an out-of-town private investigator as of late. No one knows who this guy is… Dave’s suspecting it was a guy blue windbreaker man was talking to at the bar when Paul went to the can.”

Her mouth falls open. “Does Paul know that fella was in ErnieC’s bar with blue windbreaker man the same time he was?” Tim shakes his head. She keeps looking at him, sorting it out. Her eyes go into a squint. “Tim! Why didn’t you tell me this before now?! Me! You’ve known this over three days now!”

“I haven’t had much of a chance without Quinn and Paul being around! They would’ve freaked out! You know that, K!”

She keeps looking at him, fuming and thinking. “Alright,” looking away, liquid purple sugar dripping down her hand. “So is that what you were tryin’ to tell us at the mom ‘n pop campsite Wednesday night?” turning her head back to him. He nods. “But you didn’t… ‘cause you got all paranoid about that hitchhiker, Bobby, hearin’.”

Tim leans down at her and whisper-yells, “We didn’t know him!” looking around.

She steps back and tosses the popsicle, raising both hands in the air. “He was just a soldier boy hitchhikin’ to get home to his wife and new baby, Tim!” KC puts her hands on her hips and looks down at the ground; shaking her head in disgust. “Ya know… sometimes I just don’t get you. Even after all we’ve been through together, I still just don’t get you. One minute you’re willy-nilly goin’ ninety miles an hour without a thought in your head and no concern about the consequences of you runnin’ down a story, and then a split second later you’re all paranoid and thinkin’ everybody you see is a spy from the other camp.”

“ErnieC himself told me the other day before we left town about the same guy, K. He saw him in the bar! Don’t you see how this is all fitting together?! No, none of us know who that hitchhiker Bobby is! And now for three days, I can’t reach Dave at the PD or at home! Don’t you see?!” The two stares at each other; Tim pleading with an expression unfamiliar to KC.

“So, what’re you sayin’, Tim?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, K. I’d just feel a little better if I could talk to Dave. At this point, I just want to hear his voice and know he’s okay. I feel like the jerk you always tell me I am,” turning his head away, trying to hide his face.

KC studies him. Still aggravated but knowing this man enough to see he’s fearing the possibility of putting their old friend in a bad spot by his zealous pursuit of a story.

She steps closer. “It’s goin’ to be okay, honey,” rubbing his arm. “You’ll catch Dave. You know how it is… he’s like you when he’s chasin’ down his leads on a suspect.”

Still looking in the other direction, Tim asks, “And his wife?” turning to her, “why is she not home?”

KC thinks on that. “Well, you never know. She might’ve taken their daughter and gone to see her folks. Or you could’ve just been missin’ anybody bein’ there at Dave’s house too. It does happen.”

Tim sighs heavy and looks away. “I’m just dead in the water for my contacts. They’re all tied in together in some way with either the paper or Dave. Not knowing what’s going on out there… I can’t make any contact,” he turns to look into her eyes, “for fear I’ll either be putting Dave and his family in danger out there… or you... here.”

KC holds his stare, thinking. “Well,” reaching for the bag and taking out two cans of cola; opening one, handing it to him, and opening the other for herself.

Tim holds his can, watching her take a long drink from hers as she looks off to the west. “You know… K…” his tone gentle and hesitant, “we need to be considering that we might not ever be able to go back home now.”

She turns her head toward him, presses her lips together, dark eyes going into a slight squint, thinking; taking in big air through her nose and blowing it out through her pressed lips, making a fluttering sound. “How ‘bout we deal with one insane thing at a time, huh? For now, let’s just focus on what we came here to do. What did Sanchez say? What’re Paul and Quinn doin’?” taking another drink.

“He said Sassy has them both down at the cove all lined out fishing.”

KC snickers right after her drink; raising her free hand to her mouth to keep from spewing it out. After getting it swallowed, both hands still up and looking at Tim, “P… Paul? Fishing? That uptight lil’ sucker? Well, that’s gotta be a sight.”

Tim looks at her in surprise and starts slowly grinning. “I know,” nodding, “I don’t know what the funnier mental picture is—him or Quinn,” both snickering harder at the thought, “they’re probably passing a joint back and forth between casts.”

KC laughing, “Yeah and probably keep tryin’ to remember what they’re doin’ sittin’ there,” they laugh louder. And it feels good.

A motorcycle roars up the two-lane blacktop from the east, gearing down as it approaches. KC looks up and Tim peers over his left shoulder at the rider carefully steering the front wheel onto the gravel driveway of the bar next door to the convenience store.

“I didn’t notice that bar there,” she remarks, eyeing it longingly.

“Me neither,” looking over at the burly rider getting off his bike and giving Tim a single nod. He gives a nod back, eyeing the bike, longingly.

“Least we know a good spot to go when we wanna get away from that creepy place out there,” she chuckles.

Tim grins, “Yeah.”

Both take another drink from their cans.

Smacking her lips from the sweet liquid, “So whatta ya think about that out there?”

Tim sighs. “I think a lot is going on out there. Pretty obvious Craven’s got some little side enterprise going on… judging from how unglued he was by Mano setting those boxes out of that storage building to dry.”

“Wasn’t that somethin’? He sure didn’t want those boxes out in sight,” KC takes a drink, thinking. “I tried talking to that Summer girl.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Did you find out anything interesting?”

Shaking her head, “clamped down like a tick on a dog. If I had a lil’ time with her, I think I could get her to open up. I get the feelin’ she’s a free spirit cramped by her environment. Maybe I can change that enough to get her to spill some beans.”

“If anybody can, K, you can. I figure if we’re able to stick around a week or so we should find out plenty. We just have to be careful.” KC nods and Tim stands up straight. “Well, we’d better be getting back. I need to see about doing some of that mowing before dark. Gotta keep up appearances of wanting a job before I get fired,” grinning and giving her a wink. “Hey, did you see all those cars in that garage while the door was up? Where I put my HOG?” KC looks over at him as she reaches for her door, gets in and closes it, shaking her head. “There were at least half a dozen classics in there.”

“Wonder who they belong to?”

“So do I.”

She cranks the engine of her Chevy. On the radio:

“I’ve always been crazy and the trouble that it’s put me through

Been busted for things that I did, and I didn’t do

I can’t say I’m proud of all of the things that I’ve done

But I can say I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone…”

KC laughs loud. “Here’s your song!” Tim looks at her, listens, and laughs; shaking his head.

She drives them back to the ranch, and each go their separate ways, finding work while searching for clues.

The mid-afternoon sun is full out and baking the landscape of the ranch while Tim pushes a mower, his t-shirt hanging from the back pocket of his Levi’s, sweat running down his muscular tan frame. Mano uses a lawn trimmer nearby along the sidewalks and buildings, while Alice, Summer, and KC are finishing folding some laundry in a building that serves as mess hall in the larger area; the kitchen in the back, with the laundry room to the side of it. The three ladies go outside and Alice departs, silently walking over to the main house, leaving Summer and KC standing on the porch. Summer sits down on one of the steps in the shade.

KC’s hoping for an opportunity and lingers close, letting out, “Whew!” fanning herself, turning her head side to side and lifting her brown ponytail off her neck to catch some air. “Humid.” Summer nods, staring at the ground. “So, you been here long?”

“Four years.”

“Four years? Huh… that’s a good long time. You must like it here.”

The young woman looks up and across the distance at the big house, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head, “Not especially. I’m here for the children.”

“Oh… well… that’s somethin’. That’s a good reason to be here… honey,” KC carefully studies the young woman with her eyes still on the big house.

“But I don’t like it here.” She then looks up at KC. “And I don’t think you will either, once you know what it’s really like.”

KC has struck the mother lode.

Trying to contain herself and not spook the young woman off, she nonchalantly scans the landscape of the ranch. “So, if this’s a ranch, where’re the horses?”

“There’s two.”

“C’mon,” KC playfully tapping Summer’s foot with hers, “show me around. I wanna see those horses. All two of ‘em.” She looks up at her in surprise and then stares at her, suddenly cautious. “C’mon,” insisting, smiling.

Summer stands, wipes her tail section, and begins walking east, around back of the all-purpose building. KC glances out in Tim’s direction, catching his eye as he makes a one-handed backward swath with the mower. He smiles and then looks curiously at her mischievous grinning, followed by a couple of long-stride bouncing steps; hands behind her back and trailing Summer. A couple of minutes later, a school bus stops at the bottom of the hill with several kids disembarking, making their way up the winding drive. They meander by Tim squatted down cleaning out from under the mower, each staring with eyes far beyond their years. He waves and smiles, all to no avail; watching them march by like little ghosts.

“They will warm to you once they get to know you,” Mano offers. “Some of them will. Others will not.” Tim looks at him, sad, and then back to the children of all sizes. “There’s one or two of them you do not want them to,” he adds, walking by with the lawn trimmer. “Let’s go put our tools away.”

Tim uprights the mower and pushes it toward the shed, following Mano when Craven calls out, “Jimmy! Jimmy!”

Tim stops and turns, trying to figure out where Jimmy is. Suddenly remembering he’s Jimmy, he waits for the hipster striding toward him; bellbottoms flapping, with the shimmer of his long thick gold chain around his neck equaling the gleam off his wide lapel polyester shirt open to his diaphragm, revealing his skinny hairless chest.

Craven reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a large wad of bills while watching Tim, checking to see if he has him amply impressed. He peels off a twenty and puts the wad back into his pocket. “Here’s half a day for you and Kim,” scopes around the place, “You do fast work. I’m surprised you got this place mowed with the late start you had, but you did it. Looks good, buddy.” Craven slaps his right hand onto Tim’s sweaty, dirty, and shirtless shoulder, grinning. Tim looks at him and then at the hand on his bare shoulder. Craven pulls it away. “Uh, yeah. I was going to tell you if you want to do something tomorrow—you and the missus—you’re more than welcome to. All’s I really needed you two for was to help get us caught up. We’ll take care of the day-to-day business of seeing after the children. There’s plenty to see around here, though. Take your lady for a ride around the lake, go to Tulsa and see a movie, get something to eat, or if you’re into football… OU’s playing in Norman.”

That got Tim’s attention. “OU’s playing? Who? Do you know?”

“Rice, I think. I used to keep up with it, but they don’t have such a good team this year. Their players suck, in my opinion.”

“Billy Sims sucks in your opinion?”

“Well, he’s not bad. I just happen to think he’s highly overrated.”

Tim looks at him. “Okay. Well, I think we will take you up on that, Craven. So when should we be back here to work next?”

“You can actually take the weekend off. Come back Monday morning… say eight-thirty? The children catch the bus at eight-fifteen.” Tim keeps staring at him. “Okay,” Craven slaps his hands together and rubbing them, beginning to back up. He points both index fingers, winks, gives a ’tck-tck’ and grins. “You go have fun with your lady,” spins around and does his pimp walk back to the big house as Tim stares at the odd character. He shakes his head chuckling to himself, tucks the twenty in his Levi’s and sets off once more for the shed.

Tim is deep in thought when KC bounces up alongside. “What was that all about?”

“What? Oh… you mean Craven.”

“Yeah. That joker. Man, he’s a goober.”

“Yeah, well, the goober just gave me twenty for our half day and told me we could take the weekend off. Telling me to ‘go have fun with my lady.’ We don’t need to be back until eight-thirty Monday morning.”

KC, squinting from the bright late-afternoon sun, looks upward at Tim trying to make sense of what he just said. “What?”

“Yeah,” cutting his eyes back and forth to see if anyone is visible, in a hushed voice, “I hope you found out some good stuff from Summer because at this rate we’ll need to be here six months to find anything out.”

“Oh, I did!” whispering excitedly, bouncing and leaning in. Tim looks down at his side at her, surprised by her girlish demeanor. He likes it and smiles. “But you stink, and you’re gonna get a shower before you take your lady anywhere! Go put your lil’ mower up, get your HOG, and I’ll meet ya at the truck.”

Tim grins. “Yes, ma’am. Hey, want to stop by that bar we saw earlier and have a beer?”

“Sure. But first, we’re gonna stop by the lake so you can jump in it. You can dry off on the ride to the bar.” Tim grins, nodding.

A quick stop at the water’s edge of a picnic area for Tim to dip and minutes later they are sitting at the bar of Bear’s Place. A little after four, on a warm September Friday, yields five patrons—besides Tim, KC, and the bartender—with more coming at the end of the workday.

KC takes a drink from her bottle and sets it down on the bar. “Haven’t decided if that Craven dude’s a complete idiot for swallowing all the horsepucky I fed him or he’s so self-involved that he doesn’t see all the holes in my story.” The small wonder lifts both arms for emphasis, while Tim stares at the TV mounted on the wall behind the bar, “I mean, if you spent all our money on that bike, he hasn’t even asked where we got any money to go buy anything at the store. He hasn’t even asked where we’re from—”

“Or where we’re going to stay these next three nights on twenty bucks,” his eyes still up on the TV, taking a drink from his bottle. “I know. I haven’t figured him out yet either; except he’s a narcissist with an inferiority complex and a terrible desire to be accepted.”

“And a terrible sense of fashion,” she adds straight-faced. Tim chuckles. “Well really! It’s like he thinks he’s in Saturday Night Fever.”

“Craven Keaton’s a jackass,” comes from their left. Both look in that direction to see a man in his early twenties staring straight ahead at the bottles lined against the wall behind the bar; taking a drink of his beer and setting it down. As the two peers over at him, he slowly turns his head toward them. “And you left off sociopath.”

“Well, we just met him so…” KC responds still staring at the man.

“Are you counselors out there?”

“Of sorts,” Tim answers, guarded. “More like clean-up crew: grounds keeping, housekeeping and such. A temp gig.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a cruel jackass as well.” The man finishes his last drink, stands, pulls out his wallet, tosses a five on the bar and walks out. The two watch him the whole time. KC turns to look at Tim.

“He’s right, though,” the bartender offers, picking up his empty and coaster, wiping the bar with her towel, “How he ended up in charge out there’s beyond me. I guess those two nut jobs that started it got too old. That and finally losin’ the rest of their ever-lovin’ minds.”

“Do you know that guy?” Tim asks, “is he a regular of yours?”

She looks at the closed door and back at Tim, shrugging her shoulders. “No. Never seen ‘im before,” and walks to the other end of the bar. “Need another one, Joe?” Joe nods.

“Well, somethin’ sure changed his mind quick about us bein’ around those kids. It’s clear he didn’t want us talkin’ to any one of them. Either that or he got to thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“You got that too, huh?”

KC nods. “I’ll tell ya somethin’ else too,” she looks over to her right at Tim, pointing. “You or we are gonna have to get mighty fancy and creative in order to find anything out... if we’re gonna start gettin’ stonewalled out there.”

Tim nods. He raises his eyebrows, furrowing his forehead. “Hey, what did you find out from Summer? Anything?”

“Oh. Well, we share a history in the fact that we’re both orphans with trust funds. Summer was off at some boardin’ school when her folks were killed in a car wreck. She’s twenty-two and has been there the last four years. She doesn’t like bein’ there, and it seems her only reason for it is for the kids. She’s pretty closed up, but I get the strong feelin’ she’s bustin’ to tell what she knows about the place. That Alice is a hard case. The woman says hardly anything and what she does say is hateful. That one acts kinda protective of those there runnin’ the ranch and the doin’s out there… doesn’t like Craven none, though,” she pauses to take a drink. “Oh… there’s a doctor that comes there every three or four days and dispenses meds for the kids.”

“Meds? Like what kind of meds?”

She shakes her head. “Dunno. I get the feelin’ they’re narcotics. Gotta be ‘cause they’re locked up in a room on the other side of the kitchen. It’s more like a pantry. Alice has the key, and she gives them out to the kids as per the doc’s instructions.”

“Judging from the zombies I saw walking past me from the school bus, I’d say you’re right. Not all of them. There were a small few that were alert. Those appeared scared and leery. The others were absolutely stoned.”

“Might be how they control them.”

“Huh,” taking a drink, thinking. “I wonder what it costs for each kid to be there. I wonder if it’s from the parents, private funding, or government.”

“Strictly parents. And it is thousands,” giving him a raised-brow knowing look with a nod. Tim looks back at her surprised. “Summer told me. I can also tell you the two horses they have on that ranch are bein’ badly mistreated. Downright neglected. I swear they’re bein’ beaten too. That Summer is as equally distraught over that as she is over those kids. I’m pretty ticked off myself. Before this’s over, Tim, I’m gonna contact a professor friend of mine over at OSU in the AG department. He’s an animal rights activist, and he’ll crawl up those people’s rear-ends over it.”

Tim looks at her—visibly upset with all he just heard—surely confirming his suspicions of the ranch. “I think that’s exactly what you should do, K. These people shouldn’t have kids or animals in their care.” He looks back up at the TV and takes a drink, thinking. “Did you catch the name of the doc?”

“Stipple.” Tim looks at her blankly. “I know. That’s why I caught it.”

“Oookay… well, when I’m able to talk with Dave, he can run him. We might get lucky and find something on Dr. Stipple,” taking a drink. “Stipple,” shaking his head, “sheesh.” He stands, swings his long left leg around the back of his stool and reaches into his jeans pocket; pulling a five from his other bills, drops it onto the bar, and stuffs the others back in his pocket. “You ready?”

KC nods, finishing her beer. “I’m gonna go use the restroom. I’ll meet ya out front.” Tim nods and goes out.

KC finds the restrooms at the far left in the back, walks in, and closes the door—but someone pushes it open against her. The concern upon the small woman’s attractive face is met by the older woman bartender looking sternly down at her.

“I’m not here to cause you any trouble. I’m just here to give you a warnin’, little sister. You and your boyfriend need to be careful about what you’re doin’ out there at the Dam Camp.”

“Dam Camp? Oh, I think you must be mistaken. And that’s not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever he is and no, I’m not mistaken. I heard what you two were sayin’.” KC’s generally effective façade withering, her mouth comes ajar at the woman’s forcefulness and uncomfortably close stance she holds over the younger, smaller woman. “It’s a good thing no one else did, b‘cause I was watchin’. Listen, I’ve been around here a long time, and I can tell you, you don’t know what you’re messin’ with. That’s a sinister, dark place out there. That woman Helen is pure evil. She’s destroyed more souls than you and I will ever meet in a lifetime. It’s good you want to do whatever it is you’re doin’ to bring a stop to it—for whatever reasons you may have. But people go missin’ when they start doin’ what you and your friend are doin’. You seem like good kids. And nobody wants that place exposed and shut down more than me, but I can’t let you not know what you’re dealin’ with.” The tall older woman’s tired eyes plead with KC’s younger, wide and inquisitive ones peering upward at her. “Listen, I’m all for you two helpin’ those kids and—”

“Darlene! Get outta the can! We need some beers out here, darlin’!” a gruff, whimsical voice belts from the bar; several joining in with laughter.

She turns her head to the sounds and quickly back down at KC. “I gotta go, honey. Can you come back tomorrow mornin’ about ten? I won’t be open, but I’ll be workin’ on the books. I can talk more about this then. Will ya?” KC, mouth still open, nods.

“Awright. I gotta get back to my boys out there. They’re all gettin’ off work and thirsty,” she grins and winks adding, “I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

KC continues staring at the closed door for a spell, questioning if what had just happened did happen, and thinking on how it fits with her discoveries earlier in the day. The drive-by on hers and Tim’s apartments and their lives being otherwise shaken in California—along with being out of her comfort zone there in Oklahoma—has the usually unflappable small woman now at odds with her true nature. She grabs the doorknob, gives it a pull, and swiftly heads for the front door, seeing the many new patrons across the fair-sized building, she glances at the woman behind the bar.

The woman acknowledges her with eyes only. Generically yelling, “Thank you folks for stoppin’ by! Come back and see us!” KC nods with a partial smile, pressing onward for outside.

Tim’s on his bike staring at the door when she appears. “What’d you do? Fall in?”

“Shuddup,” she mumbles, walking on to the pickup with palpable urgency.

“You shuddup,” Tim knee-jerk responds, “you were in there long enough for me to go over and top off my tank,” then noticing her odd behavior as she shuts the pickup door, starting it up and backing out. “Hey! Where’re we going?!”

Turning the steering wheel hard to the left and looking through the closed passenger window, KC yells, “I have to pee!” taking off out of the gravel parking lot with a right onto the two-lane blacktop like a launched missile, heading for Sanchez’s place. Tim can only assume that’s where she’s going. He shakes his head, kick-starts his bike, and tears out after her.

When they get to Party Cove Bay, KC makes a beeline for the bathroom, long before Tim parks and shuts off his bike. He walks in to find only Sanchez out back on the deck, and coming from the hi-fi stereo speakers:

“My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin’ man

Down in New Orleans…”

“I see you’re meditating, brother. Okay I join you?”

Sanchez grins big. “Sure. Grab you a beer first. That is essential for proper meditation. Hey, where is KC?”

“I assume she’s in the can. You need a beer?” Sanchez shakes his head, holding up his light-green Tupperware tumbler. Tim grabs two and sits down in a chair next to him, setting one down, opening his and taking a big drink. “Ahhh,” and then looks to his left at Sanchez. “I needed that.”

“Long day?”

“Felt long. Was on the end of a mower a good part of it. I think I mowed forty acres in only two hours, brother.” Sanchez laughs. “I ain’t kidding,” Tim doing his best to hold his serious face.

“So I take it you met Craven.”

“Oh, I met Craven alright. What a loon.”

“He’s a bona fide, card-carryin’ nut job!” KC chimes in walking out onto the deck, visibly in a better physical state. “That my beer?” pointing at the bottle on the table next to Tim. He nods. She picks it up and hands it to him to open. Tim automatically goes to work, Sanchez noticing with a smile. “Thanks,” sits to the left of Sanchez on a big wooden bench and takes a good long drink. “Whew! I feel better. And that tastes good.”

“What happened to you,” Tim quizzes. “You took forever in there, and then you come running out like your tail is on fire, yelling, ‘I gotta pee!’ when that’s what I thought you were doing in there all that time.”

She looks at him like he’s touched and over at Sanchez gazing back and forth curiously at them both. “Okay,” she takes another drink and leans over, bracing her elbows on her knees. “You know that bartender? Well, she followed me into the restroom…” KC tells them all of what Darlene said to her. Then she looks over at Sanchez, “Hey, where’re Quinn and Paul?”

Sanchez points down at the lake with the hand his sweet tea is in. “Sassy has them down there fishing.” KC and Tim look down at the water’s edge, seeing the tops of three heads. KC glances at him curiously and back out to the cove. “Still?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sanchez nods, “With all the crappy they caught earlier—and if they are able to match it—we are going to have us one humdinger of a fish fry tonight.”

Tim looks back at him, grinning wide. “You mean they’re still down there fishing?” KC giggles. Sanchez nods. “That’s amazing.”

“I think it’s sweet,” she says taking a drink. “It’s doin’ both of those boys good just to sit and watch a bobber. Lord knows they need it.”

“That’s for sure,” Tim agrees, taking a drink.

“So back to Darlene,” Sanchez says. “You can rest easy she is not trying to pull anything on you, sister. I have known Darlene for a lot of years. She is blunt, shoots straight, and a friend anybody would ever hope to find.”

“Well, that’s a comfort,” KC nods, thinking. “She came across as such to me.”

“Well, even so, you’re not going alone,” Tim’s forehead furrowed, “nothing against her. I just don’t want you by yourself on this.”

KC’s unsure how that will go over with Darlene, but she’s glad to hear Tim’s expected response on the matter. Still, she has to register her protest. “Oh, you don’t need to go and get overprotective on me. I can—”

“I know you can, K. But we’re strangers around here, and we still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“For what it is worth, little sister, I happen to agree with Tim,” Sanchez offers. “He is right. And so was Darlene. Dusty Spur has its stories. Some folks have gone missing. Never to be heard from again. It is best Tim goes along. Darlene will not mind. I know her that well.” KC frowns, looks over at Tim and nods. “Good.” Sanchez stands and stretches. “Now, let’s go down to the cove and join them. I feel a need for us to get in on some of that fishing. Tim, grab that ice chest there. Put some ice in it from the bin inside. Little sister, you load some beers into it and my tea jug too. I will get the fishing rods and tackle.”

All fish until dusk. And succeed in everything Sanchez was aiming for: a few hours for the friends to put away the ranch, California, and all both entail; along with making their goal in catching their supper.

Between the six of them, they match Quinn’s, Paul’s, and Sassy’s earlier catch in the day; affording the crowd of twenty joining them later in the evening plenty to eat. The fresh-caught crappy and perch with fresh-cut fries, hush puppies, and coleslaw make for a humdinger of a supper; like Sanchez said. They listen to some good music, drink some cold refreshments, and enjoy one another’s company before calling it a night just after midnight.