Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) Read online

  “Didn’t he have a job?”

  “After he quit going to school, I think he had lots of jobs. But they didn’t seem to last long.”

  “Do you know why he came here the night before the Vernons died? Did he need money?”

  “I don’t know, Señora.”

  I expressed my condolences for the Vernons’ deaths.

  Maria had been part of the family. To cheer her up, I told her how much everybody enjoyed the good food she prepared and that I hoped to talk with her again later. Right now, I had to treat my poison ivy.

  With Maria standing watch, I gingerly opened the freezer, peered inside and grabbed the bagged cubes. I scurried back through the dining room and walked fast to our cabin before the ice cubes could melt.

  When I entered our abode, Meredith looked up from her reading.

  “Bertha makes ice cubes from jewelweed,” I said. “She says they’re a good treatment for poison ivy.” I placed a towel in the chair in front of my computer, rubbed orange-colored cubes on the backs of my legs and put bagged cubes at the edge of the chair. Pressing my legs against the bag to hold it in place, I sat on my tailbone.

  “That’s an old herbal remedy,” she said. “Native American Indians and herbalists used jewelweed to counter poison ivy, bruises, cuts and burns. Even now, people chop stems of the plant, boil them, strain the orange liquid and pour it into ice cube trays. I never knew if it worked.” She paused. “They say jewelweed grows on the east coast down to Florida and likes moist woods. I’d think Texas would be too dry for it to grow. Wonder where Bertha gets it?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  Meredith shrugged and returned to her reading. I turned on my laptop to check my email.

  The letter came from someone who hated sun and bugs but liked cowboys.

  Dear Aggie,

  I’ve never been fond of the outdoors. At night, I can see plenty of stars just looking through my window. The only critter I care about is my dog. But I met this hunky cowboy. He and his friends want to go camping. The last time they went, a girl came home covered with a red poison ivy rash. Is there any way to prevent that? Short of giving up my cowboy?

  Frenzied and fearful,

  Fran

  Having searched Ask Jeeves for poison ivy treatments after I sat in the stuff, I felt eminently qualified to give Fran advice.

  Dear Frenzied Fran,

  Poison ivy has three leaves on a reddish stem. Rashes from poison ivy, oak or sumac are caused by urushiol, a substance in their sap. If you spray deodorant containing aluminum chlorohydrate on your skin and clothes before heading outdoors, it helps prevent urushiol from irritating your skin.

  If you misstep, you’re going to sting and itch like crazy, but you are not going to die. First, pour water on your skin. Second, pour rubbing alcohol over the area where you brushed the plant. Third, pour on, do not rub, calamine lotion on the area. Fourth, stick your clothes in the trash. Liquid made from jewelweed cuts down the allergic reaction, but it may be hard to find in the right concentration.

  Are you more interested in prevention than remedies? Study photos of poison ivy, oak and sumac. Don’t sit on or walk through anything that looks like that. A sure-fire way to avoid the dangers of country living is to not go ape over a cowboy in tight jeans.

  Itching but wiser,

  Aggie

  I decided not to mention that to keep clothes away from her itching skin, she might have to wear a ridiculously huge dress that would make her appear ninety years old.

  I craved a nap. The cubes had almost melted, and my thighs were happily numb from dribbling on jewelweed and sitting on bagged ice. I lay on my bunk, covered my poison ivy patch with the bag of melting cubes and directed the fan on my legs and derriere. At least my medical condition temporarily removed me from the tensions between people and hazards of ranching. I’d changed my mind about leaving, though. I had too many new questions without answers.

  To relax, I imagined the sound of air conditioning purring with Sunny Barlow crooning in the distance. I pictured Sam and me lounging on a cotton-ball-soft king-sized bed in a plush country cabin with a spotless oak floor.

  I stopped myself from imagining what might occur on the bed. We had a pile of obstacles to overcome.

  Seventeen

  When squeals from the bathroom roused me, I knew the girls must be dressing for dinner. I heard the shower running and glanced over at Meredith’s empty bunk. Pushing up from my damp mattress, I let the fan blow me awake. The air was muggy. Through the front window, I saw the sun sitting low in the sky. I couldn’t believe I’d slept so long.

  I heard the girls chattering about the prospect of arriving early for dinner in case River Rat showed up. They wanted to schedule a swimming lesson for the following morning.

  When I carried my Clorox-and-water jug to the bathroom, Jangles was drifting around the breezeway in a gauzy creation. She’d swept her hair on top of her head and captured it with a rubber band. More blond curls than usual cascaded above her head like a fountain.

  Millie came in wearing a blouse with billowy sleeves, a flared denim skirt and red boots. Stoney wore jeans, a soft shirt, less turquoise than usual and a bow in her hair. The Medina River had amazing restorative properties.

  Meredith was trying to decide which of her clothes would be coolest. Itching like crazy, I jumped into the shower and rinsed with Clorox. When I got out, Meredith reported that my poison ivy patches were swelling. She dripped Calamine lotion on me and dried me with the fan.

  I put on my billowy sundress. We were applying makeup when I noticed my cheeks and lips were beginning to swell. I had apparently touched my face with oil from the ivy.

  Someone pounded on the front door. When I answered, Sam stood there alone.

  “Aren’t Selma and George coming?” I asked.

  “George has saddle burns. Monty told him to post. When the horse trotted, he had George straighten his legs to stand, then bend to sit back in the saddle. With every bounce, George’s thighs rubbed against saddle leather.”

  Meredith walked up behind me. “People post on English saddles to make the horse’s trot more comfortable—use the horse’s motion to move forward and out of the saddle slightly. Sounds like Monty had George exaggerate the movement. What a mean thing to do.”

  “Yeah.” Sam chuckled.

  As we started down the path to the lodge, I noticed Sam was limping. “Did you post too?”

  “No, but my legs haven’t gripped a horse in a long time. My muscles are pretty sore.”

  Meredith and I exchanged glances.

  “We had quite a ride.” He cringed with every step. “Remember when Monty told us he’d hit some guy? This time, Monty said he’d confessed to Ranger he was an ex-con. He’d gotten into a teen gang fight and injured some kid from another gang.”

  “So that’s what happened,” I said. “I guess gang fights are pretty common.”

  “Yes, but the police arrived just as Monty assaulted the other kid, so Monty was the one who did time. He thinks he owes Ranger a lot for giving him another chance. He said once Ranger finds a rich ranch guest to marry, Ranger will move up to assistant manager of the BVSBar and make Monty head wrangler.”

  So that’s why Monty fumed when Ranger flirted with Vicki. Monty was afraid Vicki would preempt Ranger’s future “rich ranch guest.” If Ranger’s goal was to become assistant manager, what did he think Vicki would do? Disappear?

  “I’m adding ex-con Monty Malone to my list of guys to watch,” Sam said.

  We saw distant lightning, heard thunder and picked up our pace. Sam limped faster. With the sky overcast and thunder rumbling, I thought Bertha might cancel the barbeque. As we neared the patio, we saw tables set with red and white cloths and candles flickering inside hurricane lamps. I guessed Texans were used to th
e futility of predicting the weather, ignored it and carried on with their plans.

  Sunny had started the fire. He plopped his boot on a table bench and cradled his guitar. The girls had claimed the table in front of him. We took a table off to one side of Sunny. I was becoming an expert at sitting on my tailbone to keep my thighs off the bench. Vicki sat a couple of tables away and watched Sunny as he began to croon.

  As dusk grew deeper, George and Selma straggled to the patio and sat alone. George straddled the bench sideways and stretched out his legs. I didn’t see River Rat anywhere.

  Wayne Rickoff and Monty Malone ambled in late and stood at the end of the patio farthest from the camp fire. I was surprised to see that Rickoff had shaved off his beard. I caught Vicki staring at him. Then she rose slowly and slipped into the darkness.

  Not long after she left, Rickoff disappeared. He was so unpredictable—firing into the air when he saw a snake, aiming at people for no reason. I hoped he wasn’t following Vicki.

  Everybody else lined up at the barbecue grill for spare ribs, potato salad and beans. Unease made me aware of everybody’s whereabouts. Once Bertha finished eating, she left. I hoped she was checking on Vicki. George Tensel lumbered off in the same general direction, and Selma followed.

  Sunny played two more songs. Sam grabbed my hand under the table and made my arm tingle.

  “I’m glad I came,” he said.

  The candle lights looked brighter. I was foolish to be tense just because people left after dinner.

  When Sunny stopped singing to make s’mores, Sam dropped my hand and made a beeline for dessert. I saw lightning crackle in the distance and felt a slight breeze. We should leave before it started pouring.

  Monty announced he might as well go home and sauntered off. Ranger Travis and Jangles left together. I was glad Bertha wasn’t there to witness their departure. Jangles might soon acquire a wire sculpture.

  Jangles’ friends rose and headed for their cabin. When lightning cracked the sky, Millie started loping. Stoney yelled at her not to be a wimp while she galloped to catch up. Sam, still chewing a s’more, caught up with Meredith and me and grabbed our elbows. “Let’s head for the cabins.”

  “May and June are Texas’s rainiest months,” Meredith said. “Lots of thunderstorms.”

  We were halfway to our cabin when we heard screams coming from the direction of the river.

  Eighteen

  We froze and listened—then sprinted toward the cries.

  We reached the horse trail. Vicki lay on the ground unconscious. Her horse stood near her, spread-legged, with its ears pinned back, snorting as though daring anybody to approach. Its reins lay on the ground.

  Selma wailed and shot furious looks at George.

  He gaped at Vicki, seemingly paralyzed.

  Selma’s screams drew the others. Sunny rushed in and ran toward Vicki. He waved his arms at the gelding until the horse reared, whirled and galloped away. He knelt beside Vicki, touched her forehead and yelled for somebody to call 911.

  Moving closer, I saw blood on Vicki’s hair and on a nearby rock. Stoney and Millie ran up. Jangles and Ranger trotted up together. The bulk of her curls had escaped the rubber band and flopped like springs down the sides of her head. Her tent dress was turned quarter way around. Ranger wore most of her lipstick.

  Monty loped up close behind Jangles and Ranger. When River Rat bounded up, he sank to his knees beside his sister. His hair hung forward, so I couldn’t see his face. Wayne Rickoff stomped in, completing the circle, and stared down at Vicki.

  Bertha pushed her way through the crowd. “Oh, my God.” She fell to her knees beside Rat and Sunny, whipped a cell phone from her pocket, dialed 911 and pressed speaker phone. She laid the phone on the ground and leaned over her young assistant.

  “Bandera Emergency,” a voice answered.

  “This is Bertha Sampson,” she shouted, “at the BVSBar Ranch. We have a girl on the ground unconscious. Looks like her horse threw her. She’s breathing.” Bertha panted.

  “What’s your location on the ranch?”

  “Go up the main entrance toward the lodge and cut left before you get to the building. Head for the river. There’s a sign. The horse trail is by the river.”

  “We’ll have San Antonio Air Life launch a helicopter to get the victim to the trauma center. Do you have a landing site?”

  Bertha never took her eyes off Vicki. “Closest field is behind cabins three and four—southwest from where we are.”

  “We’re dispatching EMS and the fire department. Direct the fire truck to the open field. They’ll call in coordinates and prepare the landing site for Air Life. Sheriff Deputy Cranton is on the way.”

  Less than a half hour before, Vicki had been eating dinner on the patio. Fresh. Young. Her whole life ahead of her.

  Within minutes, a deputy, Cranton, I presumed, pulled his car up as close as he could get to the horse trail, jumped out and came leaping toward us through the brush.

  “Don’t anybody move her.”

  We heard the EMS siren squealing up the main road. The van’s headlights lit up the lodge and swung left toward us. When the van screeched to a stop, a group of EMTs loaded with gear and a stretcher bounded toward us. The fire truck pulled up behind the van.

  “Get back. Get back.” The emergency team swarmed Vicki. One technician put an oxygen mask on her face. Another took her vital signs. “Low pressure. Thready pulse.”

  Bertha scrambled toward the fire truck to give the driver directions to the landing field.

  Sam, standing beside me, spoke in low tones. “Vicki doesn’t look good. She might have a serious head injury.”

  A sob escaped me. I felt faint. He grabbed my arm to steady me. Meredith grabbed his other arm. One technician placed a cervical collar around Vicki’s neck. Two others took positions behind her waist and knees and rolled her slowly on to her side, then carefully back onto the board.

  “They’re doing a ‘log roll’ to check her back for injuries,” Sam said, “stabilizing and protecting her head and spine to get her ready to transport.”

  As they lifted her stretcher into the EMS van, I thought I heard her moan. It was the best sound I’d ever heard.

  I saw Deputy Cranton don a sterile glove and pick up a blood-spattered rock from the area where Vicki fell and put it in a Ziploc bag.

  “We need information about the girl. Who knows her?” the medical technician said.

  Bertha walked toward him. I slipped closer. The technician asked Bertha for Vicki’s full name, parents’ names and contact information and whether she knew Vicki’s medical history.

  Bertha repeated the names of Vicki and her parents. “I can’t remember the other things,” she said, “but I can fax you Vicki’s employment application with medical records.” The technician gave her his card.

  “We’ll get her as close as possible to the copter and help load her,” he said.

  The medical team was doing everything they could, but I was glad Vicki couldn’t hear them. She’d be terrified.

  “Where will they take her?” I asked Sam. I wondered if Meredith felt as woozy as I did. Hearing particulars might help me remain conscious.

  “San Antonio University Hospital,” Sam said. “It’s the closest trauma center. The first hour after an injury is the most critical. Doctors will be evaluating her well within that time frame.”

  I prayed for Vicki, the young, confused girl with so much life ahead of her. The EMS van rolled back on to the main road and headed toward the field with poor Vicki jostling inside.

  We saw the helicopter in the sky and ran down the horse trail to watch it land in the field. Deputy Cranton ran with us. Lightning framed the copter’s blades as they scattered brush and dirt. We walked as close as we could to the aircraft. EMTs slid Vicki’s stretcher
from the ambulance, carried it to the helicopter and eased her inside.

  “What will they do at the hospital?” I asked Sam. I wished I could be with Vicki, holding her hand. Someone should be with her. I glanced at River Rat. He stared at the helicopter, evidently not inclined to reveal his identity and ask to go with his sister.

  “They’ll do blood work,” Sam said, “head and body scans, monitor her vital signs, help her breathe, put EKG leads on her chest to monitor her heart.”

  Stunned, we watched the helicopter rise into the sky amid rumbling thunder. Sporadic lightning flashed near the copter’s blades. I held my breath until the helicopter disappeared. The ambulance pulled away.

  Deputy Cranton said, “So the girl’s horse threw her? Did anybody see what made the horse pitch?”

  Everybody shook their heads.

  “Who was last to see her before this happened?” Nobody moved or spoke. Lightning crackled across the sky. I hoped Vicki’s copter pilot wasn’t flying through bolts.

  “I’d like to see you all in the dining hall,” Cranton said.

  A thunder crash propelled us toward the lodge. Droplets of rain began to fall. As we hustled to the building, Meredith and I shot an inquisitive glance at Sam. He touched a finger to his lips.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Right.” Meredith nodded.

  Judging from the determined set of his jaw, I thought he’d decided to stay undercover and investigate why Vicki fell. But I had to make sure. While everybody scrambled toward the lodge, I whispered in his ear. “You’re going to stay incognito to find out what happened to Vicki?”

  He nodded. Determination oozed from him. I shared it. We couldn’t possibly leave.

  Ranger overtook us and loped past. “That dang horse Vicki rides spooks at noises. ‘Specially in stormy weather.”