Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) by Nancy G. West Page A

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