“I took a shot at Valcour’s too-too and hit his headlight, instead,” Tante Lulu said, not one bit repentant. She was sitting at the kitchen table making a grocery list that looked about two feet long.
“You hit his what’? Headlight? What body part in your convoluted language is a headlight? Did you hit his belly button or one of his nipples? Dieu, Valcour would like nothing better than to sue the skivvies off you, old lady.”
“Who you callin’ an ol’ lady?” the old lady inquired.
“You are such a dolt.” Charmaine laughed at him while making that pronouncement. She was polishing some silverware for the upcoming friggin’ feast. He didn’t even know silverware that needed polishing existed at the ranch. “Tante Lulu knocked out one of the headlights on the Cypress Oil limo.”
Oh. “How was I supposed to know that?” he stormed, his face heating up with embarrassment. “The two of you are proud of your actions. Like a Cajun version of Lucy and Ethel, you are. Did it ever occur to you that an ex-con can’t afford to have the police called to his home? Did you think about what effect a weapon on my property might have on my parole?” He glared first at Charmaine, then at Tante Lulu, the prime perp in this case.
Charmaine at least had the grace to appear surprised, then guilty about not having considered the consequences to him.
Unlike the redheaded Cajun Rambo midget who glared right back at him. “Doan you be lookin’ at me like you jist ate a green persimmon,” Tante Lulu chastised him. “Those men were actin’ threatenin’-like, and I know better than most that Valcour doan hesitate to raise his hand to his daughter… or his fist. Wouldja have felt better iffen you came back to see Charmaine’s blood on the porch?”
Fists? Blood? Raoul’s eyes shot to Charmaine, whose chin was raised haughtily, daring him to say anything more. Oh, Charmaine.
“Don’t you dare be pitying me,” she snapped.
“Why? You might end up with a little pity action, if you know what I mean.” If he didn’t tease, he might just cry… on her behalf. Fists? Her father had used his fists on her?
“I know what you mean, and forget about it. Us no-brain bimbos, who wouldn’t know a spreadsheet from a bed sheet, aren’t into that.”
Back to the dude ranch business again. As if! But, man, she’s like a puppy tugging on a guy’s pant leg. Tug, tug, tug.
“Charmaine and me gots to go shopping tomorrow fer the Thanksgivin’ feast,” Tante Lulu said. “You gonna be our bodyguard, or do we gots to ask Clarence?”
“Give your list to Clarence. He and Jimmy can go for you in the morning after their chores.”
She looked as if she might protest, but then she shrugged and said, “Mebbe thass best. We have lots of things to do here today, me and Charmaine.” She paused dramatically and added, “Like shoot and dress a steer. And dig a barbecue pit.”
“There will be no shooting of animals on this ranch.” he said as firmly as he could, then turned and made his way toward his bedroom. He planned to spend the next two hours there delving into his past, a task he did not relish. The reading of his father’s letters.
He read only the first few from twenty-five years ago before stopping to stare off into space. They were so poignant with a father’s obvious love for a son he’d only discovered he’d had and the agony of separation. That was when something disturbing happened.
A gunshot. And it came from behind the house.
His first thought was, If they shot a steer, I’m going to shoot them.
His second thought was, Oh, no! Maybe Valcour and his cronies came back. Or the Dixie Mafia discovered Charmaine’s whereabouts and they shot out her kneecaps… or worse.
Like lightning he rushed through the house and out the back door, grabbing a rifle along the way. He hit the back porch running, then skidded to a stop. His heart was racing so fast he thought he might have a heart attack.
Tante Lulu was standing in the backyard near the bottom of the steps, flanking one of two improvised tables—discarded wood doors over sawhorses. She and Charmaine must have dragged them from the barn to use for the big hoopla feast, which was apparently going to be outdoors. Tante Lulu just grinned at him. “Ain’t Charmaine sumpin’?”