Chapter 8

"Yes, the FBI had a thick file on Rangeman, and Carlos Manoso in particular, but nothing to warrant bugging his operation."

Stephanie stood at Connie's desk trying to decide if her waistline would tolerate the third doughnut. She had purchased the dozen so she didn't feel like she was being rude. The office front door beeped indicating somebody was opening the door. Joyce Barnhardt stormed in.

Before Lula could make a comment, she was pushed aside like flotsam. Stopping in front of Stephanie, the tall, dyed red-haired Joyce screamed, "Where the hell is he?"

Stephanie stood still, though Lula seemed to be digging in her purse, "He who?"

"Don't play with me, you know who I mean," she sneered with extra mouth juice making bubbles between her capped teeth. Stephanie noted once again her upper chest was open above her bustier. Did she ever cover up or would she be a middle-aged woman with a freckled, creped and wrinkled chest from sun exposure?

Returning to Joyce's question, "No, I don't. Vinnie is at the stockyards looking for a date, you might want to join him seeing as how you are attracted to bullshit," Stephanie hissed. Her hatred for Joyce was well entrenched from elementary school.

Suddenly, Joyce's fist swung and solidly caught Stephanie's jaw. Stephanie crumpled to the floor. Her Rangeman training failed her as she had allowed her hatred of Joyce to stiffen her body and slow her reactions.

"Get out now," Connie growled. Joyce turned and found herself staring down the barrel of a large Glock. "Joyce, leave before I blow those silicone breasts of yours out onto Hamilton Avenue."

Joyce turned again only to come face to face with Lula's Glock, "Oh please, I need only a little excuse to rid this world of you."

"You'd get the death penalty, you fat bitch," Joyce sneered.

"No, it would be self-defense. We'd pull that knife from your boot and the little lady gun out from under your balloon boobs. Your method of uplift is unique. What bra size do you wear? .38 Special or a .45 DD? You've already assaulted Stephanie, knocking her out cold. All we'd have to do is plead that we were afraid for our lives," Lula emphasized the last sentence.

Joyce's eyes got smaller as she considered her options. She might be able to knock away Lula's gun but Connie was known to be a markswoman. She wouldn't miss. When outnumbered, the best option is to retreat to fight another day. Joyce spun around and stormed out the door, bumping into Joe Morelli. "Get out of my way," she uttered venomously. Never realizing who she bumped into, she continued down the sidewalk.

Morelli, wisely, decided not to stop her. When he entered the bonds office, he saw Stephanie out cold on the floor. Lula turned quickly and deposited her gun back into her oversize and bedazzled purse before Joe saw it. Connie was slower. Her gun was legal. Singular gun, but she kept several on hand, just in case.

Joe was more interested in Stephanie on the floor, "I saw Cupcake's car out front and walked into this. What happened now?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

Stephanie moaned and Joe went and helped her onto one of the orange, plastic, office chairs. Her chin was red, it would soon begin turning purple. Lula went into Vinnie's office and returned with an ice pack, "Here, for your chin."

"What did Joyce want?" Joe asked Connie, since Stephanie was still trying to unscramble her brain.

Connie shrugged, "The devil woman came in and got into Steph's face demanding to know where 'he' was. Since you are here, I assume it wasn't you. After that, it is anybody's guess."

Stephanie rubbed her jaw, "I have a couple of skips that might fit 'he'. Vinnie is at the courthouse. Now why are you here?" Stephanie pointedly did not mention Ranger. Doing so was an invitation to another fight with Joe. She wasn't in the mood.

"Do I need a reason?" Joe shrugged.

"Then you must be here for a free doughnut."

Joe moved to the doughnut box and took raised-glazed, "I'm looking for Lee Sebring. He's not at his office and his secretary simply says he's 'gone'. I thought he and Vinnie might be at a bail bonds convention."

"I rarely see Lee. How about you, Connie?"

Connie reached into the drawer where she had just put her handgun and took out a nail file, "Maybe four weeks ago. He was at the courthouse writing bonds."

"Was Jeanne Ellen with him?" Joe mumbled through his doughnut-filled mouth.

Connie shook her head no. "I haven't seen her in a long, long time. She does work in Newark for Julio Gaspar. Maybe that's where she's been."

"You, Cupcake?"

"Nope. Catwoman is only seen when she wants to be seen."

"Let me know if any one of them makes an appearance." Joe turned and left, licking his fingers.

Lula watched Joe leave and turn down the street. "Are things cooling off with you and him?"

"The situation with Joe cooled to Arctic temperatures months ago. We've generally agreed we were not right for each other as a domestic unit but agreed we'd remain non-sexual friends. My eyes are clearing. A great ass doesn't mean a lifetime commitment. To him, I'm expected to keep him warm in bed and bear his sons. He needs to find a Burg baby machine."

"What does your mother say?"

Stephanie swished her hand back and forth dismissively, "The same old. Her words are tiresome. As a woman, my only function in life is to marry and bear children and Joe is the last man in the Burg who wants me. I've quit listening to her and going by the house."

"Your mother has tunnel vision," Lula said brushing the doughnut crumbs off her ample chest.

"You think?" Stephanie said as she turned the ice pack around and applied it to the back of her head. Her head bounced when she hit the floor. "She has Valerie as her perfect Burg woman. Her Burg son is Jack D or Johnny Walker. I'll never fit the mold."

Almost as if on cue, Stephanie's phone rang. She looked at the number and sighed, "Might as well get this over. Hello Mom, I'm fine, I'm at the bonds office. No, I'm not coming for dinner. I just saw Joe on police business. We are not back together. Talk to you later."

"You didn't let her get a word in," Connie laughed.

"Why bother?"

"Are you and Batman closer?" Lula asked as she went to fill her coffee cup.

"While I do work 80% of my time for Rangeman, 20% here, Rex is still my main man." Stephanie did not volunteer she had moved in with Ranger. She wanted the Burg including Connie and Lula to believe she was still at the St. James apartment. With the use of timers on lamps, the unit appeared occupied until Dillon finds a new renter. He's probably spending the time sanitizing the apartment from all the mishaps. Maybe he's lighting candles to improve the Juju in the unit for the next occupant.

Stephanie stood up unsteadily. "I'll take the files but I'm not going after anyone today. Thanks to Joyce, my jaw and head are killing me. I'm heading home to Rex for 24 hours of dark and quiet. Don't call, please."

"Maybe you ought to go to the hospital," Lula said with concern.

"And have the Burg hotline call my mother? I'll have to call in sick to Rangeman. As of right now though, only four people know about this: Joyce, Joe, Connie and you, Lula. If word gets back to me, I'll know who the rat is."

She swung her car towards her old St. James apartment but changed direction once away from Hamilton Avenue to throw off those who kept track of everything in the Burg. Her reference to calling Rangeman was but another ploy to stave off gossip. She drove a circuitous course to Rangeman to further confuse any watchers. Once in the building, she considered an express ride to the 7th floor, but Barnhardt's slug to the jaw was still painful and her head was throbbing. She got off on the third floor and headed toward Bobby's clinic. He wasn't in. Vince walked by, "He's on patrol, do you need him?"

"It's OK, he'll tell me to take two aspirin and call him in the morning." She turned around and went to the seventh floor by way of the elevator again. Using the stairs intensified her headache. The apartment living room light was blinding, she lowered the blinds and settled onto the couch. She awoke with a start. Bobby was sitting on the coffee table taking her pulse.

"How did you get in?"

"Ella," he said with a shrug. "From the bruise I'd say you met something solid."

"Joyce the Barnyard Pig's fist. Plus my head must have bounced on the floor when I fell."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"For a few minutes."

"We've discussed this. I'm glad to see you were listening and came straight here. I take it the light is bothering you."

"Hmmm."

"Let me examine you," Bobby said softly.

After the exam including tests for balance, speech, and memory Bobby put down his notepad, "I don't think the jaw is broken, but I would like to X-ray the mandible, TMJ, and head to rule out problems. Light sensitivity is an indication of head trauma. If the X-rays are clear, you will come back here and stay quiet for 24 to 48 hours. Turn off your phone. You don't need to be talking to your mother, Joe or anyone else who will upset you. I'll be checking on you from time to time. If I have trouble waking you or you've vomited, it's a mad dash to the hospital. Right now, I order peace and quiet, no loud music, no television or reading but I suspect the headache would stop you anyway. Finally and especially, you and Ranger have to keep your hands to yourself for a few days. Your blood pressure needs to stay low. You've had plenty of head pops over the years. We don't want you accumulating injuries. I'll contact Ella and put you on soft food for a day or two unless we find a jaw fracture."

"Milkshakes?"

He laughed, "Probably and chicken noodle soup."

After a trip to the infirmary for the x-rays, she was cleared to return to the apartment. Ella had chicken noodle soup for her lunch, but Steph couldn't eat much. As Stephanie relaxed on the sofa, she replayed the whole incident with Barnhardt, asking about 'he' and then Joe asking about Lee Sebring and Jeanne Ellen made her wonder what was happening. She didn't have enough pieces and set it aside. Thinking hurt her head anyway.

Ranger entered the apartment when he returned to the building at 16:00. Bobby had called and told him about Steph. Stephanie was sleeping on the sofa. He carried her to the bedroom and undressed her putting one of his t-shirts over her head. Before she returned to bed, she used the bathroom.

"Do you want dinner?" he asked. He held her softly and kissed her on the side away from the bruise.

"Nooooo, water and a pain reliever are enough."

"No pain reliever on an empty stomach. There's a milkshake for you in the freezer. I can whiz it in the blender to soften it back up."

She agreed.

Ranger returned and wrapped his arms around her as she drank. "What happened today?"

"Joyce Barnhardt blasted into the office demanding to know where 'he' was. I didn't have an answer and got nailed."

Ranger lifted an eyebrow.

"OK, I told her Vinnie might be at the stockyard and she might join him in the bullshit."

He smiled his small Ranger smile, "That accounts for the punch."

"Then Joe came, looking for Lee Sebring and Jeanne Ellen. I haven't seen either in ages." She could only finish a portion of the shake before setting it aside.

Ranger was concerned. Stephanie never failed to finish ice cream. As she tucked herself into bed, Ranger's phone rang. It was Bobby wanting to stop by and check on Stephanie.

"Just how bad is it, Bobby?"

"There is no fracture to the mandible or TMJ. She has a contusion to the back of the head, think skull bruise. To be safe, she needs to be watched carefully until morning. Every 2 hours, she must be wakened to where she responds to command. If she vomits, show signs of seizures or anything strange, we'll have to get her to Emergency. If you want, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, I'll wake her."

"You two will have to curtail any hanky-panky for a few days. She needs a stimulant-free environment for a while. She's had too many head bumps. No coffee or tea unless it's decaf and no chocolate, though I'll relax that if it is minimal not some super dark confection."

Ranger smiled, "I noticed the milkshake was pink not brown."

"I've asked Ella to whiz up a smoothie for her tomorrow with greens but plenty of blueberries to hide the color."

Ranger chuckled, "A vegetable smoothie and decaf coffee? You have high hopes for her."

Ranger undressed and put on his silk boxers. It was his reminder to keep hands off. He scooted closer and took her in his arms as she slept. In a few days, he'll talk to her about why she allowed herself to be hit. They would need to adjust her training. Physically, she can't keep taking this abuse.

He kissed her forehead as she slept. He never accepted she might be part of the bugging. Betrayal was not part of Babe's makeup. Quite the contrary, she was loyal to a fault. No matter how someone took advantage of their relationship with her, she could not abandon them. The first exception was Dickie Orr. Led to believe he was the proper Burg husband for her, his betrayal so early in the marriage knocked her for a loop. Next, her mother, refusing her shelter after leaving Dickie, was the second. The third, losing her job with E.E. Martin and her cascade into poverty was the final. She never gave up the belief that if she held tighter, people would love and respect her.

Initially, Joe seemed to be ideal for her, but her spidey sense wouldn't let her take the relationship to the altar no matter how much her mother and the Burg pushed her. The more she was around Rangeman, the stronger she became. She saw the respect the men gave her compared to what she received with Joe, her mother, and the Burg. Fortunately, it didn't take a major disaster before she opened her eyes. "Ranger, is the job offer with Rangeman still open?" she asked as she watched another car being towed away. This time it didn't blow up or catch fire. He was present when the poor POS car was sent to car heaven. As they ate at Pino's, Mr. Davidson's giant SUV went out of control on the icy road. Babe's pathetic vehicle was one of four to be seriously damaged including Mrs. Niederson's brand new Lexus and Dominic Bulugi's new Continental SUV. Somehow, the Burg forgot Babe's car was part of the carnage. It didn't compare to a Lexus or Continental.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, Ranger's mind was traversing the question why were Joe and VC interested in Lee and Jeanne Ellen.

-0-

VC POV

Tomorrow was another trip to Newark for treatment. My mind would be in lockdown for days as I dealt with the after effects. I needed to make a breakthrough now or lose another three or four days with nausea and migraines. What started as an anomaly, began to grow in my mind. Lee Sebring did not exist until 25 years prior. Who was he? When people changed their names, there was always some clue left of their prior existence, unless that information was being covered by a government agency.

When I ran a program on Jeanne Ellen Burrows' background, I encountered other roadblocks. To get the information would require me to go into data storage fraught with blocks and security traps. But then, that was my specialty.

The answers led to several surprises: Lee Sebring was formerly Lester Stauslowski. His birth certificate said he was born a twin. I looked for another Stauslowski: none. I looked at death certificates: none. Where was his twin brother?

I almost missed it. The newspaper had a small distribution in Newark and was only printed for five years. There was a picture of twin babies Lester and Leonard Addams with their mother only listed as Pauline. I got a copy of the picture and sent it for analysis overseas. I didn't know who to trust in the US. The results came back: Lee Sebring, 87% match. That was incredible for such a difference in years and poor quality photo. Why was Lester Stauslowski not listed as Addams? Were the boys born to an unwed mother named Pauline Stauslowski? Was the father the Addams? Or vice versa, was Pauline the true Addams and Stauslowski was the father? I couldn't find Pauline or Stauslowski anywhere in the US or Canada who fit the age parameters. She didn't just drop out of the sky, but her records might have been dropped into oblivion.

Continuing the out-of-wedlock term as it was still being used 30 years ago, Jeanne Ellen Burrows was born Jean Anne Burrows and also had no father listed on her birth certificate, just 'Unknown'. Jeanne Ellen's mother was Ellen Burrows but had changed it from Barker although not due to marriage or a stepfather. Why? Lee was 10 years older than she and she was 10 years older than Ranger.

Julio Leon Gaspar's records were easier. He was another without a father listed on his birth certificate. His mother, Adela Gaspar, had died when he was 18. He joined the Air Force and upon completion of his military contract, returned to Newark where he joined Newark police for 3 years before being injured during a high-speed pursuit. Leaving the force, he started his bail bond business with money from a private investor. I couldn't dig out the investor's name. Julio didn't appear to be paying the unknown party business returns or paying back the debt. Curious.

I researched Joyce Barnhart and found she was adopted, closed adoption. It would be hard to break open. The other way was to meet with her directly. The problem was, how? I could not have any Rangeman escorts in the vicinity nor Stephanie. Apparently, Joyce was now working part-time in real estate, perfect. I would interview her on the pretense I needed a handicapped accessible home. I made the appointment for four days in the future. I'd be incapacitated for a while after the treatment.

As expected, four days later I was just out of the migraine and feeling like a wet noodle. I cleared leaving the building with Pierre and Bobby and refused their offer for transportation. I had to be Rangeman-free. Instead, I used a handicap taxi service. When I rolled myself into her office, I was met by a woman described by Tank as an artificially augmented bimbo. OK, the breasts were enhanced, the lips overly plumped, the nose was too narrow for her features, her teeth were probably capped. Her hair was an unnatural red, cut long to flatter her face, but made her nose look even longer. So far, she wasn't the monster I was expecting but had enhancements, maybe too many. Still, she was firmly in the attractive category. Her wrap dress was a bit lean on the fabric, barely wrapping, containing, or covering anything. I hoped she wouldn't bend over as the neckline was near to her solar plexus and her balloons might escape. Joyce gave me the once-over. Pale from the latest treatment and a little shaky, she figured I was no threat to her man-hunting career and rebooted back to real estate agent mode welcoming me. We chatted about nothing. At least to her it probably seemed like nothing. I found it informative since I was trained to be an interrogator and had Joyce spilling her life's story without realizing it. As for the house hunting, I had set parameters that would make it nearly impossible for her to find a home for me, but as a true real estate agent, she was sure she knew several possibilities.

Bobby granted me the rest of the day off, so Pierre and I explored the Mercer County Fair. The weekday crowds made maneuvering easier for me, but with enough people to make surveillance by others difficult. For protection, we had Woody and his wife who blended in perfectly as they had grown up in Texas. They were dressed in jeans and boots appearing as if they just emerged from the horse arena. Lester and a young lady seemed a bit ill at ease among the animals and agricultural displays until they found the food vendors. For sure, funnel cakes were not served at Rangeman.

"Do you want something to eat?" Pierre asked me.

"Sushi?" I asked just to be cute. No way I'd eat sushi from an outdoor vendor. In fact, fish or seaweed didn't sound good at all.

He actually laughed, "I'm sure there's a booth on every corner.

My eyes sparkled, "I suspect there may be lamb selections near the sheep barn."

He paused, "Mutton?"

"No, young lamb. I smell lamb burgers, kabobs, or gyros on the wind. To a Greek, it's like a homing beacon."

"Gyros?" he asked pronouncing them like the spinning wheel used to determine Earthly orientation.

I gave him my don't-fuck-with-me look. "You know they are pronounced "YEE-ros."

"Ναί agapité mou," he smiled. (Yes, my dear)

"Pierre Antoine Sherman, have you been holding out on me?" I scolded.

He laughed, "I've been secretly studying the language so I would know what you are mumbling in your sleep. I understand the French."

"I'm talking in my sleep?" I was horrified.

"I'm worried you might be giving away national secrets," he shrugged.

"Damn," I muttered. Suddenly, I'm a security risk.

He came around and squatted in front of me. Good thing he had good knees. "Hector checks your room three times a day and I know you also check. The hallway has hidden cameras recording who uses the hall. There are no listening devices, active or passive. Your mumblings occur soon after the spinal treatments. I'm always nearby."

"What?"

"I sleep on the couch when you are out of it."

"I've only seen Bobby."

"We trade off."

"Pierre, when we get back to Rangeman I need to know…everything." I already knew about the cameras in the hall.

"Yes, ma'am. As to what you are saying, I'm not proficient but most goes back to childhood or St. Basil's."

As we moved down the walkway, he asked, "Which direction does your nose indicate we should go?"

Wait, I'm not eating meat right now. Why are we in search of lamb? Ah, I wanted to know if Pierre would eat it. I couldn't imagine spending my life with someone who didn't like lamb. My brother had a super large grill in his yard just for roasting lamb. He and Papa would spend hours tending the meat on the rotisserie.

We went to the lamb auction where the bleating and auctioneer provided background noise. Pierre leaned close. Even in the confines of the fair with all the animal and food smells, Pierre's scent was the most enjoyable. "What did you learn?"

"There's no sushi."

He shook his head. He wasn't used to being kidded. "What did you learn from Joyce?"

"There is no father on her birth certificate. She never tried to contact her birth mother. Now, her personally: aside from being fairly attractive, in an enhanced way, she is also bisexual. She prefers men with money to marry, good looks and exceptional hardware for tumbles, but feels most comfortable with women."

"That surprises me. The way she and Stephanie go after one another I would not have thought that."

"Joyce is a bully and always has been. According to her, she was a fat and ugly child. Plus, she was adopted. Her feelings of inadequacy started early and led to resentment for those she considered prettier, had birth parents, and got dates. She hates Stephanie because she was cute and got the guys...like Joe Morelli. He was somebody who screwed most of the girls at school except Joyce. Stephanie was the only conquest Joe wrote about on the stadium walls. Nothing would give Joyce greater delight than taking Joe away from her, permanently. Ranger is also something belonging to Stephanie. Ranger has threatened to shoot Joyce if she comes near and she believes him. Some of the Rangeman employees have had one night stands with her."

Tank's eyebrows shot skyward, "Don't look at me! I have an aversion to enhanced. I prefer the natural model." He ran one of his calloused fingers along my jaw. It was a soft action contrary to his large muscular physique. Few would suspect Pierre had such a soft side. He then got back to the discussion. "Maybe she's referring to Lester," he chuckled.

"No, she's still trying there. Her conquests are guys who have moved on to other jobs. Probably too embarrassed to admit they took a tumble."

Pierre nodded, "So what are you thinking?"

"When Joyce admitted she knows Jeanne Ellen, her eyes dilated a bit. Also, when I brought up Lee Sebring, I saw anger or mistrust. They were almost jealous reactions. From the two reactions: the emotional closeness with Jeanne Ellen and the mistrust of Lee, I'd say Joyce and Jeanne Ellen are, or have been, lovers."

Pierre began coughing and laughing, "That is not a picture I want to think about."

"Jeanne Ellen and Lee may be closer than employee and employer."

He shook his head slightly as if considering that possibility. "She has been employed by him for several years."

We moved over to a chuckwagon-like food cart and ordered lamb kabobs with a side of Tzatziki sauce, the yogurt-cucumber accompaniment.

We found a table with chairs near noise to block eavesdroppers. We sat touching one another so we could talk. "This is good. Can you make this?"

"Yes, it is easy. The secret is the marinade and it's simple." I ate a lamb cube but gave the rest of the kabobs to Pierre. As delicious as it was, my kidneys weren't back to normal.

"You can make all of these?" he asked, indicating the lamb, rice pilaf, and sauce.

"Of course."

"Will you share the recipes with me too?"

I looked at him a moment before remembering the green chile stew recipe from New Mexico, "Yes, Mr. Sherman, you'll find I have a lifetime of delicious recipes."

"I can't wait," he smiled.

"Whoa, does that mean I'll be your cook for life?"

He winked, "If you play your cards right."

"I was rather hoping you'd cook for me," I smiled back.

"I'm actually a good cook, but I'm always looking for new recipes. We might make a good team. I'll cook, you clean."

"Whoa, recount!"

Why did Stephanie find him so cold? I thought he was warm, fun as well as caring. He is very much like he was back in the Philippines when he was jovial with fellow soldiers. As we finished, I motioned to the poultry barn where the roosters were sounding off.

Entering the smaller pavilion, the boy birds provided us with background noise. Pierre squatted down to look at one bird and spoke, "Where does that leave us with the investigation?"

"I keep going back to Jeanne Ellen, Lee Sebring, Julio Leon Gaspar, and Joyce having no fathers listed on their birth certificates. Turns out, there is statistically an unusual bump in fatherless births over a 20 to 30 year period between New York City down to Washington and offspring are in some form of law enforcement. Let's say Mr. X or a group of Mr. Xs fathered some or all of these children...why are they in the same general business, law enforcement?"

"Assuming Mr. X is the father is a big jump," he murmured.

"Agreed, it could be a group of Xs, but just go with it. Why are fatherless children drawn to law enforcement? What's the purpose?"

He got up and we moved to another cage this time with a Bantam rooster who was making up for his size with a near continuous calling. Once again, Pierre squatted down and muttered, "Provide the security they never had."

"What else?"

"Intimidation, private police force…"

"Or manipulating the system," I added.

"Why?"

"Power, profit, or revenge. What else drives insane ideas?"

He thought a moment, "Social conscience."

"Oh, please, too many of the so-called socially conscious big names are skimming the system or making obscene salaries and living high, while admonishing everyone else for their racist or wasteful ways. They are hypocrites. They consider themselves above condemnation. The public buys their baloney because they want to believe someone so rich, powerful, or apparently smart must be right."

"Money and power are excellent aphrodisiacs. Did Mr. X have power or money back then and used them to seduce women?" he asked.

I smiled, "You make him sound like a politician, Hollywood actor, or producer. Maybe he had a good pick-up line, like Lester. Mr. X would have to be old now. Whatever was planned, he'd better get moving on it."

"How is Rangeman involved?" Pierre asked.

"I don't know. Leads run from New York down to Central or South America. Maybe Ranger pissed him, or them, off at some point, but it might be something entirely different. I've already confirmed Carlos has a complete family; mother, father, grandmother. He's not a Mr. X offspring."

Pierre was walking and thinking while I pushed myself. "What about me?"

"Huh?" I grunted. I wasn't expecting that question.

"I don't know my father's name. I was born in the Philadelphia area. I have Caribbean or Central American roots, and I'm in law enforcement."

"You don't know your father's name?"

"No, my mother said it was part of the settlement. He'd pay child support only if I never learned his name."

"I imagine you have had many dreams about who he might be."

"You know?"

"I do. He was in college and would have lost his sports scholarship if word got out he had fathered a child."

"Let me guess, he became a professional athlete?"

"Yes, he did go on to play sports professionally, but he died young."

Pierre wondered if his abhorrence of sports was genetically inspired. His father was a jock and walked away. "Will you tell me someday?"

"When you are ready, but why would you want to know? You've done well without knowing."

"I may never want to know. I'm surprised, though, you looked into my background."

"Pierre, I never meant to hurt you with my research. I was trying to stay close so we could have our someday."

"Were we ever physically close?"

"Yes, but we were too lost in our own Hells to be together." I started to get glassy eyed. I'm glad he could not see me as he was pushing my chair. "You've pulled me through more Hells than you realize, thank you."

He stopped and came around and squatted down in front of me again, "You've been there for me, too. The memory of one woman kept me going. You." He leaned forward and gave me a chaste kiss.

We moved out of the poultry building back to the sheep barn, where a wool spinning and weaving demonstration was set up. I rolled over to the handmade woolen items for sale and found a delightful wool cape that on me would be a nice bed jacket or, actually, chair jacket. On most women, it would be a long cape. After my purchase, we moved out. I glanced back at Lester and noted the lamb kabob in his hand and his obvious pleasure. He was feeding a piece to his date. She took it eagerly and licked the Tzatziki sauce off his fingertips. They made a cute couple.

"Looks like I'm going to have to give you that recipe after all. Once Lester finishes talking about it tomorrow, I'll be badgered for the recipe. It's better cooked on a grill. Are there any Rangemen handy with the grill?"

"Several. Where to now?" Tank asked as we moved back into the main walking area.

"Let's find dessert. Maybe somebody has pie. What is your favorite pie?" I asked before I heard myself. Do I dare even look at him after leading him with a sexual innuendo? Hormones. I glanced up and realized I was right. He had a broad grin on his face. I covered my face with my hands again. He laughed. "Maybe we ought to skip dessert for a while," he consoled me.