Chapter 8:
A Competition
"Oh, Beau, you're such a kidder!" Hallie cried, giving the young man a forceful shove in the chest. "Don't pay any attention to him, Cuz. Beau's just messin' with ya. Aren't ya, Beau?"
"Ah, sure I am," the good-looking boy laughed. "Stick around long enough, and you'll get used to the lollygagging, Goldilocks. I don't bite. Not like the gators," he added, giving the discomforted girl a wink.
Only Trixie had to wonder. Beau's grin seemed almost as toothy as old Chucky's. And his eyes had a hungry gleam to them. It was almost as if the forward young man was sizing her up for dinner. And Trixie didn't appreciate it. Not one little bit.
Lifting her nose in the air, she cast Beau a glare and then flippantly replied, "You don't say? Then how do you bite, Mr. Benoit? More like a Rougarou?"
As Honey smirked, Cap laughed and pushed his hooting buddy toward the truck's tailgate. Both the truck and boat were used. But from the spit and polish on the pair, it was clear they were their owner's pride and joy.
"Good one, Trix," Cap chuckled. Then, hoisting himself into the back of the boat, he added to Beau, "Didn't Hal and I warn you Trix could spot a scoundrel from a mile away?"
Still beaming, Beau conceded, "Yepperoni," as he snagged the smelly bait bucket, his deckhand lowered down to him. Then, spying Miss Wheeler, shying in the wings, the intrigued boy called out, "You, Sweet-Thing? You the one they call Honey?"
"Honey smiled and returned, "None other. But I must warn you, Mr. Benoit. If you're looking for a snack? I'd probably leave a bad taste in your mouth. I had garlic kettle chips for lunch."
Beau let out a hearty laugh. "That might detour the vampires," he admitted. "But us Rougarou? We like our dishes spicy. So if I were you Sweet-Thing, I'd leave thirteen pennies outside my cabin door tonight."
Honey wrinkled her pretty brow, and Hallie explained that Rougarous were unable to count past twelve. "They're bad at math like Cuz," the Idaho girl laughed. "According to legend, if a Rougarou comes across the coins, it'll stop to count 'em. But after twelve, it gets confused and has to start again. It's rumored the beast will keep counting until the sun comes up and it's forced to retreat."
"Do you have to use pennies specifically?" Trixie asked curiously.
"Nah, just thirteen small objects," Cap chipped in as he continued to unload the fishing boat. "Some people use shiny stones, Trix."
"Folks around these parts are mighty superstitious," Beau went on to explain. "They believe in all kinds of witchcraft and hoodoo, Goldilocks. Take my old man, for example. He keeps a leaf from the swamp in his wallet to keep the Rougarou at bay."
Hallie snorted. "Where was Bernie's wallet the night Bruce Foret jumped him?" she harrumphed.
"I imagine in his hip pocket," Beau chuckled. "Pa didn't go to see Mama Marie until Sheriff Theriot let him out of jail, Sugar-Pops. That's when she advised that he pick and carry a leaf to ward off future attacks."
Trixie detected a hint of seriousness in the young man's reply and wondered if Beau might actually buy into this Rougarou stuff. "Who's Mama Marie?" she asked. "One of your Dad's lady friends?"
Cap let out a hoot as Beau stepped up on the trailer tire to help wrestle out the boys' ice chest.
"Mama Marie is the local Voodoo High Priestess, Goldilocks. She owns a shop called Swamp Mama's down on Thirty-fourth and Vine," the Cajun boy explained.
"A real Voodoo High Priestess?!" Trixie and Honey cried in unison.
"That's the rumor," Beau returned. "Some people believe Madam Dupart can summon evil spirits, and they'll warn you not to cross her. It's said that old Abel Joson fell out of his boat and drowned after over-charging Mama for a pound of shrimp."
"Papa claims Mama Marie is the reason Mrs. Longpré went blind, too," Hallie chipped in. "Mrs. Longpré was making fun of Mama's dress at the beauty parlor one afternoon when suddenly she couldn't see."
Cap snorted and told the two Sleepyside girls not to listen. "Mrs. Longpré was getting her hair permed, and the solution got in her eyes," he explained. "It was a freak accident. Mama Marie had nothing to do with it."
Beau moved to unhitch his boat. "Think what you will, Pony-Boy, "he said. "But I'm beginning to regret honking at that creepy broad when she took her sweet time crossing the street this morning. Maybe if I hadn't, we wouldn't have hit that log that took out our motor."
Only the Idaho boy begged to differ. "If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself, Beau," he argued. "You know tropical storms churn up all kinds of debris. You had no business going so fast."
Beau gave the tow hitch a swift kick with the heel of his boot when the coupler didn't want to release. "Yeah, well, as my deckhand, you were supposed to be my spotter, Chaplain," he griped. "Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess if you'd been doing your job?"
"Can't the motor be repaired?" Honey asked.
Beau sighed and sunk down on the truck's rear bumper. "Yeah, but it's going to need a new prop, Sweet-Thing. Zach's said he'd check around the boathouse and see if he's got one the right size. But if he doesn't, I'll have to take tomorrow off and try to track one down."
Hallie winced and rushed to the despairing boy's side. "Oh, but Beau, you can't afford to miss another day!" she cried. "Maybe Papa will loan you a motor if all ya all can't fix yours tonight?"
But Beau wouldn't hear of it. "No way, Sugar-Pops," he said. "Your grandpa just about took my head off this afternoon. He had to stop what he was doing to tow us in. Said the county had no business issuing tags to toddlers – that I was wasting everyone's time and as good as burning money. Nah, I'm not even going to ask."
"Well… ya had to catch some gators, didn't ya?" Hallie pressed.
"Just two, Hal," Cap sadly returned as he swung to the ground. "Hardly enough to put a dent in Beau's tags, let alone Papa's."
Trixie wondered how many green beasts the others had hauled in and if they'd encountered similar issues. It seemed it poured trouble when it rained in the Bayou. But before the curious girl could inquire, Hallie's aunt blew her car horn. The young ladies were being paged. Trixie's questions would have to wait.
Fixing dinner with Aunt Liz turned out to be quite an eye-opening experience. Or rather "eye-watering," as Trixie and Honey would soon discover. As Hallie's aunt had her niece fill the Cajun boiler's 100-quart stock pot half full of water using a garden hose, the Sleepyside girls were put to work cutting tear-drawing onions and lemons in half.
"We'll need twelve of each," Aunt Liz told Trixie and Honey.
Once Hallie had the massive aluminum pot ready to go, her mother lit the propane jet burner under it. Aunt Liz then added a two-pound bag of dry crawfish boil seasoning to the water. The spicy mixture of crushed red pepper and spices sent Honey into a sneezing fit, which only intensified when Mrs. LeBlanc poured in a bottle of liquid shrimp and crab boil.
Next, Aunt Liz had Trixie squeeze the lemon halves into the mixture before tossing in the rinds. When she was through, Honey was to add the onions and eight heads of garlic to mix.
"Now all we have to do is let this tea come to a boil and steep a bit," Aunt Liz told the first timers. "Then we'll throw in the bag of red potatoes and smoked sausage. They need to boil for about fifteen minutes before adding the corn and mudbugs."
"Mudbugs!" Honey cried, grabbing her best friend's arm. "We're not eating insects, are we?!"
Trixie was worried Honey might faint, but aunts Liz and Renee simply laughed.
"Mudbugs" are what some locals called crawdads," Hallie explained with a grin. "That's 'cause the slippery devils scuttle around the water's muddy bottom sorta like cockroaches. But don't go worrying," the Idaho girl added, "Crawdads are really nothin' more than little Lobsters. You do like lobster, don't ya, Hon?"
"Oh my, yes," Miss Wheeler returned, feeling somewhat foolish.
Trixie had only had lobster once in her life. And that had been at a fancy dinner at Manor House. The thought of the sweet meat dipped in melted butter made the hungry girl's mouth water. "It sounds like we're in for a treat," she said.
"There's nuthin' like it, Cuz," Hallie agreed.
Aunt Liz then shooed the girls back to work. "Hallie, why don't you show our new friends where we keep the fancy tablecloths while your mother and I slice down the French baguettes?"
"Fancy tablecloths?" Trixie whispered in her cousin's ear.
Hallie chuckled. "We spread newspapers on the tables and then pour the crawfish boil on top for all to enjoy," she explained. "So follow me. Sam saves the morning Gazettes and stacks them behind the desk in the office."
When the young ladies returned, Aunt Liz asked the girls to add the potatoes and sliced Andouille sausage to the boil. But as Trixie reached for a pair of kitchen shears to open the mesh bag of spuds, Aunt Renee stopped her. "We leave them in the bag," she said. "Just lower it in the water, being careful you don't splash yourself."
Trixie had never heard of such a thing and looked to Aunt Liz for confirmation. Even Hallie admitted that her mother wasn't exactly a good cook. Perhaps the Idaho Mrs. Belden was mistaken?
But Mrs. LeBlanc smiled and nodded, so the stunned girl proceeded as instructed. And before long, it was time to bring on the crawfish.
"They're in the two red ice chests," Aunt Liz called to Hallie. "We'll need all seventy pounds."
"Seventy pounds!" Honey gasped.
Aunt Liz grinned as Hallie and Trixie tugged the first ice chest over on its rollers. "My Cajun hubby has been known to pack away eight pounds of mudbugs in a single sitting," she laughed. "But the rule of thumb is usually about four pounds per person, Honey. Of course, the sausage and vegetables do stretch the boil quite a bit."
"And thankfully, add to the flavor since we're reduced to using frozen precooked crawfish," Hallie's mother added dryly. "Crawfish season runs from late February through May," she went on to tell Honey. "Boils are best early in the season when the meat is the tenderest, and the crawfish can be added live to the pot. Of course, crawfish are available year-round if you're willing to buy them from the farmers, but you'll pay nearly double. So most people reserve their boils for the spring," she finished giving Aunt Liz a glare.
Aunt Liz put her bread knife in the sink and pushed past her crossed-armed sister-in-law on her way to the stockpot. Hallie and Trixie had returned with the second cooler, and Honey gave her best friend a "dear me" glance.
"That's because most people don't know the proper way to use frozen mudbugs," Aunt Liz insisted, throwing her hands to her hips. "You can have a respectable boil any time of year, Renee. And it was very generous of Mr. Benoit to donate the crawfish. His wife uses frozen at the restaurant when they're out of season, don't forget. And people from near and far rave about Josette's dishes."
Trixie's head was spinning. "Mr. Benoit is married?" she cried. "I thought he was a lady's man?!"
The two older women forgot their differences and chuckled.
"Bernie is every bit of both," Hallie's mother revealed. "He and his wife have a rather non-traditional relationship, Trixie. Josette has an apartment in town and runs a small café. She's not fond of the houseboat or life on the Bayou. Only Bernie's not about to give up either – or his womanizing ways, for that matter."
"Then why don't they get divorced?" Honey gasped.
Mrs. LeBlanc smiled. "Despite how out it sounds, Honey, they care about each other very much," she revealed. "Josette is a lovely woman. And Bernie is the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. The Benoits get along better than most couples, I know."
Trixie, who was finding it exceedingly hot standing around the stockpot, went to fetch a bottle of water from one of the other coolers. "How does Beau feel about his mother and father's living arrangement?" she asked. Miss Belden wasn't sure she'd like having her parents living apart, let alone dating other people.
Hallie shrugged and asked her cousin to toss her a drink, too. "Beau says he's got the best of both worlds," she admitted. "He stays with his Mom when school's in session, and he crashes with his Dad the rest of the time. I'll take you over to Josette's when we're in Saint Estelle tomorrow and introduce all ya all if you'd like?"
"In the meantime, I'll teach you Josie's secret for using frozen bugs in a recipe," Aunt Liz announced as the timer on the counter dinged. "You might want to listen up, Renee," she added.
The skilled Cajun cook then instructed the girls to quickly pour the crawfish into the pot, followed by the frozen corn cobettes. Once all had been added, Aunt Liz immediately cut the flame under the bubbling concoction and hosed the outside of the aluminum pot with cold water. This slowed the cooking process and kept the mudbugs from getting tough. If the ladies had been using live crawfish, they would have continued boiling them for about six minutes before turning off the burner.
Aunt Liz then added a small bag of ice to the pot and ordered the girls to take turns stirring the spicy soup using a boat paddle! "In about thirty minutes, the mudbugs will have soaked up enough of the goodness to have sunken to the bottom," she announced. "That's our queue they're ready to eat."
Dinner that night was a feast fit for kings!
And the first king to answer the dinner bell was the Lord of the Bayou himself, Papa LeBlanc.
"My, oh, my, but somethin' sure is smellin' good," he announced, strolling into the kitchen. "Workin' your magic again, are you Lizabeth? Lizabeth's the best cook in all of the Bayou," Mr. LeBlanc told the girls, patting his ample belly.
As Papa helped himself to a piece of crusty bread from one of the baskets on the counter, Squire Bernie wandered up. Lifting Aunt Liz's hand in a kiss of greeting, the spruced-up man was quick to agree.
"Indeed, le le mieux!" he said with a flourish. "The mudbugs are très bon, are they not, ma Elizabeth? Ol' Bernard purged them well and pre-boiled them just right, if je may boast."
"They're absolutely beautiful, Bernie," Aunt Liz replied. "Your generosity is most humbling. Josette is a lucky woman. I hope the boil doesn't disappoint," she added, casting a glare in Aunt Renee's direction.
As Hallie's mother let out a sniff, Mr. Benoit asked Trixie, whose turn it'd been to stir, to sweep up a crawfish from the bottom of the pot. Once she had, Bernie grasped the deep-red shellfish on both sides of its tail joint and proceeded to twist and snap the head and tail apart.
Having never eaten crawfish before, the two New York girls carefully observed the process. But Honey let out a squeamish ugh, as the Cajun man then sucked yellow ooze out of the head, causing Mr. LeBlanc to roar with laughter.
"What's the matter, Cinderella?" Papa bellowed. "The crawfish butter is by far the best part! You've never tasted anything so sweet and juicy. Just you wait and see!"
As Bernie tossed the empty head into the plastic-lined waste receptacle by the icebox, Trixie and Honey exchanged dubious glances. But Bernie agreed with Hallie's grandfather. "A delicacy it is!" he declared. "And prepared beyond compare!" he went on to tell a beaming Elizabeth.
Bernie then peeled the shell away from the tail of the crawfish as one would a shrimp and tugged out the meat. Extending the tender morsel to Honey, he said, "A sample, mon amour?"
Not wishing to be rude, Honey accepted the tasty tidbit and popped it into her mouth. "Why it's absolutely delicious!" she declared, her eyes rounding with delight.
As Papa reached for another piece of bread and Bernie motioned for Trixie to again dip into the stock pot, Aunt Renee shooed both men from the kitchen. The Richards, Papa's neighbors with the alligator farm, had just arrived. And the rest of the hungry knights, weary from their dragon slays, were already gathering around the picnic tables.
Mrs. Richards had brought with her two luscious pineapple-banana hummingbird cakes to serve for dessert. And after setting them on the kitchen counter for safekeeping, the older lady helped Aunt Liz and her apprentices dish up the food and take people's beverage orders.
Once dinner was on the table, it was time for the tired chefs to rest their feet and let the celebration begin. But before Trixie could sit down, Beau gave Cap, who'd been seated next to him, a shove off the end of the picnic bench.
As the Idaho boy let out a whoop, his Cajun counterpart patted the vacated spot and called, "Hey, Goldilocks! "I think you'll find this chair's just right?"
Almost immediately, Jim's head snapped in Beau's direction, and Hallie "accidentally" spilled her icy drink down the back of her cousin's shirt.
"Gleeps, Hallie, do you have to be such a klutz?!" Trixie yelped. The drenched young lady might have been angrier if it hadn't been such a warm evening. But the bath of cold water actually felt mighty refreshing.
"Ooops," Hallie returned with a flippant sneer. "So sorry, Cuz. "
Only Trixie knew Hallie wasn't sorry in the least. Her cousin's actions had been deliberate. And a clear warning to the Sleepyside Miss Belden that she better watch her step. Beau Benoit was off limits.
So scooting Dan over so she could slide in across from a relieved Jim, Trixie returned, "Sorry, Beau. This Goldilocks knows better than to take Baby Bear's seat. I wouldn't want her going to Papa Bear if you get my drift. He might just add me to the supper menu."
Trixie gave Hallie a pinched smile, but the Idaho girl looked smug as she ungracefully plopped down next to the grinning Louisiana playboy.
"Miss me, Beau?" Hallie drawled as she batted her "beautiful eyes" his way.
Feeling somewhat nauseated by her cousin's shameful display, Trixie directed her attention elsewhere.
Honey had just squeezed in next to Mart and asked the crew cut boy if he'd had a good-time alligator hunting.
As Trixie's brother held up his blistered hands, his sister winced, and Honey emitted a cry of alarm.
"Do these puppies look like I had a good time?" Mart asked with a grin.
"Oh, you poor thing!" Miss Wheeler wailed. "I think I have some antibiotic ointment in my toiletry bag, Mart. Let me run and get it for you."
But the young Mr. Belden told the pretty girl to stay put. "You're darn tootin' I had a good- time!" he returned excitedly. "It was an absolute blast, Honey! A Herculean exploit not to be outdone! "
"The boy did well, too," Papa returned from down the table. "With all that gobbledygook he was spoutin', the gators were practically surrendering, Cinderella. One of the beasts actually begged me to shoot 'em just to put 'em out of their misery."
As snickers ran up and down the tables, Mr. LeBlanc hushed the hungry crowd to give the blessing. Once he was through, the booming man thanked all for coming and then formally introduced Mr. and Mrs. Richard before giving the order to start chowing down.
And chow down, the Bob-Whites did! As the mounds of scrumptious vegetables, sausage, and mudbugs began to disappear, so did the validity of Aunt Renee's claim that Boil should only be made with fresh crawfish. Dinner couldn't have been yummier or more fun!
A part of this was due to the rousing atmosphere around the tables. Though the mighty hunters and their apprentices were physically exhausted from their afternoon adventures, they were still flying high mentally. Jim and Dan, like Mart, had had the time of their lives! And Trixie felt a bit envious as she listened to the boys boast about their great feats of strength and brushes with danger.
The wet-behind-the-ears sportsmen had only hauled in seven gators between them–a paltry amount, in Papa's opinion. But given the day's troubles, Miss Belden found the number pretty amazing.
But while the senior Mr. LeBlanc made it no secret that he was dissatisfied with the day's spoils, Papa did seem pretty pleased with his new deckhands' abilities. Of course, it went without saying that there was a learning curve to alligator hunting. But all and all, Mr. Belden and the boys had outperformed the churlish man's expectations of them.
"You should have seen the monster I helped Sam and Max land!" Jim exclaimed as he reached for another cob of spicy corn. "It had to be twelve feet long, Trix. It took all three of us to wrestle it in. I swear that gator had a head the size of a bus!"
"A bus?!" Dan hooted. "If that thing's head had been as big as a bus, it wouldn't have fit in their boat, Trix. Now that feisty devil I took down? And with a single shot to the tiny kill spot behind its eyes? Now there was a true hulk. It was so heavy, my and Ben's rig was taking on water."
Mart harrumphed. "Sheer exaggerations," he told Honey. "The voracious brute Zach and I encountered this afternoon had to be the most massive by far. Why when that alligator went into a death roll, it created a whirlpool so violent it would have sucked Papa's boat under if the scaly beast hadn't popped the line!"
"So the alligator got away?!" Honey gasped.
The sheepish lad took a sip of his drink and nodded, causing Hallie's mother, seated at the table one over, to laugh. "I must admit I've heard a lot of fishtails in my life," Aunt Renee told Trixie's father, "But I do believe your son's takes the cake, Peter."
At the mention of cake, Mart's eyes brightened. He was ready for the ladies to bring on dessert. But first things first. The boastful boy had a record to set straight.
"Dear, dear Aunt Renee," Mart began contritely. "I jest you not. That alligator was fifteen feet if it was an inch. Just ask Zacharie. When the angry beast popped our line, Zach tried to snag it with his treble hook, but the monstrous creature snapped the barbs clean off."
"Is that true?" Aunt Liz asked her husband with disbelief. Uncle Zach was well known for his skill at using a snag hook, and he custom-made his own for strength.
"That alligator was the biggest I've seen in years," he told his wife as he slurped down the rich butter from another mudbug. "I don't know how the boy kept a hold of it for as long as he did, Liz. It was a real dinosaur."
Mart gingerly dabbed at the friction burns covering his hands with his napkin. "A true alligatoroid crocodilian left over from the Cretaceous period," he agreed. "But if that Deinosuchus thinks it's gotten the better of Moi, it's got another thing coming. Mark my words. I'm going to get that reprehensible reptile if it's the last thing I ever do! "
Trixie gulped, fearing it might just be the last thing her brother ever did. Surely Mart was no match for a gator so large?! Why the young greenhorn would be easy prey for a monster like that!
And apparently, Honey thought so too. Having lost her appetite, she pushed her plate away and said, "Oh, but Mart, however, do you plan to catch him? Messing with an alligator of that size goes beyond dangerous. Besides, isn't it up to luck whether or not one takes your line?"
Mart patted the worried girl's arm. "Nonsense," he insisted. "Yours truly has enough brain and brawn to take down a gator twice that beast's size. In my studies, I ran across a recipe for a secret sauce guaranteed to lure in the most crafty of demons. All I need to do is whip up a batch of the irresistible concoction and add it to our bait bucket, Honey. That alligator is as good as tagged."
Dan gave Trixie the elbow, then a one-sided grin, before flicking his empty crawfish shell onto his boasting buddy's plate. "You better be careful not to spill any of that secret sauce on yourself, Mr. Know-it-all," he teased. "If a gator will swallow a hunk of chicken drenched in that gunk, it's not about to pass up a plump juicy Bob-White."
As Mart grimaced, his sister smirked. Trixie's middle brother was like a magnet when it came to attracting spills. Just recently, he'd practically begged her to help him get the blueberry stains out of his good white shirt. Even now, the front of Mart's tee was streaked with fiery-red drips from his supper – which wasn't exactly comforting to Miss Belden.
But Dan had gone on to admit that he'd been doing some research on alligator hunting too. "I read if you tie white plastic grocery bags to the tree limbs above your lines, the gators will think they're egrets and coming looking for a snack," he said. "Maybe I'll give it a try and see if I can lure in that giant Houdini myself. What do you think, Hallie?" he added as the girl gave him a grin. "Think it will work?"
"I don't know about that sack thing," Hallie returned, honestly, "But I do think Houdini's the perfect name for that ol' dinosaur. Maybe I'll try my hand at catchin' him too. Beau was tellin' me just the other day that when it comes to gator huntin', Mother Nature's the best teacher. You have to be able to read the signs to know where to hang your lines. Big gators like Houdini like deep water. And it's easy to spot their slides in the mud on the banks."
"All that may be good and true," Jim broke in. "But getting an alligator on your line is only half the battle, Hallie. You still need enough strength and agility to wrestle him to the surface quickly so your rifleman can get off a clear shot. If it takes too long, as Mart's proven, a gator of that size will get away. That's why I think I have the best chance of hauling in that dinosaur." Jim lifted his arm and flexed his freckled bicep. "This is the only trick I need up my sleeve. Houdini's as good as mine."
Papa LeBlanc let out an entertained roar. "Well, now, it sounds like we've got ourselves a competition! Chaplain, you want in on the action, boy?" he asked.
Cap was slow to reply. He wasn't a big talker. But Trixie had long ago learned to read the expressions on her cousin's face. That twinkle in his eye looked like a clear yes to her. But Cap replied, "That depends. What are we vying for, Pops?"
As Hallie curled a thin lip, her grandfather emitted a belly laugh.
"Well, I dunno?" Papa said. "Hallie Bear, you got any ideas?"
The Idaho girl wasn't bashful and wasted no time telling her grandfather that she wanted a pair of gator skin boots made out of the fearsome beast's hide. "You can ask Mom," she said. "My big clodhoppers haven't grown an inch since last summer."
"That true, Renee?" Mr. LeBlanc hollered across the way.
Having been deep in discussion with Maxine and Mrs. Richard, Papa's daughter lurched with a start. As her heavy glasses slid off her nose and into a pile of crawfish tailings, Aunt Renee let out a sigh of exasperation. "Yes, Dad. I'm sure it's true," she called back.
And Trixie suppressed a giggle. She was positive that Aunt Rene had no idea what she'd agreed to and really didn't care. Only Papa seemed satisfied, and he responded by giving Dan a crook of his shaggy eyebrow. "A pair of gator-skin boots OK with you, Daniel?" he asked. "Your black ones are lookin' a little rough 'round the edges, son."
Dan's eye's popped, and he glanced at Trixie as if to say, "Is he kidding?!" But when the boy's blonde friend nodded, indicating Papa was serious, the stunned young man replied, "Gleeps, Mr. LeBlanc. That's mighty generous of you, Sir. But boots like that cost way too much, and mine still have a lot of life left in them."
Dan reached down and brushed the dried mud from the toes of his treasured mementos.
"I wouldn't mind a few pounds of gator meat, though," he went on to say. "I hear it's pretty good, and it'd be nice to have something other than venison on ice for this winter. Mr. Maypenny, my guardian, makes a mean hunter's stew. But variety is the spice of life, as they say."
Mr. LeBlanc approved. "Very true!" he agreed with gusto. "So gator tenderloins it is. If you win, Daniel, I'll even have Lizbeth toss in a few recipes for your Mr. Maypenny. It sounds like he's a real man's man."
Papa then turned to Jim. "How 'bout you, young fella?" he asked. "Boots for you, Jim?"
As Trixie giggled, trying to picture the handsome boy sporting a pair of the flashy cowboy boots, Mr. Frayne turned red. "Thanks, Mr. LeBlanc," Jim returned sincerely. "But I don't think they're quite my cup of tea. I sure wouldn't mind Houdini's mounted head, though. I'd look mighty swell on display in Dad's trophy room."
Honey emitted a surprised eek. "Oh, Jim, no?!" she went on to wail. "After everything Aunt Renee told us on the ride over this afternoon?"
Papa LeBlanc crushed his empty beer can and barked at Hallie to fetch him a refill. "I don't know what kind of nonsense my daughter was spoutin'," he grumbled, "but no part of the gator should ever go to waste, Cinderella. That goes for the noggin too. There's nothin' wrong with wantin' the head. Sellin' 'em to tourists helps keep my brother Terrance in business."
Returning with her grandfather's drink, Hallie chipped in, "If the tables were turned, you can be sure that ol' gator wouldn't be leavin' your brainpan behind, Honey."
As Honey turned pale, Trixie pursed her lips and stabbed her fork into a chunk of sausage, imagining it to be a blackberry-eyed voodoo doll. Her timid friend was sure to have nightmares tonight. Why come morning, Honey might very well change her mind and pack up and go home!
But Papa had gone on to ask Mart what his pleasure might be should he be the one to bring in the colossal record breaker. And Mr. Appetite announced that he'd like a Turducken dinner complete with all the fixings. This was when Aunt Liz suggested Trixie's brother choose something a little less grandiose. "Turducken is usually reserved for Thanksgiving," she hinted.
But Papa LeBlanc whooped and cried, "Poppy-cock! If the boy wants Turducken, I'll stuff and deep-fry it myself, Lizabeth. 'Sides, if the young'un can tag that alligator? It'll sure as shootin' be Thanksgivin' 'round the Bayou."
Not a single soul seated at the tables could disagree. However, Trixie still had no idea what Turduckin was. She was beginning to think it must be some kind of poultry. However, before she could ask, Papa inquired into his grandson's choice of prizes. And Cap revealed that he'd like to take his grandfather's air-boat out for a spin. Hallie's middle brother was big into nature, and he'd always wanted to explore the deeper depths of swamp lands.
That left the two Mr. Beldens, and both men agreed they'd settle for a snapshot of themselves posing with the prehistoric giant. "The guys at work still don't believe I took this week off to wrestle alligators," Trixie heard her father tell Uncle Harold.
But Beau Benoit was feeling left out. And he told Papa he wouldn't mind having a pair of Alligator skin boots. "Why should the newbies get all the credit?" he asked Mr. LeBlanc. "Tagging Houdini is going to take a team effort. What do the captains get out of it, Mr. Lucas?"
Papa harrumphed. "Hey Bernie," he called to the man who was openly flirting with Aunt Renee in front of her husband. "Your son here thinks he's a captain? You wanna remind him captains have to have a runnin' boat, or should I?"
As Mr. Benoit waved off Papa with his good arm, Beau got up from the table, excusing himself. "I'm going to go and see if I can locate a prop," he muttered sorely.
But Hallie's grandfather told the boy to sit back down. "Quit bein' a baby and startin' act like a man," he told Beau. "If you or any of the other captains bring in that brute, you'll find a nice bonus in your paycheck, boy. But it's time ol' Papa was assignin' teams. You can fuss over your motor later."
Rising to his feet, the grizzled gator hunter then tapped on a nearby glass with his spoon and ordered everyone to listen up.
Typically, Bernie was Papa's partner during alligator season. Anglers' Landing offered its guests several different hunting packages. As Papa had a huge boat, he and Mr. Benoit handled what Hallie's grandfather called the "Family Expeditions". This meant the two men pretty much did all of the work on the rig. The paying clients and their children were primarily along for the ride and, of course, the Cajun cohort's colorful stories.
Papa's other guides, such as Sam and Max, usually operated solo. They took out the more serious patrons who were looking for the full gator-hunting experience. These guests could book excursions for a single day or by the week. And very few ever went home disappointed. Mr. LeBlanc's team was top-notch and well-known for their bountiful hauls.
Only this gator season, Bernie was out of commission, and there were no guests, thanks to Tropical Storm Deloris. So Mr. LeBlanc was counting on Beau, the Bob-Whites, and his daughter's family to help fill in.
"Chaplain," Papa barked, as a hush fell over the darkening Bayou, "tomorrow, while your Captain's fixing his boat, you'll ride with me. Once Beau's up and runnin' again, Hallie Bear will take your place. I promised your momma and daddy I'd look out for her personally."
Mr. LeBlanc then turned to Jim. "Red," he said. "You're with Sam. He likes to keep things tidy, and I think the two of you will git along just fine."
Papa then placed Dan with Ben. Mr. LeBlanc's grandson had more arm strength than the Sleepyside boy. But since Mr. Mangan was the better shot of the two, Papa felt they'd balance each other out.
Mart was assigned to work with Maxine, next. "She's the only one who's likely to put up with your yackin' and not toss you overboard," Papa explained with a chuckle.
That left Trixie's father hunting with Uncle Zach, as Uncle Harold had already requested to jump teams and be Robert Robert's partner. Mr. Robert's son-in-law was his usual deckhand, but he'd be hunting with a buddy of his to help the older alligator farmer fill his one hundred tags more quickly.
So with business completed, Mr. LeBlanc suggested the ladies bring on dessert. And as Honey helped the older women collect the dirty dishes, Trixie began tossing people's crunched-up beverage cans into a large plastic bucket to be taken to the recycle center. Hallie, in the meantime, had started rolling up the discarded crawfish shells in the newspapers covering the tables. Once the Idaho girl was done, she stuffed the smelly mess into a large black garbage bag and began loping off to the dumpsters.
"Catch ya on the flip side, Cuz," the gangly girl called, which suited the curly-haired Miss Belden just fine. Among other things, Trixie was still miffed at Hallie for spilling her drink on her.
But as Papa barked for Trixie to step it up a notch, Dan offered to give the already scurrying young lady a hand. Mr. Mangan wasn't used to being waited on. And his friend appeared mighty drained. It'd been a long day for all of the teenagers.
But Trixie smiled, insisting she had a handle on things. "You sit tight," she told Dan. "If you're going to take down Houdini tomorrow, you'll need your rest."
Dan laughed and was forced to agree. But he got up anyway, explaining that he needed to run to the cabin and wash his hands before the cake was served. "If anyone misses me, tell them I'll be right back," he said.
A few minutes later, Trixie was stumbling through the blackness toward the boathouse with the recyclables when she heard a lone mournful howl coming from the wooded area beyond Papa's place. As Fogerty replied to the eerie inhuman song with a series of warning bays, goosebumps rose on Trixie's arms. She wished now that Hallie had waited for her. The Bayou was spooky at night. Surely it was only a coyote attempting to locate the other members of its pack?
Only Trixie's intuition told her this had been no yip of a coyote. And the unnerved girl decided it was too bad Jim hadn't volunteered to accompany her. Jim would have been able to identify the call. But his best girl could only guess what had made it. And her racing mind had to wonder if crazy Aunt Izzy was right, and red wolves still roamed the swamps of Louisiana. That or the Rougarou had come looking for Papa LeBlanc!
As Trixie gulped, another howl disrupted the peace which had been hanging over the lazy water. The beast was growing closer. And Hallie was up ahead, all alone and defenseless. The Idaho girl could be in danger! And Trixie forced her shaking legs to go faster.
But as a tall, dark figure came around the side of the boathouse, the Sleepyside girl sighed with relief. Hallie was headed her way. Trixie recognized the sound of her cousin's flip-flops. Only her respite was short-lived. And the New York teen stopped dead in her tracks. Someone or something was rushing in Hallie's direction. Trixie had picked up on the sound of crunching gravel.
As a scream rose in Trixie's throat, she suddenly slapped her hand across her mouth to silence it. It was only Dan. And as he caught up with Hallie, the boy's blonde friend ducked behind a nearby tree.
"Nice night, huh?" Trixie heard him ask Hallie as the pair continued her way. "It sure is good seeing you again, Hallie. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"I guess," the Idaho girl replied with a shrug. "We missed ya on the camping trip," she went on to say. "Knut was lookin' forward to meetin' ya."
The young man was quiet. "Maybe next time," he returned awkwardly.
Dan was carrying with him a small paper bag about the size of a lunch sack, and Trixie was dying to know what was inside it. Only apparently, her cousin was just as curious. "Whatcha got there?" Hallie asked, pointing to the parcel.
Mr. Mangan stopped and handed the bag to Hallie. "I hear you have a birthday coming up," he said. "I made you something. Mr. Maypenny carves wooden duck decoys. He's been teaching me how to whittle."
As Hallie opened her gift, Trixie heard her say, "A horse?"
The Sleepyside Miss Belden felt a pang of guilt for spying on the young couple. She hadn't liked it when Hallie had listened in on her and Honey's conversation. But the eavesdropping girl couldn't pull herself away.
"It's supposed to be Spartan," Dan explained sheepishly. "I thought it might remind you of the time we went bareback riding." Spartan was the young man's horse. Mr. Wheeler had bought the former circus draft when Dan had begun working for Mr. Maypenny. Hallie had ridden on Spartan with Dan when she'd been in Sleepyside for Jim's cousin's wedding.
Hallie put the wooden trinket back into its bag. "That was a lot of fun," she admitted quietly. "But like ya said, Dan. It's been a while. And I'm sorta interested in somebody else these days. So why don't you hang on to it. I wouldn't want anyone getting' the wrong idea, ya know?" she finished, returning the horse to its maker.
Even from a distance, Trixie could tell Dan was crushed by the way his posture slumped. "Yeah, sure," he replied, trying to act cool. "It's not very good, anyway."
"Keep practicin'. Ya'll get better," was all Hallie said.
At that point, Dan and Hallie parted ways. Trixie guessed the forsaken young man was going back to his cabin. But as Hallie approached the New York girl, unaware that she was being watched, Trixie curbed a guttural snarl.
If the Sleepyside Miss Belden had been a Rougarou, she would have jumped out and torn the despicable young lady to shreds. How could Hallie have said such hurtful things to Dan?! And after the sweet boy had practically given the big backstabber his heart!
True, Trixie hadn't been able to make out the carved horse's details in the moonlight. But as far as Miss Belden was concerned, it was a work of art! And one thing was for certain. Dan was far too good for the likes of Miss Sugar-Pops! Hallie and Beau deserved each other.