Chapter 10:
A Putrid Potpourri
As the emergency medical vehicle pulled away from the resort, Daddy returned to his extended brood. Aunt Liz and Uncle Zach had arrived not minutes before and were currently up at the boathouse talking with Maxine and Uncle Harold. Meanwhile, Aunt Renee and Uncle Sam were trying to get Hallie's ill-disposed grandfather situated in the camp's commuter van.
"Oh, Mr. Belden!" Honey cried as her best friend's father hurried the teens' way. "Is Papa LeBlanc going to be alright?" The worried girl was clutching Mart's arm and was very visibly shaking.
Daddy nodded affirmative, but the dark look on his face told Trixie that her father reserved some doubts. "The paramedics seem to think he'll be fine," he said. "They did advise that Mr. LeBlanc accompany them to the hospital in Baton Rouge. But he's stubborn and told them to go jump in the Bayou."
Mart chuckled and gave Honey's hand pat. That sounded like something Papa would say. "What happened to him, Dad?" he asked. All of the teens were bursting to know.
"It appears your cousins' grandfather slipped getting out of his boat," Mr. Belden revealed. "Mr. LeBlanc is foggy as far as the details go. But he gashed his head and wrenched his back in the fall. It's pretty remarkable the man made it back to camp. I'm afraid he won't be going alligator hunting anytime soon."
Daddy paused as the over-sized van started. "Renee is taking her father home to bed," he went on to explain once the shuttle had driven off. "She'll stay and care for him until he's able to be up and about on his own."
"Gleeps, Mr. Belden, what blow," Jim said. "What was Papa LeBlanc doing out so late? You can't hunt alligators after dark."
Trixie sat down on the steps of the porch. "Hallie thought her grandfather was going bull-frogging," she replied.
Jim grimaced as he settled in next to his best girl. "On the night before a big hunt?" he grunted. "I highly doubt that, Trix."
Trixie, scratching at one of many of her bug bites, admitted that that had been her first thought too. And that's when Mr. Belden explained that Papa had actually been out guarding his lines against poachers. "I can't say I blame him," he said. "But Mr. LeBlanc should never have gone alone. Any number of things could have happened to him."
"Like being jumped by a Rougarou!" Trixie thought with a shudder. But then she scolded herself for being silly. There was no such thing as Rougarou. Right?
But Daddy was thinking more along the lines of Hallie and Cap's grandfather being shot by someone who didn't want to be caught committing such a dastardly deed. And he warned the boys they'd need to be careful even in the light of day. "Mr. LeBlanc is insisting we carry on as planned this morning," he told them.
Trixie suddenly wondered if Papa's accident had really been an accident. "Did Papa say if he encountered any alligator thieves?" she cautiously asked her father.
Mr. Belden eyed his gumshoe daughter quizzically. "He said he saw the lights of a suspicious boat and gave chase, Trixie. But Mr. LeBlanc never caught up with it," he confessed.
Trixie could tell by the way Dan was pacing that her friend smelled something fishy. "Mr. LeBlanc leave his rig in town?" he asked.
Mr. Belden nodded. "It's blocking the boat ramp," he explained. "The gentleman wasn't physically capable of securing the boat to his trailer after his fall, so he unhitched the trailer and left both where they sat. But Sam called Ben, and Ben's going to throw on some clothes and run to pick them up before someone discovers them. The last thing Papa needs right now is someone stealing his boat."
"Wouldn't that be some kicker," Jim remarked as he rose to stretch. "But I guess the rest of us gator hunters ought to be getting dressed, too," he added. "That glow on the Bayou isn't the will-o'-the wisp. That's the reflection of the sun coming up, I'm afraid."
Trixie groaned. She'd hardly had a wink of sleep all night. And now it was time to start breakfast! Worse, with Aunt Renee off taking care of Papa, Aunt Liz was down a helper, which meant the girls would need to step up their game a notch.
Of course, for the unforeseeable future, Hallie would be able to help pitch in. But Trixie imagined Miss Sugar-Pops wouldn't be whistling while she worked. That's because Hallie had her heart set on catching Houdini and winning those gator-skin boots. But until Papa was back on his feet, his dark-haired deckhand was out of a job and out of the contest.
And suddenly, Trixie found herself praying for Mr. LeBlanc's speedy recovery. She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to tolerate her long-haired cousin hanging over her shoulder, telling her what to do. Why if things were to stretch on for too long, the folks around Bayou Chevrette might be advised to batten down the hatches. If they thought Tropical Storm Deloris was bad, wait until they got a load of Tropical Storm Trixie colliding with Hurricane Hallie!
Trixie's dark churning clouds followed her to breakfast that morning. Though the day promised to be bright and sunny, and the LeBlancs optimistic that Papa would bounce back quickly - apparently, the man was no stranger to injury – the young lady's grim storm warning remained in effect. She just couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was building on the horizon between her and Hallie.
Not helping matters, Trixie's moronic brother, sensing his sister's heavy mood, was attempting to bring her out of her funk by means of harassment.
"For the last time, Mart Belden, stop calling me Pimple Puss!" the riled girl thundered, setting a sizzling skillet of hash-browns on the table. "As I told you before, they're not zits; their bug bites! The screen in our loft has a hole in it, and mosquitos made a banquet of me last night!"
Mart clicked his tongue and reached for the bowl of scrambled eggs to his right. "It might behoove you to stop your fibbing," he suggested. "The longer your schonozzola, the more evident that blemish on the end of it becomes, Pinocchio. Moreover," he added, as he heaped a spoonful of yellow fluff onto his plate, "The only hole I see is the one in your argument. If your cabin screen is truly in disrepair, why then is the lovely Miss Wheeler not covered in welts? If Moi were an Aedes albopictus, I would be unable to resist one so sweet."
As a blushing Honey placed a glass of milk in front of the crew-cut charmer, Dan chuckled. "If I were you, Honey, I'd go heavy on the bug spray today," he advised.
And Trixie seconded the motion. With Di off in the Poconos, Honey seemed to be on the receiving end of her annoying brother's flattery. Of course, it was completely innocent. Everybody knew Mart was simply full of hot air. Still, if Big Brother had been there? Trixie imagined Brian would have squashed the pest flat for trifling with his favorite girl.
But as Hallie let out a sudden whoop, followed by a drawling, "Are ya messin' with me?!" Trixie forgot all about Mart's minor infringement. This was because the Idaho girl had just thrown her long-tanned arms around Jim's neck!
"The fellas and I agreed it's only right," a reddening Mr. Frayne returned.
As Hallie dropped into the empty spot Jim had been reserving for Trixie, the Sleepyside Miss Belden butted in nervously, "What's only right?"
Accepting the bottle of hot sauce Cap was passing him to spice up his eggs, Jim looked to his male club mates. "The guys I took a vote, Trix," he explained. "Until Mr. LeBlanc is back on his feet, we'll take turns helping you and Honey around the resort so Hallie can go alligator hunting. That way, she won't get behind in the contest, and it'll even out the odds. You don't mind, do you?"
Mind? Trixie was ecstatic! That was awfully nice of the boys – especially of Dan, after, well, you know…
"Heavens, no!" she cried. "I think it's a swell idea!"
"Jeeze, Cuz, do ya have to sound so sad about it?" Hallie scoffed. "Aren't ya gonna miss me?"
"Of course, Trixie and I will miss you," Honey piped up, giving her partner a warning eye. "We're just happy you, Hallie. I, for one, am rooting that you'll win those boots. Aren't you, Trixie?" she added.
Trixie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure," she said. "I much prefer the sound of clomp-clomp, clomp-clomp, over flip-flop, flip-flop."
Mart snickered and gave his sister a jab to the side. "Better watch it," he whispered under his breath. "Papa Bear may be at home in bed, Goldilocks, but Baby Bear's claws are just as sharp. Somehow I doubt that alleged hole in your window screen is large enough to jump through."
But Mart needn't have been concerned about Trixie's welfare. Hallie, growing used to her cousin's snippy remarks, had decided to let the girl's latest one slide. The Idaho young lady was more concerned with gaining her Uncle Zach's stamp of approval on the boys' hunting plan. With the senior Mr. LeBlanc flat on his back, his oldest son was in charge of the camp's operation.
As Hallie descended upon her uncle, seated at the table one over, Trixie wondered if her female cousin might not be jumping the gun. Trixie recalled Papa saying something about Hallie's parents wanting him to look after their daughter personally. Maybe the Idaho Mr. and Mrs. Belden wouldn't want Hallie hunting with one of the other guides, given it was such a dangerous sport?
But when Trixie questioned Cap about it, the young man laughed. "Mom and Dad will let Hal do whatever she wants," he revealed to his cousin's relief. "But just between you and me, Trix?" he added quietly. "The only reason Mom specified that Hallie be Pops deckhand was so my sister could keep an eye on him and report back to her. Uncle Zach seems to think it's time our grandfather retired. He told Mom their father is beginning to show signs that he's losing it upstairs. But Uncle Sam says that's a bunch of hogwash. He claims his brother is only trying to get his hands on the resort and Pop's crown as Lord of the Bayou. Mom doesn't know who to believe. But after Pop's accident last night…."
Trixie gulped. Maybe she hadn't been that far off in thinking Anglers' Landing to be an insane asylum. "Gleeps, that's awful, Cap," she said. "But wasn't your mother concerned about Hallie's safety? I mean, what if it turns out Papa isn't all there?"
The boy with the ponytail shrugged. "Hal can take care of herself," he said.
But Trixie wasn't buying it. She knew Cap and Knut watched out for Hallie and Hallie them. The siblings were tight. Cap had been worried.
But as the young man's sister returned with a big A-OK from Uncle Zach and Jim began sketching out the deckhands' rotating schedule on his napkin, Cap dropped silent to listen up.
"We'll stick to the original plan today," Mr. Frayne was telling his fellow hunters. "Hallie needs to finish showing the girls what needs doing around camp. But tomorrow, I think it's only fitting that Mart be the first of us guys to don the apron."
Trixie's brother put down his fork, which had been in mid-flight, to his mouth. "Why, Moi?" he asked with surprise.
Jim folded his arms and glared at the young man as if he ought to know. "You've already had one chance to haul in Houdini, and you let that big dinosaur slip through your fingers," he explained. "But don't worry, Mart, I intend to take Wednesday. Assuming Papa's not back in action by then," he added, giving Hallie a comforting smile.
"I guess that leaves me with Thursday," Dan said. "Cap, you want to join the lineup?" he asked.
Hallie's eyes brightened at the thought of hunting with Beau, but her brother opted out. "No way," he said. "I'm already down a day with Pops out, and who knows how long it'll take Beau to get his boat fixed." The young Mr. Benoit had yet to secure a new prop for his motor.
"But what if Papa were to agree to let Beau use his boat?" Hallie asked hopefully.
But Cap refused to change his stance, and Trixie figured he was looking out for his sister. "You stick with the more experienced hunters," he told Hallie. "It'll up your chances of winning the contest."
"What do you mean, up her chances of winning?!" Beau whooped. "Keep talking like that, and I'll find myself a new deckhand, Chaplain. Say, Goldilocks, over there. I bet she'd be willing to risk her chances with me. We'd bring in Houdini, wouldn't we, Toots?"
Taken by surprise, Trixie was at a loss for words - but not Jim. "The only thing the two of you would be hauling in is a gator thief," he laughed. "If you want to fill your tags, Beau? Take it from me. Trix isn't your girl. Where Trixie goes, trouble follows."
"Besides," Hallie added, flinging herself into the Cajun boy's lap, "Goldilocks isn't allowed to go huntin'. Her mommy's afraid a nasty ol' gator will eat the itty-bitty baby."
As Beau chuckled, Trixie stormed off to the kitchen with the excuse that the orange juice pitcher needed refilling.
How unfair it was of her mother to keep her daughter grounded at camp! Mart was only eleven months older than Trixie, and Moms was letting him risk life or limb out on the Bayou! If given the opportunity, the Sleepyside girl was just sure she could hook that monster alligator! And Trixie swore she'd fill all her tags and drag in the slippery eel who'd been messing with Papa's lines to boot! Why, folks around here would be christening the curly-haired young lady Princess of the Swamps! Hallie and Jim wouldn't be making fun of Trixie then, oh no!
Grabbing the gallon jug of O.J. out of the fridge, the riled young lady then slammed the door shut with so much force the heavy appliance rocked.
"Feel better?" Honey asked quietly.
Trixie put the container of juice on the counter and sheepishly pushed her straying ringlets behind a pair of red-tipped ears. "Not really," she confessed. Miss Belden then began voicing her frustrations to the young lady who had come to check on her.
And like a good friend, Miss Wheeler listened without interruption. But once Trixie had finished, Honey weighed in.
"I understand how you feel," the pretty girl began. "But you must know, Trixie, my brother, and your cousin only said what they did because Beau's been showing you so much attention. They're both jealous. And while I know their words stung, you should consider yourself lucky. Not every girl has such a caring mother - or a special someone who would rather not see her go off in the company of other boys."
Moving to refill the empty pitcher with pulpy juice, Trixie sighed, releasing the last of her upset. Honey was right. Hallie didn't have those things. But what Trixie failed to realize was that her best friend had been referring to herself.
After breakfast, once the great hunters had departed, Trixie and Honey scrambled off for cabin two. There, they would tidy up and collect the boys' and Mr. Belden's dirty laundry from the previous day. Hallie, meanwhile, had ditched the pair, leaving them to tend to cabin one, as well.
The Idaho girl had instead insisted on running to Papa's to collect the morning's eggs - which had actually suited Honey just fine. Miss Wheeler hadn't been looking forward to saying good morning to Chip-Tooth Chucky. Besides, Honey knew Hallie was anxious to check in on her mother and grandfather and see if they might need anything from the pharmacy in town.
As of now, the girls' trip to Saint Estelle was still on. But rather than bike in, if the young ladies hurried with their chores, they could catch a ride with Beau and Cap. The two boys were heading that way, hoping to locate a prop. And Aunt Liz, who'd be taking off work until Papa was better, had insisted she could hold down the fort single-handedly. "I've been doing it for years now," she'd laughed.
And so it was arranged, at nine o'clock sharp, the three girls were to meet up with Beau and Cap in front of the carport. The day was starting off to be another scorcher. And Trixie didn't want to miss their ride. If the young ladies were to try peddling into town, Miss Belden was certain she'd melt away before they arrived.
"Boy, am I ever glad the LeBlanc family does their own housekeeping!" Trixie told her friend as they entered cabin two. "If we don't hustle our bustles, Honey, Beau will leave without us." The cottage didn't look much bigger than the girls' from the outside, but inside, it boasted two small suites, each with a bathroom.
Only Honey grinned as she milled about assessing the tasks at hand. The cabin was in fairly ship-shape condition. Mr. Belden and the boys had considerately made their beds. But the showers did need wiping down, and the towel racks refilled. "We'll be done here before you know it," Miss Wheeler said assuredly. "Besides, I have a feeling Beau's not going anywhere without you, Trixie."
Trixie grumbled but didn't comment. Instead, she attempted to change the subject. "Is it just me, or does something smell funky in here?" she asked.
As Honey began sweeping out the entryway she couldn't keep from giggling. "Unless you smell like a New England fish market, I don't think it's just you, Trixie," she teased.
Grabbing the toss pillow off the chair next to the window, the curly-haired girl hurled it at her smirking friend. "That's not what I meant, Honey Wheeler, and you know it!" she laughed.
Honey grinned and returned the fluffy missile to its nesting place. "Oh, I know," she admitted, returning to her sweeping. "I just couldn't resist. But you are right, Trixie. Something in the cottage does smell terribly ripe. Do you think it's the clothes the boys were wearing when they went hunting yesterday? Jim told me he planned to leave his dirty laundry bag hanging on the back of the bathroom door."
Trixie took a double sniff of the air around her and then wrinkled her bug-bitten nose. "No, the stink is definitely coming from the kitchen," she declared. "Dollars to donuts, the recyclables need to be taken out."
And sure enough, the teenage bloodhound was correct in her deduction. In the rectangular tote next to the tall kitchen trash can, Trixie found a putrid potpourri of unrinsed seafood food tins. There was an empty can stamped "sardines", another labeled "clam chowder", and yet another marked "tuna." The male members of the B.W.G.s had apparently had one doozy of a midnight snack - especially given there was an empty hot sauce bottle amongst the assortment!
"Not to be funny, but holy mackerel!" Trixie exclaimed as she rummaged through the stomach-turning mess. "Sometimes I just don't get boys, Honey. Can you believe they actually ate this stuff?"
Honey came over to inspect the bin but pinched her nose and took two steps back. "No," she replied emphatically. "Especially after that huge dinner, we had last night, Trixie. Those tins must be left over from the cabin's last occupants."
Miss Belden, who'd gone to the kitchen sink to wash her hands, was tempted to agree. That is until she noticed a large mixing bowl and spoon, coated with a chunky pinkish slime, sitting on the countertop. As unlikely as it seemed, whoever had put the cans and bottle into the recycle bin, had first emptied their contents into the bowl and given them a stir.
Letting Honey in on this stomach-turning tidbit, the two girls agreed that the boys must have been horsing around. "My guess is Mart was carrying on about being hungry, and either your brother or Dan decided to whip up a little something which would seal his lips permanently," Trixie announced as she began filling the bowl with hot soapy water. "With all that hot-sauce, the gunky porridge had to have been toxic, Honey. I know Goldilocks would have found it too hot for human consumption, anyway."
Honey giggled and noted that the combo must have also been pretty nauseating. "Poor Mart," she finished with a sigh. "It's a wonder he wasn't sicker than a dog this morning."
"Poor Mart, my foot," Trixie harrumphed. "I have a hunch he's planning his revenge, Hon. Before the big goof left to go gator hunting today, he handed me a ten-dollar bill and asked me to pick up clam juice and neon pink food coloring while we're in town. Mart said I could keep the change if I didn't ask questions."
"Neon pink food coloring?" Honey repeated quizzically.
Trixie shrugged as she turned off the tap. "Hey, as long as I make a couple of bucks off the deal, I don't care if the crazy clown uses the stuff as rouge," she admitted. "But I tell you one thing, Honey. If the boys think we'll clean up another stinky mess like this one, they've got another thing coming."
Leaving the bowl in the sink to soak, the irritated girl announced she was going to make a run to the dumpsters. "The sooner I get the recyclables out of here, the better," she said.
Honey, in full agreement, suggested that her friend take the trash with her. "The kitchen can isn't quite full," the young lady admitted, peeking inside. "But I think it'll be close once you empty the bathroom wastebaskets into it, Trixie."
Concurring, Miss Belden then dashed for the bathroom, which Jim and Dan were sharing. But as she snagged the plastic can from beside the vanity, something inside it caught her eye. "Honey, drop what you're doing and come quick!" the startled girl cried.
As Honey flew into the cramped room, not knowing what she'd find, Trixie held out a small wooden horse. "Oh Honey, look, she breath. "It's Spartan. He was peeking out at me from under the tissues and cotton swabs in the wastebasket. How could Dan have thrown him away?!"
Honey gasped as she reached for the lovely carving. "Oh, Trixie, I don't know," she breathed. "Why, he's perfectly perfect! Dan even captured how Spartan holds his head and raises his forelimb when he's in mid-prance. Anyone familiar with Spartan would know it's him. I wonder if Dan would carve one of Strawberry for me if I were to ask?" Strawberry was Honey's favorite of her family's fine horses.
"Oh, but Honey, you don't dare ask!" Trixie wailed, snatching the carving away. "We're not supposed to know that Dan's taken up whittling. The only reason we do is because I was listening in on him and Hallie."
"You're not suggesting we toss Spartan out with the garbage?!" Miss Wheeler cried with horror.
"Heavens, no!" Trixie replied, turning off the bathroom light. "Miss Sugar- Pops and Dan may not want this little treasure, but I sure enough do. I'm going to take Spartan home with me, Honey. He'll look real swell standing on my nightstand next to my picture of the Bob-Whites."
At five to nine, the two Sleepyside girls found Hallie sitting on the hood of Aunt Liz's sedan under the carport, touching up her toenail polish.
"Been waiting long?" Trixie asked her cousin with a frown.
Hallie shrugged and checked her watch. "About twenty minutes," she replied. "Git everythin' done?"
Beau and Cap had yet to arrive, and the New York Miss Belden bristled. "Pretty much," Trixie returned. "You know, Hallie, if you had time to kill, you could have lent Honey and me a hand. What's the matter? Didn't you miss us?" she added dryly.
Rather than reply, Hallie simply grimaced and went back to her paint job.
Since breakfast, the two cousins had hardly spoken. And when they had, they'd been short with each other. The tension between the two was beginning to make Honey uncomfortable. "So, how's your grandfather doing?" she asked Hallie.
Finishing her manicure, the dark-haired young lady recapped the bottle of sparkly blue lacquer and tossed it into her shoulder bag. "OK, I guess," she replied. "He seems to be in a lot of pain and is crosser than a grizzly with a sore head, though. Mom thinks Papa ought to have gone to the hospital. Of course, he's insistin' there isn't anything wrong with him that a couple of aspirin can't cure."
Trixie and Honey shared a smile. Mr. LeBlanc sounded like he was being a difficult patient. And Miss Wheeler suggested that when the girls returned from town, maybe they sit with Papa for a bit while the laundry tumbled. "I imagine your mother would welcome a break," she noted to Hallie.
The tall girl agreed, but her reply was drowned out by the rev of Beau's souped-up truck engine. The Louisiana boy and his pony-tailed deckhand had been up at the boathouse, loading Beau's aluminum skiff. If they could fix the boat's off-board motor in time, the two young men hoped to get in a few hours of hunting before the sun went down.
But as the red truck came flying the girls' way, Hallie jumped off the hood of Aunt Liz's car and let out a whoop. Beau was showing off. And as he slammed on the truck's brakes, the vehicle did a one-eighty before sliding to a stop in the gravel in front of the carport.
"Ladies, your chariot awaits!" Beau cried, hanging his head out the driver's side window.
As Cap hopped out of the passenger side, Hallie hurried to slip in next to her sun-glassed dreamboat.
"Honey, why don't you ride in the cab next to my sister," the Idaho boy politely offered. "Trix, you don't mind climbing in back with me, do you?"
Trixie eagerly eyed the two bucket seats bolted to the bed of the young man's pickup. They were upholstered in water-resistant vinyl and looked like something out of a space capsule. The beaming girl had seen pictures of trucks with similar jump seats in Brian's motor magazines. And Trixie thought again that her big brother had missed out by not coming on the trip. He would have liked seeing the modifications Mr. Benoit had made to his vehicle. Brian would also have enjoyed discussing the work he'd done on his old jalopy with the young mechanic.
"Gleeps, no!" the blue-eyed girl cried in reply to her cousin's question. "It'll be exciting, riding in back!"
That's when Trixie realized Beau was watching her in his side view mirror. He had a big grin and seemed to be getting a kick out of the young lady's enthusiasm. "Stick with me, and you'll find the excitement never ends, Goldilocks," he called out to her.
Trixie laughed as Cap opened the tailgate, and she hoisted herself into the bed. The Sleepyside girl was beginning to think Beau was right. However, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
The ride into town was proving to be as thrilling as Trixie had hoped!
Mr. Benoit was taking the "scenic" route, which had the teenagers traveling along an old dirt road that twisted through the swamps – though the curly-haired Miss Belden would have hardly classified the narrow path a road. With the recent rains, the rural thruway might as well have been part of the wetlands.
In fact, Beau had already had to slow down twice, and creep through flooded areas, which would have had a driver with a less equipped vehicle turning back around. But the old pickup's lift and oversized tires had so far cleared the high water with ease.
It helped that the Cajun boy was proving to be quite skilled behind the wheel. And as he maneuvered over and around the assorted potholes and downed tree limbs, which were in young people's path, Trixie admitted to Cap that she was rather impressed.
Miss Belden had half expected her hot-dog charioteer to fly carelessly down the road. But her cousin had pointed out that Beau couldn't afford another costly repair, further jeopardizing his gator season. Besides, truck realignments and parts didn't come cheap.
Still, Beau seemed to be full of surprises. And the more Trixie tried to dislike the brash young man, the more she admired him. And that bothered the young lady. Somehow, it didn't make sense?
But as Mr. Benoit laid on the horn and pumped the brakes, Trixie was literally jolted out of her uncomfortable musings. Something had dashed across the road in front of the teens. And as the startled girl wrestled with her shoulder harness to get a look-see, she caught a glimpse of the tail end of the large furry creature disappearing into the lush undergrowth.
"Was that a pig?!" Trixie shouted with disbelief.
"Yeah, I guess you could call it that," her laid-back cousin returned. "This area is full of wild hogs, Trix. The species is invasive and destroys a lot of Louisiana's natural habitat. You see, a single sow can have over one-hundred piglets in her lifetime, and the hogs can thrive in almost any environment. As a result, you can hunt them year-round. In fact, if we weren't passing through enemy territory, we'd likely be taking on another passenger and having bacon for breakfast."
Trixie gulped. Cap had been implying that Beau would have shot the animal. "What do you mean by 'enemy territory'?" she nervously asked.
Cap cracked a one-sided smile as the truck went over a rock and came back down with a thump. "When we crossed the bridge back there, we entered Foret country, Trix. The family owns most of the land on both sides of the road. Bernie's tract runs along the eastern edge of it, and he and old man Foret aren't the best of neighbors. Mr. Foret's warned Beau a number of times not to hunt on his property."
Trixie nodded. She had noticed there seemed to be an unusual number of "no trespassing" signs nailed to the trees along the route. The Forets certainly didn't seem like the friendliest of sorts.
But then, unexpectedly, Beau again laid on the horn, only this time, as he did, he brought the pickup to a complete stop. As a pair of flesh-headed Turkey Vultures took wing above her, Miss Belden heard the front driver's side door open. A moment later, Mr. Benoit came around the side of the truck and flung a pair of leather work gloves at Cap.
"Get a move on Pony-Boy," he said. "We've got a dead boar blocking the road. It's going to take the two of us to drag it aside."
Trixie unbuckled, preparing to assist the young men. But Beau ordered her to stay put. "It's not the kind of thing a pretty girl should be messing with," he said seriously. "Wild hogs can carry diseases, Goldilocks. You have to know how to handle them."
Miss Belden didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Did Beau really think she was pretty? Still, Trixie wasn't the type to be told what to do. So taking to her feet, she began exiting the bed, using the tire as a step. "I promise I won't touch it," she told Beau, climbing down. "I've never seen a wild boar close up and personal before."
Only the muscular boy wasn't in the mood for games. "And you never will if I have any say in it," he grumbled. Beau then physically picked up the uncooperative young lady girl and hoisted her back in the truck. "Now sit down and don't go anywhere," he told her. "Cap and I will be back in a jiff."
Trixie sniffed defiantly, but she did retake her seat. In some ways, Beau reminded her a lot of Jim.
Cap returned a few minutes later. But he wasn't talking. And Trixie's gut told her that her cousin had witnessed something upsetting – something he hadn't liked. Chaplain Belden was the sensitive kind.
"Was the boar hit by a car?" she asked quietly.
The Idaho boy stared down at his moccasins. He was avoiding looking Trixie in the eye. "No," he returned softy. "A coyote got a hold of it. The carnage was pretty gruesome. It was a huge boar. It had to weigh close to two-hundred pounds."
Trixie gasped. That was a large beast! Especially considering it had been taken down by an animal smaller than her family's Irish Setter, Reddy. "Wouldn't it take a pack of coyotes to kill something of that size?" she asked. "I did hear a coyote off in the distance last night after dinner. Only its howl sounded like it came from somewhere closer to Papa's."
Cap fiddled with the lanyard tying back his hair. He seemed hesitant to reply. "I only saw one set of prints in the mud, Trix," he returned.
The dubious detective wished she could have seen the prints with her own two eyes. But thanks to Beau Benoit, Trixie had missed her chance. But then it occurred to her that Honey could have gotten a glimpse of them out the front windshield.
Only Trixie knew; even if Honey had seen the tracks, her friend probably wouldn't have been able to identify what kind of animal had left them- let alone their number.
That was Cap and Jim's specialty. And since Jim wasn't available to back Cap up, Miss Belden decided she'd have to rely on her cousin's opinion. Still, a nagging voice in her head told Trixie that the young outdoors-man was being less than straight with her - or at least holding something back. And the frustrated girl made a mental note to ask Jim at dinner if a single coyote could have taken down a wild hog of that size.
Reaching town, Beau pulled into the first empty spot in front of the local hardware store. "All ashore, who are going ashore," he called through the cab's rear sliding window.
The Cajun boy didn't move to feed the expired parking meter. He and Cap wouldn't be going into the shop. They were only dropping the girls off so they could pick up a coffee pot. The young men had their own errands to run. To save time and allow the young ladies the opportunity to do some sightseeing, the teenagers had agreed to split up.
But as Trixie stood and stretched, and Cap jumped down to climb in front, Miss Belden decided Saint Estelle could have been any other small, sun-baked town. That didn't mean it didn't have its southern charms. The two-story downtown storefronts, with their flowered balconies, were as lovely as they were in enticing. But the sighing girl found herself feeling rather disappointed that the teenager's four-wheel-drive adventure was over.
True, traveling down the back roads in the pickup bed had been like riding in a steam pot. But boy, had it been fun! And Trixie could hardly care less that she looked a bit like a windblown lobster as she crawled out of the truck's rear.
In fact, if the Sleepyside girl were honest, she could hardly wait for the return trip to Anglers' Landing. Only this time, she'd try to convince Honey to sit in the bed with her. Cap could ride shotgun with his sister and Beau. Not only would this allow the girls some private time to talk, but Honey shouldn't miss out on the experience. It was bad enough that Jim, Dan, and her brother had. They would have enjoyed the wild ride too.
But que sera sera, as Mart always said. The male members of the Bob-Whites got to go alligator hunting, and the girls didn't. So, in the end, things seemed to even out. Life was good that way.
"Be sure to keep your cell phone on," Beau was warning Hallie as Trixie rounded the side of the vehicle. "When we're done at the cemetery, I'll give you a call, Sugar-Pops. We'll plan to meet up at Mom's cafe."
"The cemetery?" Honey inquired, wrinkling her brow. "Are you paying your respects to someone, Beau?" The pretty girl was standing next to Mr. Benoit's rolled-down window with Trixie's cousin.
Lowering his mirrored shades, the handsome boy gave the naïve young lady a wink. "Pony-Boy and I have some grave robbing to do, Sweet-Thing," he said.
That's when Cap gave his pal a shove and leaned over to explain that "The Cemetery" was what the locals called the junkyard. "If we're lucky, we'll find a used prop there," he said.
"If not, we'll head over to Peres Marine, where I'll have to pay through the teeth for one," Beau grunted. "So keep your fingers crossed, ladies. Hopefully, this young Frankenstein will find the parts he needs among the remains of others' tragic losses."
Hallie lifted one of her long legs, displaying her sparkly flip-flopped piggies. "Fingers and toes both crossed," she chuckled.
And Trixie grimaced. Sometimes her shameless cousin went too far. Only that's when Hallie went even further, and the New York Miss Belden gasped.
Miss Sugar-Pops had just kissed Beau goodbye! And it was a real, honest-to-goodness smacker. That's right, right on the lips. And Mr. Benoit had returned the girl's smooch with gusto.
"That's for luck, too," Hallie drawled as she playfully pulled away.
Honey, whose hazel eyes had reached their popping point, glanced at her best friend with a look of disbelief. The public display had left the Sleepyside young ladies at a loss for words and feeling mighty uncomfortable. And in Trixie's case, anyway, almost as nauseous as Uncle Harold when he'd gotten a whiff of beef melt!
Well, that, or maybe, Trixie was experiencing a wee bit of envy.