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Authors: Cynthia Hickey

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BOOK: Candy-Coated Secrets
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Aunt Eunice’s angry voice rose above the mob of onlookers. Mabel and Ruby stood in front of her. All three women’s faces resembled prize-winning tomatoes in color. Ethan shouldered his way through the crowd. I followed in his wake.

My aunt shouted—her face inches from Mabel’s. “You stole them. I want them back.”

“I didn’t take anything!” Mabel put her hands on her hips to imitate Aunt Eunice. “I just got here.”

“Then Ruby took them. One of you did. You knew I’d win.”

“Excuse me?” Ruby joined the melee. The other two women’s plump frames dwarfed her skinny one. “How dare you accuse me—”

Uncle Roy squeezed his bulk between the women. “Ladies, settle down. You’re creating a spectacle.”

All three women turned on him.

“We don’t care if we’re causing a spectacle or not.” Aunt Eunice narrowed her eyes. “Just chalk it up to another sideshow at the fair. Look at the old biddies making a fuss.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mabel grumbled. “Old, my foot.”

“Aunt Eunice.” I squeezed my way into the booth. “What exactly is missing?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “My pickles.”

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

I hardly have the heart to go to church this morning.” Aunt Eunice plopped into a kitchen chair. Her head fell forward onto folded arms. “Why would someone steal my pickles?”

I wondered the same thing and patted her shoulder before I shuffled to the coffeepot. Even though I’d have my usual frappuccino from the coffee bar at church, I still needed some right now. I couldn’t wake up in the mornings without caffeine. Maybe I should switch to cola.

I filled my mug and an aromatic fragrance wafted up with the steam. Closing my eyes in bliss, I sipped before speaking. “Do you really think Mabel or Ruby would sabotage you by stealing your entry?”

“No,” she groaned. “And I’ll have to apologize. I was upset.”

“Do you want some toast?” I popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster.

My aunt and uncle had been my primary caregivers since I was five—taking care of every tear or scraped knee, and there were lots of them. I tried drumming up some sympathy, honestly, but seven o’clock on a Sunday morning left the well dry.

Aunt Eunice waved off the offer. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”

The toaster dinged, and I buttered my slices then slathered them with homemade muscadine jelly.

Aunt Eunice bolted from her chair and disappeared into the pantry. “Good thing I set aside a couple jars of pickles for our personal use.”

The toast stuck in my throat. I shook my head. “Extras? Then why all the fuss?”

“I felt violated.” She emerged with a jar held high. “And your uncle loves my bread-and-butter pickles. He’ll be devastated I wasn’t able to set much away for us.”

“How many jars did you make?”

“A dozen.”

Even I could do the math. One lost jar at the fair and one replacement jar still left ten jars. Plenty for my rotund uncle. Things were always one extreme to the next with my aunt.

She set the jar precisely in the center of the table on a homemade doily. “Ain’t it pretty?”

“It’s a jar of pickles.” Aunt Eunice’s face fell. Now I’d hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not a morning person. They’re beautiful.”

“Hmmph. That’s no reason to be rude.” She gathered her baby in her arms and stomped from the room.

Aunt Eunice wasn’t the only one who needed to apologize to someone. With a deep sigh, I followed her outside, grabbing my purse and Bible on the way.

She sat behind the wheel of her truck, a smug grin on her face. “I’m driving. Your uncle will meet us there.”

We entered the church foyer, and I turned toward the coffee bar. Aunt Eunice went to find her friends. I ordered my usual and plopped into the nearest wrought iron chair and café table to indulge in my favorite pastime. Watching people.

Things were more colorful this morning. A handful of the carnies were in attendance, either because they were believers or because they were trying to relieve their boredom. Some arrived in colorful costumes, some dressed like ordinary folk, and others came in their everyday dirt and body odor. They kept to themselves, apparently used to being shunned, even by churchgoers. A group of women actually shrank back when the group passed, stopping a few feet from me. My heart clinched.

As is my norm, I acted impulsively and stepped to the coffee bar. “Frappuccinos for all my carnie friends.”

Smiles widened their faces, while incredulous looks replaced the revulsion on some of the parishioners. Soon the coffee bar became a party. Worship music piped through the speakers, and when Ethan finished greeting our fellow arrivals, I introduced him to my friends. My heart swelled with pride as he shook every hand and clapped every man on the back no matter how strongly they smelled.

Washington engulfed Ethan in a hug. “You got yore self a fine woman there, Mister Ethan. A fine woman.”

Ethan winked at me. “Yes, I do.” He excused himself and made his way to my side. “How are you going to pay for all these drinks?”

“I have no idea.” Nor did I care. The smiles on the people’s faces made the cost worth every penny.

“I’ll help.” Ethan pulled me close for a hug. “You are a priceless treasure, Summer Meadows.”

 

From my seat in the bleachers, I whooped and hollered when Ethan charged past on his horse. The participants lined up in the middle of the rodeo ring. He sat a head taller than the majority. My heart swelled. The sun highlighted Ethan’s golden curls like a halo as he waved his hat. He looked so beautiful, I wanted to cry. My cowboy/bronc-riding angel.

The spectators roared as each town member’s name rang over the loudspeaker. Some booed with the announcement of participants from neighboring towns and cities. The stands were full. A person couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement.

Rodeo clowns goofed around as the cowboys rode in a circle. One actually had a lasso that he tried roping the riders with.

Aunt Eunice plopped next to me with a huff. “Got my pickles ready.”

“She wouldn’t rest until another jar sat on the judge’s table.” Uncle Roy sat down and removed his baseball cap. He pulled a red and white bandanna from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Since everyone heard the ruckus she made in regards to her pickles disappearing, they let her reenter, late as it is. Judging’s this afternoon. Right after the rodeo.”

“I’m so glad for you, Aunt Eunice.” I gave her a one-armed hug and let my gaze travel the dirt track around the ring. Eddy Foreman and his father stood beside the announcer’s box, along with Miss Curvy Platinum Blonde. I was glad Foreman had transferred his attention to someone more receptive.

Big Sally sat at the bottom of the bleachers, her tiny boyfriend next to her. Washington Bean and several of the other carnies who’d visited church leaned against the wooden rodeo railing. Most of them noticed me sitting above them and waved.

“That was a good thing you did this morning,” Uncle Roy said, patting my knee. “The pastor used it in his sermon. Your good deed got incorporated into the lesson he wanted to teach. He taught on compassion and loving our brother.”

“I was ashamed, Uncle Roy. When I witnessed some women shrink back in distaste, it hurt. I’ve been guilty of that myself. Plenty of times.”

A roar rose from the crowd. Ethan’s student was the first to burst into the ring, giving the best time in the calf roping contest. I cringed as he leaped from his horse, threw the calf to the ground, and wrapped the rope around its legs. Fully aware the act didn’t hurt the animal, it still looked as if it did, and sometimes the calf ’s bawling tugged at my heart.

The next competition was barrel racing. I wasn’t familiar with any of the contestants, and my attention wandered. Catching a glimpse of the Ferris wheel out of the corner of my eye, I shivered and made a vow never to ride on one again.

Aunt Eunice leaned over and whispered in my ear. “We ought to be out snooping until it’s time for Ethan to ride.”

“Snoop for what? We don’t know anything.”

“That’s my point. We ought to talk to the owner of that hog, for one. Find out what set her off.”

Chills ran down my spine. “No, thanks.”

“And we ought to look around for a gorilla costume. Find the costume, find the culprit.”

The people in the stands groaned as a rider fell from her horse, then cheered when she got to her feet. I frowned at my aunt. “We can’t go into people’s trailers.”
Can we?
I’d been contemplating the same thing. Itching to get to the bottom of things. How far could we go in our investigating before we stepped outside the boundaries of the law?

“I don’t see why not. We aren’t going to take anything.”

“Uncle Roy, talk some sense into her, won’t you?”

He shook his head. “Won’t do any good. She’s a hard-headed woman.”

Good grief. “I’m not going anywhere until the rodeo is over.”

Aunt Eunice folded her arms. “I don’t think you’re serious about solving this. After the rodeo is the pickle judging. I won’t be available to help you then.” She dug into her purse. “Here’s a new book for you. Since you’re so all-fire set on reading them.”

“Thanks.” I turned the small book over.
A Layman’s Guide to Spying
. Wonderful. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already bought a book on that subject. After making sure no one watched me, I slipped the book into the denim backpack next to my feet. Well, I did say I wanted a sidekick. It seemed like Aunt Eunice would be an active and willing participant.

I squirmed on the hard wooden bleacher. April leaned against the split-rail fence surrounding the arena and talked to Joe. The entire fairgrounds stretched in front of me, beckoning, and I had no idea where to start looking for answers. Questioning everyone of the appropriate size of my gorilla friend would take days. What did my investigating book advise? Interview prospective suspects. I agreed with my aunt. Time to pound the dirt-packed surface of the midway and ask questions.

The announcer called Ethan’s name. I straightened, my eyes fixated on the gate. I gasped along with everyone else when Ethan’s mount, a coal black mustang by the name of Diablo, burst into the ring, Ethan on his back. A demon from hell with an angel riding its back. My heart pounded with excitement.

The horse locked his forelegs and bucked, landing with bone-jarring thuds to the ground. Dust hovered knee-deep around him and his rider. Back stiff and arm waving, Ethan stuck tight, and the crowd rose to their feet with a roar when they announced Ethan’s time. Eight point three seconds. It would be hard for anyone to beat him.

My hands hurt from clapping. Uncle Roy gave a redneck yell and tears poured down Aunt Eunice’s cheeks. Ethan jumped from Diablo’s back, banged the dust off his jeans with his cowboy hat, and bowed to the crowd.

The sound of gunfire split the air.

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

My heart stopped. Ethan dove for the ground. Diablo fell to his knees, then rolled onto his side. The horse struggled to regain his footing, only to collapse. The stands erupted in a volcano of noise. Fear as thick as the dust surrounding the rodeo ring clogged my throat.

Screams, yells, curses, and stomping feet swept over me as spectators jostled their way out of the stands. Like freshly beheaded chickens, people darted in each direction. Uncle Roy pulled a fallen woman to her feet and steered her away from us. Another lady cried for her baby.

I stood on the seat and craned to see Ethan. Uncle Roy moved to stand behind me and Aunt Eunice, his strong arms wrapped around both of us. Aunt Eunice slid to her knees.

“Get down, Summer.”

“I’ve got to get to Ethan.” I pushed against my uncle. “Let go of me.”

Uncle Roy lifted me off my feet. “Not until the crowd disappears. Please, sweetie. At least duck out of sight. The shooter is still out there.”

Tears blurred my vision as my uncle shoved me to the floor of the bleachers. From my peripheral vision, I made out Joe, sprinting, weapon in hand, to the rodeo ring. Another officer headed in the opposite direction, presumably from where the shot originated.

When Joe helped Ethan to his feet, I bolted from beneath the protective covering of my uncle’s arms, thundered down the steps of the bleachers, then burst into the rodeo ring. “Ethan!”

I hurled myself into his arms. “Are you all right? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No. I’m fine. I heard the report and dove. Diablo doesn’t appear to be as lucky.”

The horse whinnied. The whites of his eyes showed. Scarlet stained the dirt beneath him.

I hid my face in Ethan’s chest, reveling in the feel of his heartbeat. Breathing in the scent of dust and perspiration.
Thank You, God. I’ll never take another one of Ethan’s breaths for granted.

His arms tightened around me as he pulled me behind the protection of the announcer’s stand. He cupped his hands around my face. “When I heard that gun, I thought this is the day. This is when I lose my Summer.” Tears welled in his eyes.

BOOK: Candy-Coated Secrets
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