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Authors: Madison Johns

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BOOK: 1 Target of Death
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Chapter Twelve

When team members began gathering together
with their bows, I knew it was about time. I retrieved my bow, too, trying to
get into the right mindset. An announcement came through a loudspeaker, calling
everyone to meet in the beer tent, where instructions would be given.

“That’s my cue to head on out now,” I said.

Dixie rubbed my back. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, just trying to prepare myself.”

“Don’t worry, you got this.”

“While I’m gone, it might be good idea to
call the sheriff and find out if he arrested Troy and Cindy. I wonder if they
had an alibi for the day Clayton was murdered. I can’t shake the feeling that
they might not be responsible for Clayton and Marilyn’s murder.”

“Now is not the time to be worrying about
anything but the competition,” Dixie said.

But I just couldn’t shake the feeling that
something wasn’t right, not right by a long shot. I had a strong sense of
foreboding, which was not unfamiliar to me. I’ve always had strong female
intuition, and it’s always proven to be dead on. I tried to shake it off now. I
had to. Perhaps the sheriff was right about Troy killing Clayton, but how
exactly did it tie into Marilyn’s murder? If Troy was really guilty, then why
does my stomach feel like it’s being squeezed in a vise-like grip? Why, even my
heart thudded against my chest.
Chill out,
Sassy, you’re losing it!
I forced myself to take some deep, even breaths.

Dixie walked with me to the beer tent and
we parted ways when I met up with Daniel. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Don’t
worry. I’ll try not to beat you too badly.”

I smiled, but barely. I followed him into
the tent, where a woman stood on a large crate, cradling a microphone in her
hands. It was Nancy, the same woman who ran the chili cook-off. Why, even
Milton Pabis was here, the man she had let win. I could smell a conspiracy with
that deal.

“Attention, gentlemen, and a few of you
ladies,” she said when she looked at me. “At least I think some of you are
ladies. It’s so hard to tell when you girls are dressed just like the men.”

That earned laughter from the men, and a
dirty look from me. Those jokes were getting tiresome, since I’ve heard them
just about my whole dang life at tournaments.

“Regardless of gender, you’ll shoot from
the same marks as the men. Thanks to a generous donation from Jacob’s Hunting
Store, we have two bonus targets set up in the clearing that’s nearest Lake
Summers. Those are each worth five hundred dollars. One is a bionic pig and the
other is on a zip line. Of course, if more than one person scores a ten on the
targets, we’ll put their names in a drawing for the winners. Also, while these
targets are optional, anyone who tries and scores a ten will receive an
additional ten points on their scorecard.”

“That’s not fair,” one man said.

“You might feel that way, but that’s what’s
been decided on by the committee. Have fun out there, but let’s all act like
adults and play fair.”

The crowd began to make noise, with many of
the men boasting about how they could hit that bionic pig without a problem.
Maps were handed out and I glanced at mine. Wow, they had fifteen targets set
up. With that many, there might be room for error and I could still come out ahead.

The crowd disappeared and headed down to
the bonus targets. With additional points on the line, everyone would be trying
for sure.

Daniel smiled. “Have you ever shot at a
bionic pig before?”

“How about you?”

“I asked first.”

“Yes, I’ve hit a few. The zip line sure
sounds challenging, though. But I just love a challenge.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

I shrugged. We stayed in the back of the
line and I smiled every time I heard the ping of an arrow hitting the metal of
the bionic pig target, thus messing up the arrow instead of hitting the target
dead center.

When it was our turn, Daniel said, “Ladies
first.”

“Not on your life. Didn’t Nancy just say
there weren’t any accommodations for women at this competition?”

“If I hit a ten, you have to kiss me,” he
hinted.

“How about if I kick you where it counts?”

He smiled. “Oh, you’re no fun.” He took his
mark, pulled back and sunk his arrow dead in the center. He retrieved his arrow
and returned with a raised brow. “Your turn, but I’m betting you’ll miss.”

I kept silent as I took an arrow from my
quiver, and took my mark, aimed and slam ... my arrow also hit the center.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be a betting man. That one would have cost you.”

When it was our turn at the zip line, we
heard grumbling as only one person hit it, a burly man by the name of Bear. Then
it was our turn. Daniel went first; his brow furrowed as he hit it. Applause
followed as Daniel was slapped on his back like the men like to do to
congratulate one another.

When it was my turn, the men laughed until
I glared at them. I shucked off my jacket, pulled back, arched, and let go. I
stared as my arrow shot into the air just as the zip line target whizzed by and
I sunk the shot. Instead of cheers this time, the men stood there with jaws
slacked open.

“What’s the matter, boys? Haven’t you ever
been beaten by a woman before?” I didn’t mean to gloat, but I hated the
attitude of these men. Why did they insist on treating me like I’m not capable
of winning an archery tournament, just because I’m a female? I donned my jacket
again as a chill rippled through my body.

Our group consisted of three men, including
two of Clayton Percy’s friends, Marty Novak and Barry Haskel.

While we were on the trail, I asked Marty,
“Do you have an alibi for the night Marilyn Percy was murdered?”

“You saw us at the bar that night,
remember?”

“I guess that all depends on when she
really died. Neither of you seemed to care for Marilyn all that much.”

“No, I never said that. I said that she
didn’t much care for us.”

“Same difference.”

“Not really,” Daniel said.

“Why would we want to kill her, anyway?”
Marty asked with a shrug.

“Because you found out Clayton had cash
that he kept at home.”

“You think too much, woman, and from what I
heard, you’re related to Madame LaLaurie.”

“Who is that?” Barry asked, as he belched.

“She’s that serial killer who tortured her
slaves back in New Orleans in the 1830s.”

“What if she is related?” Daniel asked.
“What does that have to do with her asking you a few questions?”

“It doesn’t, but I heard the sheriff has
been checking into her background ever since she came to Bear Paw.”

“Who told you that?” I asked. “Because you
sure never mentioned that the other night at the bar.”

“That’s because Nancy didn’t tell me until
today. She works in the sheriff’s department.”

“I know, but I don’t know why she’d be
telling you anything like that. She could get into trouble for sharing that information
if the sheriff finds out.”

“Who’s gonna tell him?” Marty said.

“I will, first chance I get. I’ll be damned
if I’ll let my good name be dragged into the mud. Madame LaLaurie wasn’t like
she was portrayed, or she wasn’t as bad as they say. It was more a matter of
yellow journalism.”

That earned me strange looks from all the
men, including the one who tagged along with us to make sure that the score was
kept correctly so there wouldn’t be any cheating. Luckily just then we made it
down the pathway to the first target, which was tagged with a number one: a
Styrofoam pig.

Marty went first and barely hit the target,
earning him a five. He swore up a storm and Barry laughed; that was, until he
took his turn and missed the target completely. Daniel easily scored a ten, but
by the time it was my turn, I was so rattled about them knowing I was related
to Madame LaLaurie that I only scored an eight.

“Damn,” I muttered.

Instead of Daniel saying something smug, he
moved back up the trail that led to the next target, like he actually
understood that I was nerved up.

Number two was a Styrofoam cow. I went
first and scored a ten, as did Daniel, but both Barry and Marty didn’t do well
again. I might not really know either of those men, but it was apparent that
they had been drinking as they both stumbled along the path.

We made it to a checkpoint where a table
was set up with hot beverages. I took a hot chocolate, warming my hands with
it.

“You’re doing great,” Daniel said. “It’s
too bad you scored that eight back there, but with any luck, you’ll be able to
make it up.”

“Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t let Marty get to you. You
might have noticed already that he’s a loud-mouth.”

“That’s quite clear. I don’t talk about my
family. Madame LaLaurie is my family’s dark history that we seldom speak
about.”

“I understand. I have an uncle that is in
prison for murder. Nothing too elaborate, really. He just got too drunk one
night and killed his best friend.”

“How awful. How has your family coped?”

“We don’t talk about it. I guess it’s
easier that way. Drinking and poor decisions are common. You might not know
this, but Marty is kind of an ass when he’s not drinking. His girlfriend has
even told him that she likes him better drunk, but then again, she’s sort of a
drunk herself.”

“So, you don’t think he’s capable of murder?”

“No. Growing marijuana sure, but not
murder. Clayton was one of his best friends, and of course, Barry.”

“Barry seems quite harmless. He’s related
to Bud.”

“Bud is good people. I sure wish he’d get
the nerve up to ask Margarita out sometime. Just because they’re old doesn’t
mean that they shouldn’t enjoy their lives.”

“Actually, he asked Margarita to go polka
dancing with him later.”

Daniel’s face split into a grin. “See,
romance isn’t dead. You should give it a try yourself, sometime.”

“Not so sure about that one. Do you have a
girlfriend?” As soon as the words were out, I wanted to slap myself for asking.

“Nope. If I did, I wouldn’t have hit on
you.”

“Oh, were you hitting on me? I hadn’t
noticed.”

Thankfully, we were called to head up the
trail and the conversation shifted to how cold it was out, and if Barry would
ever hit a target.

We managed to get through all of the
targets and I lagged behind Daniel by two points. The last target was a turkey
and Daniel insisted that I go first. I pulled an arrow from my quiver with
shaky hands as I shivered. The tips of my fingers felt about numb, but I scored
a ten. Not that it mattered, because I already knew I had lost by two points to
Daniel.

Barry and Marty sat on the ground in
defeat, and possibly because they were a little too drunk, now. When Daniel
took his turn, he coughed as he released his arrow, and it barely hit the
target.

“Shit,” he said. “Of all the luck.”

Of all the luck, indeed. I shot him a dirty
look. “Did you miss on purpose?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, but there’s no way should
you have made that bad a shot is all I know. I don’t want to win by default.”

“You’re weird,” he said, as he led the way
back to where they handed out the trophies and prizes.

I stood in the warming tent, stomping my
feet and rapidly moved my fingers in an attempt at warming them.

“Are you okay?” Margarita asked as she
approached with Bud and Dixie.

“I’m fine, besides the fact that my fingers
are frozen.” Before I could protest, Daniel took my hands, removed my gloves,
and placed his hands over mine, warming them by rubbing in a circular motion. I
flinched slightly, but it felt like it was working, or he was working his magic
on me. There was no sense in fighting the attraction, but for the moment, I’d
keep it to myself, which meant not telling Dixie. She, of course, beamed at me.

“What happened out in the woods?” Dixie
asked with a whisper.

Annoyed at her suggestion, I snapped,
“Nothing. Why?”

“It’s about time for the trophies to be
handed out,” Margarita said.

I waited until I could feel my fingers and then
I made my way outside with the others.

“This has been a great day, full of
surprises,” Nancy said. “The overall winner is Daniel Adams!”

I stared at Daniel and he stared at me. He
climbed the platform and took the microphone away.

“There’s been a mistake.” He waved the scorecard
in the air. “Louisiana Sassy is the winner!”

Nancy sputtered. “That can’t be.” She took
the scorecard and examined it. “This doesn’t match what the scorekeeper gave
me.”

“Oh, are you kidding me?” I shouted. “This
is rigged just like the chili contest. Don’t even try and deny it. You let
Milton win like he always does, and now you won’t let someone from out of town
win in favor of your archery hot shot. A woman, at that!”

BOOK: 1 Target of Death
8.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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