The Blue Coyote (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 2) (4 page)

Ben joined him with Chloe.
While they were gone, Sabet and Joe helped Frannie prepare their
beds—opening the couch, collapsing the dinette and getting out the
sleeping bags and pillows from the storage under the main bed. Sabet claimed
the couch while Joe loved the idea of sleeping on the table, even though it
didn’t look like a table any more.

“Where’s the s’mores stuff,
Gran?” he asked.

“Hershey bars are in the
fridge, graham crackers and marshmallows are in the pantry cupboard—you
know where. Sabet, you want to get the marshmallow sticks out of that end
cabinet?” Frannie pointed.

They carried the necessary
items back out of the trailer and put them all on the picnic table. Joe
proceeded to tear open the marshmallow bags and put a couple on one of the
forks.

“I’m ready!” he announced,
brandishing his fork somewhat like a sword. The men had returned with the dogs
and were back around the fire.

Mickey said, “Joe, bring that
over here—there’s a perfect roasting spot on this side of the fire.” He
tried to encourage Joe to toast the white puffs slowly over the glowing coals,
but Joe had the patience of most seven-year-olds and kept sticking the marshmallows
into the flames and then had to blow them out when they caught fire. Finally,
he pronounced them ready and carried them back to the picnic table where
Frannie helped him sandwich the charred remains between two graham crackers
with a square of chocolate. Sabet was a little more judicious with hers and
took longer.

Meanwhile, conversation
continued around the fire.

“We’re going to do the bike
trail tomorrow morning,” Nancy said. “Anyone else?”

“I think we are,” Frannie
said, looking at Larry. He nodded. Jane Ann said they also planned to ride.

“I think we should try and
get going by 10:00. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day so it may get crowded,”
Nancy said. “We can haul four bikes in our truck so we can take Mickey and Jane
Ann’s, if you have room for your four, Larry.”

Larry laughed. “I don’t know
how we survive when you guys aren’t with us, Nancy.”

Nancy reddened slightly. “I
wasn’t trying to run things....”

“No, I’m serious. Things go
so much smoother when you’re here. You always think of everything and the rest
of us kind of muddle along.”

“Well! Speak for yourself,
Shoemaker!” Mickey huffed. “Muddle, indeed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the
biggest muddler of all, Mickey,” Larry grinned at him. Jane Ann and Frannie
both rolled their eyes. The two men had a long-standing contest to out-insult
each other.

Ben could see that his wife
still felt she’d gone too far. “Larry’s right, honey. Without you, the rest of
us would be like the Keystone Cops.”

Jane Ann said, “We
are
the Keystone Cops.” Frannie agreed
wholeheartedly.

Nancy relaxed and smiled.
“You’re absolutely right. So don’t give me any more guff.”

Frannie noticed Joe’s eyes
were getting droopy and said, “Kids, time for bed.” There were the usual groans
but they gathered their things and headed for the trailer. Frannie and Cuba
followed them. Sabet took her pajamas and toothbrush to the tiny bathroom while
Joe did toothbrushing duties standing on a little folding stool at the kitchen
sink and slipped into his pajamas. Frannie tucked him into his sleeping bag
along with his faithful but almost shredded bear, ‘Black Cake.’

Sabet came back out and
climbed into her bag. Cuba collapsed with a sigh next to her on the floor.

“Cuba could sleep
with
me, Gran.”

“I don’t think so, honey.
She’s too old to get up even that high,” Frannie told her and she leaned over
and gave her a kiss.

“Gran, I’m sorry I messed up
your phone.”

“I know. You just shouldn’t
‘mess with’ anyone else’s phone.”

“The frog sound is pretty
funny though, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it’s pretty funny,”
Frannie
said grudgingly. Secretly, she thought it was very
funny.

“Are you going to leave it on
there?”

Frannie stood up straight. “I
haven’t decided yet.”

She kissed Joe, who was
practically asleep already, and turned out all of the lights but the one over
the stove.

“Grandpa and I will be in
shortly,” she told them both and went back out to the fire.

Without streetlights,
millions of stars were visible above, and quiet laughter drifted from the
circle around the campfire. The glow from the fire highlighted her friends’
faces, almost disembodied against the dark background. Firelight really is
flattering, she thought, as she noticed it had stripped the years from their
faces. And she wondered briefly if there was a direct connection between the
growth of cosmetic surgery and the development of better lighting.

**************

Happy Camper Tip #3

Folding step stools are one
of the best cheap camping inventions. They take very little space and are
indispensable for putting up awning lights and for children who need to reach
the sink—or cookies in the overhead cabinets. They are also the right
size to double as a footstool with your lawn chair.

Saturday Morning

The sun was just peeking
through the trees when Frannie picked her way down the trailer steps carrying
the old percolator and her favorite mug. The coffee pot made such a racket
producing her morning brew that, weather permitting, she always set it on the
folding metal utility table outside and plugged it into the exterior outlet.
Cuba, who had eagerly trotted out behind her, stretched, scratched,
and looked at Frannie expectantly
,
tail wagging
furiously
. She found the leash hanging over the awning strut, and
grabbing a plastic bag, took the lab out for a walk. At the end of their loop,
she opted to head away from the center of the campground through the tent loop.
Only a few people were up, stirring the coals of their fires. All waved or at
least nodded and a couple of campers commented on the beautiful weather.

As she finished the loop, she
glanced at the road workers’ campsite and saw no sign of life.
Probably their day to sleep in.
She told herself she wasn’t
being paranoid, just careful. By the time she got back, tethered the dog, and
got her coffee, Mickey came out. His attire consisted of turquoise flannel
pajama bottoms festooned with pineapples and palm trees topped by a faded
maroon Minnesota Gophers sweatshirt. He had an unmatched collection of college
sweatshirts from Goodwill. He had actually graduated from Grinnell, but Frannie
didn’t remember ever seeing him in any Grinnell garb.

“Good morning!” he said
exuberantly. Mickey was both a morning and a night person. He never seemed to
be grouchy or groggy.

“Morning,” she answered. “Got
coffee over here.”

“Excellent! That’s why, Frannie,
if I could just dump Jane Ann, I’d marry you.”

“I’m flattered, but of
course, if you dumped Jane Ann, you’d be dead,” she smiled.

“There is that,” he agreed.

They settled in camp chairs
by the fire ring, and Mickey proceeded to stir the coals and add firewood.
After much fussing and blowing on coals and sticking in kindling, the wood
caught and began to burn cheerily.

Mickey settled back in his
chair. “Well, first things first—what’s for breakfast?”

Frannie, Jane Ann, and Nancy
usually planned their menus together to avoid duplication.

“I’m doing a hash brown
omelet in the electric skillet.”

“Ooooh. Sure you don’t want
to marry me?”

“If I thought you were
serious, I would in a minute,” she said with a straight face. Mickey, for once,
was speechless and she burst out laughing.

“Mickey, you are such a con
man and yet so easily conned!”

He looked sheepish. “Just
habit, I guess.”

Jane Ann emerged from their
camper, looking as always fresh and crisp. Like Larry, she was tall and
slender, and usually kept her shoulder length blonde-to-gray hair tied or
clipped back.

“Hey, campers! What’s going
on?”

“Mickey proposed to me
again—twice,” Frannie said. “Of course, the first time was connected to
coffee and the second time to the breakfast menu.”

“Oh, Lord,” Jane Ann said,
pouring her own coffee, “If I didn’t like you so much, Frannie, I’d just give
him to you.”

Mickey feigned indignation as
his wife pulled her chair up next to him. “Good thing I’m thick-skinned,” he
told her.

“And thick-headed,” she
grinned and kissed him on the cheek. “Good morning, dear.” She turned to
Frannie. “The kids still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“They are such a kick. I
can’t wait for grandchildren. Monica and Justine better hurry up. That Joe
comes up with the funniest lines.”

Frannie agreed. “It must be
because you have time to enjoy grandchildren more than you did your own. Or
maybe you just appreciate more how short childhood is. Whatever, they sure are
fun.”

A raspy rumble began.

“Oh, no!” said Mickey. “It’s
not even seven o’clock, yet.”

Sure enough, a minute later
the little girl rattled by on her training wheels. Exactly thirty seconds after
that, Larry poked his head out the door.

“Was that what I think?” His
voice was hoarse with sleep, his eyes barely open. They nodded. He shut the
door. The child on the bike came back up the road, went back to the corner, and
returned again before the door opened a second time and Larry came down the
steps in old gray sweatpants and a “Perfection Falls Police Department”
sweatshirt. He had retired five years earlier from the small town force. He
filled his coffee mug and firmly placed a lawn chair in the circle near the
fire just as the training wheels went by again.

“That kid is too old to be
using those things! What’s the matter with her parents?” he grumbled.

“I sympathize, Larry, really
I do,” Jane Ann said. “But not much we can do about it.”

“Wanna bet?” He lurched out
of his chair and headed to the road, as the sound of the offending cyclist on
her return trip reached their ears.

“Larry!” Frannie said, shocked.
This was so out of character. She got up and followed him but stopped when he
halted at the edge of the road.

As the little girl rode by,
he called out, all anger gone from his voice, “Want me to take those training
wheels off for you?”

She did not look at him but
put her head down, shook it, and kept peddling.

Larry and Frannie returned to
their chairs, Larry looking quite pleased with
himself
.
Mickey regarded him in some disbelief. “Larry, has it occurred to you that
there might be some reason—physical, mental,
psychological—whatever, that she still has those training wheels?”

Larry looked less smug. “I
suppose. But I bet you anything it’s a case of lazy parents.”

Frannie shook her head. This
was so unlike Larry. But she also knew he found that kind of noise in a
campground really offensive, especially if it was unnecessary. Her thoughts
were interrupted by the opening of the camper door, and Joe half stumbled down
the steps, wrapped in a blanket and barefooted. He hip-hopped over to her
chair, doing
a
“Ooh-Ah-Ooh” kind of accompaniment to
his little dance.

“Joe, honey, where
are
your shoes?” she said as she opened
her arms. He climbed up on her lap. At seven years old, early morning was the
only time he would consent to a little cuddling.

He looked at her seriously.
“Inside.” She wondered how dumb he thought most adults must be, with the
questions they asked.

“What I meant was, why don’t
you have them on?”

He just shrugged and stared
at the fire.

“Sabet still asleep?”

He nodded. “Should I wake her
up?”

“No, no—let her sleep.”

Nancy appeared from the other
side of Shoemakers’ trailer, coffee mug in hand. “Good morning! How’s everyone
doing this gorgeous morning?” Nancy sported green and brown flannel pajama
pants with camping paraphernalia printed all over and a hooded brown
sweatshirt—much more coordinated than Mickey’s outfit.

Mickey said, “Larry’s already
been bashing the little girl with the training wheels.” He leaned over to stir
the fire.

“C’mon, Mick,” Larry said.
“She hasn’t been back, has she? It was a service to society.”

Nancy considered Larry. “What
did you do?”

“I just offered to take the
stupid things off for her.”

Nancy just shook her head.
“Well, she woke Ben up, too. He should be over in a minute. I would be glad to
go talk to the parents—“

Larry waved her suggestion
aside. “Thanks, but if anyone goes, it should be me.”

Nancy turned to Frannie.
“Frannie, you’re doing an omelet this morning, right? Do you have a time in
mind?”

“Sabet’s still asleep but it
won’t take long to throw it together. Say eating about 8:00?” Frannie knew from
experience that Nancy wouldn’t rest until she got a time pinned down.

“Sounds great. I brought some
pumpkin muffins to contribute.”

“And I have juice and fruit
to throw into the mix,” Jane Ann added.

“Can we just have them
separate?” Mickey asked. Jane Ann just looked at him.

“I mean instead of a
mix—you know, I mean, it sounded like...”

“Go back to bed, Mickey.”
Larry said. “The bike trail goes both directions from here, right? Which way
are we going?”

Mickey pulled map out of the
pocket on the arm of his chair and opened it up. “To the west looks pretty
hilly. Maybe for us old folks, east would be best.”

“And if we go east, I think
there’s a flea market today in Limestone City. So take your cash, girls,” Nancy
said.

“Excellent!” said Frannie.

Sabet emerged from the
trailer, also wrapped in her blanket but with at least a pair of flip-flops on
her feet. She plodded out and sunk into an available lawn chair. Her long
blonde hair snarled around her face and hung in her eyes.

“Nice hair,” Larry said.

Peering out from under her
hair, she gave him a little ‘whatever’ smile and sat swinging her feet,
scuffing the dirt and gravel.

Frannie nudged Joe, who had
been apparently held in a trance by the fire. “You’re going to have to move,
Bud, so I can start our breakfast.”

He nodded and stood up
gingerly. As soon as Frannie vacated the chair, he plopped into it.

Inside, Frannie mixed up eggs
and seasonings. She gave Larry the electric skillet and frozen hash browns to
take outside to the utility table. Carrying the bowl of eggs, a package of
bacon, and a spatula, she negotiated the trailer steps and set it all on the
table. After moving the coffee pot and getting the bacon going, she looked down
at her side to see Joe eyeing the proceedings. “My mom says I’m really good at
cooking bacon, Gran,” he said.

“Well, you are just the guy
I’m looking for then. You can cook the bacon while I get other stuff ready.
You’ll have to lose the blanket, though.”

“Okay. I think maybe I’ll go
get my shoes first.” Like no one else had ever thought of it. He tiptoed over
to the steps and soon reemerged with tennies untied and no blanket. Frannie
went in and got him a plate with a paper towel to drain the bacon on as it
finished and brought out enough plates and silverware for the group. Ben had
appeared and Nancy and Jane Ann had added their contributions to the table.

Frannie added the hash browns
to the bacon grease, flipped them when they were brown and poured the egg
mixture over them. Sabet, who didn’t want to be left out, crumbled the bacon
and added some cheese on top. Frannie put the lid on the skillet and refilled
her coffee while she waited for the omelet.

They were all sitting around
the fire quizzing Joe on his soccer season when a couple walked by accompanied
by the training wheels girl without her bike. The woman was
stout,
a round grim face framed by long, very mousey brown hair and wore skin-tight
jeans, high-heeled boots, and a bulging tank top partially covered by a satiny
baseball jacket. Her companion had a similar build, thinning hair, and wore
jeans and a faded t-shirt. The girl tugged on the woman’s jacket and pointed at
Larry. She whispered something and the woman looked at Larry and glared. Larry
started to get up, but Frannie put her hand on his arm.

“If they come over, we’ll
talk to them, but there’s no sense in stirring things up.”

He nodded and sat back, but
the little group continued on down the road.

Before long, they were all at
the table, digging into the breakfast. Conversation continued about the
ride—how far to go, where that meant turning around, and where to start
and leave the trucks. Afterwards, Mickey and Nancy volunteered to do all the
dishes while Larry and Frannie helped the kids get ready.

Getting the snarls out of
Sabet’s hair was always a challenge. Frannie favored short hair but that was
obviously not the preferred style in fourth grade these days. So with some
effort, Sabet’s blonde mane was tamed and shining. Sabet produced a purple
scrunchy to pull the hair back from her round scrubbed face, which she
pronounced the perfect accessory for her orange softball t-shirt.

Bikes loaded, water bottles
filled, they headed out to their starting point about 9:30. Ben and Nancy’s
truck, with Jane Ann and Mickey in the crew seat, led and Larry followed. They
soon arrived at a small parking lot in a county park that adjoined the trail
where they could leave the trucks. Frannie checked the kids’ helmets, strapped
on her own, and instructed Sabet and Joe to follow Mickey. She and Larry would
stay behind them where she could keep an eye on them, thinking at the same time
that with her own kids, she would have just told them to follow and pay
attention to what they were doing. Had times changed that much or had she?

The first section of trail
wound down through a shady ravine and back up a gentle slope, emerging along a
corn field
. The corn had not been harvested in this field
but was turning brown and it wouldn’t be long. The morning sun felt welcome on
their backs as they pedaled along at an easy pace.