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Message-ID: <56280asstr$1184717402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Russell Hoisington" <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Wynter and Hailey 03B {Hoisington} (MF Mf mf bf Mg mg bg oral ped cons rom)
Lines: 3617
Date: Tue, 17 Jul 2007 20:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


                      WYNTER & HAILEY

This is an erotic fantasy.  It is the third sequel to
"Wynter" and follows "Wynter & Cinnamon."  It is not
necessary to read the previous three stories to understand
this one, as events are recapped within this story, but it
would help in order to better understand the background and
to see the growth in the characters.

The characters and the situation are purely imaginary, and
this story is NOT intended to be a guide for actual
behavior.  Any similarities between this story and actual
people or actual events you should be ashamed of are purely
coincidental.  If it is illegal in your part of the world
to access and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage,
or if you don't like underage sex stories, then you should
stop now.

This story is copyright 2007 by Russell Hoisington. 
Please do not remove the author information or make any
changes to this story.  You may post freely to non-
commercial (free) sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites.  That does NOT mean that these stories
are in the public domain, nor does it mean that I give
permission for you to use them in spam advertising.  I
reserve the right to determine what is "spam advertising"
by MY definition, not yours or anyone else's.

Thank you for your consideration.

My sincerest thanks to Denny Wheeler for editing this
story and, along with Uncle Sky, the Night Hawk, Wizard,
Rod O'Steele, and, Old Man Ted, for their input and for
keeping the characters in character.  Special thanks to the
Night Hawk for being my musical advisor.

This story is dedicated to Uncle Sky, without whose
encouragement Wynter would have remained a short story.

NOTE:  Because of the limitations of ASSM's moderation
software I have split Part Three into thirds.
     Part 3A is Chapters 23-26
     Part 3B is Chapters 27-30
     Part 3C is Chapters 31-33

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

                      WYNTER & HAILEY
                       Part Three (B)

                     Russell Hoisington


                        Twenty Seven

    "Excellent!"  Cinnamon put her sticks in the container
and grabbed her clipboard.  "See how much better it sounds
when you two don't repeat each other exactly?  That's why
the CD doesn't have the piano exactly mirror the guitar,
either."  She waited for both Wynter and Huntly to nod
understanding before she continued.  "You two switch off
playing counterpoint.  Play together.  Hand off to each
other.  Get together privately later and work out a system.
You don't need the rest of us for that."

     She made abbreviated notes to herself in her neat
script, saying as she did so, "The bass will sound better
when LaMarcus returns, but the old guy did pretty good with
it on his guitar."

    "I had to," Mister McCauley said with a feigned look
of relief.  "Jimmy said if I messed up he'd have Suzie yell
at me."

    Suzie, holding hands with Josh on the couch, grinned. 
"I've been practicing just for you," she said.

    "So that's what that was," Huntly said, wiping faux
sweat from his forehead.  "I thought they were dynamiting
too close to town again."

    The commotion in the basement hallway announced the
arrival of Hailey and Kenny.

    "Hey! Did everyone, like, SO miss me?"

    "Never mind her," Kenny scoffed.  "More importantly,
how did you get along without me?"

    Huntly and Jimmy exchanged surprised looks as Cinnamon
put her clipboard back.  "You went somewhere?" they asked
in unison.  "How long were you gone," Huntly added.

    Cinnamon put on her favorite evil grin.  "So, Cuz,
what movie did you two see?"

    "Uhhh..."

    "I see.  Do you remember the name of it, Kenny?  Who
starred in it?"

    He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out his
ticket stubs to check the movie name.

    "Never mind," Suzie said.  "You've already answered
her question, you dolt."

    "Hey!"  He straightened and gave her a haughty look. 
It wasn't a Kennedy Imperious Look, as Sis was now calling
it, but it was a good start.  "We had a very good time."

    "I'll bet," Mister McCauley said.  "I remember the
back seats of the old theater down on Chandler Avenue when
I was a kid."

    "DAD!"

    He looked at his son, then put his hand beside his
mouth, as if speaking privately to the rest of the room. 
"I'll tell you about it when he goes to the little boy's
room."

    Wynter rose from her keyboard.  "Well, it's going to
be the little girl's room first."  She kissed Jimmy and
left the room.

    "Hey!  Cuz!  Guess who was at the Center!"

    Cinnamon caught Huntly's eye and nodded toward the
refreshment table.  He understood and winked as she said,
"I don't know.  Elvis?"

    Hailey's totally bewildered look returned with a
vengeance.  "Why would Elvis Glick be, like, in Colorado? 
I SO didn't think you, like, ever knew him."

    Kenny sighed and shook his head, then looked at
Cinnamon.  "The new girl.  Brinkly.  What a snotty
little..."  He glanced at Jimmy's dad, hesitated as if
considering his next word, and then finished with, "pain in
the butt."

    Cinnamon's sly smile quickly turned sweet.  "Oh.  I
see you talked to her.  She turned you down, huh?"

    The spluttering and choking sounds drew everyone's
attention to the refreshment table, where a bent-over Suzie
convulsed with her hand clamped over her mouth and punch
running out her nose.

    "Hey, bitch!" Huntly said, pointing first to Suzie and
then to the punch bowl.  "You want hot or cold?"

    "Shithead," she growled while Cuz made retching noises
and complained about gross comments.

    Meanwhile, Suzie again tried to laugh, this time at
Huntly's comment, and spewed the remainder out her nose. 
Everyone waited while she wiped her face with the napkins
Josh handed her and blew her nose.  "Man," she said with a
gasp, "that stupid stuff is almost as bad as Diet Coke!"

    Wynter paused in the doorway and gaped at Suzie. 
"Okay, what did I miss?"

    "We just learned that Brinkly has standards. 
'Studman' struck out."

    "CINNAMON!"  Kenny's eyes flicked nervously to Jimmy's
dad.

    _Well_, Cinnamon thought as she observed the reaction
on Mister McCauley's face, _if he didn't know that
'Studman' had special meaning before, he certainly does
now._  He raised an eyebrow at her, and she in turn gave
him an almost imperceptible nod. On THAT side of the door
he was Jimmy's dad, but in here he was part of the band,
which was something Jimmy himself always failed to realize
in his relationship with him.

    While Wynter helped Suzie to the bathroom to clean up,
Kenny said, "If you two are through torturing Suzie," in a
dangerously calm voice, "I'll tell you what we learned."

    "I'm sorry," she said.  "Please, go ahead.  You
learned something?"

    "Oh, like, yeah," Hailey said.  "She's, like, already
put together a band.  It must be SO not the good if she's,
like, done it this fast."

    Cinnamon's eyes stopped blinking.  _It must be SO not
the good _news_ if she's done it without me knowing about
it._  "Go on."

    Kenny, at least, seemed to understand the implication.
"Hailey said something about Tyrone and LaMarcus returning
this weekend and having just two weeks with them to prepare
for the concert."

    She forced down her anger.  She couldn't expect Hailey
to understand why that was the wrong thing to say.  Kenny
proved he understood, though.  But something else was
bothering Kenny.  Something serious from the subtle change
in his body language, a bother that was growing more
pronounced by the second.

    "She said that you were overconfident if you thought
you were going to play because the other groups wouldn't be
announced until tomorrow.  She seemed both worried and mad.
My guess is that she'll try to talk her dad out of picking
you."

    "Fifty dollars at seven to one says you're right.  And
she said, 'other'?  You heard that?"

    "Hey!  She, like, SO..."

    "CUZ!  This is important.  Let Kenny tell it!"

    Kenny nodded, his face all business now.  Kenny the
Smarmy Little Jerk had been set aside for the time being,
further proof that she wasn't going to like what was
coming.  "She did.  Which means Dear Daddy has already
picked his little darling to play.  And she said there were
better bass players than LaMarcus.  That got me to
thinking, so after she flew away on her broom, I called
Scott Avanti.  He said that he had agreed to play with her,
and she'd asked him not to tell anyone.  In fact, she swore
all of them to secrecy until the concert.  And Scott would
have said nothing, but she's become so bitchy at every
little mistake in practice that he's ready to quit.  And
there was his other reason."

    Kenny was very good maintaining his cool exterior. 
Ron had been an excellent teacher.  But Kenny couldn't hide
the sudden burning rage in his eyes, even though, as she
could tell, he was trying.

    "Which is?" she asked as Sis re-entered the room and
swept the solemn scene with her eyes.

    "Coming to that.  He said she decided that a heavy
metal band here wouldn't give her the popularity she craves."

    Scott, Cinnamon realized, was more perceptive than
she'd given him credit to be.

    "So, she decided to make The Brink of Disaster into..."

    "Oh, SHIT!"

    Everyone looked at each other in confusion except
Jimmy, whose look of concern over her language bounced from
her to his dad and back.  But she didn't expect Jimmy to
understand.  He hadn't been at the mall the day she had
first met Brinkly.

    "Hey!  Like, what's the big, Cuz?"

    She unclenched her fists.  "Remember when we met her
at the Center, and she put me down for playing surf, so I
called her band 'The Brink of Disaster'?  She's thrown it
back in my face.  I can't use it as a put-down now, and if
I tell anyone how I came up with the name for her new band,
she can say I'm just trying to claim credit for her own
idea."

    "Well, hey!  You, like, SO have the witnesses, so you
can..."

    "No," Wynter said as she sat beside Jimmy and let her
hand find its resting place on his back.  "She can't. 
You're her cousin, I'm in the band, and the other witness
is my father."

    "Sis is right, Cuz.  Let Kenny get to the bad part."

    "Scott told me who else was in the band.  Mark
Williams is the number one rhythm guitar and does vocals."

    "He was a seventh grader," Jimmy said.

    "Brinkly is LaMarcus's age, not ours.  But I'll bet
Scott's not the only one she mined outside her own grade
level, though."

    "Mark is good on rhythm, though not as good as our
player," Huntly said.

    Mister McCauley modestly thanked him.

    "I agree," Kenny said.  "Number two rhythm guitar is
Lisa Dunleavy."

    "She was ninth grade, and on a good day Mark's equal. 
But, she's with Purple Sage."

    "Not any more, shithead," Cinnamon said.  "Louie
McKeown and Tom Oligon graduated, and the band died."

    Huntly slapped his forehead.  "Sorry, bitch.  Shutting
up now.  Go ahead, Kenny."

    "Shannon Logan does keyboards and vocals.  She's
better than Alyssa but not quite as good as Wynter and her
trained monkey."  He gave Jimmy a smirk that went ignored. 
Jimmy realized that the bad news had not yet arrived and
suspected, as did Cinnamon, that he would not like whatever
it was.

    "A ninth grader," Josh said.  "Or was.  She's a good
singer, at least as good as Shamisa and Monique.  I'm
surprised she's not been in any bands or the high school
chorus."

    Others murmured agreement.

    "Okay," Cinnamon said, realizing that the bad news was
likely all that was left.  "That leaves percussion.  Let me
guess.  She got Guy away from Maroon Bells."

    Kenny shook his head.  The spark of anger in his eye
had become a flame.

    "She got Fuzzy Fisher.  The ninth grader?  He'd have
been up against Matthew for top dog after Guy graduates
this year.  But I talked to Guy next.  She'd tried for him.
She offered him a thousand dollars if he'd switch bands,
then upped it to two thousand.  When she learned that he'd
played on 'Cinnamon Sticks', she offered it to him anyway
to keep his mouth shut about her band."

    "THAT'S the bad news?" Huntly asked in amazement.

    "No," Cinnamon said in a voice that almost sent a
shiver up her own spine.  "It's not.  Guy didn't take the
money, but he did promise.  That's his character.  I know
him well enough now to know he can't be bribed, even though
he needs the money for his college fund.  The bad news is
why Guy broke his word, isn't it."

    Kenny nodded.  "Put that glass down so that you don't
throw it."

    She drained the punch glass and handed it to Huntly as
Suzie returned, glanced around, and scooted beside Josh.

    "The reason Guy broke his word is because I told him
what else Scott told me.  She's putting together a 'pretty'
band.  She wouldn't even consider Alyssa if she learned
that Alyssa had a weight problem.  You have to be good
looking to even be considered."

    Cinnamon shot a warning glance at Huntly, and he
swallowed whatever wiseass comment he was about to make. 
"Okay."

    "She's looking for additional vocalists for fill-in,
like you had Alyssa, Duck, and Derek for fill-in
instruments.  This morning she heard about this beautiful
blonde soprano with this wonderfully talented voice.  Scott
confirmed that she had one of the best voices in town.  He
knows the rest of it because she called and cussed him out
afterward for not telling her that she'd be wasting her
time, even though he'd tried to warn her off with the
details.  She heard only what she wanted to hear, then
grabbed Moneybags Mom and her checkbook and they headed out
to pay a visit."

    Cinnamon's fists began to clench as she pieced
together where Kenny's story was headed.  She hoped she was
wrong.  God, did she hope she was wrong!  She'd never in
her life wanted to be wrong as much as she did now.

    Anger crept into Kenny's voice.  "She went to three
thousand trying to bribe the girl to sing for her band,
even though she didn't play an instrument.  Three grand
just to sing.  It was a fortune for her family.  But she
turned Brinkly down, and that didn't go over well.  Brinkly
took it as a personal insult and savagely attacked her,
ridiculing her home, her poor-class family, her family's
nickname for her, and most of all her fear to appear on
stage in public."

    The whole world turned blood red.  She screamed in
rage, snatched the glass out of Huntly's hands, and whirled
about, adding that momentum to the throw that shattered it
against the foundation wall.

    "IT'S NO LONGER ABOUT ME!" she screamed so loud that
it made her throat hurt.  "IT'S _WAY_ BEYOND THAT NOW! 
THIS IS WAR!  THIS IS FUCKING WAR!"

    She slammed her fist onto the eighteen-inch crash
cymbal.  "Rehearsal's over!  I've got to get home!  If that
self-centered little bitch undid all my work..."

    She grabbed her things and flew out the door.  She had
to get home, check the panicked message that she knew would
be in her voicemail, and return Possum's call.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Wynter's heart had never felt heavier in her chest. 
She wanted Jimmy to hold her, but he was helping Huntly
clean up the broken glass.  Suzie was explaining Cinnamon's
rage to Sis Two, who should have understood anyway, while
Josh helped Mister McCauley carry the punch bowl, remaining
glasses, paper plates, and snack trays to the kitchen and
Kenny straightened the room.  She decided to clean up the
remaining trash and carry it upstairs.  She couldn't use
the trash can, though, because Jimmy and Huntly were using
that, so she just carried it in her hands.

    Kenny offered to help, but she said she wanted to be
alone with her thoughts for a moment.  He understood.

    "Kenny," she asked as he started to turn back to his
task, "do you think she'd have thrown the glass if you
hadn't mentioned it?"

    He shook his head and gave her a sad smile.  "If I
hadn't told her to give it to Huntly, I think she'd have
squeezed it until it broke and she cut her hands real bad."

    She guessed Kenny was right and thanked him for his
thoughtfulness.

    She found Mister McCauley explaining Cinnamon's
behavior to his horrified wife.  Mrs. McCauley had
experienced no trouble hearing Sis's screaming because the
doors had been open.  Wynter thought she'd have heard them
even if all the doors had been closed.

    Josh, who was standing by, saw the trash overflowing
Wynter's hands and helped her.  "Maybe they should use
paper cups next time," he whispered.

    "They normally do," she quietly replied.  "But they
ran out because Mister McCauley left it off her shopping
list."

    Josh looked up from packing the trash into the kitchen
wastebasket when the words sank in.  "Why is everything
always the guy's fault, even when the wife doesn't put
something on the shopping list?"

    Wynter sighed.  "Not everything is the fault of guys. 
Brinkly is totally at fault all by herself."

    "Well, that tears it!" Mrs. McCauley said, sounding
like she wanted to throw something, too.  Wynter had never
heard the woman this angry.  "I'm not about to invite them
over now.  I doubt Richard and Angie will, either."  She
jerked in surprise when she suddenly noticed that Wynter
was in the room.

    Wynter shook her head.  "They weren't very nice to
Daddy at the Center that day, when we tried to be polite
and tell them goodbye.  They're not quite as bad as the ex-
Mrs. Brees, but they sure do need to learn some manners."

    Jimmy's mom wrapped her arms around Wynter and kissed
the top of her head.  "You have no idea how thrilled I am
that Jimmy has you instead of someone like that."

    Wynter was pretty sure she could guess, but she
decided she really and truly needed to be held at that
moment and therefore said nothing.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Rosita took the message as instructed and hung up the
kitchen phone.  Cinnamon was in the family room.  Rosita
found her standing in front of the window, watching Hailey
swing while Ghost galloped across the back yard in the
sheer ecstasy of the light breeze and morning sunshine. 
Ecstasy that, she knew, her future stepdaughter did not
enjoy.  She eased up behind the girl.  Her hands drew the
long red hair back and let it fall straight down Cinnamon's
back before they moved to her shoulders.

    Her fingers gently kneaded the tense muscles.  "You
heard?"  Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, so that it
wouldn't disturb the girl's thoughts unless she wanted them
interrupted.

    Cinnamon grunted.  "How many songs do we get to play?"

    "Three, just like you guessed."

    Cinnamon grunted again.

    The window gave Rosita a faint reflection of the
girl's solemn face.  She stared at it for a minute, then
said, "A penny for your thoughts."

    Cinnamon waited a moment, as if deciding whether, not
how, to answer.  "You ever wonder what it's like to be
Hailey?  You take life as it comes.  Your biggest concern
is where the next party will be.  Your biggest worry is
that somebody will forget to invite you."

    She thought about that, then kissed the top of
Cinnamon's head.  "The girl isn't dumb.  She's just
blissfully free of the constraints of common sense.  I
guess maybe it's right for her.  It isn't for us.  We'd be
bored to tears in days, maybe hours."

    Cinnamon grunted a third time.

    Rosita curled the fingers of her right hand and
stroked their backs down Cinnamon's cheek.  "Maybe Possum
and Snoopy will be okay soon."

    Cinnamon shook her head.  "Not as soon as it would
have been.  They're so closely intertwined that Possum will
retard Snoopy's improvement.  The unknown is how much." 
She twisted to look around Rosita and check the clock.  She
looked out the window again.

    Rosita saw the hint of a smile in the faint
reflection, a smile with all the warmth of a polar ice cap.
It made her shudder and want to recoil from Cinnamon in
fear, something she have said was impossible two seconds
earlier.

    "But I'll start feeling better in about fifteen
minutes."  Her voice softened to an almost-whisper.  "You
can never have too many friends."

                           ~ ~ ~

    "What on earth is that?" Brinkly asked as her mother
slowed to a stop in front of the lumpy greenish-brown pile
in their driveway.  "EW!  It stinks!"

    "Horseshit!" her amazed mother said.  "It's a
truckload of horseshit!  What's it doing here?"

    One of the three old women who lived in the house
across the street came toddling over and stopped at her
mother's window.  Brinkly couldn't remember the old bat's
name, but the name wasn't important because the women
weren't, either.

    "Missus Ward," the old lady drawled, resting both
hands on her cane, "I know you're new around here, and you
did things differently at home back east, but in these
parts we don't put fresh manure on the lawns.  You're
supposed to use the aged stuff.  It don't stink, and it's
less likely to burn your grass.  Horse manure is about the
worst you can use fresh.  It'll burn up your yard, you know."

    Her mother switched from frowning at the driveway to
frowning at the old woman.  "What are you talking about? 
What's this doing here?"

    Brinkly wanted to get away from the stench, but the
old woman droned on in her high, thin voice like she didn't
have the sense to realize she'd been interrupted.  "I told
Martino when he brung it he was making a mistake, but he
said you'd insisted on its being fresh.  Martino don't
never make no mistakes.  Not like that, you know.  That's
why he's Tom Lee's top worker.  He even showed me your name
and address on the work order.

    "He spread the front yard, just like you ordered, and
left the rest in the driveway for the sides and back. He
left the turning instructions and the bill over there on
your front door.  If you plan to age it before you put it
on the rest of the yard, you shoulda just ordered the aged
and been done with it.  That wouldn't have cost you that
much more, you know, and that way it don't stink up the
neighborhood, though I guess what he spread on the front's
gonna do that for a while anyway, you know."

    The old bat slowly shook her head.  "You shoulda let
your husband do the ordering for you, Missus Ward.  You can
do that the next time you need something done to your yard.
Men know more about these things, you know."

    "Motherrrr!  It STINKS!  If that smell's in the house
it's going to ruin lunch."

    "Damn it!"  Her mother's head whipped around and
snarled at her.  "Don't you think I can smell it too?  Shut
up!  I didn't order this.  What the hell is going on here?"

                           ~ ~ ~

    Brinkly watched from the living room window, a
perfumed handkerchief tightly pressed over her nose, as a
man loaded the last of the horseshit from the driveway into
his truck, then drove his loader onto the platform behind
it and tied it down.  The driver laughed like it was all a
big joke and then drove off.

    Goddamned wetbacks.  The town was full of them, too. 
And the son of a bitch hadn't picked up the manure he'd
spread in the front yard!  So it was in small pieces.  Was
he too broke to buy a vacuum cleaner?  Or just too cheap? 
Whatever, it was still there and stinking to the clouds.

    And he didn't scrub the driveway, either.  Shit pieces
were smeared all over it and were ground into the concrete
where he'd driven over them with his loader.  Even a vacuum
cleaner wouldn't be enough to remove that.

    She backed her chair away from the window when her
mother came in from the garage and slammed the door. When
her red-faced mother stormed into the living room Brinkly
asked through the handkerchief, "Well?"

    "That's it!"  She threw up her hands.  "He said that
was all he was obliged to do, but as a 'special favor' for
the 'mistake,' he tore up the bill and said we could keep
what was on the front yard at no cost!  He said that the
order was phoned in early this morning and that the owner
had tried to convince us that we were making a mistake
ordering fresh."

    Her mother's fists clenched and came up.  She shook
them in rage.  "The son of a bitch acted like he thought we
were pretending we didn't know anything about it so that
they'd take it away without them thinking we were idiots
who'd ordered the wrong stuff and were to cheap to pay for
our mistake!"

    "Motherrrr!  He's not going to get rid of that
stinky...?"

    "NO!  And he's not going to clean the driveway,
either.  I wish your brothers were here.  I'd have them
scrub it.  Now I have to find someone to power wash it!"

    "But what about the smell from the yard?" she whined.

    "He said we'll get used to it in a day or two, and
it'll mostly be gone in a week or so!  Now, where'd I put
the fucking yellow pages?  The kitchen?  Or the den?"  She
stormed out, using some words Brinkly never had heard
before, and she thought she knew all of them.

    Maybe MTV would take her mind off the smell.  Still
clutching the handkerchief to her nose she wheeled over to
the coffee table and grabbed the remote.

    The cable was off.

    "NOW WHAT?" her mother yelled.  She raged back into
the living room and grabbed the phone handset, listened,
and slammed it back down.  "The goddamned phone is dead!"

    "Well, use your cell phone.  And the cable is off, too!"

    She watched her mother pull her cell phone out of her
purse and then swear because she'd forgotten to bring the
yellow pages.  _So, what do I do now?_  She'd play her
guitar, usually, but she'd have to take the handkerchief
away from her nose and smell that shit full-strength.  She
had used half a can of air freshener in the living room. 
It had lasted maybe fifteen minutes, tops.  She drove back
to the window and looked out in frustration.

    Several neighbors were gathered in clumps in the
street.  People in each clump were looking at her house. 
Most were pointing and laughing.

    "NO, YOU STUPID MEXICAN BITCH!  I DIDN'T CANCEL
SERVICE BECAUSE WE WERE GOING TO USE ONLY CELL PHONES!  FIX
IT!" her mother shouted into her cell phone.  It sounded
like she was in the kitchen.

    She wondered what that was about, but she decided this
wasn't the time to ask.  A couple of minutes later her
mother started screaming at someone else, "YOU CAN TURN IT
OFF IN ONE DAY, SO WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU TURN IT BACK ON
IN ONE DAY?"

    She wished they'd never left Vermont.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Cinnamon didn't look up when Ghost sprang to his feet
and raced to the house.  She was expecting her visitor. 
Besides, she had little sun left before the shadows
blanketed the yard, and it felt very warm on her back.

    Though not as warm as the glow in her heart.  Revenge
should be served cold, but it warmed you if you served it
properly.

    She followed Ghost's approach with her ears, listening
to the jingle of his dog tags and the faint click of his
toenails on the sidewalk.  She couldn't see because her
face was pressed into the web of the lounger, with her nose
poking through a gap and her hair piled around her head and
over the front edge, but her hearing was unaffected.

    "Well?" she asked as they reached her.

    "Don't bother getting up," Ron said.  "You seem to
have misplaced your suit."

    "Unh uh.  It's under the lounger."

    "Okay.  You seem to have misplaced your cousin."

    "Unh uh.  She went swimming with Suzie and Wynter."

    "Okay."  He grabbed a lawn chair and maneuvered for a
place to put it.  He was, she knew, looking for the spot
with the least tempting view.  Finally he settled in a spot
in front of her head.  "Tom Lee said that you were very
generous in your payment for the use of his truck and
loader and the loan of his manure."

    "He earned it," she mumbled, twitching an elbow to
discourage a tired flying insect.

    "Yes, he did.  But he returned your money.  I told you
the Watkins families were highly respected in the
community, despite their lack of material possessions. 
Spider's done favors for half the town.  So has Pebble. 
And everybody admires Beak and Stitch for all the endless
hours they worked doing even the most menial jobs, just so
they could afford that cornet for Duck.  Both sets of
parents sacrifice themselves for all their kids.

    "Mister Lee says he'd have donated the whole load if
you'd asked.  And if the Wards ever want something from
him, it will be no discounts and delayed service or
shipments until you say so.

    "Oh, and I think they're going to have trouble finding
anyone to clean the driveway for a couple of days, unless
they hire some neighborhood kids.  All the labor services
people I can think of somehow know about Possum, and they
have full schedules."

    She hummed acknowledgment.  "You can never have too
many friends."

    "Or family.  Cousin Martino returned his tip, too,
when I told him what Brinkly had done to Possum.  I'll have
Martino tell you about the 'horse apple recovery phase'
himself.  I can't do the story justice."

    A tear escaped from Cinnamon's eye and soaked into the
fabric of the lounger straps.  "What about the rest of it?"

    She recognized the rustle as he scratched his head. 
"Their house phone's out at least through tomorrow.  Cable
is out until Friday, or Monday if Jess can think of an
excuse.  Jess returned his tip.  Maria returned half.  She
wanted to return all of it, but you know she has that new
baby and he's not doing well with breast feeding."

    "Can you find out what formula he takes and spend the
rest of her gift on that?"

    "It will be delivered tomorrow."

    "And use Mister Day's tip for diapers, please?  Daddy
says Little Seth ran up some hefty bills.  I'll have him
apply Mister Lee's and your cousin's returned gifts to
those."

    "You're the boss, Kemo Sabette.  And there's no way
anyone will talk.  All they know is voices they didn't
recognize on the phone and letters on IST letterhead with
signatures they assumed were legitimate.  Those got
misplaced."  He paused as Ghost jumped to his feet and
raced toward the back of the yard.  "Too bad we can't do
more today, but we've pressed our luck as it is."

    "Yeah.  Any more and they'd smell the setup."

    "Maybe," Ron said.  She could hear his irrepressible
grin.  "Right now I think they don't smell anything except
manure.  Did I mention that Martino accidentally spilled
some near the furnace room's ventilation air intake? 
Clumsy oaf trampled it into the ground, too, so that it
can't be removed.  He had to leave it during the recovery
phase.  What a shame."

    Cinnamon frowned.  "Aren't those usually located in
the back of the house?"

    "Oh, it's that crazy Martino.  Our family's black
sheep.  He has an incredibly lousy sense of direction.  He
got lost looking for the front door to leave the bill and
wound up behind the house.  The dumb clod eventually found
the front door, but he forgot to wipe his boots before he
stepped on the porch.  Fortunately there was a door mat he
could use before the return trip."

    She chuckled.  "I guess we'd better wait at least a
week before something else happens."

    "Yeah, probably.  But pretty soon they should have the
whole town pissed off to the point that they'll suspect
everybody, and then you can do something almost daily."  He
switched to his John Wayne imitation, which was much better
than Jimmy's.  "Unless they finally learn that this ain't
the northeast, and we folks are a tad more neighborly out
here to them what has manners."

    But would they learn?  The lesson had escaped the
Bitch, and Cinnamon had had to drive her away so that her
father could finally have some happiness in his life.  "I
won't hold my breath."

    "Well, okay," Ron said, "but you might want to change
your mind if you go pay a social call on the Wards any time
this week."

                           ~ ~ ~

    "Good morning, Future Mother-in-Law!" Wynter said,
welcoming the big hug that was always as enjoyable as one
from her own mother.  "I had orders to report."

    "I know," said Mrs. McCauley, ushering Wynter into the
house and closing the storm door.  "I heard him call you. 
He's definitely distracted about something.  I've never
heard him order you around that way before, but I think he
had no idea what he was actually saying or how he said it. 
It's not like Jimmy to spend a nice Friday morning in the
basement, either."

    "Yes, Ma'am.  I know how he is when he gets so
absorbed in something, so I understand completely.  Is he
in the basement or in his room?"

    Her answer drifted up through the open door to the
basement in a string of musical notes.  "I guess I'd better
get down there."

    Mrs. McCauley stopped her with a hand on her forearm. 
"Before you go, you might want to take a glass with you. 
Jim and Nancy sent some fresh apple and cherry cider.  I
thought it was a little early, but they blended a batch and
sent half.  It's very good, even for theirs."

    Wynter's face almost suffered a smile-induced rupture.
"Sure!  I think they make the best in the whole state! 
Want me to take a glass down to Jimmy, too?"

    His mother chuckled.  "He took a glass with him.  But
I'll bet he hasn't had a swallow of it."

    Wynter nodded.  "Not if he's fixated on something. 
Thanks."  She accepted the glass and sipped the fruity
cider.  "Wow!  You're right!  If the early batch is this
good, just imagine what the real output will be!"

    The woman's eyes sparkled.  "We'll have to tell them
they can't sell any of it and must ship the whole
production to us."

    Wynter agreed, then carefully descended the stairs. 
She paused in the door of the practice room and watched
Jimmy, his eyes closed, run through a horn fanfare several
times.  He opened his eyes and frowned, not seeing her at
first.  She knew when he finally realized she was there by
the smile that spread across his face.  His green eyes
moved to look at her.

    "That's beautiful," she said as he rose.

    "Thanks, but it's not as beautiful as you."  She put
her glass next to his full one, and they shared a long kiss.

    When she finally pulled back she put on a mischievous
grin and asked, "What else can I do for you?"

    He sighed and invited her to sit beside him.  She did
and rested one hand on his knee and the other on its home
on his back.

    "I need some help.  I'm having trouble with that.  It
doesn't sound exactly right.  What do you think?"

    She shrugged.  "I don't know.  Are you trying to learn
from a CD?  Where's the sheet music?"

    He tapped his temple.

    Her eyes widened in delight and her heart jumped in
her chest.  "You're composing?"

    "Yeah.  What would you do with this?"  He played it
again.

    She frowned, pushed her pursed lips to one side, and
put on her diagnosis cap.  "I think I'd drop the third
measure an octave and then do the next two bars in a minor
key.  But it's your composition."

    He grinned and shook his head, then played it the way
she suggested.  "Yeah!  That's much better.  Listen, I
think it should be OUR composition, if you want to help
with it.  I think you will."

    His enthusiasm was infectious.  "Okay.  Who's this one
for?  No, wait!  A fanfare..."  She went back into
diagnosis mode for a few moments.  "Aren't you a little
early for Suzie's birthday?"

    His special grin-and-nod appeared, the one that was
always just for her and that made her heart feel too big
for her chest.  "It's going to be the biggest thing I ever
wrote.  Maybe five or six minutes.  I hope you don't mind
that it's longer than 'Wynter's Song.'"

    "For Suzie?  Don't be silly!  Have you named it?"

    "Just a working title:  'Suzie's Victory.'"

    "I like it!  Have you talked to Huntly about it?"

    He shook his head.  "It came to me sometime between
when I looked at the deer and her baby and when my feet hit
the floor this morning."

    She made a smarty-pants face.  "For someone still half-
asleep, you did pretty darned good!"

    He shook a warning finger in front of her nose.  "More
comments like that and I'll have Huntly switch Cinnamon's
nickname to you.  Seriously, I wanted to get a couple of
ideas down and talk to you first.  Huntly can contribute,
but I want the primary ideas to be ours."

    Wynter thought for a moment and then nodded.  "Okay. 
I'm sure Huntly will understand."

    "After 'Cinnamon Sticks,' I think he will.  He
wouldn't want to be a hypocrite with you around."

    She sure couldn't argue with that.  "What are your
ideas?"

    His hands grasped the one she had on his knee.  "Kinda
like a tone poem, I think.  Fanfare to represent the
swimmers approaching the edge of the pool, low bass rumble
as they crouch, crescendo as they leap into the water. 
Something in a minor key as they swim, maybe increasing in
volume, or maybe tempo, too, building tension for a close
finish, possibly with Shamisa, Monique, and Cinnamon doing
something choral.  Then triumphant music in the major key
for her victory.  You know.  Sorta like the end of... say,
'The 1812 Overture'--or maybe 'Pictures at an Exhibition.' 
How does that sound?"

    She went back into diagnosis mode.  He didn't
interrupt.  He was very thoughtful that way, realizing that
any attempt to hurry her would be a mistake and, therefore,
giving her all the time she needed.  He remembered his
cider while she was thinking and drank part of it, then
took her hand in his and let her think until the idea
teasing at the back edge of her mind finally revealed itself.

    She looked at her watch and continued to frown in
thought.  "Sis won't be back from Denver until two.  I want
to ask her something.  Maybe she would know if we could add
one more voice to the chorus.  If she thinks it would be
okay to ask."

    She watched Jimmy's lights come on.  "Do you think
Possum would want to after what that little bitch did?"

    "Jimmy!  Be polite.  Brinkly's had a rough week."  The
giggle she'd been trying to smother suddenly exploded. 
They laughed together.  She thought it sure was neat the
way their laughter blended and sounded like the laugh of
one person.  She kissed him and then became professional. 
"I think maybe it might be good therapy for her, but
Cinnamon's the attending physician."

    "I know.  I was just getting a second opinion in
advance.  I still don't know how to think like a girl."

                           ~ ~ ~

    Although his initial impulse was to panic, Jimmy
retained control of himself while Cinnamon held him bent
backward on his keyboard seat and kissed him.  It was,
after all, what was right for his Future Sister-in-Law and
he was just being polite by letting her.  His Future Wife,
as always, had no objection.  Besides, the little redhead,
though kissing with great force, wasn't attempting to
involve tongues.  He guessed he could understand her
excitement.  After all, Suzie was tied for first place as
one of Cinnamon's best friends, too.  She was, in her way,
trying to thank him for being kind to her friend.

    Which is why he was confused when she released him and
gushed, "Thank you!  I've been looking for an excuse!"

    "An excuse?"

    "Yeah."  She pushed him upright.  "To buy a set of
electronic kettledrums and gongs.  Now I have a reason."

    Jimmy blinked at Wynter, but Cinnamon looked down at
her shorts and spoke first.  "Sis, do you get this wet when
you kiss him?"

    "Sometimes," she said with a shrug.  "But sometimes he
tries to be a smarty pants."

    He bristled.  "Hey!"

    "But not nearly as often as Huntly."

    He guessed that was as good as he could expect.  Then
Wynter kissed him and he forgot why he'd been upset.



Twenty Eight

    "WHITNEY GWYNETH!"  Cinnamon tilted her head back,
gritted her teeth, and tried to stare a hole through the
gazebo roof to the blue skies above.  She switched to a
clear, even, icy voice.  "Wynter and I are trying to work
on some music here, and it's awfully hard to think about
one song when you have another one blaring through the
speakers."

    "SHIT!  I never get to have any fun.  Hey!  I'm, like,
gonna go pee."

    Cinnamon waved a hand over her shoulder, indicating
the house in her dismissal, then pointed to a line in the
score.  "What about an arpeggio?"

    Wynter sighed and closed her left hand about the
ponytail draped over her shoulder.  "Sounds good to me.  I
wish Jimmy were here."  Huntly and Jimmy were spending the
day helping Mister McKeown with an inventory at the
hardware store.

    "Yeah.  Maybe shithead could do it on his guitar. 
Ramp up the distortion first, maybe just a little."

    Wynter let her pencil droop until the eraser rested on
the page.  "You don't even realize you do that, do you?"

    Cinnamon frowned at her in confusion.  "Huh?"

    "You now call him by his pet name when he isn't here."

    "Oh.  Well, I was thinking about him.  You know.  I
needed his advice."

    "Uh huh.  Sure.  And how bad is the wet spot in the
chair while you're thinking about his 'advice'?"

    Cinnamon grinned.  Sis certainly wasn't dumb.  "It's
getting pretty bad.  Say, I've been thinking about Possum. 
You need to let me bring it up when the time's right.  It
would be good therapy, but she has to want to do it.  I'll
let her think about it for a while and talk herself into it
afterward."

    Sis grinned in approval.  "That's what I'd have done. 
Okay, Jimmy and I have a couple of ideas over here."

    She flipped over some pages and pointed, and the two
sisters resumed quiet deliberations, occasionally humming
possible ideas and recommendations.  They lost track of time.

    "What it IS, Little Momma!"

    "Tyrone?" Cinnamon asked.

    "Tyrone!" Wynter cried.

    The girls turned around and discovered Tyrone wasn't
the only one to sneak up on them.  Cinnamon gave them a
suspicious look.  "What are you two doing back so soon?  I
thought you were to get in late this afternoon."

    Tyrone looked at LaMarcus and threw up his hands. 
"Women!  We come back half-a-day early to surprise them and
they complain."

    "Word, Brutha!  There ain't no way you can please
them.  I told you we should of gone to play basketball half
the afternoon and then come over."

    The girls rose.  Cinnamon put her fists on her hips. 
"Are you going to stand there blathering like a couple of
jackasses, or are you going to come hug us?"

    LaMarcus held out a hand to block his companion's
advance.  "I dunno, Ty.  Do you think a couple of
professional musicians should hug amateurs?  Might ruin our
image."

    "I have to," Tyrone said.  "Little Momma's the REASON
I'm a professional.  I guess I OWES her a hug.  Maybe you
don't gotta hug them none, though."

    "Unh UUUH, Brutha!  You been suckin' on some crazy
juice?  The other one's a Future MD.  I might need
emergency room medical treatment when she's runnin' the
hospital next year.  You know how long them ladies can
carry a grudge."

    "Yeah, I do," he said with an exaggerated nod.  "You
sayin' we both gotta go hug them?"

    "Hey!" Cinnamon growled.  "I'm saying that if you two
shitheads delay any longer, you won't have any wait at all
until you need medical treatment."

    "Ty, I think the lady just made an offer we can't
refuse."

    "Word!"  They stepped up onto the floor of the gazebo.
"Say, whatever happened to Women's Lib rules?  Why can't
they come to us?"

    LaMarcus slapped him upside the back of his head. 
"The rules are what Cinnamon says they are, Brutha!  You
completely lose your brains while we were gone?"

    After the hugging and greetings were over, the boys
asked about the music.  Wynter explained as LaMarcus
scanned the ideas on paper.

    "'Suzie's Victory!'  That's perfect!"  LaMarcus said. 
"Don't change it, unless it to add something like 'Suzie's
Victory Theme' or 'March' or something like that.  But I
think the name is perfect as is.  Man, I'm so glad it's
coming from both our Future Doctors.  She'll love that."

    "Both?" a puzzled Wynter asked.  "Do you think Jimmy
will go to medical school, too?"

    "He might, but if he doesn't, we'll have Mrs. Doctor
McCauley, MD, and Mister Doctor McCauley, PhD.  Come on! 
You think Jimmy won't get a PhD in self defense?  Or maybe
even two or three?"

    Cinnamon laughed.  "He's got you there, Sis.  He'd
want a doctorate in chemistry, one in physics, and one in
math just to keep from feeling inferior to you."

    Wynter pushed her pursed lips to one side in thought. 
The idea of a PhD was clearly new to her.  "Maybe.  Yeah, I
guess you're right.  But I'd never think he was inferior,
even if he didn't get a Master's Degree."

    Cinnamon laughed.  "It's not YOUR opinion he'd be
worried about, Sis.  Next!" She motioned for all to sit
with a flutter of one hand and waited until they were
comfortable before resuming.  "Remember me telling you
about Brinkly Ward?  I wanted to wait until you were home
to tell you the latest.  She might contact you to bribe you
away from us to 'The Brink of Destruction.'  That's the
name of her new teen pop group that debuts at the
dedication concert."

    "Oh, that's cool, Little Momma.  No way she's gonna
get me and my man away from you!"  Tyrone's grin faded when
he noticed the look on her face.  He turned serious.  "All
right.  What's the bad news?"

    Both dark faces grew even darker as events unfolded. 
Anger began smoldering, then grew into a raging forest fire.

    "We wouldn't put up with that from one of our own
people," LaMarcus said through gritted teeth.  "You better
believe we won't stand for it from out-of-town strangers."

    Tyrone agreed.  "The only reason we didn't deal with
Wylie is you found out first.  Otherwise I would have.  But
maybe not with my teeth."

    LaMarcus was too angry to give even a weak smile at
the humor.  "There are other ways to accomplish the same
results.  Ask Caroline."

    Cinnamon waited until both were finished.  "The Wards
have been having a series of unfortunate accidents lately. 
Nobody knows why.  Just coincidences, I guess."

    LaMarcus's smile suddenly appeared, and it wasn't at
all a pleasant sight.  "No kidding?  Wylie and Ingle also
had an unfortunate coincidental accident."  LaMarcus knew. 
He had played a part in that one.

    Cinnamon reached for his hand and squeezed it.  "You
may get a call one of these days.  You won't hear a word
directly from me."

    He nodded.  It was the same procedure as before.  "You
think she'll try to get us away from you, even though she
says I'm not as good as Scott."

    Tyrone punched his arm.  Hard.  "Now who's lost his
brains?  She may not hear you before the concert, but
she'll hear you there.  You think she won't want you
instead of Scott then?"

    Cinnamon said nothing and let him think.  She glanced
at Wynter, who nodded.  _Good!  Sis has already thought of
it, too.  LaMarcus should have, but he's too angry about
Possum_.

    The idea finally occurred to LaMarcus.  "I could
pretend to go join her group.  She'd kick Scott out to get
me.  That means we'd have a spy in her organization.  Then,
just before the concert, I quit, leaving her with no one
but Scott.  He'd turn her down for dumping him in the first
place, and she'd be stuck with no bass player and no time
to rehearse one.  You think he's pissed enough to want to
quit even if she doesn't kick him out for me?  I think he
might once he hears that she approached me."

    She was tempted.  Oh, how she was tempted.  She
inhaled deeply, exhaled noisily.  "Don't do it.  I want to
make her as miserable as I can for what she did to Possum,
but when it comes to performing, I intend to beat her
honestly.  With talent, not trickery.  That pain will hurt
even more.  Help Ron see to it that word of what she did
gets around.  I want everybody to know.  Meanwhile, I have
a better way to slap her face.  I thought of it while I was
brushing my teeth this morning and haven't found any reason
not to do it.  We're going to dedicate our performance to
Possum."

                           ~ ~ ~

    LaMarcus turned the corner into the Safeway's soft
drinks aisle.  "YO!  My MAN!  Hey!  Wha's happ'nin', G?"

    Tyrone looked around and grew an extra set of arm and
leg joints that threw his limbs in all directions.  "What
it IS, Bro?  Where you been hidin' all day?  Up high!"

    LaMarcus checked in with a high five.  "Aw, man, jet
lag done dragged me down by the clappers."

    "No shee-it.  Lemme tell yo', this handsome face may
be here, but my booty's still cruisin' over Cleveland."

    "Man, I'm already too old for this commuter lifestyle!"

    "Word, Brutha!"  Tyrone winked.  "Listen here.  We got
Spokes hangin' on th' fo'-one-one?"

    LaMarcus grinned.  "Gotcha!  Like dingleberries on a
dog's boo-tay!"

    Tyrone returned the grin and changed the subject. 
"Man, I'm so flogged I almost didn't start trainin' today."

    "Yeah?  Well, you smell like you was too damn jet-
lagged to shower afterward."

    "Hey!  What it is, Brutha?  You been snortin' yo'
underwear again?  Me an' Shamisa s'posed to be knockin'
boots in half an hour.  I ain't showin' up fo' that
smellin' like a sweat sock and bein' rousted out the sweet
sack!"

    LaMarcus leaned toward Tyrone and sniffed.  "Nah, man,
I guess it ain't you."

    Tyrone sniffed, too.  "What th'?  Man, I sees
what'choo mean.  Listen here!  Musta been some o' them fool
cowboys from th' Lazy Bar H in here again.  They don't
NEVER learn to wipe they boots before coming to town.  You
shoulda heard ol' man Thompson beatin' his gums down at the
Walgreen's that day they..."

    "Excuse me!" snarled a voice beside them.  "Are you
two clowns shopping or just being a roadblock?"

    LaMarcus looked around and down.  "Oh!  We're terribly
sorry, miss.  We didn't see you.  Step back, Ty, and let
the lady pass."

    They watched the wheelchair dart down the aisle.  As
it neared the end, LaMarcus said in a low voice, "Oi say,
old bean!  That young chippie appeared to be a trifle
miffed."

    Tyrone rubbed a finger across his chin.  "Rah-THER!"

    LaMarcus eyed him sideways.  "'SPOKES'?"

    Tyrone shrugged and grinned.  "Yeah!  I thought
'Bitch' would be an insult to dogs.  Besides, Huntly got
that nickname sewed up for Little Momma.  I respect her too
much to insult her, too.  That and I'm also too afraid of
her."

                           ~ ~ ~

    "It was a mistake, really," Cinnamon said as she
smiled brightly and offered the large shopping bag.  "Daddy
and Rosita went shopping separately, and neither knew the
other had bought some.  We'll barely use up one bag before
they start to rot, and we hate to allow good things to
spoil and simply throw them away, so we decided to give to
somebody.  You were next on my list of people to visit, so
it's your lucky day!"

    Being poor didn't mean you were dumb.  Pebble Watkins
had to know that Cinnamon was lying in order to avoid
injuring the woman's pride, but it provided a way for her
to accept the gift without feeling a need to reciprocate. 
Any attempt to reciprocate would thereby blatantly
insinuate that Cinnamon was a liar.

    Mrs. Watkins smiled brightly.  "Thank you, dear. 
Possum and Skeeter both love lemonade so much!  I'll make a
pitcher right now.  You'll have to try some and tell me if
I made it right."

    Two could play her game.  The woman had left Cinnamon
no wiggle room should she want to decline so that the
Watkins families would have more for themselves.  She put
on a smile, made easy by the woman's sincere desire to
share.  "I'd love to."

    Mrs. Watkins nodded.  Her eyes shifted nervously to
Possum and Snoopy and then back to Cinnamon.  She knew why
Cinnamon was there and hoped that the little redheaded
visitor could end the sudden reversal in her daughter's
recovery.  Then she smiled.  "Well, I know you girls want
to visit.  Come along, Skeeter.  You can help Mama fix some
lemonade, okay?"  She took the youngest girl inside and
closed the screen door.

    The two cousins, as always, stood with their arms
around each other, heads down.  They were dressed in shorts
and blouses that had long since seen better days with older
siblings.  Cinnamon, as always, had worn her oldest, most
nondescript clothes and shoes to avoid emphasizing the
socio-economic differences.

    "I'm afraid we can't use the swing today," Possum said
in her quiet voice, now almost a whisper.  She indicated
the porch swing with a brief twitch of her hand.  One end
was broken away from an arm suspended by the chains.  "Duck
and Goose got into a fight on it this morning and broke
it."  A slight tightening in her voice was all that
indicated her intense displeasure with her cousin and
brother.

    "We can use our swing if you want," Snoopy suggested. 
The families lived adjacent to each other on the outskirts
of town, not far from the Lopez house in distance but
exceptionally remote in economic terms.  But that applied
to the aged construction only.  The lots themselves were
very nice.  A stream, in truth little more than a run-off
drainage ditch, ran along the back side of each, providing
enough moisture for trees.  The ground cover was sparse,
but the lots were clean, unlike some nearby that looked
like recycling centers.

    "I'd be happy wherever you want to sit," Cinnamon
replied, her sweetest smile pushing up her round cheeks. 
"Except in the road.  Too much traffic today."

    The shy smiles erupted into broad grins.  _Step One
completed_, she thought.

    Snoopy had an idea.  "Poss, what about the tire swing?"

    Possum gave Cinnamon a nervous glance.  "It's not very
nice..."

    "A tire swing?" Cinnamon asked with genuine glee.  "I
didn't know you had one.  I've only been on one of those,
and it was years ago.  It was loads of fun!"

    The shy smile returned, then widened.  "Are you sure
you wouldn't mind?  It's old and beat up."

    She bounced her shoulders in a shrug.  "So?  I thought
that was what tire swings were supposed to be like.  You
don't go down to Goodyear and say, 'Give me one of your
best radials.  I want to make a swing.'"

    The cousins, who almost looked like twin sisters,
peeled away from each other.  Each took one of Cinnamon's
hands, and together they led her around the house.

    _Step Two done._

    Soon the girls remained separated and all took turns
swinging and pushing the swinger.  Snoopy, Cinnamon
decided, wasn't as affected as she'd feared, though she
noted a minor setback.  She felt Snoopy would come to her
birthday party if it were held today, but she wouldn't be a
server as Possum had been.  Possum's odds of just coming to
the party were less than one out of ten.

    She'd nearly forgotten just how much fun a tire swing
could be.  She was almost sorry when she recognized the
right moment to ease the fun into therapy.  But she knew
that seeing the cousins happy would be far more fun than
the swing.

    When she had to go drain the swamp she took her cell
phone with her.  Huntly was still at the hardware store. 
She told him about the broken swing.  He promised to drop a
hint with Mister McKeown and said that he would personally
have a few words with both Duck and Goose.

    The afternoon ended too soon.  "Listen," Cinnamon said
as the cousins walked her to her bike, "we have a boat on
the lake.  Hailey said you were hoping to visit her some
day in Hawaii.  Boats are the big thing there.  We go
boating two or three times a week.  How would you like to
go out on the lake with us some day soon?"

    Snoopy seemed agreeable to the idea.  Possum's eyes
flashed the scared deer look.

    "There's no hurry," Cinnamon said, as smoothly as if
she'd not noticed.  "But if you decide you want to join us,
you're welcome.  Sometimes I go out with the family--just
Daddy and Rosita and Hailey--sometimes with friends,
sometimes with both.  It's all spur of the moment, so we
wouldn't have to change any plans if you'd like to go one
of these days."  Her smile pushed her cheeks upward again. 
"It's almost as much fun as a tire swing."

    They promised to think about it, which was all she'd
expected.  _Step... I've lost count!_

    "Oh.  Possum, I'd like for you to think about
something.  There's no rush, because we have a few months
yet, so just think about it whenever you have time.  Wynter
and Jimmy are composing a surprise song for Suzie, like
Huntly did for me on my birthday and Jimmy did for Wynter. 
They think it's going to have a choral part, but they
aren't sure yet.  Shamisa and Monique and I will sing for
the recording if they decide to include it, like we did on
stage together, but this time we really need a fourth
voice.  If they include it, you're our first choice when
they do the CD.  Miranda Ochoa is second choice, but she's
so far behind you that she's like third choice."

    She laughed like it was of no importance.  Snoopy
moved back slightly, so that her cousin couldn't see her
face, and smiled at Cinnamon.  She gave a slight nod of her
head.  _Snoopy's willing to help.  Last step completed._

                           ~ ~ ~

    Juan Rodrigo De Ramirez y Sanchez had thought that
going the long way around to enter the town would get him
in after dark.  Because of anticipation he had driven too
fast.  He had almost an hour of daylight left as he reached
the Rainbow Road turnoff into Rainbow Peninsula Park. 
Traffic was a little heavier on the town side of the
intersection, but people hadn't really started emptying the
park yet.  And while he needed to take his time getting to
town, he wished the damned traffic would move faster.

    He was always irritable the first two weeks of growing
a beard because the itching after the third day was so
aggravating.

    As he neared the hospital he noticed a bicycle ahead. 
More specifically he noticed the _culo_ on the young
_chica_ pedalling it.  It stretched her tan shorts very
nicely, and the way it wiggled with her pedalling reminded
him that it had been a few days since the last time he'd
had a little _conejo_.  He removed his sunglasses for a
better view.

    The traffic forced him to pass her slow enough that he
could admire her short but firm legs and the contours of
the blouse wind-pressed to her well-defined chest.

    Her head snapped around and she peered at him.  He
thought it was odd that she didn't blink even though the
traffic was stirring dust.

    And then she was a reflection shrinking in his mirrors.

    He thought of the _chica_ at the desk of the Alpine
Ridge.  It would be too dangerous for him to stay there
again.  It was the first place Marsh and Stiles would look
when they returned, and who knew how soon that would be? 
Maybe too soon.  But Alison, the _chica_, had seemed
interested in him.  Maybe she'd like to go out with him and
relieve the tension from his long road trip.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Cinnamon dragged a pillow over her face to muffle her
moans.  Her back arched upward, elevating her from her bed
and leaving her supported by her feet and shoulders. 
Release should be any second, but her tension kept building
and building and building as Hailey's tongue lashed and
tingled her button like a writhing electric eel.  Her eyes
were so tightly squeezed that she saw stars exploding.  And
then the supernova detonated.

    Cinnamon's body jerked and spasmed.  Hailey's face
would have been bucked off if not for her  arms locked
around her smaller cousin's thighs.  Cinnamon almost
screamed into the pillow, her body experiencing its most
massive orgasm in weeks.  Finally she jerked the pillow off
her face and gasped in great lungfuls of air.  Her butt
crashed to the bed, and her lower body twitched in
uncontrolled spasms.

    And her phone rang.

    "SHIT!"  Hailey untangled herself and snatched the
phone off the night stand.  "WHAT?"

    Cinnamon's head rolled to one side, but she couldn't
see the clocks because of the pillow and Hailey.

    "Hey!  Like, what do you THINK she's doing this time
of night, pickledick?  She's SO watching the fireworks!  Or
was until the fucking phone rang.  Remind me to, like,
interrupt the next time YOU get off.  Which you're gonna SO
be doing BY YOURSELF!"

    Her head stopped spinning, though she was still
gasping for air.  She'd let Hailey handle it until she
could talk for herself.  Though if Cuz got any louder she'd
awaken Daddy and Rosita, and that would negate the reason
for having the soft ring tone on her private line.

    "Oh, like, what could be an EMERGENCY at half past
midnight?  You got a boner and you don't..."  Hailey
stopped speaking when Cinnamon suddenly bolted upright and
snatched the phone from her.

    "What's up?" said, willing her breathing back under
control.

    Hailey laughed.  "Hey!  I, like, think your stud..."

    "CUZ, SHUT UP!  Huntly?"

    She listened, her face growing tighter with each word.

    "North door will be unlocked.  Five minutes."  She
switched off the handset and handed it to Hailey, then
rolled off the other side of the bed.

    Cuz's voice was a mixture of irritation and
disappointment.  "Hey!  Like, what's the big?  I SO didn't,
like, get off yet!"

    Cinnamon grabbed her nightie.  "There's two vibrators
next to your butt.  We don't need you downstairs.  Happy
humping."

    Hailey pouted.  "Hey, I SO wanted to, like, get off
with a coozie kiss."

    No surprise there.  As much as Hailey liked being
eaten, she loved having her button rubbed by another one
even more, especially near the end of her period.  Cinnamon
pulled the top over her head and scooped her hair out of
the neckline.  "Use the small one and pretend it's
Margaret's clit."

    "Hers SO isn't that big!"

    She stepped into the panty and pulled it up.  "How do
you know?  You haven't seen her in two years."

    Cinnamon pulled on slippers, then grabbed a light robe
on the way to the door, not out of modesty but because she
knew it would be cool downstairs.  She heard Hailey moan as
she closed the door behind her.  She had the robe on before
she made the one-eighty onto the north stairs.  She tied
the belt as she descended behind Ghost.  After unlocking
the door, killing that alarm sensor, and flipping on the
light, she headed for the kitchen and let Ghost out before
heating milk for cocoa.

    Huntly and Ron entered before the milk was hot. 
Ghost, who had returned, raced into the hall to greet them.
She wondered if he'd do the same for a stranger or if he'd
actually bark and defend the territory.

    She greeted them with kisses.  "The cocoa's almost
done.  Shithead, would you get the marshmallows, please?"

    He patted her butt.  "Your bitch is my command," he
said in a voice devoid of the intended humor.

    Given a choice, the guys opted for sitting at the
counter instead of the table.  All sampled the cocoa and
declared it suitable.  Then her eyes stopped blinking and
she focused on Ron.  "How do we know De Ramirez is back?"

    "Alison Garcia, who works days at the Alpine Ridge
desk, had a call from him around nine.  He was looking for
a date.  He said he was passing through and wouldn't be
staying overnight, so he didn't have a room at the hotel. 
He talked her into meeting him at the Golden Dragon
Restaurant.  Well, one thing led to another and she ended
up with him in Room 203 at the Seven Slopes.  A room he'd
already rented even though he 'wasn't staying overnight.' 
She decided he'd rented it hoping to get lucky."

    A frown creased Cinnamon's forehead.  "That's awfully
close to the Alpine Ridge.  You'd think he'd stay at the
Silver Buffalo or the Bighorn or some other place farther
away."

    "But we think it makes sense," Huntly said.  "He's
passing through, he stays near the  highway because it's
the first place open that has a vacancy, he says he'll
leave after a last meeting with his confidential client. 
He checks out in the morning, and she thinks he left town
again."

    "'We' think that makes sense?  'We'?"

    He gave her an indignant look.  "Yes, 'we.'  Ron
thought of it, and I told him he was right."

    "What are you doing with Ron this time of night,
anyway?"

    "Spending the night, though when I accepted I thought
I'd be asleep by now."

    She raised an eyebrow at Ron.

    "Evi invited him for dinner."

    Of course.  Huntly no longer played school sports, but
he was with Junior and the Twins.  He was a celebrity.  "Go
on."

    Ron scratched his head.  "She got suspicious when she
noticed a razor and shaving cream in the bathroom.  He's
started growing a beard--again, because he had one when
Kenny and I took him down--but he had a razor.  Then she
noticed that was all he'd brought to the room.  No
suitcase, no briefcase, just a shaving kit.

    "She casually mentioned that two men had been asking
for him the day he left.  She didn't mention that they were
DEA, so he said that he'd met a second Juan de la Vega, the
alias he was using, that same day and was surprised how
much they looked alike.  He suggested that maybe they were
looking for the other guy instead.

    "Alison pretended to believe him and changed the
subject.  A few minutes later she started complaining about
stomach cramps.  About five minutes later she apologized
and said that they were getting so bad that she was going
home to call her doctor.  On the way out she checked with
the Seven Slopes desk clerk.  You know Emmit Singletary,
don't you?  Emmit said room 203 was registered to a Juan
Garcia.  Since she'd mentioned Stiles and Marsh to him,
even if it wasn't by name, she got scared and called me."

    "And why you?"

    He grinned.  "We're old friends.  You can never have
too many friends."

    Her face temporarily relaxed into a smile.  "No, you
can't."  The smile faded.  "Then what?"

    "I sent her to Carlos Sanchez's house.  Then Huntly
and I went to the Seven Slopes, where I convinced the night
manager to let me into Room 203 when nobody answered the
door."

    "I see.  What do the statutes say about that again?"

    Ron's irrepressible grin spread.  "I gave him an
excuse that will stand up in any court if I'd been wrong. 
Which, of course, I wasn't."

    She smiled slightly.  "Of course."

    "He'd shaved and left.  He expected somebody to check.
He left evidence that he's switched to Old Spice after
shave, but he actually reapplied the Brut he'd been
wearing.  He also changed his hair style.  Although he had
brought no clothes to the room, he did bring another pair
of shoes and changed from the brown loafers he'd been
wearing to Reeboks.  They were probably black, but there's
a possibility that they were beige.  I found a phone number
on a scrap of paper in the couch, but I think it had been
there at least a week.  The housekeeping staff at the Seven
Slopes isn't that great.  He left a cigar butt and some
ashes in an ashtray, but he didn't smoke it in the room. 
More camouflage and misdirection.  The guy's good."

    Cinnamon nodded.  She had no questions about his
deductions.  She didn't need to question them.  She knew
that if she'd been there, she'd have seen the same evidence
and arrived at the same conclusions.  They thought that
much alike.  "Alison?"

    "Out of town.  Nobody knows where but me.  I know how
to let her know when it's safe to return.  I'll arrange
things with her boss and family tomorrow.  Well, later
today, actually."

    She nodded.  Again, it was what she would have done. 
"Obviously you haven't notified anybody else, not even your
father.  And Kenny doesn't know or he'd be here.  So what's
the plan?"

    "Kenny will go looking for him if he knows.  I'll
remind him to be careful because De Ramirez could return at
any time and also remind him that I have informers looking
for the guy, but I won't tell Kenny he's back.  The time of
death for those two he killed has been established well
enough to confirm my belief that he'll come for me first. 
I'll be visible.  And I'll keep an eye on Kenny's back. 
I'll let him know if I think things have changed and he
needs to know."

    She nodded.  "Huntly, you have anything?"

    "Why don't you invite Boy Blunder to go boating with
us tomorrow?  That will keep him from roaming around town
and being spotted."

    "Cuz already did.  He's going to Grand Junction with
his parents.  Some kind of regional medical thing.  Daddy
doesn't have to go because it's hospital admin stuff, not
really medical per se.  Speaking of Hailey, we say nothing
to her or Kenny will find out in five minutes, tops.  Three
if we tell her it's a secret."

                           ~ ~ ~

    Something about the silver Pontiac cruising down the
street caught Cinnamon's attention as her father backed out
of the driveway.  Some undefinable quality was just WRONG. 
Most likely it was a combination of clues--speed, driver
attention, degree of control--something that meant nothing
individually but which added up to concern.  Otherwise,
she'd know immediately what was bothering her.

    Then Hailey opened her mouth, and Cinnamon realized
where her cousin was headed with her comment.  She was
forced to shut Cuz up before she said something private
about their relationship with her father in front of
Jimmy's parents.

    When she finished, the car was gone.  She looked
behind them, but the view of the car was blocked by
Wynter's Mom--her own adopted Mom--bringing Wynter and
Jimmy with her.  Mister King was with Mister Chang in
Leadville.  It was a Sunday.  She had never thought that
geological engineers would have schedules as screwed up as
those of doctors.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Richard sampled a bite of the steak.  "Even if it was
reheated, this is good."

    Mitch spoke without looking away from the croquet game
nearing completion in the dwindling light behind the
gazebo.  "It was even better when the rest were served," he
said.  "Something we doctors learn, but I didn't think
geologic engineers got to know.  I thought you guys worked
eight to four and ate gourmet meals at home every night."

    Richard checked the date on his watch.  "Eleven months
and a couple of days ago I wasn't eating this good, even
though there was plenty of food available."

    Mitch frowned until he realized what Richard was
saying.  "Oh.  At the mine."

    "Yeah.  I'd rather miss a day on the lake and steak
the first time off the grill because of business in
Leadville than miss it because of another mine incident
with those kids, or something similar.  Say, remind me to
tell Rosita that I hate green bean casserole, and that I
want her to give that recipe to Angie.  I never knew it
could be good until now."

    Mitch chuckled.  "Between the two of them, I don't
think there's anything that they can't make that's a
delight to the taste buds.  I think we're lucky to have
them."

    Richard reached for his beer.  "My friend, we got
damned lucky twice.  What are our odds of having not only
Rosita and Angie, but also Cinnamon and Wynter?  Once in a
universe?"

    Mitch, slouched in his chair, looked away from a
friendly argument about whether some play was legal, and
reached for his own beer.  "Probably.  But I'll drink to
the fact that we are that lucky."

    As Richard attacked his steak again, Mitch lowered his
voice, despite the fact that nobody else was close enough
to hear.  "How much do you know about the Possum Watkins
incident Monday?"

    "Probably no more than you do.  The Ward girl insulted
her and her family, apparently treating her worse than they
did the four of us at the Center that day, because Possum
chose not to sing for her band.  Wynter is quite upset
about it.  Marti told Angie that Cinnamon exploded when she
heard about it at rehearsal.  Why?  Are you worried about
Cinnamon?"

    "Not exactly.  Are you aware of why Possum and Snoopy
have become so withdrawn?"

    Richard chewed in thought and then swallowed.  "Well,
they've always been shy, but, yeah, I guess they are worse
than normal.  No.  Are you?"

    "Medical confidence?"

    "Sure."  He pointed with his free hand.  "One of those
croquet players has me bound by a few, so I know how to
keep my mouth shut."

    The smile that crossed Mitch's face was much like the
one Richard saw whenever someone complimented Cinnamon's
drumming.  "I guess you do at that.  Both girls were
Wylie's victims.  Cinnamon, on her own, has been counseling
all the girls.  Most of the girls were okay after they had
someone to talk to, while a couple were volunteers and had
no issues.  But then there were..."

    "I see," Richard said, interrupting Mitch.  "The Ward
girl made it worse.  No wonder Cinnamon was livid.  Does
she have to start from scratch?"

    "No."  Mitch sipped his beer.  "Fortunately the set-
back wasn't complete.  But I thought you should know that
Cinnamon has help with the therapy now."

    "She does?  Who..."  The lights came on.  "Wynter."

    "In the musical equivalent of a medical confidence,
they won't tell me anything more than the fact that Wynter
and Jimmy are composing something and that the rest of the
band is slowly being brought on board.  I do know, however,
that it was your daughter's idea to include Possum on the
eventual recording, in the hopes that there will be a
transference of..."


    "I'll be damned," Richard said.  "Sometimes I think
there's no way she can surprise me again, and then she
does.  Mitch, I think we both did a great job of raising
daughters."

    "I did.  You had help."  He indicated Angie with a
tilt of his head.

    Richard shrugged.  "It's the results that matter."

    Mitch chuckled.  "Say, have you heard that the Wards
have been having problems lately?"

    "Yeah.  I heard about the horseshit they ordered."

    "Did they?"

    Richard's fork paused in mid-air, sagged as he
pondered the question, and lost its chunk of baked potato. 
"They didn't?" he said as he went after the errant chunk of
spud.

    Mitch shrugged.  "I don't know.  But everybody in town
seems to know what happened between Brinkly and Possum, and
nobody's happy.  Those who don't know Possum herself know
the family.  They wouldn't stand for anyone attacking
Spider or Pebble.  You can guess how they feel about an
attack on his whole family in general and one of his
daughters in particular."

    Richard chewed and nodded while Mitch had another sip
of beer.

    "Well, the Wards seem to be having difficulties at
every turn.  They ate lunch at the Harbor Club today.  The
wife pitched a huge bitch about the amount of fat and
gristle in her prime rib and the rubber-like texture of her
husband's and daughter's shrimp."

    "Both entrees?  That can't be coincidence, can it? 
Not at the Harbor Club."  Although the Kings weren't
members of the club, they'd eaten there several times as
guests of Mitch, and the food had been excellent.

    Mitch shrugged.  "The wife called in a reservation for
a table and got very belligerent about the fact that her
husband's boss would be dining with them.  She said she'd
find things totally unacceptable unless everything was
perfect or better.  Her words:  'perfect or better.'  I'm
surprised Gwendolyn never thought of the term.  Anyhow, the
wife was more than a little upset that the sugar packets
were filled with salt."

    Richard frowned and shook his head.  "Those are pre-
packaged."

    Mitch nodded.  "They are.  And the lemon for the iced
tea smelled and tasted of vinegar, but it didn't affect the
rest of the dining area.  The boss--I never thought to ask
which one--had the clam chowder.  Halfway through it, the
bowl split and dumped the rest all over the table and into
his lap."

    "Sabotage!"

    "I certainly would think so if I were the boss.  All
directed at one table and only one table.  If you were that
boss, wouldn't you wonder?"

    "Yeah.  Yeah, I would.  Wait a minute.  Are you trying
to say that Cinnamon is behind it?  Surely not."

    "I don't know," he said.  "And that's probably good. 
This isn't the first time I've seen something like this
happen, but not on this scale.  The two incidents in Boston
were much lower key.  I doubt that Wynter knows much more
than we do.  A little, maybe, but not much.  I just thought
I'd warn you not to press her on it because... well,
because maybe you don't want to know, either."

    The croquet game ended and the throng of players
meandered toward the gazebo.  Richard's fork scooped more
of the delicious green bean casserole, and he chewed
thoughtfully.  _Cinnamon?  A girl that sweet?  Mitch is
obviously jumping to the wrong conclusion._



                        Twenty Nine

    Tuesday.  The day was cloudy, with occasional brief
showers that were little more than drizzle.  De Ramirez
glanced at the dashboard clock.  It was time to check the
_pequeno maricon_'s house again.

    He'd spotted the other _bastardo_ a few times, but
that one hadn't recognized him with his long sideburns and
mustache and different sunglasses.  He had a collection of
hats and caps he used, too, just in case.  He had a
theatrical make-up kit with different mustaches and beards,
but he didn't use it.  He wasn't skilled enough if he got
too close to the _bastardo_.  That one had to die first,
but not until he was certain he could get his hands on the
little faggot, the _pequeno maricon_, with the fancy
karate.  But the only activity he'd seen around the house
was the elderly housekeeper.

    He swallowed a mouthful of cooling coffee while he
waited at the traffic light and then turned the corner and
headed north on Cheyenne Road.  On the way he watched for
his prey.  No sign of him.  When he turned north onto
Chaparral Street he saw movement at the _bastardo_'s house.
Only it was a girl, taller than the _pequeno maricon_ but
about the same age, coming down the driveway to the
sidewalk.  The brunette didn't have a lot in her crop top,
but she did have a nice _culito_ wiggling in her shorts.

    She spotted him and pulled her sunglasses down her
nose with one fingertip while cocking her hips to one side
very suggestively.  She eyed him and apparently liked what
she saw.  She blew him a kiss.

    He decided it was worth the risk if she could answer
some question.  He pulled to the curb.  She leaned in the
passenger side window.  "Hey!  Like, how's it hanging,
handsome?  Nice wheels."  She ran a hand in a suggestive
caress along the window opening.  Her scooped neckline
sagged open.  She wasn't wearing a bra, but she didn't need
one, either.  What he saw was small but firm, with nipples
hardened by the excitement of being in his presence.  He
was used to that from the _putas_.  It was a side benefit
of looking almost ten years younger than your actual age.

    He gave her his friendliest smile.  "I'm new here.  I
was just cruising the streets looking for some fun.  You
live here?"

    "Nah.  I'm, like, visiting my cousin down the street
for a year while my parents are, like, on a field trip to
Antarctica.  Hey, SO not where I want to be!  It's, like,
even colder there than here, so this is, like, the lesser
of the two evils.  Cuz is, like, visiting a sick friend or
whatev'.  I stopped by here to, like, leave a welcome home
present for Kenny.  I SO need him to call me when he gets
back.  I'm, like, affection deficit, you know?"

    _Kenny!  The _pequeno maricon_'s name_.  Perhaps he
actually could get some useful information out of her. 
Something that would help him plan his surprise.

    "A welcome home present?  So he's gone?"

    "Well, yeah!  I wouldn't, like, leave him a welcome
home present if he was here, would I?"

    He let that pass.  He needed information, and trying
to talk sense to a _puta_ wouldn't help him get it.  "I
guess not.  Well, I hope he likes whatever it is whenever
he returns."

    She gave him an ageless look.  "He'll SO love it!  I,
like, stuck my panties under his pillow as a reminder to
let me know when he gets home tomorrow evening."  The
corners of her mouth sagged.  "Now I'm, like, SO not
wearing any and I feel cold.  I SO could use a warm-up."

    "Yeah, well, that should get him to call you."  She
was cute, too, and obviously willing.  Maybe he could get
more than information.  "So, you're looking to exchange a
little body heat?  Want to hop in, and we'll see if we can
find a quiet place for me to help?"

    She looked him up and down.  It was very blatant and
very obvious what she wanted.  "I... might."  She circled
her lips with the tip of her tongue between the words.  De
Ramirez's jeans suddenly became too snug.

    "Hop in.  Let's go."

    "Hey!  Like, hold your horses, Juan."

    Suspicion was a bucket of cold water that loosened his
jeans.  "How do you know my name?"

    She looked genuinely puzzled.  "Like, no WAY to I
know...  Oh!  You're, like, Juan?  That's your name? 
That's just, like, something I say once in a while to my
friend Ron.  'Hold your horses, Juan,' and 'Slow down,
Diego, and 'What's your point, Pedro?' and stuff like that."

    _Ron!  The other _bastardo_ is named Ron._

    "I'm sorry," he said.  "Some friends of mine like to
set me up with practical jokes.  I thought this was one of
their jokes.  I see now that it isn't."

    "No WAY!  Hey!  I'm Hailey Kennedy from Hawaii."

    "Juan Gomez, Senorita Hailey.  I'm new here.  Would
you like to go for a ride and tell me all about yourself
and your friends?"

    "Hey, I would SO love to, but I need to run home first
because I, like, don't have my purse with me.  Unless you,
like, brought a few rubbers with you.  My coozie's been
outta commission and I GOTTA catch up."

                           ~ ~ ~

    Wednesday night.  Kenny appreciated finding his
wonderful present.  He'd have appreciated it more if his
parents hadn't decided to spend three hours in Glenwood
Springs on the way back, causing them to return too late
for him to do anything more than jack off in bed that night
with her panties spread over his face.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Thursday morning.  Kenny regretted that he'd found his
goddamned present.  He'd forgotten about it when he first
woke up, thirty seconds before his parents came in to wish
him farewell before leaving for work.  He didn't remember
until his mom asked, "What's that on the pillow?"  Which
meant he missed going on the lake with Cinnamon, Ron,
Hailey, Megan McNeal, Suzie, Evi, Snoopy, and Josh because
Mom grounded him.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Ron eased the accelerator down.  He could avoid a
ticket if anyone stopped him, but he was on the very edge
of the maximum safe speed for some of the mountain curves. 
He didn't want to be away from town one second longer than
necessary, but he had to get the regular samples and data
to Doctor Britt at the Colorado University campus in
Boulder.  He had further evidence concerning the pine
beetle infestation that he also needed to deliver and
discuss.  That would take even longer, but it was vitally
necessary for the economic well-being of all the mountain
communities.

                           ~ ~ ~

    _Madre de Dios!_  The _pequeno maricon_ with the fancy
karate was back but hadn't left his house!  De Ramirez
couldn't imagine why.  And the oversexed and wonderfully
tight little _puta_ apparently never saw him, although once
he saw her start down the sidewalk toward the _maricon's_
house, only to be called back by the little redhead who was
her cousin.  He would have to follow them to see if he
could learn what had happened.  Maybe if he could get the
little brunette _chica_ alone for a few minutes, he could
ask her.

    Unfortunately, he never got an opportunity.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Friday.  This day sucked, too.  He was still grounded.
No visiting.  No visitors.  No television.  No computer. 
No video games.  Mrs. Holland and, worse, Charlie were
appointed guards to see that he didn't break the rules. 
The only good news was that it looked like he'd be paroled
in time for Cinnamon's afternoon at the lake the next day
IF he obeyed.  He was good, because the promised punishment
if he disobeyed was grounding for two weeks.  He didn't
even drag his magazine out from its hiding place under the
mattress.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Saturday.  Cinnamon eased the 'Summer Breeze' out of
the berth and turned northeast.  Huntly rode shotgun beside
her while Ron had the left bucket seat.  The "U"-shaped
seat in the back held Suzie and Josh, Wynter and Jimmy, and
Cuz and Kenny.  It was the middle of August, still
pleasantly warm for the mountains, and yet something in the
air said that the first snow was a month or less away.

    The Harbor Club sat on the west side of a small cove
formed by a curved spiky peninsula of land to the south and
east.  The same peninsula was the western leg of a larger
"U" that encompassed the larger Sun Cove.  Sun Island sat
at the north end of that cove, like an acute accent symbol
over the "U".  The thought made her giggle and drew a
questioning look from Huntly in the bucket seat beside hers.

    He suddenly grinned at her. "Leave your vibrator in
this morning, bitch?"

    She returned the grin, adding a feral touch to it. 
"Had to.  I didn't have any men or you around to satisfy
me, shithead."

    Her next thought vanished, taking her grin with it, as
she focused on someone at the end of Pier 7.  She leaned
around Huntly.  "Ron!  Does that guy in the red Wizard
Basin cap at the end of the pier look familiar to you?"

    Ron, lounging in the left front seat, twisted his head
to look.  He sat up.  "Something's very familiar about him,
yeah.  But I can't put my finger on it."

    "I've seen him around the area four other times. 
Something's odd.  It's like he's not trying to notice us
while simultaneously studying us."

    Huntly began to scoff at the idea, but Ron held up a
hand to silence him.  "Trust her instincts," he said as the
strange man turned and walked casually yet swiftly up the
pier.  Ron turned to face Huntly.  "I do, and I've never
been disappointed.  Yeah, Cinnamon, that's exactly the way
he seems to be acting to me, too.  He gives me a strange
tingle."  Ron scratched his head vigorously.  "I wonder..."

    "For one thing," Cinnamon said, steering east across
the mouth of Sun Cove and south of Sun Island, "that's his
first time in the red cap.  The other times were Saturday
in a car with no cap, a different car with a green Harbor
Club cap on Wednesday, there on the pier Thursday wearing a
fisherman's grungy slouch hat, and yesterday in the second
car again, this time with a Colorado Rockies cap.  He's
gone from a beard to long sideburns and mustache to
mustache only.  And it's been a different pair of
sunglasses every day, too."

    Ron nodded.  One hand tapped his knee in thought.  "He
was too far away for me to get a good look at him, and
there was the disguise.  But something..."  His voice
trailed off and the speed of his tapping increased.  Ron
had suddenly become nervous, and Cinnamon could think of
only one reason why.

    Huntly's smart-ass look had vanished.  He realized
that if she'd seen the same guy every time, then the
constantly changing appearance was at the very least
suspicious.  "What are you going to do?" he asked.

    "I thought I'd turn right before I run into Tin Pan
Island and then run down the shore into Hargus Bay, unless
the thing's clogged with water skiers.  If I cut south just
before Barber Beach, us girls can look for hunks swimming
or sunning on the beach."

    He gave her an indignant look.  "What about us hunks
on the boat?"

    She shrugged.  "Four girls, only one Ron.  Lousy odds."

    He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.  "Bitch."

    "Shithead."

    She changed her mind before she reached the Public
Docks.  The bay had too many water skiers.  They were
practically running each other down.  Most water skiers
avoided the main part of the lake by some unwritten rule,
but she didn't understand why most failed to use Granite
Bay on the other side of Rainbow Peninsula, where they'd
seen Megan and Bryce skiing.  She looped around and aimed
for a point midway between Tin Pan Island and Rainbow
Peninsula, passing well west of the beach that was the
southern half of Rainbow Campground.

    Cinnamon cut the throttles back another notch as they
passed Tin Pan.  They were approaching the mouth of the
small cove that held Bighorn Marina, another public
facility but, unlike the Public Docks, one with a marina's
usual accoutrement of services.  Traffic was thickening
like an evening fog thanks to boats entering and leaving
the Bighorn Marina's cove and to a cluster of water skiers
east of Tin Pan swarming around each other like electrons
about a nucleus.

    "The shitheads don't even realize they're blocking the
way," she muttered in disgust as she steered closer to the
peninsula.

    Huntly interrupted his conversation with Ron and
turned to her.  "Did I hear my name, bitch?"

    "Other shitheads," she said, sitting up straighter. 
One boat pulling a skier was headed in a wide right arc at
high speed.  She calculated it had a high probability of
collision with the 'Summer Breeze' at her current heading
and speed.  The boat should have had at least one person to
watch the skier and another to pilot.  This one had only
the pilot, and he was looking over his shoulder.

    She flipped a switch and put her finger on the horn
button after cutting back the throttles even more.  The
boat was still on a collision course, and there was no way
of knowing if this shithead knew which way to dodge when he
became aware of her presence.

    Suzie had apparently turned around in the seat behind
her, checking to see why she had cut their speed to a
crawl.  When Suzie said in a calm voice, "I don't think the
dolt's gonna stop," Cinnamon pushed the button.

    Her father had installed a secondary foghorn on
'Summer Breeze,' one that would have embarrassed the 'Queen
Mary' with its volume.  The flipped switch had cut it into
the circuit.  She thought she felt a tooth shake loose when
the horn blasted.

    The shithead jerked around in his seat.  His eyes were
so wide that Wynter could have done a retinal scan from
where she was seated.  He jerked his wheel to the left and
dumped his skier, who released the line.  Relieved of the
drag from the skier, the boat surged faster ahead.  And
shot in westward in front of the 'Summer Breeze.'

    He was headed for a group of three boats.  Fortunately
their skippers had looked around at the sound of the
foghorn and saw him coming.  They also saw his indecision
about what to do with the dumped skier.  One skipper turned
aside, avoiding a collision by what seemed inches as the
passing boat's wake violently buffeted his small craft. 
The shithead roared between that boat and the other two. 
He fought the wheel and ignored the throttles.

    Suzie's voice was still calm.  "The stupid dolt's not
gonna make it, is he?" she asked in a relaxed,
conversational tone.

    "I don't think so," replied Josh.

    "No WAY!" Hailey chortled.

    "I hope he has wheels on the bottom," Huntly said.

    "Suck it up, asshole!" Kenny shouted.

    "Where's my camera when I need it?" Jimmy moaned.

    "Oh!  I sure hope he doesn't hurt himself or others
with his unsafe actions."  Who else?

    "Three..." Ron and Cinnamon said together.  "Two...
One..."

    The boat had plenty of surface water but not enough
depth after it shot past the marker buoys  and into shallow
water.  Before friction along the keel could slow it
enough, the prow bit into the sandy bottom.  The stern
lifted, and one of the two huge outboard motors came loose.

    "That," Jimmy said in a voice filled with awe, "must
be what it looked like when catapults fired."

    The boat balanced on its nose, its now-sanded-paint-
free bottom shining, then collapsed back onto its keel. 
Because they were passing it at the time, neither Cinnamon
nor her passengers could see whether the shithead had
stayed with the boat or had been thrown clear like more
catapult ammunition.

    "Sis!"  Wynter was now standing between Ron and the
seated Huntly.  "Shouldn't you turn around and go back to
help?  He might need medical attention!"

    "Nope," Cinnamon said with a grin.  "You weren't
looking.  One of those boats he almost hit held the chief
of emergency medicine and his wife."

    "Doctor Malenkov?"

    "Yes.  And Nurse Kwan and 'Slugger' were with him. 
Oh.  The boat he almost sank belongs to the head of the
Bighorn Marina."

    Ron scratched his head and grinned.  "And he had
Police Chief Kramer with him."

    "Well, what about the water skier?"  Wynter turned in
time to see the very shapely woman being helped into
another boat by three well-muscled men.  "Oh.  Well,
shouldn't we stop and give statements?"

    Cinnamon snorted and jerked a thumb at the three boats
the shithead had almost hit.  "With those witnesses? 
Besides, we weren't directly involved like they were.  But
if they want statements the Chief will let Ron know, and
he'll tell us."

    Ron agreed with Cinnamon.  That placated Sis, who went
back to sit with Jimmy as she eased the throttles forward a
little more.

    Huntly's left hand crossed over his body and slid up
her left thigh, stopping when his index finger was buried
between the thigh and her fold.  He leaned sideways and
rested his head on her shoulder.  "Did I ever tell you that
you were a class act?" he asked.

    "Once or twice."

    "Damn.  I was hoping it would be a surprise."

    "Shithead."

    He kissed her neck.  "Bitch."

                           ~ ~ ~

    It was just Ron's luck that Maria Alcalde had come
down with a summer cold.  When he'd stopped to pick her up
he'd found her red-eyed and runny-nosed, with a forehead
that could be used to warm up tortillas.  If her violent
sneezing didn't shake them off first.

    Nothing else had gone right all week, so why should
today be any different?  This just wasn't his week.

    Cinnamon had coasted to a stop six hundred yards west
of Snowflake Cove.  Hailey, who had complained about the
water temperature while still standing in the middle of the
boat, surfaced off the port side and doubled her
complaints.  Kenny hung in mid-air, about to crash near her
in a cannonball dive.  Jimmy was waiting for Wynter to stow
her visor and sunglasses in a compartment.  Huntly and
Cinnamon were swapping spit behind him, while Suzie and
Josh were exchanging hugs on the swim platform.

    And a small boat running at high speed was headed
directly toward them from between Horsehead and Spruce
Islands.  Unease flooded through him as his fight-or-flight
response flared to life.  It looked like his conclusion
was, unfortunately, correct.

    "Suzie!  Josh!  Wait!"  The pair had already assumed
diving positions.  As they straightened, he turned. 
Cinnamon stood there, staring at him with unblinking eyes
and a slightly tilted head.  She leaned sideways to see
around him.  Her eyes started flicking between the boat and
himself."

    "Something's not right," she said.

    "See that scuba diver's flag?  That's the Shea
brothers' boat, but that's not Jarod or Dave.  Hailey! 
Kenny!  Back in the boat.  NOW!"

    "Emergency!" Cinnamon added, obviously to stop any
argument from her sometimes-quarrelsome cousin.

    Jimmy and Wynter clasped hands.  "What's wrong?" they
asked in unison.

    Ron and Cinnamon both ignored them.  "Five hundred
bucks says he's wearing a red cap," Cinnamon muttered.

    Ron shook his head.  "I'm in high school.  I don't
have that kind of money to lose.  Start the engines.  I'll
help these two aboard.  Everybody!  Life vests back on! 
Quickly!"  He stepped onto the swim platform as she hopped
into the pilot's chair, made sure the propellers weren't
engaged, and turned the key.

    Jimmy and Josh braced him from behind as he lifted the
two swimmers from the water.  He responded to Kenny's
raised eyebrow with, "Hang loose and be ready."

    Kenny nodded.  He knew that the absence of details
meant that Ron didn't have any further information at the
moment.  He didn't waste time with questions.  He followed
the others into the cockpit and closed the gate to the swim
platform.

    "Hold on!"  Cinnamon engaged the propellers and
slammed open the throttles, turning the boat west.

    Jimmy's head appeared between Cinnamon's and Huntly's.
"What's wrong?" he asked again.

    Ron, standing in the gap that allowed access to the
cabin, had leaned over the left seat and braced himself
with hands on the windshield and seat back.  He squinted to
sharpen his focus.  He was sure of it.  "Red cap!"

    He didn't turn around as Cinnamon spat, "SHIT!"  Then
he heard Huntly say, "That guy's been watching us.  They
think it means trouble.  Unfortunately, they're usually
right about this sort of thing."

    Ron looked over his shoulder.  Jimmy turned around and
explained to the others.  Most hadn't heard Huntly's
response.  They all looked at the oncoming boat that was
rapidly closing on an intercept.

    Ron started to say something about the intercept to
Cinnamon.  _Silly me,_ he thought with a chuckle.  She had
probably expected it before she hit the throttles.  She had
a plan.  He had no idea what it was, but she had one.  Like
himself, she wouldn't act without a plan.  Unless her plan
was to react randomly in order to throw off the pursuer. 
But even that constituted a plan.  He straightened and
scratched his head.  She was as complicated as he was.

    At the same time Hailey jumped to her feet and started
waving.  "It's okay!  I know him!"

    Ron stepped behind her and braced himself with a hand
on the sink behind the left bucket seat.  "Who is it?" he
asked over her shoulder as Cinnamon plowed ahead.

    "I dunno his name.  Juan something.  But, hey!  He's
SO the nice!  He, like, asked me about Kenny and you and..."

    "EVERYBODY DOWN!"  He grabbed Hailey around the waist
and pulled her to the deck as Cinnamon began a turn to the
right.

    Cinnamon screamed with rage as holes appeared
simultaneously in the left side portion of the windshield
and in front of Huntly.  A loud pop echoed over the water. 
"SHIT!  THAT SONOFABITCH SHOT MY BOAT!  HE PUT HOLES IN
_MY_ BOAT!  THIS IS WAR!  THIS IS FUCKING WAR!"

    Kenny's face appeared next to his.  "De Ramirez." 
When Ron nodded, Kenny asked, "What's the plan?"

    "Search me," he said with a shrug.  "The admiral has
the conn and is directing the war at this point."

    Kenny's patented shit-eating grin snapped into place. 
"I'll tell the others."

    Ron glanced at them as Kenny slid away.  Wynter was
pale and nervous but calm.  Jimmy was much the same.  Josh
looked absolutely scared as he lay with one protective arm
over Suzie, holding her down.  Suzie, oddly enough, looked
perfectly calm, as if she'd decided to lie down and
sunbathe.  She had that much trust in Cinnamon and himself.

    "God," he prayed as Cinnamon began zig-zagging, "don't
let her trust be misplaced."  He knew that the little
redhead's maneuver would make it harder for De Ramirez to
get a good shot, but he also knew that it would allow him
to close the distance.

    Hailey's voice shook as she asked, "That's, like, the
DRUG DEALER?"

    "Yes."

    She threw a wrist over her forehead and lost all
color.  "I, like, screwed HIM?  Oh, man!  I have SO fucked
up!"

    "We'll get you out of it."

    "SON OF A BITCH!" Cinnamon screamed.  "THE RADIO'S
DEAD!"

    She called rapid instructions to Huntly as Ron rose to
his knees.  They were a hundred yards off the northeastern
shore, zig-zagging toward the Lakeshore Docks.  De Ramirez
was closing the distance.  The man's arm came up.  "TURN!"

    Ron heard the shot but neither heard nor felt any
impact with the boat.

    Cinnamon, now headed due east in a straight run,
looked over her shoulder.  "Revolver or automatic?"

    "Looks like a revolver."

    "Good!  I wonder if he loads five or six!"

    She was counting the bullets fired, too.  "I'd bet six."

    "Me, too!" she shouted, stating what was to Ron the
obvious.  She would never bet on the lesser number unless
she had a reason so obvious that anyone in the boat could
see it.  To do so would invite disaster, and he just could
not picture his favorite cinnamony-redhead ever doing that.
She might scream with irrational rage, but her actions
would flow with the cold logic of a computer's mind.

    She wasn't maintaining a due east heading.  She was
turning southward in a shallow curve that would eventually
plow the boat into the Chinook Bluff Peninsula.  She was
trying to reverse course without playing into De Ramirez's
hands.  And she was trying to throw off his intercept
course and his aim.  But would she cut north or south at
the last instant?  The obvious answer was south. 
Therefore, he'd bet north.

    And he lost.  But De Ramirez, who'd made the same bet,
watched his quarry pulling away in the other direction.  He
aimed and fired in frustration before reversing course in a
tight left turn.  Ron heard the impact with the sink, which
meant the bullet had missed him by less than six inches.

    "GOD DAMN IT!  THE SON OF A BITCH PUT ANOTHER HOLE IN
MY BOAT!"

    Huntly pulled his head and arm out of the open panel. 
"No good.  He's cut and removed the power lines.  Finnegan
might be able to do something, but I doubt it.  I'll get
your cell phone."

    "No," she said.  "I'll be jerking this thing around
without warning.  You could be seriously hurt down there,
something far worse than just your knee again."

    Cinnamon wove and dodged, allowing De Ramirez to begin
closing the gap.  She rounded Chinook Bluff Peninsula and
continued weaving into Independence Bay.  It was a dead-end
with no way out by water or land.  But Cinnamon knew that. 
Which meant the admiral was still running the war by her
plan.

    She rocketed straight at Sentinel Rock, then eased to
the left and made a hard circle around it.  De Ramirez was
committed and had to follow her path.  She, too, had
realized that De Ramirez not only occupied a strange boat
on a strange lake, he did so with little experience at the
helm.  Not unlike the idiot pulling the water skier.

    She made a straight run toward the point of Eagle
Mesa.  As she reached it, Ron saw the arm come up.

    "HE'S AIMING!"

    Cinnamon jerked left.  Ron wondered if she had enough
water depth that close to the mesa.

    SONAR!  The 'Summer Breeze' had sonar.  Cinnamon had
eyes both above and below the water.  She knew how much
water she had.

    The fourth round PWANGed into the swim platform.

    "MOTHERFUCKING SPAWN OF A SYPHILITIC SACK OF SEAGULL
SHIT AND MY FATHER'S EX-BITCH!"

    Suzie's laugh drew Ron's attention.  She looked up at
him, grinned, and said, "I GOTTA remember that one!"

    That made Wynter smile.  She was still deathly pale,
but her face was now calm and resolute.  Ron wondered if
that was how she'd been after the mine shaft collapse had
trapped her.  Another woman after his own heart.  She said
something to Jimmy, who was grim but also in control of
himself.  He nodded and kissed her.

    Hailey slithered into the space between the bucket
seats, apparently to give Ron room to move around.  He
scanned the others.  Josh looked terrified, but not to the
point of panic.  Kenny, kneeling in the right rear corner
and peering over the stern, was calm and relaxed, waiting
for his turn.  He'd trained the younger boy well, because
Kenny's adrenaline had to be surging through him the way it
surged beneath his own calm exterior.

    Huntly had apparently tried to rise because Ron heard
Cinnamon shout, "NO!  Stay down!  I might need you down
there in another couple of minutes!  Open that other panel!"

    She resumed sidewinding as she sped down the eastern
shoreline.  The gap slowly closed again.  The entrance to
Snowflake Cove flew by to the port side.

    "HE'S AIMING!"

    Ron saw the flash as Cinnamon spun the wheel to the
right.  Almost simultaneously he heard the sound of the
impact.

    Kenny jerked back, almost falling over Josh and Suzie,
and looked down in amazement as Cinnamon screamed, "THAT
FUCKING DOES IT!  YOU'RE GONNA DIE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING
COCKSUCKER!  NOBODY PUTS HOLES IN MY BOAT AND GETS AWAY
WITH IT!  NOBODY!"

    Kenny ran his fingers over the stretched lump in the
seatback.  The bullet had slammed through the fiberglass of
the stern, plowed through the built-in cooler, broken
through the inside wall, and come to a halt when it didn't
have enough force to punch through the vinyl of the
padding.  "Ho. Ly. Shit!"

    Ron frowned and shook his head.  _What is that idiot
shooting?  Even a .38 should have made it all the way
through.  But, if the guy is serious, why isn't he using,
say, a nine millimeter?  Is he worried about how loud the
shots are?  If he can get his hands on cocaine and heroin,
he damned sure could get hold of a silencer for an
automatic.  Maybe he thought he could pull alongside, start
a conversation with Hailey, and then shoot Kenny and me at
close range.  We ruined that plan by recognizing him, but
then it was too late to go back and change weapons._

    De Ramirez was certainly crafty.  He was far more
intelligent than a low-life street pusher, but he seemed to
be a quart low on common sense.  _Well, if he was all that
bright, he wouldn't be in the illegal drug business._

    Cinnamon made a hard left and continued southward. 
She appeared to be heading into Granite Bay.  She'd be less
likely to expose innocent people to De Ramirez's wild shots
and amateurish high-speed piloting skills there.

    But what the heck was her plan?  Ron realized that
he'd finally met not his match but his superior.  He had
suspected that she might be able to out-think him in a
pinch.  Now she had done so.  Maybe Huntly would realize
she was too smart for him and move on after she was in high
school.  So far his father had said nothing about college
men dating high school girls.

    Now was the time, while she was running a weaving
course in open water.  His reflexes would compensate for
the boat's motion better than anyone else could do.  He low-
crawled over an ashen-faced Hailey and slithered down into
the cabin.  He returned with his cell phone and gave Hailey
a reassuring smile and pat on the shoulder as her returned
to his place in the rear.

    He straightened and punched his father's speed dial
code.  He focused on their pursuer just in time to see the
flash.  The hammer blow of the impact seemed to prevent him
from hearing the sound of the shot.  He fell backwards, his
head landing in Hailey's lap, his phone ricocheting off the
spoiler and into the lake.

    Hailey looked down at him with wide eyes in a face
streaked with liquid red, then screamed.  Wynter was there
in an instant, and behind her, Kenny.  Somewhere in the
increasing distance he heard Cinnamon ordering Hailey to
get the first aid kit.

    Ron chuckled and grinned at Kenny.  "Hey, Kemo Sabe. 
Looks like it's all yours now," he said.  He wondered why
his own voice sounded so distant, too.

    And then the cold darkness took him and he was still.



                           Thirty

    _Madre de Dios!_

    He had used his last bullet well, killing the
_maricon_ who had pretended to be Angelo Ramada.  He'd
dumped the empty casings out of his revolver and used a
speed loader to insert new bullets.  But he hadn't even
snapped the cylinder closed before he realized what was
happening.

    The little red-haired _chica_ had turned her boat and
was about to ram him head-on.  He could see her face.  It
was cold, resolute, calculating.  It was the face of a
viper about to strike its prey.  Too late he realized all
her screaming fits had been nothing but an act to trick
him.  She had been in complete control all the time and had
without a doubt been counting his shots.  This one wasn't
like her dumb brunette _puta_ cousin.  This one had a
sneaky, devious, cunning mind befitting any man he knew. 
For the first time in his life Juan Rodrigo De Ramirez y
Sanchez had met a _chica_ worthy of him, one with _cojones_
the size of _besbols_.

    And she was trying to kill him.

    There was more room to his left, so he dodged that
way, snapping the cylinder into place with a flick of his
right hand while his left spun the wheel.  He lifted the
pistol to aim at his new adversary.  If he took her out, he
could finish off the _pequeno maricon_ and then the others
at leisure because, as he had observed, none of them could
drive a boat any better than he could.

    The _chica_ was good!  She almost got him, striking
only a glancing blow.  But the bigger problem was her
boat's powerful wake.  His smaller boat rolled on its long
axis and almost tossed him overboard.  He'd managed to stay
aboard, though he'd lost the pistol over the side.  He HAD
to stay aboard.  He saw her eyes as they passed.  She meant
to grind him into fish bait with her propellers after she
got him in the water.  He looked around the cockpit for a
weapon.  _Over there!_

    "_Madre de Dios!_" he yelped.

    He'd had no idea a boat that large could turn that
quickly.  He opened the throttle wide and dodged another
death blow.  Too late he realized that she had been holding
back her boat's power.  Yet another trick she had pulled on
him.

    They twisted and swerved, gradually moving ever closer
to the eastern shore.  She was herding him.  She intended
to dash him into the side of the cliffs and then, if he
survived, run him down.  After several minutes, with the
cliffs ever closer, he saw his only possible chance.  He
cut into a cove.  He didn't know where it went.  Maybe it
also ended at a cliff face, but he would die anyway if he
stayed out in the open water.

    The cove narrowed like a funnel and then appeared to
make a right turn down at the far end.  If he could just
get out of sight for a moment, maybe he could set his
ambush.  Yes!  The _chica_ was cutting power and dropping
behind.  Maybe she was in unfamiliar waters and afraid of
the rocks he saw just breaking the surface in several
places.  Maybe this _chica_ didn't have men's _cojones_
after all.  Juan Rodrigo De Ramirez y Sanchez wasn't afraid
of mere rocks.  Maybe this _chica_ wasn't worthy of him
after all.

    He shot around the curve and cut power.  Ahead the
walls closed in, still towering overhead.   No easy escape.
He would have to climb to flee on foot, and in most places
climbing was impossible.   He turned the boat around and,
hugging the inside wall across from a small beach at the
base of a sloping wall of rock, snatched the spear gun from
its bracket.  He drew back and locked the launching bands,
then loaded a spear.

    The sounds of the red-headed _chica_'s engines echoed
off the canyon walls.  And they grew louder.  She was
coming for him.  He heard her cry, "Boat!" as she appeared.
Before he could pull the trigger the rest of her boat came
into view, and he had a perfect shot at the dangerous
_pequeno maricon_ with the fancy karate.  He changed his
aim and squeezed the trigger.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Kenny rose to his feet at Cinnamon's warning shout and
wiped his bloody hands on his swim trunks, looking down at
Wynter.

    She raised her head and shook it.  "Go ahead," she
said quietly.  "There's nothing else we can do."

    Suzie, who was kneeling beside him on the rear-facing
portion of the bench seat, looked over her shoulder at the
other boat.  "KENNY!" she yelled, twisting and throwing
herself onto him.  She screamed as the metal spear bit deep
into her right thigh and they both crashed to the deck,
Kenny landing on Ron's legs.  She screamed again as the
spear wobbled.

    "WYNTER!  JIMMY!" he shouted.

    Cinnamon threw the throttles open and tightened her
turn.

    "Don't let the spear wiggle!" He slid out from under
Suzie while Jimmy, his face so pale that his freckles
seemed to triple in number, stabilized the spear.  Wynter
started barking rapid orders to Jimmy and Josh.  He had to
remember to compliment her later for the way she'd kept her
cool since the chancrous scumbag had shot Ron, almost as
well as Suzie had kept hers throughout the events.

    The slimebag had no choice but to try to get around
Cinnamon on the outside.  She altered her course.  Then
Huntly stood up and aimed the flare gun.  He missed the
drug-dealing bastard, but the flare had to have singed the
shitwipe's eyebrows.  Maybe it temporarily cost him some
vision from the glare.

    De Ramirez was thrown clear when his boat slammed into
something underwater and shattered.

    Before anyone could comment, Cinnamon cried, "Oh,
SHIT!" and the stern of the 'Summer Breeze' spun
counterclockwise about the rock that had burst through the
prow.

    Suzie screamed again as the impact drove Jimmy and his
arm around.  The spear came free.  Jimmy's hand flailed,
then landed on and clamped around the wound.

    But something else was wrong.  The world was tilted. 
_The boat's going down,_ Kenny realized.  His head whirled
around.  The damnable dickwad was struggling toward the
beach, his left arm hanging loose from the shoulder.  He
couldn't go anywhere.

    "Cuz!  Bring the med kit!" Cinnamon shouted.  "Huntly,
we'll take Ron with us.  Josh, Jimmy, you take Suzie.  Sis,
head for the beach.  You can stand up in about thirty feet
or so.  You and Hailey set up for treatment.  Kenny, GET
THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"

    Kenny hesitated for a moment, tears flowing from
beneath his crooked glasses the way blood gushed from
Suzie's thigh.  Fiery rage filled him like molten steel
poured into a mould.  "YOU BASTARD!" he screamed.  He
ripped off his glasses, dropped them, and threw himself
over the side.

    De Ramirez had already crossed the small beach and was
climbing up the steep slope.  No way was he going to make
it to the top with only one arm.  Not with Kevin Kenneth
Taylor, Junior, Suzie's guardian Angel--Suzie's and Ron's
avenging Angel--in pursuit.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Wynter, thanks to Hailey's help, made good time in the
water.  She still wasn't all that good a swimmer despite
the lessons Suzie had given her so far, and the life vest
seemed to hurt more than it helped.  She lowered her feet
and found the bottom.  As she struggled to the shore she
was really and truly sorry that she hadn't had time to give
Suzie an injection for the pain.  But Cinnamon had said
there wasn't time, and Sis had been right.  The 'Summer
Breeze' had gone down almost as soon as everyone was in the
water.  She pulled off her life vest and looked around. 
She decided to set up to the left, where there wasn't as
much sand to get into Suzie's open wound.

    Somewhere up the hillside, Kenny must have spotted the
drug dealer.  He screamed threats and curses that should
frighten a dozen De Ramirezes if they had any sense, even
if they weren't injured.  And he screamed them in a
different voice.  Wynter had heard Kenny's voice change
before he had leaped into the water, the way Jimmy's voice
had changed the day Cinnamon had moved in.  Unlike Jimmy's
voice that day, Kenny's wasn't jumping back and forth
between new and old.  She'd have to think about that later.
She had higher priorities for her attention right now.

    Wynter explained to Hailey how to put the life vests
to make a sort of field operating table for Suzie while she
re-opened and dug into the first aid kit.  She sure was
lucky that it was a first aid kit belonging to a doctor. 
Not only did it have morphine injectors, it also had
needles and sutures.  She could use a couple of stitches to
hold Suzie's thigh closed while they waited.  She had no
idea how long they would be stuck here until help arrived,
and prolonged use of a tourniquet would risk Suzie's losing
her leg.

    Well, that sure wasn't about to happen with Wynter
King, Future MD, providing her friend's treatment.

    Cinnamon and Huntly arrived first and dragged Ron
ashore.  Jimmy and Josh had to be more careful bringing
Suzie because of her still-open wound.  "Here!" Sis said,
handing her life vest to Huntly and rushing back into the
water as Wynter explained how she wanted Ron positioned on
his bed of life vests.

    Huntly shucked his own vest, placed both his and
Cinnamon's, and then helped Hailey remove Ron's while
Wynter checked to see if her first trauma patient had
slipped into shock.  He hadn't, but they needed some way of
keeping him warm.  She sure wished she had Jimmy's space
blanket that they had used in the mine.

    She heard the drug pusher shout a curse at Kenny and
then the sound of something heavy tumbling down the face of
the steep incline.  Kenny responded with a curse more
colorful than the one Sis had screamed.  She hoped the
unconscious Suzie had somehow heard that one and filed it
for future reference, too.

    A large boulder crashed to the beach and rolled a
couple of feet before the soft sand stopped it.

    Sis and the others had reached the shallow water with
Suzie.  Josh handed his life vest to Cinnamon and began
swimming toward the mouth of the cove.

    "Where's he going?" Wynter half-asked herself as Sis
clamped the wound shut.

    "Help," Huntly said.  He took Ron's torso while Hailey
and Wynter each took a leg.  "He's the best swimmer left. 
We never thought to use my phone or Cinnamon's when we saw
Ron lose his.  Too busy, I guess, though we kinda thought
somebody would notice the pursuit and the gunshots and call
for help.  The cell phones are underwater somewhere down
there and useless now."

    They lifted Ron onto the life vest bed.  "Is he okay
with the bullet still in there?" Huntly asked.

    Wynter nodded.  "I think so.  For the time being.  I
still can't believe it missed his lung.  He must have been
leaning backward some when it hit.  Or maybe a rib
deflected it.  It broke the scapula, but he's right-handed,
so he'll manage while it heals."

    Jimmy carried a writhing Suzie ashore, with Sis
alongside still clamping her leg.  After Wynter said, "Put
her face-down there, head at that end," they carefully laid
her in position.

    Wynter noticed that Suzie had something clasped in her
hand.  She gasped when she realized what it was, then
smiled.  "Suzie," she said, bending down near her friend's
face, "I'm going to give you a shot for the pain and then
I'll put a couple of stitches in your leg to hold it
together.  The bandages probably won't be enough."

    Suzie managed a smile despite the agony.  "You're my
doctor," she gasped.  "I trust you ever so much more than
those dolts at the hospital."

    "Like, what about the artery?" Hailey asked nervously,
giving all the blood a worried look.

    Wynter pointed.  "It's over here, out of the way."

    A loud scream echoed from above, growing louder as it
approached.  Then it was abruptly cut off by the sound of a
muffled impact.  Several more thuds followed, and the body
of Juan Rodrigo De Ramirez y Sanchez tumbled to the base of
the cliff.

    Huntly ran over, knelt, then rose.  He looked at the
others and shook his head before slowly returning to them.

    "Good!" Suzie said.

    Wynter gasped.  "Suzie!  You shouldn't be happy
because a person died!"

    "She's not," Sis explained.  "She's happy because that
piece of shit died.  Think about it."

    Wynter decided she'd have to, but she'd wait until the
current medical crisis was over.

    Cinnamon frowned at Suzie's hand and reached for it. 
Wynter quickly gripped Sis's elbow and shook her head.  The
little redhead nodded and asked, "What can I do?"

    Wynter rechecked the hypodermic injector.  "Wait until
this takes effect and then hand me the alcohol again."  The
tip of her tongue appeared at the right corner of her
mouth.  With a frown of concentration she clamped it with
her teeth and leaned over her patient.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Cinnamon looked around when Kenny returned to the
beach in what was little better than a controlled fall.  He
was scraped and bruised, but that could have happened
during his rapid descent.  "What happened?"

    Kenny had the red cap with him.  He threw it over the
face of the corpse and then gave her the coldest stare
she'd seen since she'd last practiced in front of a mirror.
He spoke in his new, deeper voice.  "He fell."

    She nodded.  That was all she needed to know.  All she
wanted to know.

    He dropped to his knees by Suzie's head.  "How is she?"

    "Ke'?" she mumbled.

    "I'm here, Suzie.  How do you feel?"

    "Be'r.  He'h."  Her hand twitched forward slightly but
the drug had her too far out of it to exert any muscle
control.

    Cinnamon nodded at the hand.  "She brought those for
you."

    Kenny opened her hand.  His tears gushed when he saw
his glasses.

    Wynter straightened.  "I'm done."

    Kenny wiped his eyes.  "Nice stitches," he said in a
voice again broken, but this time with emotion.

    "Thanks.  Jimmy, could you help me with the bandages? 
Kenny has to practice his bedside manner."

    Kenny looked around before sitting down and gently
cradling Suzie's head in his lap.  "Where's Josh?"

    "Went for help," Huntly said.  "Jimmy thinks that
Finnegan's emergency signal that he gave Ron, which is
somewhere down there," he pointed at the wreck, "probably
won't be strong enough to reach outside the walls of this
canyon.  Assuming it's waterproof and still works.  Unlike
Cinnamon's and my drowned cell phones that we know won't."

    "And the other patient?"  He nodded toward Ron, who
was half-buried under Hailey.  "The one she's molesting?"

    "Hey, I'm SO keeping him warm."  The voice was mocking
but broken because she was crying.  "It's to prevent shock,
you know.  It's, like, something I can do to help make up
for telling that pickledick about you two."

    "He survived the bullet," Wynter said without looking
up from rolling on Suzie's bandage, "but I'm not sure he'll
survive Sis Two."

                           ~ ~ ~

    Kenny watched Huntley standing in the waist-deep water
with his back to them.  The older boy sighed, bounced on
his feet a couple of times, and then backed two steps
before turning toward the shore.  He stopped beside Suzie,
smiled at Wynter who had fallen asleep while trying to keep
her warm with shared body heat, and squatted.

    "Remind me to complain to Parks and Recreation for not
providing porta-potties on this beach," he whispered.  "You
want me to hold her head while you go?"

    Kenny glared at him and shook his head.

    "Look, don't get mad at me.  I didn't cause this, the
dead guy did.  I was just asking, okay?  It wasn't an
order.  You're watching out for her, I'm trying to watch
out for you.  If you don't want another guy touching her,
I'll get Cinnamon, or I'll wake up Wynter and she can move
and do that for you."

    Kenny felt his anger cool.  Huntly was right and was
doing what he'd do himself if their positions were
reversed.  "It's not your fault.  I'm sorry.  I'm just
worried about her if we don't get out of here before
nightfall.  I don't want anything to happen to her.  Ron
may be in a little better shape because he didn't lose as
much blood.  The other problem is whether we have enough
morphine for however long it takes."

    Huntly nodded and put a comforting hand on Kenny's
shoulder.  "I understand.  Maybe Jimbo and I should
scrounge some firewood.  Doesn't seem to be anywhere near
enough down here on this tiny beach.  What about up there?"

    Kenny looked over his shoulder.  "I wasn't really
looking.  Ron will give me hell for not being aware of my
environment.  Man, I'm going to be sore after our next
practice."  He shook his head.  "But I think I saw some
stuff about twenty or thirty feet up and to the left, if
you can get to it.  Won't be much, though."

    Huntly nodded and looked toward the sunken boat.  An
exhausted Cinnamon and Jimmy were dragging a third load
onto the beach.  "Maybe just I'll go scrounge by myself."

    "Hey, you don't have shoes.  Be careful.  We don't
need three trauma patients."

    "Hey, man, neither do I.  Especially if I'm the third
one."  He patted Kenny's shoulder and rose.

    Kenny bent forward.  He was just able to kiss Suzie's
shoulder without crushing her head.  If only he could reach
Wynter, he'd kiss her, too, in appreciation.  She'd
exhausted herself, physically and emotionally.  He'd
suggested she lie down next to Suzie to keep her warm,
knowing it was the only way he could get Wynter to rest. 
Jimmy immediately understood and had agreed.

    They'd discussed Suzie's and Ron's conditions as she
wrapped herself around Suzie's left side.  Wynter had
fallen asleep in mid-word.

    "Ke'?"

    Kenny looked down and brushed his hand along her head.
"I'm here, Suzie."

    "'Zit col'?"

    "Getting that way.  Huntly's gone for firewood. 
Wynter's trying to keep you warm."

    "'Kay.  You g'way?"

    "No.  I'm staying here with you and Wynter."

    "'Kay."  She inhaled and exhaled, then returned to
sleep.  It almost sounded like a sigh of contentment.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Wynter checked the sky.  Night was approaching.  Three
salvage expeditions to the sunken 'Summer Breeze' and the
Shea brothers' boat had provided canvas and supports to
make a wind screen.  The clothing and blankets they'd
salvaged were still wet and would be chilly.  Suzie had
been moved beside Ron so they could help conserve each
other's body heat, along with the help provided by Hailey
and herself.

    They had limited food and beverages.  Jimmy had almost
drowned while fetching snacks and drinks from the cabin of
the 'Summer Breeze'.  Almost nothing useful had been on the
Sheas' boat because it had been docked when De Ramirez
stole it.

    Huntly had gathered enough dead limbs to make a fire
for warmth.  They had one round for the flare pistol to
ignite the fire, but the pistol itself was missing and
wasn't visible on or near the wreck.  Fortunately Jimmy was
still wearing his flint arrowhead, and they had steel
knives among the salvage items.

    "It's simple," Wynter said.  "Remove the flare round
from the brass.  Very carefully.  Then use the powder to
start the tinder.  There should be enough of it for you to
make a small trail away from the main pile.  Strike the
spark at the end of the trail and it will set the main pile
on fire far enough away that you won't burn your hands."

    "Won't it explode?" Hailey asked.

    "Unh uh."  Wynter shook her head.  "It will flare up,
but it has to be confined to explode."

    "That's right," Jimmy said.

    Hailey looked skeptical.  "How do you know so much
about gunpowder?"

    Wynter shrugged.  "Daddy does his own reloading for
all our stuff.  Well, except for my .22 rifle, because it's
cheaper and easier just to buy new bullets for it."

    "Oh."

    "But maybe we won't need it.  They should be looking
for us by now."

    "Ke'?" mumbled a faint voice.  "Sti' he'?"

    Kenny gently brushed aside the reddish-blonde hair so
that he could stroke her cheek with his fingertips.  "I'm
still here."

    "You 'kay?"

    "Only if you are."

    "You fi'e."  She went back to sleep.

    He gently stroked her head with his palm.  "Yeah.  I
am."

    Huntly, Jimmy, and Sis One rose together and stared
toward the bend of the cove.

    "Well, I thought I heard something," Huntly said, "but
I guess it was just the wind blowing through the holes in
bitch's head."

    "You?  Thought?  When did you ever have a thought on
your own, shithead?"

    "Quiet!" Jimmy said.  Then:  "Boats."

    A moment later two flat-bottomed fishing boats with
electric trolling motors sailed around the bend and headed
toward them.  Wynter saw Josh sitting in one and knew
everything would be all right.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Kevin Taylor's knuckles turned white as he tried to
strangle the telephone handset.  "RULES?  I'll tell you
what the fucking rules are.  I'M the administrator of this
hospital and you'll do what _I_ tell you, so stop quoting a
bunch of bureaucratic bullshit!  I don't care if they're a
lion and a gazelle, if Wynter says they're better off in
the same room, and I said do it, then goddamn it, set up to
put them in the same fucking room or put your resignation
on my desk on your way out.  You have two seconds to decide
and you've already wasted the first one!"

    He slammed down the handset and turned around.

    Wynter and Kenny were staring at him over their
surgical masks.  Each gave him a gloved thumbs up before
returning their attention to Fred Malenkov and his team at
work.

    He grinned and slipped out the door to the waiting
room.  That was what he'd needed to relieve some of his
tension.

    He found himself encircled by the entire Lopez family.
He thought Joe looked worse than Ron.  Kevin put his hands
on the man's shoulders.  "If you ever decide to get
yourself shot, you'd better pray that Wynter is standing
by.  She did such a good job with her patients that they
let Suzie wait while they removed the bullet from Ron, so
that Fred could personally handle both, but I wouldn't have
argued if they'd reversed the order.  He's in that good a
shape."

    "Ron's going to be okay?" Maria Lopez asked in a voice
of mixed dread and hope.

    "Your son will be fine.  The shoulder blade is broken,
but that won't stop him from doing most chores around the
house while he recovers.  Now the rest of you, listen to
me.  Your brother will be spending a couple of nights here.
After he gets back home I want you to give him a day at
least, maybe two, before you go back to making his life
miserable."

    Joe offered his hand while the children looked
relieved and jumped around in joy.  As Kevin shook it,
Joe's face lengthened.  "He knew that guy was back in town
and didn't tell me."

    "Yeah.  He knew he could do a better job than you
could.  I wonder where he gets that hard-headed trait?"

    Joe threw a quick, nervous glance at Maria, then shook
his head.  "No, you don't."

    Kevin promised that they could go up to the room when
they moved Ron, noted that they should restrict the family
to only two or three in the room at a time, and excused
himself.

    Don and Carolyn Middleton, finished with the forms
that Jax had for them, practically ran toward him.  He had
to assure them several times that Suzie was doing so well
that she was able to wait while Fred treated Ron first. 
"If, however, you want me to have a lesser qualified
individual care for her, I'll order it.  But I'd prefer
that Fred do it.  He's almost finished with Ron to the
point that the nurses and that resident can take over the
final needlework, anyway."

    He was tempted to say that if they wanted a more
qualified individual, he'd have Wynter handle Suzie.  He
had seen what the girl had done under essentially
battlefield conditions and was very impressed.  But he held
his tongue and motioned them to some seats.

    "We should never have let her go out on that lake,"
Carolyn said.  "I let Cinnamon talk Don and then me into
it.  She will NEVER do that again unless we are with her."

    "And if you'd locked Caroline in a cage in the
basement the day after she was born, she wouldn't have HIV
now.  Look, one of the things you learn in this job is that
accidents happen and you can't..."

    Carolyn's anger flared.  "ACCIDENTS?  That son of a
bitch trying to kill them was no accident!"

    "I guess not."  Kevin laced his fingers and slipped
his hands around one knee.  "Were you planning to keep her
away from my house?  He was watching it, looking for the
opportunity to kill Kenny.  She could just as easily have
been a victim there.  How about from the Center?  He could
have spotted her talking to Kenny in front of the theater,
shot at him, and hit her.  You can't keep her isolated from
the world like you tried to do with Caroline."

    "Kevin," Don said in a quietly reproachful tone,
"Caroline's not the issue."

    "You're missing the point here."  Kevin wrestled with
his temper.  "You clamped down on Caroline and she
rebelled.  The more restrictions you placed, the more she
fought you, and that spiraled down until... it happened. 
And now you want to do the same thing with Suzie, possibly
with similar eventual results, although Suzie has far more
sense.

    "Hasn't it occurred to you yet that the reason Suzie
got injured is because she was saving my son's life?  It
wasn't because she was doing something dangerous in the
water, because she has enough sense not to do that.  She
lives in the water.  She understands it better than you
ever will.  She was injured because she put the value of
somebody else's life above the value of her own safety. 
Once again she rose to the occasion and was a heroine. 
Would either of you have shown that kind of bravery?  Huh?

    "Or would you have reverted back to the type of
cowards who would have a twelve-year-old girl break the
news to her that her sister was HIV-positive?"

    Don looked like he was about to join his wife in tears.

    _Well, who gives a fuck._

    Carolyn's voice was broken by her crying.  "But...
Cinnamon... deliberately..."

    Kevin shook his head.  "From what everyone told me,
Cinnamon acted to save lives, too.  Innocent lives of other
people on the lake as well as the lives of the people on
her boat.  Nobody knew what he'd do if they ran.  They
couldn't take a chance on going back to the dock.  They
were on bicycles, except for Ron, who couldn't drive after
he was shot, so they couldn't escape.  If they docked
anyway, he could have hurt or killed others who were trying
to stop him from getting to Kenny."

    Tears ran down Don's face, but his voice was steadier
than his wife's.  "Kevin!  She didn't even radio for help."

    "HOW?  The bastard sabotaged her radio!  Ron lost his
phone when he was shot, and they forgot they had a second
one. Okay, so she missed a couple of details while trying
to manage a crisis.  You've never made a mistake under
pressure?  Not to bring up your not telling Suzie about
Caroline again, but ASSUMING it was a mistake and not on
purpose, do you think that degree of pressure equals what
those twelve- and thirteen-year-old kids were under?"

    He jerked one hand away from his knee and pointed to
the emergency suite where Suzie waited.  "I've made too
damned many mistakes myself under similar pressure in that
room.  I wouldn't make any of them sitting here and
discussing it like a textbook case study with time to
think, but when critical seconds are ticking away and you
have to make a series of life-or-death decisions in rapid-
fire order, you don't have the luxury of contemplating your
navel and composing a textbook answer.

    "What would you have really done in her circumstance? 
Put your hands over your head and stick your ass in the air?"

    "Kevin!"  Carolyn wasn't able to look reproachful
while bawling.  "You can't talk to Don that way!"

    "I'm your doctor.  Of course I can.  You know, in the
last twelve months, Suzie has undergone a one hundred
eighty degree change for the better in her personality.  I
don't know if she did that TO spite you, but I do know that
she did it in spite of you.  Your younger daughter has
certainly exceeded the sum of her parents.  But for her,
that wasn't difficult."  He pointed.  "You two can go in
that room and talk.  Flip that conference sign around and
nobody will bother you.  Do it."

    He paused in mid-rise.  "And by the way, you might
want to consider this:  the main reason your daughter isn't
going to lose her leg is because of Wynter.  Maybe this
time you could be appreciative of what she's done for
Suzie, the way Mrs. Miller was when she learned that Wynter
had saved her son's leg, if not his life, too."

    He rose without another word and went to meet Mitch,
Rosita, Richard, Angie, and the non-medical crew and
passengers of the ill-fated 'Summer Breeze' as they
returned from the cafeteria.

    He idly wondered just what Suzie could become if he
could adopt her.

                           ~ ~ ~

    From her bed by the window, Suzie thought the morning
looked ever so nice outside.  Then the door opened to let
in Kenny's dad and the doctors making rounds, and the day
suddenly looked ever so nice inside, too.

    They stopped at Ron's bed first.  Ron had been asleep
every time she had awakened.  Whenever the nurses woke him
for medicines or something, he could barely stay awake long
enough after they left to ask how she was doing.  She
wasn't always sure that he heard her answer.  Not all of
it, anyway.  And every time she asked about him, he went
back to sleep before he could answer.  But she didn't mind.
He needed his rest if he was going to get well.  Besides,
she slept a lot because of her medicine or something, too,
but not as much as Ron.  She guessed that was because he
was hurt worse than her.

    Kenny's dad straightened and held his hands behind his
back.  "All right," he said, "present your patient, Future
Doctor Taylor."

    Suzie was ever so thrilled!  Kenny was being treated
just like Doctor Delvy, with everyone listening to his
every word he spoke with his deeper, more manly voice.  She
thought he looked ever so handsome standing there in his
white lab coat that looked ever so much nicer than the
green ones every one else but Wynter was wearing.

    Okay, he'd look even better if his stupid glasses were
straight and his hair combed a little better or something. 
Well, she'd see to that later.  Somebody had to take care
of her dolt.

    HER dolt?

    She thought about that.  She sorta remembered how
every time she woke up on the beach, Kenny was there taking
care of her.  She couldn't remember any time that he hadn't
been there.  And he'd stopped the stupid drug dealer from
escaping, so that the stupid dolt could never hurt anyone
else ever again.

    She still wasn't sure what had happened up on the
cliff, but she knew Kenny had been a hero, and that was
what mattered.  He'd been protecting her after she'd
protected him.

    But was he really HER dolt?

    She was so lost in her thoughts that she was surprised
when she heard Kenny's dad standing next to her head say,
"Present your patient, Future Doctor King."

    Wynter looked as beautiful and as competent as an
angel or something as she described Suzie's injuries and
treatment.  She was ever so lucky to have the two of them
as friends.

    She looked at Kenny, who was standing on her other
side, across from his dad.  He gave her a warm and ever so
wonderful smile.  She smiled back.  And then she
straightened his glasses.

                           ~ ~ ~

    Suzie couldn't understand why Cinnamon was standing
there between the beds, holding her hand, and kissing it
while she kept apologizing.

    "Cinnamon, it wasn't your fault.  That stupid dolt was
at fault, and he's paid for it."

    "But if I hadn't..."

    "If you hadn't done something, or if you'd done
something different, Ron and Kenny might be dead now. 
Maybe all of us."

    "I see her point, though," Ron said, sounding half
asleep.  "You were counting on us and we let you down."

    Suzie wished she was standing up so that she could
stamp her right foot, even though she knew it would hurt
like hell.  "Are you two dismental or something?  Did we or
did we not all of us survive?"

    "Well," said Hailey, who'd mostly been standing beside
Cinnamon and staring at her sandals, "the boat didn't."

    Suzie's anger or frustration or whatever the heck it
was went away.  "There you go," she said.  "If you want
somebody to be disappointed in you or something, then the
stupid boat can do it.  The rest of us are happy you got us
out of it alive.  And Ron, if you really did do anything
wrong, then I guess you're being punished now."

    Hailey sniffed and looked up.  Here eyes were all
watery or something.  "I'm the one who really did something
wrong.  Cuz always said thinking with my coozie would SO
get me in trouble, and look what happened.  I, like, led
him to you."

    "No," Ron said, sounding like he was sleeptalking or
something.  "You did nothing wrong.  He'd already found us.
It was just a matter of time."  His voice trailed off, and
the last word was barely hearable.

    Cinnamon shook her head.  "Don't listen to him.  You
damned sure did something wrong.  You acted VERY stupidly. 
He was a druggie.  He might have been carrying what Ray
Simons had, or worse.  You might easily have come out of
this with an eventual death sentence."

    Hailey scuffed one foot across the floor.  "Well, I
did have him use rubbers."

    Cinnamon's eyes rolled up and she glared at the
ceiling.  "If they aren't a hundred percent effective in
keeping you from getting knocked up, how effective do you
think they are in keeping out germs and viruses that are
smaller than sperm?"

    "I didn't think about that."

    Cinnamon lowered her head and nodded.  "Maybe it's
about time you started thinking, Cuz."

    Suzie shrugged.  "Well, the other important thing is
that you aren't to blame for what happened to us."

    Cinnamon's head tilted to one side and she stared at
Suzie.  "How can you be so easy-going about what happened
to you?"

    "Simple," she said as the door swung open.  "After two
weeks of coaching that stupid Amber, everything else is a
snap."

    "I can vouch for that," said a voice from the door.

    "JENNIFER!  What are you doing here?"

    Jennifer brought two vases of flowers with her.  She
put one by Ron and brought the other to Suzie.  "Us coaches
have to stick together when one of us gets injured,
especially when that one is my little sister."

    She hugged Suzie, who complimented the flowers.  The
cousins also said how lovely they were, and then Cinnamon
introduced Hailey.

    "That's some tan," Suzie said.  "How was the beach?"

    "Not bad, considering that I had to wear a wider
bottom.  I'll, uh, tell you later."

    "That's our cue, Cuz," Cinnamon said.  "Let's go find
the guys."

    They both kissed Suzie goodbye.

    "I do appreciate your coming to see me," she said. 
"Would you please see if you can find my doctor on your way
out."

    Cinnamon looked at her watch.  "He should be finished
with rounds any minute now."

    Suzie frowned.  "What?  Oh!  Not Kenny.  Wynter! 
She's my doctor.  He's my dolt."

Copyright Russell Hoisington 2007

-- 
Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion

Stories archived at
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