They'd cleared the parking lot of the Lutheran Church for the target shoot. McGreedy's had supplied the beer bottles, and Hunters' Friend the ammo. The elimination rounds went quickly with frustrated hopefuls unloading their weapons and taking a place on the sidelines.

Tucker was pleased to see Dwayne preparing for the second round. It had taken a lot of fast, hard talk to convince his brother to participate in the day's events. He didn't want any gossip until it was impossible to avoid it. And he wanted Dwayne to continue acting normally. In Tucker's mind, normal equaled innocent.

"Both Dwayne and Josie are entered," Caroline commented.

"We were all taught to shoot early. Old Beau insisted on it."

"What about you? You're not after the grand prize of a smoked ham and a blue ribbon?"

He shrugged. "I never cared much for guns. There goes Susie." He waited until she'd blasted away three bottles with three shots. "Lordy, she's a cool hand. Good thing she married a lawman. With that aim she could've taken up a life of crime."

"Cousin Lulu." Concerned, Caroline put a hand on Tucker's arm. Lulu swaggered up with a pair of Colts snug in a leather holster riding low on her bony hips. "Do you really think she should-" She broke off as the old lady drew and fired. The three bottles seemed to explode as one. "Oh, my."

"She can handle anything from a.22 to an AK-47." He watched, entertained, as Lulu twirled a Colt around her finger in three fast circles, then shot it back home. "But if she asks you to stand with an apple on your head, I'd decline. She's not as young as she once was."

It ended with Lulu edging out Susie and a very annoyed Will Shiver. The crowd began to gather back on the street for foot races.

"Sweetwater's doing well for itself." Caroline accepted the cold bottle of Coke Tucker passed her. "Aren't you going to run?"

"Run?" Tucker lighted a cigarette and flipped away the match. "Darlin', why would I want to get all tired and sweaty just to get from one point to another?"

"Of course." She smiled to herself. "I don't know what got into me." Sighing, she settled back against his chest while the first runners took their marks. "So, you don't enter any event?"

"Well now, there is one I usually go for."

She turned her head to look back at him. "Which?"

"Wait and see."

Greased pigs? Caroline had thought she'd gotten into the spirit of things, but when she stood behind the temporary paddock in the town square listening to the porcine squeals, she realized she hadn't come close.

Tucker had bowed off from eating pies, he didn't choose to shoot, and he yawned at the thought of racing. But he was standing in the paddock, stripped to the waist, waiting for the signal to go catch a lard-coated pig.

Baffled, Caroline rested an elbow on Cy's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just fine now," he assured her. "I chucked most of it up, and the rest is settling all right." He fingered the blue ribbon pinned proudly to his T-shirt. "Mr. Tucker's going to win."

"Is that right?"

"Always does. He can move real quick when he's a mind to." He let out a whoop with the rest of the crowd. "Here they go!"

The shouts and laughter from the onlookers were as wild as the squeaks from the pigs and the curses from the men pursuing them. As an extra incentive, the ground had been watered and churned to mud. Men slipped and sloshed in it, belly-flopped and back-flipped. Pigs squirted out of questing hands.

"Oh, why don't I have a camera?" Caroline let out a crow of laughter when Tucker skidded on his backside. He twisted when a pig raced across his knees, but came up empty.

"That FBI doctor's good!" Cy shouted, cheering when Teddy tackled a pig and nearly held on. "Might've had it if Bobby Lee hadn't tripped over him. Mr. Tucker's going for the big one. Come on, Mr. Tucker! Haul 'em up!"

"An interesting contest," Burns said as he stopped beside them. "I suppose dignity is sacrificed for the thrill of the hunt."

Caroline nearly shot him an impatient look, but she didn't want to miss anything. "You're keeping your dignity, I see."

"I'm afraid I don't see the point in wallowing in mud and chasing pigs."

"You wouldn't. It's called fun."

"Oh, I agree. In fact, I've never been more entertained." He smiled down at Tucker, who was currently sprawled facefirst in the dirt. "Longstreet looks quite natural, don't you think?"

"I'll tell you what I think," she began, but Cy grabbed her arm.

"Look! He's got him! He's got him, Miss Caroline."

And there was Tucker, slicked with mud and grease, holding a squirming pig over his head. When he grinned up at Caroline, she wished she'd had a dozen roses to throw.

No spangle-suited matador had ever looked more charming.

" 'To the victor go the spoils,' " Burns noted. "Tell me, does he get to keep the pig?"

Caroline tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Until the butchering and pot luck supper next winter. Excuse me. I want to go congratulate the winner."

"One moment." He blocked her way. "Are you still staying at Sweetwater?"

"For the time being."

"You might want to reconsider. It isn't wise sleeping under the same roof with a murderer."

"What are you talking about?"

Burns glanced over to where Dwayne and Tucker were washing down mud with a beer. "Perhaps you should ask your host. I can tell you that I'll be making an arrest tomorrow, and the Longstreets won't have much to cheer about. Enjoy the rest of the festivities."

Saying nothing, Caroline latched on to Cy and pushed by him.

"What did he mean, Miss Caroline?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out." By the time she'd worked her way through the crowd, Tucker was gone. "Where did he go?"

"He probably went down to McGreedy's to hose off with the others. Most everybody'll be packing up to go down to Sweetwater for picnics before the fireworks. They'll be opening the carnival, too."

Frustrated, Caroline stopped. She couldn't talk to him surrounded by a bunch of wet, back-slapping men. She needed him alone. Rising on her toes, she scanned heads and faces. "There's Delia. Why don't you catch up with her, ride back to Sweetwater? I'll wait for Tucker."

"No'm. Mr. Tucker said I was to stay with you when he wasn't around."

"That's not necessary, Cy. I don't…" A look at the boy's set jaw and she swallowed a sigh. "All right, then. We'll park ourselves somewhere and wait."

Sitting on the stoop in front of Larsson's, they watched the exodus from town.

"You shouldn't let that FBI man worry you, Miss Caroline."

"He doesn't. I'm just concerned."

Cy tugged his ribbon around so he could read it again. "He's like Vernon."

Surprised, Caroline turned to study Cy. "Agent Burns is like your brother?"

"I don't mean he goes around starting fights or hitting women. But he thinks he's smarter and better than everyone else. Figures his way's the only way. And he likes having his foot on your throat."

Caroline rested her chin on her hand and considered. Burns would detest the comparison, but it was eerily apt. With Vernon it was Scripture-his interpretation. With Burns it was the law-his interpretation. In either case it was the using of something right and just for personal power.

"They're the ones who lose in the end." She thought of her mother as well, a great wielder of power, a master of carving out her own will. "Because no one who doesn't have to stays with them. That's sad. It's better if people care about you even if you aren't always smarter, even if you aren't always sure you're right." She stood. Tucker was strolling down the street, his shirt flung over his shoulder, his hair dripping, his jeans soaking wet. "Looks like we're going home."

She crossed the street to slip her arms around him. Laughing, he tried to nudge her back. "Honey, I'm not as clean as I might be."