“It is exciting, all right,” Joanna agreed, trying unsuccessfully to match her enthusiasm with his. “Amazing and wonderful!”

Through the long, sometimes stormy months of Joanna’s pregnancy, Butch Dixon had become extremely adept at deciphering his wife’s hormone-driven mood swings.

“What’s wrong?” he asked now. “You sound funny. Are you all right? Is the baby coming?”

“The baby is not coming,” Joanna said. “It’s still too soon. It’s just that…”

“It’s just that what?”

“Your parents came instead.”

There was a long pause before Butch exclaimed, “You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not. They were waiting at the house when Jenny and I came home from the car wash this afternoon. We’re having dinner at Chico‘s. Your parents are inside with Jenny. I’m out here in the parking lot. The RV park down in Naco is full, so they’ve parked their motor home at our place.” She paused before adding, “Did you know they were coming?”

“I had no idea whatsoever!” Butch sounded genuinely exasperated. “I mean, I told them when we thought the baby was due, but I never expected they’d show up like this. If you want me to, I’ll come straight home and send them packing.”

“No. That’s not necessary. We’ll get through it somehow.”

“But, Joanna…”

“As your mother said, it’s her first grandchild.” Joanna was careful not to add the “better late than never part,” to say nothing about Margaret’s snide “real book” comment. “And they must be terribly proud for them to have driven all this way,” she added.

“With them under hand and foot, we’ll go nuts,” Butch said bleakly.

“No, we won’t,” Joanna returned determinedly. “We’ll be fine.”

“But I should come home tonight,” Butch said. “As soon as they give me the award-”

“No, you stay right where you are and enjoy it,” Joanna told him. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to see it. Be sure to have Carole Ann take lots of pictures.”

“Are you positive?”

“Like I told you earlier, I’m a big girl, and I’m the sheriff, too. If I can handle crooks or a live-ammo shoot-out, I should be able to handle your mother.”

“A shoot-out might be less dangerous,” Butch said.

Joanna laughed. “I’d better go back inside and rescue Jenny. I’ve been gone a long time, and she probably needs it. But have fun, Butch. You’ve earned it.”

Returning to their booth, Joanna discovered that Jenny was gamely carrying on, regaling the Dixons with stories about Lucky and the trials and tribulations of training a deaf dog.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to keep a dog like that,” Margaret said. “If it were up to me, I’d have put the poor thing down. When animals are damaged like that, it’s not fair to keep them alive.”

Jenny may not have inherited her mother’s red hair, but Joanna’s hot temper was very much in evidence in the scathing look Jenny leveled at her newest grandmother.

“He’s not damaged, and he’s not a poor thing, either,” Jenny objected hotly. “Lucky’s a happy dog, and he’s also very smart. He can do all the things the other dogs do, but we use hand signals with him instead of words.”

Don, realizing that his wife had spoken out of turn, tried to smooth things over. “Are there trainers who specialize in working with deaf dogs?” he asked. “Did you have to send Lucky someplace special?”

“I’m training him at home,” Jenny declared. Sitting with her arms crossed, it was clear she wasn’t at all pacified. “Butch and I found a whole lot of information on the Internet and in some books, too. It just takes patience.”

And a little common sense, Joanna thought.

“Butch just called,” she said. On her way into the restaurant she had decided to let Butch give his parents the news about his unexpected award. Now, though, needing an icebreaker, she changed her mind and told them herself. “He’s receiving a new writer’s prize tonight, based on the quality of his manuscript for Serve and Protect. A prize and a check for ten thousand dollars. That’s why his editor was so adamant about him going to El Paso. She knew the award would be announced at the banquet tonight, and she wanted him there to receive it.”

“Great!” Don Dixon boomed. “That’s terrific news. Butch must be ecstatic.”

Margaret’s enthusiasm was notable for its absence. “Ten thousand dollars for a murder mystery?” she asked. “Imagine that!”

Her comment left Joanna grateful that Butch hadn’t been the one broaching the subject after all. Jenny, on the other hand, bounded out of the booth and began clearing the table.

“She’s a great little helper, isn’t she,” Margaret said. Fortunately, she didn’t see the silent roll of the eyes Jenny gave her mother on her way to the trash containers by the door.

“Yes,” Joanna agreed. “She certainly is.”

Back at High Lonesome Ranch, Jenny was quick to take Tigger and Lucky and retreat to her own bedroom, leaving Joanna to deal with the unexpected company as best she could. Margaret was full of unsolicited advice. On childbirth? Natural with no unnecessary anesthetics. Child rearing? Definitely in the corner of “Spare the rod; spoil the child.” Working mothers? A bad idea. Where did Joanna think this whole new generation of juvenile delinquents came from? Or ill-behaved household pets? Letting them have the run of the whole house was another bad idea-downright unsanitary and dangerous. How about all the children who ended up being mauled by family pets? Everything in Margaret’s litany of modern evils was laid at the door of working mothers. For Joanna it was all amazingly familiar. At times she wondered if Eleanor Lathrop Win-field and Margaret Dixon hadn’t been created with the DNA equivalent of a rubber stamp.

It was a relief when, at eight-thirty, the telephone rang. More than half hoping it was something that would necessitate her driving to a crime scene, Joanna lumbered her unbalanced center of gravity off the couch and went to answer.

“Sheriff Brady?” Ernie Carpenter asked.

“Yes.”

“You weren’t asleep or anything, were you?”

I wish, Joanna thought. “No,” she said. “Not at all. What’s up?”

“I know it’s late,” Ernie said, “but I was wondering if I could stop by for a while to talk to you.”

For the first time since Joanna had known him, Ernie Carpenter sounded oddly ill at ease and uncertain.

“If you’d like me to meet you at the department…” she began.

“No,” he said. “This is personal. If you don’t mind, I’d really rather stop by the house. I’m in town, so it’ll be a few minutes before I get there, but it won’t take long.”

“Sure,” Joanna said. “That’ll be fine.”

She went back to the couch and found both Margaret and Don Dixon looking at her expectantly. Ernie had explicitly arranged to meet with Joanna away from the department. Obviously whatever he had to say he wanted said in private and without Butch’s parents hanging on his every word.

“It’s one of my detectives,” she explained. “He’s coming by to brief me on the developments in one of our homicide cases.”

Fortunately Don Dixon took the hint. “Come on, Margaret,” he said, taking his wife’s hand and helping her to her feet. “We’d better turn in then. If Joanna has work to do, we certainly don’t want to be in the way.”

“You’re sure you’ll be warm enough out there?” Joanna asked. She had invited Margaret and Don to stay in the guest room and had been more than slightly relieved when they had turned her down.

“Oh, heavens, yes,” Margaret replied. “The RV is just as cozy as it can be.”

“Good night, then,” Joanna said. “Sleep well.”

Lady, who had made herself scarce with a strange man in the house, emerged from the bedroom and stayed next to Joanna on the couch. As soon as Ernie Carpenter turned up at the front door, Lady bailed again.

“Come in,” Joanna said, ushering Ernie into the living room. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m not working at the moment,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a beer, would you?”