Figures food would be the secret ingredient to get us all to relax.

___

The air was growing colder; the evening winding down. After she took what seemed like an album’s worth of pictures, Belle went off, alone, with her camera. We’d finished dessert.

Carlos hadn’t returned to the campfire. I pictured him lurking outside the interview trailer. He was probably making himself crazy over how badly Sheriff Roberts’ deputies were bungling the investigation into Doc Abel’s shooting. I hoped that, in at least one tiny corner of his brain, he was chewing over that image of me looking skyward with Jack Hollister. I wondered how Belle’s plan would go to get Carlos and me back together, at least inside a picture frame.

“That was some camera Belle had around her neck.’’ Sal tossed his toothpick into the fire, and extracted a fresh one from his neon-blue breast pocket. “Must have cost a fortune.’’

Maddie edged her boots closer to the campfire. “It’s not like the Bramble family can’t afford it.’’

“Still,’’ Mama said, “you’d think she’d want to take better care of it. When I saw her before, she had it protected inside a leather case that hung around her neck. Suppose she hit the camera against something, or dropped it? There goes a couple hundred dollars.’’

“More like a thousand, with that special lens,’’ Sal said. “My son’s into photography. It’s an expensive hobby.’’

“I don’t think it’s a hobby with Belle,’’ I said, remembering how shooting pictures had transformed her. “I think it’s more than that.’’

Later, on our way to Maddie’s tent, we decided to swing by the dinner site. My sisters and I were still curious about Johnny Adams and that “burn’’ on his hand. If we saw him, I planned to flat-out ask him if he’d been stung by some bees.

Our secondary goal: Seeing if we could scare up another slice or two of butterscotch pie before bed.

As we drew closer to the food trailer, I heard murmured voices. They were almost drowned out by the loud hum of the generator. But it sounded like a man and a woman.

I held up my hand to my sisters to stop, and put a finger to my lips. They cocked their heads to listen, and we crept closer.

The site was spic and span, not a stray utensil or slice of pie in sight. Everything looked cleaned and closed up for the night. The voices were coming from the dark side of the food trailer, shadowed from the generator-powered lights. We stuck close to the trees, staying out of sight, as we worked our way to the rear of the food camp.

I recognized Johnny first, facing us and tossing a long-handled serving spoon from palm to palm. The woman’s back was to us. Her slight shoulders shook with what looked like sobs. I couldn’t see her face, but I definitely knew those boots: Brown, with a leather fringe up the sides.

As we watched, Johnny stuck the spoon in his back pocket. He cupped Wynonna’s chin in one hand, and with the other, tenderly wiped what must have been her tears. Her arms went around his waist. She pulled him close. They kissed.

Even in the dim light, I saw Marty’s blue eyes widen. She breathed, “No way!’’

Judging by the enthusiasm of their kiss, I don’t think Johnny was offering Wynonna simple human comfort. Plus, she’d lowered her hands and was now busy massaging his rear end.

“Yes, Marty,’’ Maddie whispered. “Way.’’

“I still think we should have said something to them.’’ Maddie spoke between brush strokes, through a mouthful of toothpaste.

I handed her the bottled water we were sharing as we prepared to turn in.

“What were we supposed to say, Maddie? ‘Excuse us, we’re over here peeping at y’all, and we just wondered if you’d clue us in. What in the Sam Hill is up with you two?’ That’s not the best way to go about getting information,’’ I said.

The three of us had stood there in shock, watching Wynonna and Johnny. Then, suddenly, Audrey’s voice rang out, calling his name. He jumped away from Wynonna like she was hot grease. She slipped away into the night.

Now, at our tent, Maddie swished and spit into her camping cup.

“But, Mace,’’ Marty said, “we could have acted like we just stumbled upon them at the food trailer and were really shocked.’’

“That wouldn’t have been acting,’’ Maddie said, patting her mouth dry.

“I just don’t think it was the best time to confront either one of them with questions,’’ I said. “I wanted to ponder on it a bit, try and figure out what was going on. You know how our cousin Henry always says he never asks a question in court he doesn’t already know the answer to? Well, I think it’s the same when you’re investigating. I want to do some snooping first before we show them our hand.’’

“So now you’re a big investigator. Detective Mace Bauer.’’ Maddie tossed her toothpaste water out the tent’s flap.

I shook my head. “No. But I try to find ways to get information without making folks so mad they’d never tell me anything. Unlike some people I could mention.’’

“Is that a shot?’’ Maddie slapped the water bottle back into my outstretched palm.

I shrugged. “If the mule-wagon sized shoe fits . . .’’

“Cut it out, you two.’’ Marty wound her wool scarf around her neck and up her chin. “We need to stick together. Tomorrow’s the parade in Fort Pierce and the big barbecue afterwards. We’ll have plenty of time to nose around and find out what’s what.’’

We were all quiet for a bit. Pulling off jeans and boots. Unzipping sleeping bags. Getting ear plugs ready to deaden the rumble of Maddie’s snoring.

“I just feel sorry for Audrey,’’ Marty finally said, her voice wool-muffled. “She really seemed to care for Johnny, and not just as her boss.’’

“Well, what did we really see between Wynonna and him?’’ I asked. “Maybe he was just trying to comfort his old friend’s widow, and she caught him off guard.’’

“Donftinkzo.’’ Marty’s voice came from beneath the sleeping bag she’d pulled over her face.

“What?’’ Maddie and I both said.

Marty peeked out to enunciate. “I don’t think so. Johnny looked like a willing participant.’’ She shivered. “Aren’t you two cold? It feels like the walk-in freezer at the Speckled Perch in here. My nose is a frozen fish filet.’’

I leaned down and breathed some warm air on Marty’s nose. “Better?’’

“Yes, thanks.’’ She sniffed. “And now I’ll go to sleep dreaming of butterscotch pie.’’

I took the hint, brushed my teeth, and zipped myself into the cocoon of my loaner sleeping bag. Marty was right. It had gotten chilly. Now, Maddie’s crowded tent didn’t seem so bad. Even so, it wasn’t nearly as cold as the socks-on-my-hands night my tent was shredded.

My mind raced. Sleep seemed impossible. Disjointed thoughts and images galloped through my brain. Lawton’s body, the chili cup, and Wynonna. Wynonna with Trey. Now, Johnny and Wynonna. I’d been half-kidding when I proposed that she was addicted to sex. But maybe she was. Had she also had a thing going with old Doc Abel?

I thought of Doc, whistling in the woods. Then an image of him collapsed in the clearing, a bullet in his gut, pushed into my head. I saw Mama, lying still and broken in the dirt. Austin’s whip snapped at Val, and I stared head-on at a semi-truck. Marty stood, paralyzed with fear, as a rattlesnake prepared to strike. Trey and me. Carlos and Belle. Belle at peace with her camera.

I heard Marty sleeping beside me, her breath soft and even. No snores from Maddie yet.