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“OH, MY GOD! GERTIE, you’ve really done it this time!”
I thought Ida Belle’s remark was an understatement when I met her at Gertie’s in the morning. Gertie was waiting for us with a sheet draped over the front end of her Cadillac and she whisked it off like a game show model to reveal the addition to her car. Horns, and not the kind you blow to get someone’s attention. No, Gertie went full bovine and her car had a pair of genuine longhorns attached to the front.
“Where did you get them?” I asked, trying to hide my amusement at Ida Belle’s look of contempt as she mumbled, “Why did you get them?”
“I got them from Sammy the taxidermist,” Gertie replied, bobbing up-and-down, overcome with excitement. “Wait until you see what else I got!”
“I’d rather not,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie sniffed. “Then you can wait until we get to Desperado. Fortune, do you want your gift now?”
Ida Belle choked back her laughter and I smiled bravely. The car wasn’t the only thing with a Western flair. Gertie wore jeans, an embroidered shirt, and pointed-toe boots with real spurs. I looked down and she lifted her foot, nearly toppling sideways as she displayed her boot. I grabbed her arm until she regained her balance and didn’t need Ida Belle’s reminder of, “I told you,” to see that we had created a monster.
Recalling the previous day’s texts from Gertie, I took a deep breath and asked, “Did you get the stuff that you sent me pictures of?”
“No. Those were online suggestions and I took photos so I’d know what to buy. Then I went shopping in Chalk Lake but they don’t know what ‘true western outfitting’ means. So I’ll have to make a few purchases in Texas.”
Ida Belle used a finger to rub her eyelid. “They’re not the only ones without sense. Gertie, open the trunk.” She and I peered inside and exchanged a worried look. Gertie had three large suitcases, whereas I had brought a backpack and Ida Belle carried a duffel bag. “Three suitcases?” she asked Gertie after we tossed our bags in and shut the compartment.
“I already said you’ll have to wait,” Gertie replied, heading to the driver’s door.
“No morning coffee?” I asked in surprise. Had I known I would have brought along a filled travel mug.
Ida Belle was better prepared, and she pulled a Thermos from the sack she had tucked under her arm. “I took the liberty of spicing it up with a little SLS cough syrup. I have a feeling we’ll be needing it.”
Still outside the car, I glanced through the back window and saw Gertie had covered the seat with a faux cowhide throw. I popped my head back up and made a face at Ida Belle. “You only packed one?”
After leaning over to look inside, Ida Belle snorted at me. “One for the road, but a couple extra bottles of syrup for the stay.”
“Are we ready?” Gertie was so excited that she squeaked from behind the wheel where she waited for us. “Texas, here we come!”
Ida Belle shot me a dark look. “I’ll call ahead and have them sound the disaster siren,” she low-voiced before we climbed into the car.
Gertie fired the engine up, and we were off on our adventure. More or less. When Gertie blew through a stop sign and nearly clipped Carter’s patrol car, Ida Belle snickered.
“Good job, Gertie! Keep trying to wreck this car because it’s a crime against dignity and good sense. But next time you might not want to cheese off the law enforcement, though.”
Carter’s siren wailed behind us but Gertie didn’t slow down. Instead, her speed increased and when she turned onto the highway, we nearly rolled and I looked back to see a hubcap bouncing behind us. Carter sent it flying into the weeds, courtesy of his now cracked front windshield.
“What are you doing?” Ida Belle shouted.
I met Gertie’s huge eyes in her rearview mirror and she said, “I can’t stop.”
“Then slow down,” Ida Belle hollered as Carter flew around us and decreased his speed. We gained on him and nearly touched bumpers. Then Gertie’s horns tweaked the trunk of his car before she adjusted the steering wheel and they scraped across the back of his vehicle. He sped up, and I'm sure the air in his car was blue with curses.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ida Belle’s face paled and I crammed my hands down the crack of the seat and curled my fingers around the upholstery since the seatbelts were gone. Otherwise, if Carter slammed on his brakes, we’d crash into him and I would cartwheel through the air.
“I can’t stop,” Gertie repeated. “My spur is stuck in the floormat, and I can’t remove it. Help!”
Ida Belle’s jaw dropped. “What in the hell do you expect us to do? Put our feet through the floor like the Flintstones?” she bellowed. “Try lifting your toe up.”
“I can’t. These new boots are a little tight and my foot is asleep.”
“A little tight? Don’t you mean too small?” Ida Belle snapped.
“Reach down and do something,” Gertie shouted as the nose of the Caddy kissed the squad car again and sent it spinning off the road. Carter’s face was all mouth as I looked out the back window and watched him skid sideways, sending a cloud of dirt into the air before coming to a stop.
“You’d better unhook that spur,” I advised Ida Belle after peeking over Gertie’s shoulder. “We have a full tank of gas and we won’t run out before this ends badly.”
Ida Belle scowled and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Don’t rear-end a semi or use a tree for a bumper while I’m down there,” she told Gertie, getting to her knees to loosen the spur that was wedged into the rubber mat.
Gertie giggled, and the car swerved. “That tickles.”
I heard a thud and Ida Belle swore when her head connected with the dashboard. “Keep it steady.” Her voice was muffled but not enough to prevent us from hearing a few other words.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Gertie reprimanded. “This could have happened to anyone. Hee-hee! Stop tickling me!”
The car decelerated and Ida Belle sat up with messy hair and a red face. “You just had to get spurs, didn’t you?” she demanded.
“Don’t blame this on me,” Gertie protested. “There were no warnings on the package stating that this might happen. I’ve half a mind to sue that company!”
“No, you won’t! You don’t have that much going for you right now,” Ida Belle retorted as she pulled down the visor and checked her hair.
“Uh, oh.” Gertie made a face and said, “You’d better buckle up because I see flashing lights behind us.”
Ida Belle nearly pulled the visor off before she closed it and jerked the seatbelt over her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re worried about my safety,” she said sarcastically.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You were never in any danger. But I could get a ticket if you aren’t buckled up.” Gertie waved to Carter when he drove up next to us and pointed for her to pull over. He backed off when Gertie slowed down. Then she eased onto the shoulder and rolled down her window after coming to a stop. Carter parked behind us and slammed his door so hard the squad car rocked. He circled behind it to look at the damage before stomping to Gertie’s door.
She poked her head out and peered up at him. “Sorry about that little run-in.”
I looked out the side window and watched him fight for self-control. “Little run-in? Which one?” he asked through tight lips.
“Are you being facetious?” Gertie asked, drawing her head back. “Because I don’t have time to play games.”
“Is she joking?” Carter bent down to ask Ida Belle.
Gertie glared. “I’m right here. If I’ve done something wrong, then be courteous enough to address me.”
Carter’s hand trembled slightly as he rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath while Gertie bent to remove her boot before pushing it out the window.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“The culprit. If you want to send the spur company a ticket, I’ll back you up,” Gertie offered. “You know, if I wasn’t such a skilled driver, someone might have been seriously hurt.”
“What about the squad car you nearly gored?” Ida Belle cracked.
Carter’s eyes became slits. “Have you been drinking?”
“Not yet. Ida Belle filled a Thermos, but we’re saving it for later,” Gertie admitted.
“Really, Gertie?” Ida Belle huffed. “You know darn well that he isn’t interested in my coffee, and you’re just using it to avoid the real issue!”
“Which is?” Gertie held up a hand to Carter and faced Ida Belle while I grinned at Carter from the backseat.
Ida Belle bugged her eyes. “How much time do we have? Never mind! First, you can’t see without your glasses. Second, you wore spurs—SPURS, Gertie—to drive a car. Third, you bought boots at least one size too small. Fourth, you made me unbuckle to help you...”
“That’s enough!” Gertie interrupted Ida Belle and smiled at Carter. “She’s a bit crotchety because she didn’t get her coffee this morning.”
“No, I’m a hell of a lot more than a bit crotchety! And with good reason,” Ida Belle leaned over to say.
A nerve in his cheek jumped and his fists clenched when Gertie asked, “Why did you pull me over?”
I thought he might explode on the spot when Ida Belle hooted with laughter. I’ll admit my lips twitched at the confounded expression on his face.
“I don’t even know where to start!” he yelled, taking a step back to regain his composure. Then he continued in a calmer tone, “You blew through a stop sign, ran me off the road, failed to pull over—I don’t mean just now—and you almost put holes in my car with those spikes, which are probably illegal.”
Gertie’s mouth drooped, and she covered it with her hand. “Oh, dear. Did you happen to notice if the horns are damaged because...” She stopped because Carter opened her door and demanded that she exit the car. “Fine, but don’t forget I’m an innocent victim here. It’s the spur company who needs to answer for this!” She put on her boot before getting out.
The radio he wore at his hip crackled, and we heard Deputy Breaux. “We have a 10-66 in progress. Requesting backup at the Bobbert’s farm...Hurry!”
Ida Belle leaned over. “Are the pigs loose again?”
Gertie nodded at her and patted Carter’s hand. “You just run along to your pig roundup. We’ll be fine.”
He glared at her. “It’s not you that I’m worried about. It’s everyone in your path.”
“I’m not too proud to help others learn from my mistakes. So jot down a few notes. Then, when someone sues the spur company, there will be documentation about the danger they pose.” Gertie nodded as though it was settled and reached for the driver’s door.
“Oh, no. You aren’t driving,” Carter stated flatly.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “I’m smart enough to remove my boots, Deputy.”
He ignored her and looked through the window. “I don’t care who drives, with the exception of Gertie. If I see her behind the wheel of this vehicle, I’ll have it impounded pending a safety check.”
Well, that was bad because there were so many things wrong with the Cadillac Gertie might never get it back on the road. I suggested flipping a coin.
Ida Belle smirked and said, “I had a sip of coffee from the Thermos before I left home.”
Wonderful. I climbed out of the backseat while Gertie tried convincing Ida Belle to give up her spot.
“Thanks a lot,” I grumbled to Carter.
“If you keep running with them, you’re going to end up like them—or worse,” he warned over his shoulder as he headed to his car. I gave him the finger and heard him chuckle. “I saw that.”
“Did not!”
He paused with his door open. “Yeah, I did. My front window might be damaged, but the reflection of your disrespect was still visible.” His radio crackled, and Deputy Breaux screamed. At least I think it was Kyle, though it might have been the pigs. Carter raised his eyes, got behind the wheel, and turned around to drive back to Sinful.
As soon as he was out of sight, I opened the backdoor and shooed Gertie out. (She lost the argument with Ida Belle.) “Just make sure your feet have circulation before you take off,” I said.
She hopped out wearing socks and wiggled her toes. “I’m good to go.”
“Where are those offensive weapons?” Ida Belle demanded when Gertie got behind the wheel and pulled onto the road.
“There’s nothing wrong with my boots that a little time won’t cure. They just haven’t stretched properly,” Gertie said.
“They’re back here,” I told Ida Belle. I picked one up and grinned when I looked inside. Not only were they a full size too small for Gertie, but also they weren’t leather which meant the odds of them stretching to fit were nil. But I didn’t tell Ida Belle. As long as Gertie didn’t try driving in them she would be the only one suffering when she wore them.
While Gertie drove, Ida Belle and I worked to see if we could figure out where to start searching and came to the conclusion that Jorge was referring to a cemetery. With that decided, we put the letter away and talked about what we would do if we found the money.
“I’d get implants,” Ida Belle said.
The car swerved, and my jaw dropped.
“At your age?” Gertie asked after correcting the steering wheel. “Why bother?”
“I meant dental implants, not boobs!”
“Oh.” I said, grateful for the clarification. “Gertie, what about you?”
“Ballet lessons,” she said immediately. “Secretly, I’ve always dreamt of being a prima ballerina.”
“Can you really picture yourself in a tutu and toe shoes? Never mind—I already know the answer.” Ida Belle shook her head at Gertie’s wish.
“It just so happens that I have excellent feet for a woman my age,” Gertie said. “I could do toe shoes.”
“I doubt it. After seeing those cheap boots, I can tell you have no consideration for your feet. But the real assault would be for anyone seeing you in a tutu,” Ida Belle joked.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Gertie replied.
Ida Belle cranked her head in my direction. “Well, there’s a good reason to hope that we fail on our treasure hunt!”
I smiled but didn’t join the conversation. In the past few days, I had sensed an undercurrent of tension between them. I know they enjoyed friendly verbal sparring matches and even an occasional good-natured barb, but something was different and it puzzled me. Eventually, I gave up trying to figure out what was bothering them and hoped it would be resolved before we returned home.
***
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when we arrived in Desperado. The downtown area was blocked off to prevent motor vehicles from driving through the recreated Old West area and Gertie found our hotel-owned parking lot a few blocks away. The guard at the gate checked our reservation and handed Gertie a ticket to put in the window of her car. We got out and walked to the hotel she had chosen, located on the main drag.
The street was dirt and the sidewalks were made from boards. Hitching posts, horse troughs, barrels, swinging doors, old-fashioned signs—all of it added to the feeling that we’d stepped onto a movie set. Even the streetlights were replicas of old-fashioned gaslights and half of the people we saw wore costumes.
Gertie nudged Ida Belle. “I told you,” she said as we entered the lobby of the hotel/rooming house. There wasn’t a piece of electronic equipment in sight and the clerk—dressed for the part and wearing a visor—registered our arrival by hand. Gertie handed him a credit card to pay and he excused himself, disappearing behind a door marked ‘Private’. He returned with a computer-generated 21st-century receipt for her to sign and then handed her a room key.
“Just one room?” Ida Belle asked.
“It’s all they had available,” Gertie explained as we walked up two flights of stairs to find our room. “This is a very popular place, and we were lucky they had a cancellation.”
“I suppose staying at the Marriot would have been too much to ask?”
“I told them there would be three of us and they assured me it was no trouble. Now we can all enjoy the Old West experience.” Gertie unlocked our door, and it swung open.
Well, the management had nailed the “old” part of the experience. The sparsely finished room had worn wood floors, wavy plastered walls, and a single-window with an old-fashioned roller shade and plain curtains. The full-size bed was made with a patchwork quilt, and a rolled mat lay on the floor next to it. The only other things in the room were a couple of mismatched pictures, a small wall mirror, a bedside table with a lamp, and a little table with a hard chair.
Ida Belle snorted derisively. “Where are you going to sleep, Gertie? The bathtub?”
Gertie cleared her throat and walked across the small room to move the ruffled cotton curtains aside. “Wow, this has a great view of the town! Come look.” She stepped back with a toothy smile.
Ida Belle’s brows dipped to a V as she turned in a circle to inspect the room. “We don’t have a bathroom, do we?”
“Of course, we do! Legally, they have to provide facilities for the guests,” Gertie replied. “But they don’t have to give us each a separate bathroom.”
“We’re sharing a toilet and shower with people we don’t know?” Ida Belle demanded.
“No. Not technically. Come take a look outside. Isn’t this amazing?” Gertie waved us to the window again in a failed attempt to distract us from the hard facts of the barebones rooming arrangement.
“I’d rather you explain the technicality.” Ida Belle stood with her arms folded, and Gertie frowned.
“So picky! There isn’t a shower; just a tub.” She bumped her nose on the window when she looked down to view the street and Ida Belle gaped at me.
“I’m not sharing a bathtub with anyone! Half the people who walked by us aren’t using deodorant and I doubt they wash more than once a week.”
“Exactly!” Gertie turned, her eyes shining brightly. “It frees up bathroom time which means you’ll have a better chance of getting to use it. And it’s just down the hall, so it’s not too far.”
“The words ‘chance’ and ‘bathroom’ should never be used in the same sentence,” Ida Belle warned. “If I see anyone heading there with a newspaper, then we’re leaving.”
Gertie flipped her hand dismissively. “They don’t expect us to bring newspapers, or leaves, to use in the restroom, Ida Belle. The brochure said they provide toilet paper.”
“Wow, that’s peachy. My point is that anyone going to the john with a newspaper is planning more than a quick drop-off and I don’t want to wait in line while they fill the room with toxins that have no way of venting properly.”
“You’re missing the point!” Gertie sent a pleading glance my way and I could see how much she wanted to stay, even with the inconveniences.
“Let’s give it a try,” I suggested. “It might be fun.”
Gertie clapped with excitement, and Ida Belle gave me an acid look.
“If your idea of fun is paying to live like poor college students on a European trek, then why don’t you and Gertie share the floor mat and I’ll sleep on the bed?”
“I know just what you need,” Gertie said.
“So do I. An en suite bathroom, mini-bar, flat-screen TV, and a good mattress,” Ida Belle said. “But I’d settle for any of them.”
“No. You need exercise.”
Ida Belle cocked a brow at me. “I hope she’s not saying this dump sprang for a workout room over necessities. Like real beds.” She pressed down on the bed to make her point—it wobbled and shook, the springs squeaking in protest.
Gertie tried staying positive. “Let’s get our bags, shall we? Then we can explore the town.”
“Our bags?”
I knew Ida Belle was stewing over the thought of dragging Gertie’s big suitcases several blocks and then hauling them up the stairs. I took her elbow and guided her to the door.
“Gertie can condense things into one bag,” I said as we headed toward the stairs.
I ignored Gertie’s whispered, “Oh, dear,” and led the way to her car.
“What can you leave behind?” I asked once we reached it.
She bit her lip. “Nothing. It’s all necessary.”
Ida Belle raised her eyes after opening a bright orange suitcase. “What’s this?” She held up a white ruffled garment with one finger.
“It’s your surprise,” Gertie admitted.
“Unless it doubles as a car chamois, I’m not impressed.” Ida Belle tossed it aside in the trunk and removed another item. “And this?” The brightly colored garment was also stricken with an overabundance of ruffles.
Gertie snatched it from Ida Belle’s hand. “That’s not yours! It’s Fortune’s.”
She handed it to me, and I ignored Ida Belle’s hearty, “Thank God!” and tried to keep the smile on my face when I unfolded it to see that it was a skirt. Ida Belle howled and yanked the white ruffles from the trunk.
“Bloomers? Do I look Little Bo Peep?” she asked Gertie before tossing them at me. “I think it goes better with a skirt.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because I got you a skirt too!” Gertie pushed her aside and began unpacking the suitcases right there. By the time she finished, I was sorry we hadn’t taken our chances with her stuck spur and the full tank of gas when our road trip started.
“Oh, look, Ida Belle. Our blouses have lace.” I made a face at the frilly item and wondered what had possessed Gertie to buy the feminine outfits.
“We’ll look spiffy at the square dance!” Gertie squealed.
Square dance? I mouthed to Ida Belle.
In my career as a spy I’ve foxtrotted at formals, hustled my way through clubs, and on one spectacularly abysmal assignment, I even polka danced with a terrorist in a beer tent at Oktoberfest—right before I stuck him with a syringe and propped him up until Harrison could help me get him off the floor and into a waiting van. The dance wasn’t hard since most of the people on the floor were too drunk to notice if I missed steps. All I really needed was quick feet and strong arms to keep my various partners upright until I spotted my target. I’d worn a dirndl on that occasion and Harrison complained that he had the greater indignity of wearing lederhosen, but that’s only because he didn’t have the legs for it. Still, square dancing was a whole new game, and not one I wanted to learn.
“We can leave the, uh—outfits in the car for now,” I suggested. “Let’s take what we need for today and the morning. Which bag has your things?”
“But you need to see if your clothes fit,” Gertie protested, pointing to a lime bag that held her items.
“I can already tell they don’t,” Ida Belle stated bluntly.
I reached for Gertie’s bag. “We can try them on before we go to the dance. If we go to the dance. We might be busy with other things,” I reminded them.
They seemed satisfied with that arrangement, so we took our things back to our room and decided where to eat supper.
“I don’t care if the dining room here claims to be in the Michelin Guide. A hotel that can’t dust a wood floor can’t be trusted with anything behind a closed kitchen door,” Ida Belle said.
She had a point. The floors had more dust balls than my house. I checked a tourist brochure that was on a small table and offered a few ideas.
“I want to go somewhere fun,” Gertie stated.
“I want a big steak and a stiff drink,” Ida Belle said.
“Let’s try Sudsy Sal’s Steakhouse and Saloon,” I told them. “It’s a few blocks away. They have a full menu, a bar, and a floorshow that welcomes amateur performances from the guests.”
“Goody! Can I dress up?” Gertie asked eagerly.
“Only if we don’t have to,” Ida Belle replied quickly. Too quickly.
I scratched my nose and hid my grin when Gertie kicked us out of the room to change and then opened the door to show us her outfit.
“I even have a garter,” she said, flipping the skirt of her frilly outfit up to show us her black net stocking-covered thigh. She wore short boots, elbow-length gloves, and a headband with a long curled feather. The dress was strapless and Ida Belle warned her if she got drunk and gave the crowd a peepshow, we were going to leave her stranded and drive back to Sinful without her.
Gertie sniffed. “Every saloon girl worth her salt knows you wear a corset underneath. Do you want to see mine?”
“No!” Ida Belle said as Gertie reached for the tie on the bodice of her dress.
“We believe you,” I added.
“I hope they have a nice stage,” Gertie said as we walked to the saloon. “I can do a Can-Can number.” She stopped and shook her fanny while flapping her skirt, causing a group of young men to stop and stare at the spectacle.
“Should I throw my garter?” she asked with a giggle.
“No!” Ida Belle and I were in agreement.
“God, no!” one of the men yelled.
“Save it for later,” I told her as we hurried her toward the saloon.
“That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “The next time I come, I’ll bring a whole bunch of garters to throw to my admirers.”