The telephone rang. Lila was in the office and quick to answer.
“Hello Lila, we got a call.”
It was the sheriff and with those few words, Lila’s stepped back to sit down; she was sure that Woody was going to describe bad news.
“A blue International Scout was found abandoned on Nolan’s ranch. We’re pretty sure it’s your renter’s,” Woody said in his usual impassive voice.
“You’re scaring me, Woody.”
With those words, the entire office went quiet.
Woody gave Lila all the details that he possessed then asked, “Do you want me to have it towed to your place?”
“Yes, please do.”
Woody had little else to say. Lila said goodbye and immediately shared Woody’s information with the group.
“What was in it?”
“He’s towing it back. I didn’t ask. We’ll see then.” Lila left the office.
“What do you think? What do you think happened?” The conversation continued without Lila. They pondered possibilities and wondered about Jose. Was his bicycle nearby? Were they together? Was blood found?
“I bet she ran out of gas, left her vehicle to get help.”
“Nolan’s ranch is nowhere near the lake!”
Martha turned to Bella and asked, “Burt gave her directions right?”
“Humph, that answers that,” George smirked.
“We have to get another search party together and go up there.” Martha directed her comment to Manny; he agreed. Without wasting any time, both went about getting another group together for the search.
Late that afternoon Woody rode into the campground with a tow-truck hauling the International Scout following close behind. The group from the office watched as the three-car parade slowly passed. Penny was walking Pepper but stopped to watch Scout’s vehicle being towed past her. The scene had the most noticeable effect on Lila; she withdrew to the sanctuary of her little garden. The invisible Do Not Disturb sign hung clearly on the garden gate as it did on the old Airstream; only Wiggie was exempt. The short and wide goat strained to push her head farther through the fence to reach both Lila and the fruits of Lila’s labor--Lila’s late husband built the sturdy fence for just that reason. It was a fence well chewed, rubbed and faded but still strong enough to take the butts from his beloved goat, Wiggie.
Burt stepped out of the office and the others followed. He wanted to investigate the empty Scout. Woody asked only that he be informed if they found anything they determined suspicious. This was small town police work in action--amusing to outsiders but normal to Pista for at least a century.
Scout returned to the lake and sat down beside Jose to scrub the dishes.
“Want to go swimming?” she asked.
“It’s too cold,” Jose said with the blanket pulled tightly around his body.
“It’ll warm up in a bit; you can think of it as a bath.”
“Is that a hint? Maybe you should ask Charlie.” Jose referred to Charlie’s rather ripe presence, which wasn’t too noticeable until the three were in the close confines of the wagon.
“I had my soak yesterday. Your turn, and maybe Charlie’s turn,” she said while still scraping the pot with a rock as she tried to remove the cooked-on matter at the bottom.
“We’ll put on a show for you.”
“I’ve seen all you guys naked in the showers at the campground a hundred times.” She wasn’t sure why they kept involving themselves in such adolescent banter, but they did. It seemed to come naturally as if they hadn’t gotten passed a grade school mentality on most subjects.
Jose’s eyebrows lifted. “You have?”
“Why do you think the women sit on that bench under the shower window? You can stand up on the bench and look in at all of you guys.”
Scout had never peeked into the men’s room, nor did any other women as far as she knew but they could have, and Jose believed it.
“You stood on the bench and watched us take showers?” Jose asked, taken aback and amused at the news. “You and who else?”
“You have to get the confession from them, not me.”
“So, like what you saw?” He laughed, enjoying the immature play.
“Well, let me say this,” she glanced up at him. “A stroll in the woods after your swim may start a whole new flurry of Sasquatch sightings.” She swished the dishes in the lake and held each one up to examine. “Clean as they’re going to get.” Before she went back to the camp, she reminded Jose to invite Charlie for a swim--meaning no offense, just aware that they would probably be sharing the small interior of the wagon again that night.
“Yeah, I’ll give it my best. Come-on, did you really watch at the showers?”
“What else is there to do, you see one sunset, you’ve seen them all. But, it was a different show every night at the showers.”
“I might tell Lila what you perverts are doing?” Jose warned in jest.
“Maybe Lila hops the bench too, ya know.”
Scout walked with tender feet back to where Charlie was building a good cooking fire.
“I found Jose some coveralls.” Charlie nodded towards the ground.
Scout looked down at the much worn, tattered coveralls crumpled on the ground by the campfire. It was hard for Charlie to see someone wear his professional suit, even if it was someone he was quite fond of. Charlie shined in that suit and he kept it unsullied and as pristine as Charlie could do pristine. He couldn’t afford to replace it either so Charlie reached into the bowels of his laundry and found some other clothes for Jose.
“That was nice of you, Charlie. I know he would feel more comfortable in them. He is afraid of getting your suit dirty.”
“Well tell em to put em on.”
Scout yelled and waved the coveralls like a flag. It took Jose a few seconds to comprehend the content of her hand but once he did, Jose raced up in his bare feet as if he were trotting over hot coals to claim the coveralls. He grabbed them quickly. “Life is good.” He smiled and held them up, surveyed the less than desirable condition but happy to get out of the clown suit all the same. Once in the wagon, he carefully removed the clown suit, folded it and respectfully placed it into the bag and back in the wood box along with the big red shoes. He checked the inside of the coveralls--not sure what he expected to find--before putting them on. They had a musty smell and dirt flaked off as he pulled them on; it looked like dried mud. He adjusted the straps of the oversized pair and made a jovial exit to breakfast. “Tada!” he clowned as he jumped from the wagon step.
Charlie cooked the morning’s mush in a cleaned pot. At Scout’s request, he added what was left from the apple concoction and breakfast was quite tasty and sociable.