Dash & the Moonglow Mystic by Pru Warren

Author:Pru Warren [Warren, Pru]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735991924
Publisher: Pru Warren

Twenty-Seven

Dash

None of us had fresh-caught trout for lunch that day. On the other hand, almost none of us was medevac’d from the pasture to a hospital in Cheyenne.

Taking advantage of the excitement caused by a helicopter on the lawn, Rose got the drone onto the roof of Bob and Marcia’s house without drawing any attention.

I’d learned Evadne’s name was actually Eve, but I was too much of a wimp about horses to earn her trust.

In summation, the day had had its ups and downs.

Happily, my guy at the IRS approved a little-used, multigenerational, historic-properties provision Bob could legitimately claim to lower his taxes. Nothing a judge could say was entrapment—but most definitely a trap for Wolf.

“Once Daddy tells him how much he could save, Wolf should change his mind about letting me into his books,” I theorized to Rose through the door as she changed in the bathroom. She appeared in the door in a swingy skirt held out by petticoats or crinolines or something. She looked like a cowgirl ballerina in a tutu. I goggled at her.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Didn’t you see the website? Guests are invited to wear traditional square-dancing apparel for the big hoedown in town tonight.”

She twirled, her white skirt flaring out to show off bands of red bandanna at the hem. Her short, red cowboy boots matched perfectly, and she wore a denim shirt tied at the waist.

“Where are you getting all of these clothes? You brought one suitcase. I watched.”

“Lycra packs small.” She bobbed in a cute curtsy, and I had to admit my “wife” was absolutely adorable.

“Stand there,” I demanded. “I need to send a picture to your fiancé. Has Enos seen this outfit?”

She fluttered a wave at my phone. Enos, an agent with the Treasury Department, was a lucky man.

“Well, do I need to do something?” I asked her. “Find a coonskin hat? Steal some cowboy boots?”

“Oh, you’re fine,” she said dismissively. “Jeans and a T-shirt. Men have it easy.”

“But we don’t look anywhere near as gorgeous.” I bowed to her as she grinned back.

“All right, sweet-talker. As we’ve been told repeatedly, dinner is at the lodge, and then everybody onto the bus to head into town.”

I nodded. We’d been getting the full-court press from the entire staff about how we had to go to the dance. The unspoken get out message was clear.

Rose wasn’t the only woman who’d pulled out the petticoats. It would be hard to board the bus with so many ruffles. Some of the husbands had been forced into shirts that matched their wives’ outfits. The females cooed in delight. The males exchanged pitying looks and long-suffering grimaces.

The week’s only family appeared in coordinated red, white, and blue jean outfits. Melanie and her mother were cute as kittens in matching skirts, and Charlie wore his Western-style snap-front shirt with good grace.

Skip, I noted, had been forced into his matching shirt but had determinedly pulled a World of Warcraft T-shirt over it. He resisted his mother’s anger radar by burying himself in his phone.

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