Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

though the dust. Selma and George Tensel, Sam’s suitemates, walked several yards behind him, conversing loudly.
    When he reached us, Sam flipped his thumb in their direction and muttered under his breath, “Those people jabber all the time. It’s like living next to chimp chatter at the zoo. Selma nags George to immerse himself in activities while George complains about the ranch. He says it’s too damned hot in Texas in June to frolic outdoors.”
    George had a point.
    Sam heaved a sigh. “It’s going to be a long vacation.”
    My mouth turned up at the thought of Sam’s suffering through his suitemates’ chatter. I’d wait a while before telling him and Meredith about the dead ranch owners. I’d never admit it to Sam, but with unexplained deaths lurking in the ranch’s past, I was glad he’d come. If problems arose, I didn’t think our suitemates would be much help.
    I turned a bright smile on him. “Let’s go to the river. Water is always calming.”

Five

      
    We checked the map Vicki’d given us and pinpointed the walking trail that went from our cabin to the lodge. Heading toward the lodge, we saw a wooden arrow sign nailed to an oak tree, pointing west, with “Swimming Hole” burned into it. We turned left and merged on to a wider dirt trail covered with horseshoe tracks, probably a trail-ride route. Rocks bordered both sides. The horse trail extended east and west in both directions as far as I could see. A line of mesquites interspersed with oaks on the far side of the trail indicated we must be near the Medina River.
    We crossed the trail, stepped over the rock border, walked toward the waterfront and discovered an oasis. Bald cypress trees flanked the Medina River, their limbs overhanging the banks. Pecan trees towered near the edge. Oaks stood farther back, as if standing watch. Soft grasses, poking around outcroppings of limestone, swayed toward the water.
    “The short grasses are grama and buffalo. The tall grass is bluestem,” Meredith said reverently.
    A tall, tanned male had planted himself at the end of a dock that extended out into the water and stood with his back to the river. His black eyes matched long jet-black hair tied at the end with a piece of rope. His mane shone like it was perpetually wet. His bronzed chest rippled with muscles. Lycra swim trunks, hanging two inches below his navel, hugged him to his knees.
    Our suitemates had already arrived. They sat a few feet in front of him on the dock, staring up at water god as if mesmerized in worship. Jangles’ gauzy fabric flounced around her on the dock like a parachute.
    Stoney sat to one side, dangling a bootless foot defiantly in the water. She looked as if the water god didn’t hurry and make his speech, she would jump into the river. Millie sat as far back from the river as she could, sneaking glances at the green water as though it concealed the murky depths of hell.
    Water god smiled at each woman in turn, his black eyes penetrating each one’s gaze like missiles hitting their mark. When we approached, he cut black-bead eyes to us and checked us out: Sam, the Tensels and me. Then his eyes rested on Meredith.
    Sam stepped around fabric and appendages, extended his hand to water god and introduced us.
    Water god smiled. “Trey Harding,” he said. “Around here they call me River Rat.”
    When Vicki sauntered up behind us, River Rat gave her a perfunctory nod.
    Rat bared perfect teeth. “Welcome to the BVSBar Ranch. In this beautiful Medina River, you’ll paddle through sun-twinkled water and secluded shady groves. You’ll swim like minnows.” I hadn’t expected River Rat to be a poet. Vicki didn’t seem impressed.
    Millie looked terrified. “Are there big fish in there?”
    River Rat ignored her. “Tomorrow morning, come in swimsuits.” He beamed at Meredith, probably imagining her in a string bikini. “You’ll get in, a few at a time, with everybody wearing lifejackets. I’ll divide you into groups: