Rattlesnake Crossing

When the motion-detector yard light came on, Butch and the two dogs materialized all at once from the relative shadow of the front porch. The dogs gamboled and Butch sauntered toward the Blazer to meet her. Joa

"Long day," Butch observed. "It's about time you got home." He gri

Temper, temper, Joa

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Standing with hands in his pockets and managing to look both foolish and contrite at the same time, Butch shrugged. "When Kristin called, I had already made up my mind what we were having for di

"Di

"Well, di

"Mind?" Joa

"But you look worn out," he said. "And from what I heard on the radio, I can understand why. This is probably a bad idea. Tell you what, I'll just go straighten the kitchen back up, wrap up the bread, and then I'll go."

Joa

“Pretty much. It's no big deal. It's the kind of supper my mother used to make on hot summer nights back in Chicago-chef's salad, some fresh-baked bread…”

"You baked bread?"

"Actually, I cheated. I bought one of those ready-to-bake loaves from the store. I have my own bread machine, but it's locked up in the storage unit at the moment. Still, you can't beat the smell of fresh-baked bread to make a person feel all's right with the world."

They had been walking as they talked. When Joa

"It smells wonderful," she said. "Don't go."

"Really?" Butch asked.

"Really. Just give me a chance to clean up and change." Stripping off her blazer, she left it on the dryer. Then she walked into the kitchen, removing her underarm shoulder holster with her Colt 2000 as well as the small-of-back holster that held her Glock 19. She loaded both weapons into the deep bread drawer beneath the kitchen counter and then dug her cell phone out of her purse.

As she plugged the phone into the battery recharger on the kitchen counter, she realized Butch was watching her-watching and frowning. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"That's where you keep all that stuff, right there in the kitchen? Shouldn't the guns be locked up in a cabinet or something?"

"Andy always used to lock up his gun when he came home from work, but Je

"Oh." That was all Butch said, but it seemed to Joa

"The idea was to celebrate buying my house," he said apologetically. "The current owner gave me permission to go there and have a picnic supper on the front porch. Since there's no furniture inside, it had to be an outside paperplates-and-plastic-forks kind of affair. Once I got here, though, and had real dishes and glassware to work with, it turned into something more elaborate. Would you like me to pour you a glass of champagne?"

Butch stopped talking abruptly, like a windup toy whose spring had come unwound. Joa

Why, he's nervous, Joa

"No champagne until after I shower," she told him.

A few minutes later, standing under a soothing stream of hot, steamy water, Joa

The day Je

Only now, long after the fact, did Joa

Stepping out of the shower, she toweled her hair dry and applied a few strokes of makeup. Then, wearing a comfortable short-sleeved blouse and a pair of shorts, she emerged from the bathroom and headed straight for the kitchen, where she retrieved the two guns from the drawer and started back toward the bedroom.

"You're right," she said in answer to Butch's raised eyebrow and unasked question as she hurried past. "You and Andy are both right on this one, and I'm wrong. Even though Je

Butch followed her as far as the bedroom door. "Look," he said, "I didn't mean to sound like I was telling you what to do…"

"It's okay," she said. "When you're right, you're right. Now, didn't somebody say something about champagne?"

"Coming right up," he said. "Do you want to sip it first, or would you rather eat?"

"Eat, I think," she told him. "Until I smelled that freshly baked bread, I didn't have any idea how hungry I was."

In the dining room, the candles were lit. Butch held out the chair for Joa

"To your new house," Joa

"Yes," he responded. "To my new house"

There was a momentary silence; then they started talking at once. Butch said, "I hope you like-"

And Joa

They both dissolved into nervous laughter. "All right, now," Butch said. "One at a time. I hope you like chef's salad."

"I love chef's salad," Joa

"Given what's been going on around here, I won't hold my breath," he said. "It's been real bad for you, hasn't it?" He handed her a basket filled with thick slices of the freshly baked bread. She took one slice-still slightly warm to the touch-and slathered it with butter, nodding as she did so.