Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) by Nancy G. West

gun at a horse, then at her. “Vicki said he’d spent time at a VA hospital.”
    “He seems so angry,” Meredith said. “I think he’s scary. Maybe we should leave this place. I wish I already had enough material for my articles.”
    Sam’s brow furrowed. “Looks like Rickoff wouldn’t mind lining up guests for target practice. It’s unusual for a skilled shooter to fire off a gun in the middle of a crowd to scare a snake.”
    “Vietnam must have made him jumpy,” I said. I didn’t mention Rickoff might suffer from PTSD since I didn’t know for sure. Now that Sam and Meredith knew about Rickoff’s actions, I thought I should try to find out more about the veteran before labeling him. “Did you bring your gun?” I asked Sam.
    “Yep. Baby Glock’s in my pocket. I carry it when I know there’s going to be firearms around. A .27 is easy to conceal.”
    “Did you consider shooting the snake?” Meredith asked.
    “I didn’t want to advertise I was armed. Besides, people worry me more than snakes. I think we should cut this vacation short.”
    “Some of these people might need help,” I said. “Don’t you think we should stay a while longer?”
    He frowned and looked off into the brush.
    “Poor Millie,” Meredith said. “Thank goodness that snake didn’t bite her.”
    “Maybe it was stunned. Did you see its shiny mouth?” I said.
    “Probably the sun reflecting off white scales,” Sam said. “Okay. I’ll keep my eye on Rickoff and River Rat. Right now I’m going to clean up.” He tromped toward his cabin.
    It appeared we weren’t leaving the ranch. At least not yet. Having told them everything I knew, I felt safer. Sam was armed and would watch the men. The other wranglers seemed more intriguing than dangerous.
    I was learning to enjoy being in the great outdoors and looked forward to watching sunsets with Sam. And I was determined to find a way to help Vicki so she didn’t feel compelled to leave.
    Meredith and I noted Jangles’ blackened rhinestone flip-flops on their front porch and traipsed through our cabin and the breezeway to check on the girls. Stoney was patting Jangles’ scratches with a square gauze soaked with rubbing alcohol.
    “Whooeee, that stings.”
    Jangles had showered off sweat-streaked make-up and powdered her cheeks, which were still beet red from her sprint through the bushes. She’d captured her clean hair with a rubber band and poofed it into a beehive. Her soft flared jeans and flat-heeled boots looked serviceable. She wore a blouse with long sleeves she could roll down to cover her scratches.
    Stoney’s teased and sprayed hair reminded me of a prickly pear bush. Her earrings, necklace, and belt shone with enough coral and turquoise to impress Mayan royalty. I hoped she didn’t have to run anywhere. The weight of her jewels would slow her to a crawl.
    “Where’s Millie?” I asked.
    Stoney pointed up toward the corner. Millie lay prone on her top bunk with her arms and legs flopped over the sides. “Says she needs to rest,” she whispered. “We didn’t tell her when she fainted, she fell on a snake. We suggested she shower and put on jeans and a wrinkle-free shirt before she crawled up there. We’ll wake her up in time to primp for the barbecue.”
    Meredith and I left our suitemates and returned to our cabin. I told Meredith that while she showered, I needed to check my email for letters to Dear Aggie.
    Before I went to work on my column, I wanted to research Trey Landsdale. It occurred to me that if Vicki’s brother abused drugs, he might have a criminal record.
    My WebCrawler search indicated he had none. His clean record made it more reasonable their parents would send him to watch over Vicki. If they believed he had only minor problems, they might think giving him some responsibility would straighten him out. Maybe they realized Vicki was the stronger of the two children.
    Yet, I still had misgivings about River Rat, Trey Landsdale. Since he’d