Free Home of the Brave (Raine Stockton Dog Mysteries Book 9) by Donna Ball

mess on freshly laundered golden retriever fur, so I took it from him.  I started to throw it away and then hesitated.  I walked the few steps back to where Cisco had found the stick, and saw a cleared spot in the weeds.  I kicked around the dirt until I uncovered a few more charcoal chunks.  Willie had said there hadn’t been a group at camp for at least a year, but the remains of this campfire were only days old.
    Melanie stuffed her hands into her pockets, shoulders slumped.  “I guess you think it was a weed eater I saw, too.”
    As she spoke, the weed eater sputtered to life and Cisco barked at it.  I called him to my side and we started up the path toward the lodge.  I dropped a companionable hand on her shoulder. “This is what I think.  I think if we looked in Reggie Burke’s pickup truck right now, we’d find a shotgun on the rack.”
    She looked at me in surprise. 
    “The way I figure it,” I said, “Willie is getting too old to keep up with this big place by himself.  But he can’t afford to give up the caretaker’s salary.”
    “So he hired Reggie to help him with the grass and stuff,” supplied Melanie.
    “In exchange for turning a blind eye if Reggie wants to hunt on posted land, which this whole camp is.”
    “He has duck dogs,” Melanie remembered, her eyes lighting as she put it together.
    “Right.  And I’m guessing he took Willie’s permission to hunt to mean he could hunt anything, any time.  He thought the camp wasn’t opening until tomorrow, so it must’ve scared him pretty bad when he saw you standing there watching him.  So he went to put the shotgun back in the truck, picked up the gas can while he was there, and took off his baseball cap so you wouldn’t recognize him.”
    “Yeah.”  Melanie nodded thoughtfully.  “Nobody works out in the hot sun without a hat.  My dad had his on all morning while he was on the ladder painting, and our yard men in Atlanta always wear these big straw ones.”
    “Right.  That was the first clue.  I wondered why he’d take his hat off if he was cutting grass in the afternoon sun.  Also, you don’t make things up.”
    She grinned at me and I gave her shoulder a squeeze just before I dropped my hand.  “You know what else I think?”
    She looked at me inquiringly.
    “Maybe the less said about this to your dad, the better.”
    She raised her palm and I slapped it.  “Mystery solved,” she declared.
    “Yep,” I agreed.  I winked at her.  “Race you back to the lodge.”
    Cisco and I let her win, of course.
     

     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    O ne thing I have to say for Margie: she knows how to run a camp.  Despite the little hiccup, we were back on track and greeting early arrivals before five o’clock.  Campers were welcomed; orientation packets, paw print cookies, maps and gift bags were handed out.  Dogs yapped and barked. Children laughed and shouted.  The afternoon air was scented with the smell of sunshine, pine needles and charcoal smoke, and it practically made me giddy with delight.  Already, I was sinking back into the glory days of my girlhood and the unpleasant events of the hours before were so far away they might never have happened at all.
    I found my cabin, which was rustic but clean, nestled in a little cove down a short dirt path within the sound of a bubbling stream.  There were four other private cabins on the path where the other instructors would stay, all right next to each other but shielded by trees and shrubs from view.  There was a set of bunk beds, a private bathroom, and plenty of room for crates.  I got my guys settled in and distributed the homemade, organic dog treats that were included in my welcome packet while Melanie and Pepper sized up their dorm mates.  Later Melanie would report to me that they were all nice enough, but seemed a little dumb for their age.  I assumed she meant the dogs.
    I checked out the doggie dorm, which was actually the rec hall, and helped Melanie