Free Peete and Repeat (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries Book 3) by Karen Musser Nortman Page A

still want to go.” She looked down the creek; Jane Ann and Mickey had already disappeared around a bend. There would be no way to tell them what had happened if they didn’t go. “I’ll be fine.” She gave them all a weak smile and looked back at the canoe. Their little cooler, the lifejackets, and the visors floated in a couple inches of water.
    “I’ll dump it out,” Justin said. Poor kid. He was ready to do anything to make amends.
    “Don’t worry about it,” she insisted. “I’ve canoed for years, Justin. I know better than to step into a boat without checking first.” He had pulled out the floating paraphernalia and lifted the side of the canoe to dump the water. He righted the canoe, relatively water free, and she carefully got into the bow seat while gritting her teeth at the stabs of pain. This time she made sure the craft was floating and that someone was steadying it. She asked Larry to prop the folded life jacket between her seat and the strut, giving her a sort of a back rest.
    As they pushed off, Larry said, “Mickey and Jane Ann will think we fell in. Oh, wait, one of us did.” He paused and then said, “That was mean, wasn’t it? I’m sorry—sure you’re going to be okay?”
    She glanced back at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I deserve it. I should know better and, yes, I’ll be okay. I’m just a little worried about that portage he mentioned.”
    “We’ll find out soon enough.” They glided along with minimum paddling through a green tunnel of overhanging trees. Frannie found that if she held herself quite erect and avoided twisting in either direction, it minimized the pain.
    They rounded the bend in the creek and ahead lay a jut of sand and scraggly grasses covering most of the creek bed. The water coursed around to the right through a very rocky, narrow shoot. The stream moved fast, but was not deep enough to create a little riffle that they could easily ride through. So they would need to walk it through, using the rope. Jane Ann and Mickey stood at the downstream side of the spit, only about fifty feet away. Jane Ann held their canoe in place with the bow rope while they watched for Frannie and Larry to catch up.
    Mickey hurried back to help pull their canoe up enough that they could get out. He held out a hand to Frannie.
    “C’mon, old lady!” He was two months younger than Frannie and never passed up a chance to point it out.
    This time she didn’t argue with him. “Older than usual.” She took his hand and let out a groan as he heaved her up out of the low seat.
    “Frannie decided the usual boarding procedure was too dull and did a cartwheel to get into the canoe.” Larry said, one foot out in the water to hold the canoe steady.
    “Frannie, what happened?” Jane Ann called from her end of the spit.
    “I’ll leave the canoe to you guys. I can’t do all of the work,” Frannie told Larry and Mickey, and trudged through the scrubby grass toward Jane Ann. While Larry guided the canoe along the bank, Frannie filled Jane Ann in on her tumble. Jane Ann, a retired nurse, examined her bruise.
    “Nasty scrape,” she said. “Maybe you broke a rib.”
    Frannie looked at her in alarm. “I hope not! What do they do for that?”
    “Nothing they can do. Painkillers. Can you take a deep breath?”
    Frannie made the effort and the look of anguish on her face alarmed Jane Ann.
    “I think when we get back, Larry should take you to the emergency room. Why did you even come on the float?”
    “I don’t think it’s that bad,” Frannie said. “Besides, there was no way to let you guys know what happened to us.” She gave her sister-in-law a tentative smile.
    “Oh, for heavens sakes! What if you had drowned? Would Larry have just thrown your body in the canoe so he could catch up and tell us what happened?”
    Now Frannie gave her a full grin. “Probably.”
    Larry had gotten their canoe next to the Ferraros and held it parallel to the bank so that Frannie could get