Free Miss Ruffles Inherits Everything by Nancy Martin Page B

dropped it at my feet. I handed the ball over to Travis Joe, and he threw it before the dog could jump up on him. It went a little farther this time, and Miss Ruffles had to make a dash around a pool chair to seize it. When she came trotting back, she dropped it in front of Travis Joe and yipped at him to hurry up.
    He backed against my leg. “I don’t want her to bite me.”
    â€œShe won’t bite.” Just in case, though, I positioned myself so I could intervene if Miss Ruffles made a premature lunge for the ball. “She only nips at your feet when she wants you to move. It’s her natural instinct. She’s a herding dog. So we have to help her to like chasing a ball even more. Don’t make it too easy on her. Really give her something to go after.”
    With a gleam in his eye, Travis Joe threw the ball into the bushes, and Miss Ruffles happily dashed after it.
    â€œDon’t throw it into the pool,” I said, guessing what his next plan was. “Throw the ball into the grass, as far as you can.”
    He did, and Miss Ruffles raced off to grab it. Every time she brought the ball back to Travis Joe, she circled him a few times, gradually herding him farther out into the yard. He threw the ball over and over, not realizing he was being outsmarted by the dog.
    Honeybelle had asked me to try teaching Miss Ruffles a trick she could perform on the football field. A previous Texas cattle cur had learned to race out onto the field after every kickoff and bring back the kicker’s tee. I had tried that, but Miss Ruffles had immediately picked up the tee, chewed it beyond recognition, and buried the remaining parts in a flower bed. I had been thinking I needed a second person to help discourage Miss Ruffles from destroying the important component of the trick. Maybe Travis Joe was my best choice.
    But before we got around to it, Posie came out onto the porch.
    After the reading of Honeybelle’s will, Posie was surprisingly, coldly, in control of herself. She was pale with anger, though. She wore her dark sunglasses.
    â€œTravis Joe, what do you think you’re doing?”
    â€œI’m playing ball with Miss Ruffles.”
    â€œGet away from that animal before she bites you.” She took Travis Joe by his shoulder to turn him away from me as if I were suddenly capable of infecting her children with a virulent species of head lice. “Trey, put that phone in your pocket. We’re going home.”
    â€œDid I get any money?” Trey asked. “Can I buy myself a truck right away?”
    She ignored the question. “Did you hear me? Put the phone away.”
    â€œYou mean the old lady didn’t leave me anything?” Trey’s voice rose petulantly. “You’re gonna buy me the truck, then, right? I told all the guys I was getting the biggest truck they ever saw.”
    â€œWell, you spoke too soon,” his mother said tartly. “No son of mine is going to drive a monster truck all over town, showing off and acting above himself. Let’s go.”
    He thought about throwing a tantrum, I could see, but instead he sighed and went back to playing with his phone. “I’m almost done.”
    â€œThis minute, young man!”
    His face turned dark, but he got to his feet and muttered, “Yes, ma’am.” He slid the phone into his pocket. Then, from the nearest flowerpot, he picked up a pebble and hefted it in one hand. Before I could guess what he planned to do, he suddenly hurled it at Miss Ruffles. Not for her to catch, but to hit her.
    â€œHey!” I said.
    Miss Ruffles dodged the stone. She glared at Trey and growled.
    â€œStupid dog,” Trey muttered. “Somebody ought to shoot her.”
    â€œMama.” Travis Joe tugged his mother’s hand. “I think Miss Ruffles might like me!”
    Posie’s voice was like an ice pick. “Travis Joe, you keep your distance from that animal,