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

Jangles swam over to join our fun and looped her elbows over the side of the canoe.
    “You make it look easy,” she said.
    “Hey, don’t…”
    “Uh-oh…”
    We knew we were capsizing.
    We dove in on either side of Jangles, pushing our feet against the canoe. Fortunately, the canoe didn’t hit Jangles when it flipped. We bobbed around and found oars while Jangles sputtered apologies.
    “Everybody swim to the bank and climb out,” Rat bellowed. His dark eyes flashed. “I’ll get the friggin’ canoe.”
    It floated like a slice of upturned cantaloupe. Rat had to swim to the bank with Millie, convince her to let go of his hand and push her up on solid ground. Then he could deal with the boat. He plunged back in and righted the canoe. By that time, everybody had crawled back up on the bank. Meredith and I sat quietly, feeling foolish and knowing that Jangles felt worse.
    I concentrated on squeezing water from my hair until the backs of my legs started to burn. I jumped up screeching and danced around rubbing the backs of my thighs. My legs were on fire from hips to ankles. “Something stings!”
    “You must have sat in poison ivy,” Rat said. “Don’t rub it. Get back in the water.”
    I held my nose and jumped in.
    Meredith pointed at the culprit. “See that green ivy-like plant with three leaflets? That’s poison ivy, all right.”
    At least some creature hadn’t stung me. I treaded water and let cool water ease the burning. Maybe I could just stay in the river until class ended.
    “You’ll have to walk to the lodge,” Rat said. “Bertha has first aid remedies. We’ll be along shortly. Come on, everybody. Back in the water.”
    I found Rat somewhat lacking in sympathy. Maybe he’d been given instructions never to let his river class end prematurely. Perhaps marijuana time came after class.
    “I’ll come with you,” Meredith said.
    I waved her off. “Enjoy the river. I’ll be fine.”

Thirteen

      
    I scurried up the bank, slid into flip-flips and scooted toward the lodge as fast as I could with my beet-red thighs stinging as if they were on fire. I was dying to scratch. The sensation was worse than when curiosity made my feet itch.
    Bertha’s yellow Jeep was parked by the lodge. An unfamiliar car was parked alongside. I heard angry voices inside the lodge—an increasingly regular event at the BVSBar Ranch.
    A man bellowed, “Maybe you sped up the dehydration. What’d you put in those thermoses?”
    “I didn’t put anything in their thermoses.” Bertha yelled back. “And I’ll never sell you this ranch. You never cared one whit about it.”
    I hated to interrupt, but I couldn’t stand still much longer and eavesdrop with my backside burning. Clearing my throat, I charged through the door.
    “Bertha, I’m sorry to intrude, but I sat in poison ivy. River Rat said you had remedies.”
    “Come to my room. I’ll fix you up.” She flipped her wrist toward the couple. “This is Herb and Bitsy Vernon. Herb’s my cousin. His parents owned the BVSBar.”
    Herb, who looked about Bertha’s age, muttered something that sounded like, “Still should.”
    Bitsy, much younger than Herb, smiled from under her bleached Barbie Doll helmet.
    I nodded at them and whipped into Bertha’s room.
    Bertha slammed the door. “Go into the bathroom, get your swimsuit off and stand in the tub with your rear facing the faucets.”
    My face probably turned as red as the backs of my thighs, but I didn’t have much choice. She opened a huge medicine chest and whipped a gallon bottle of rubbing alcohol off a shelf.
    I recognized a bottle of diet pills and diuretics. The other labels weren’t familiar.
    “I’m going to pour this on the backs of your legs and rinse you with cool water. We can’t rub it on. Rubbing spreads the oils that are makin’ you itch.”
    She poured alcohol on me and rinsed me with cool water. I felt relief from the stinging but shivered from the cold. She gave me a towel to wrap my