“They’re probably on their way to the casino.” She grinned. “Too bad they aren’t up in Hollywood. Have you seen the guitar-shaped hall up at the Seminole Hard Rock?”
“I have. It’s fantastic.”
“Seminole revenge!” Linda said, laughing. “They are making money hand over fist. Of course, we make money at our casino, too. Still, I love going up to the ‘guitar’!”
“Seriously, want to know one of the things I love best?” Raina asked.
“And what’s that?”
“The pumpkin bread over at the restaurant. I don’t even like pumpkin. But that bread is absolutely delicious.”
“It is, isn’t it? So, how long have you been seeing Axel? Are you up in the DC area now?”
Raina’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden change of topic. “I, uh, no. I’m here—South Miami.”
“Oh, you’re the dog trainer! How silly of me. I didn’t get to go to that fundraiser, but Jeremy was telling me that you were amazing.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“I do. I’ll introduce you some day,” Linda said happily. “He’s a big guy—a Dane. Doesn’t pay to have anything too little around here.” She sighed softly. “You can’t blame an alligator for being an alligator. They really aren’t vicious monsters. Little guys—and unfortunately little people—look like dinner to them. It’s just what they are. And there are idiots who aren’t savvy about them who think it’s fun to feed them. To an alligator, an arm might just be an extension of the piece of chicken being offered up. I’m not really defending them, but this was their home before we came here. Most of us who live out here know what we’re doing. That includes all kinds of park rangers, people who own airboat companies, even people who do a lot of fishing in the canals. But when you see people driving down trails that are truly off the beaten track and they look like they walked out of a department store’s ‘outdoorsy’ display, you have to wonder.”
“Have you seen a lot of that?”
“Only now and then. I fear we’ll get another horror story about someone being bitten by an Eastern diamondback or the like. Chewed up by a gator. I’m rambling now. I’m sorry.”
“No, I think it’s important. Do you remember any specific time?” Raina asked her. “The recent bodies, they’ve gotten out here somehow.”
Linda nodded worriedly. “That’s true. I should tell Axel. I just never thought anything of it other than being annoyed.”
“It’s understandable. And you have a customer,” Raina said, noting a young woman who had walked up to the booth.
“Viv!” Linda said, greeting the newcomer.
“Linda, I need two more blouses,” the young woman said. “My sister saw mine and adores it, and she wants one for a friend, too.”
“Sure, and thank you. What’s your pick?” Linda asked her. She hugged the young woman over the table that displayed some of her wares. Obviously a friend.
Raina slipped out of the booth area and returned to the common ground. She waved to Linda. She could see Axel and Jeremy were a distance from the booth near another displaying pottery.
A group was oohing and ahhing over one of the paddock areas. She smiled and walked to the fence to join them.
They were listening to a lecture on Big Ole Mac.
Big Ole Mac was seventeen feet long and would be eighty years old on his next birthday. He’d been born right there in the village and he’d spent his life there. In the wild, the American alligators usually lived between thirty and fifty years, with an average weight of about five hundred pounds. The females were smaller than males and very protective of their young.
“That’s the one thing we’re always trying to warn hunters. We do have an alligator hatching season. There’s also a mating season. Alligators are territorial and are more dangerous during mating season when other males might try to intrude on their turf. It’s never a good time to tempt an alligator, but many of you who play golf know they can show up on golf courses even in busy areas of our neighboring cities. Yes, they have gotten into residential pools upon occasion and they swim the canals. Never mess with an alligator—especially during mating season.”
Big Ole Mac was oblivious to anything being said. He was just lying on the embankment of his little pool area, looking like something giant and prehistoric.
Which, of course, he was.
“An alligator is a crocodilian—a creature that was alive and well at the time of the dinosaurs,” the lecturer said. “Now, we have crocodiles in Florida, too,