that dumb dog."
"You're pretty goofy over your dog," I said.
"Buster? Well, sure. He's an outstanding dog. Remember when he rescued us from the bottomless pit on Frontier Day that time? If it wasn't for Buster barking so much, we'd still be down there."
"I guess," I said. The way I remembered it, Buster had been the cause of our falling into the pit in the first place. But it's no good arguing with Monica.
"Never mind that now," Biggie said. "Go outside and tell Rosebud I'm ready to go."
"Where ya'll going, Miss Biggie?" Monica took another cookie off the plate.
"We're all going out to a ranch in the country," Biggie said. "We've been invited to tea."
Clouds were building up in the west when I went out to tell Rosebud. "It's gonna rain," I said.
"'Course it is. I'm washing the car, ain't I?"
"Biggie's ready to go. Have you seen Prissy?"
"Ain't seen her. I reckon she'll show herself once it commences to rain. Tell Miss Biggie I'll be ready in fifteen minutes." He grabbed a towel and started wiping down Biggie's big black funeral limousine that she bought cheap off the undertaker over in Center Point after he bought a brand-new white one. Biggie bought it because she said now we could carry our fishing poles inside and not have to ride around with those poles sticking out the window and have everybody and his dog know where we were going.
* * *
After we picked up Mrs. Muckleroy and Miss Julia, Rosebud drove the car to the bypass then turned east onto Center Point Road. The ranch is located halfway between Job's Crossing and Center Point down a two-lane county road.
"This is where the property begins," Biggie said, pointing to a fence with steel posts.
"That's a mighty fine fence," Monica said. She was sitting on the jump seat between the front and back seats. "Lotsa money in that fence."
"New money," Mrs. Muckleroy said. "I remember when Old Man Barnwell didn't have a pot to, er…"
"… Cook his peas in." Miss Julia Lockhart said with a grin.
"How come it's so high?" I asked. "The fence, I mean."
"Oh, I expect they keep exotic animals in there." Monica craned her neck to see over the fence. "I saw a place over near Corsicana where they had a bunch of zebras and llamas and giraffes and stuff. See, you have to have a high fence so they can't jump out."
"You just know everything, don't you?" Sometimes Monica feels a need to show off.
"It's a deer fence," Rosebud said.
"You mean they keep deer? How come?" I asked.
"They don't keep them, J.R.," Biggie said. "They're trying to keep them out."
Miss Julia nodded her head. "That's right. The deer population has mushroomed out here in the last twenty years. Used to be, folks had to go 'way off to hunt. Now they say they practically come up in the yard and eat your shrubs."
"Turn here, Rosebud." Biggie pointed to a high gate with a sign over the top that said, BAR-LB RANCH.
The road wound for a quarter of a mile through green pastures surrounded by the same fence that bordered the road. Fat, Black Angus cattle grazed alongside sleek, brown horses. In a field by themselves, a small herd of Mexican goats grazed and twitched their short little tails. Occasionally, two kids would butt heads or playfully jump straight up into the air. We drove past two barns and a long bunkhouse before we pulled up in front of the main house.
"Lord, look at that place!" Mrs. Muckleroy put her hand over her mouth.
It was a long, low, Spanish-style ranch house made of stucco with a red tile roof. A deep veranda, supported by dark, rustic columns, ran all the way across the front of the building. Red, purple, and yellow flowers in hanging baskets and fat Mexican pots were everywhere.
"How in the world do they get that bougainvillea to grow this far north?" wondered Miss Julia.
Just then, the heavy oak doors were slung open, and one of the girls we had seen at the tearoom came out to greet us. I frowned as I remembered her being the one that had stuck her tongue out at me. She was dressed in the same blue shorts and white blouse she had worn before. She watched us without smiling as we piled out of the car and walked up the gravel path to the house.
"I'm Stacie," she said, beckoning with one pudgy hand, "Stacie Foxworth. I'm supposed to invite y'all in." She