to clean stalls. I'll bet your precious daughter didn't have to do that at camp!"
"Stacie, Laura's going to be disappointed in you."
Stacie stamped her foot. "I don't care what she thinks. I hate her!"
"Stacie, it's going to storm. Dad says we have to get the horses in the barn quick."
That seemed to do the trick. Stacie followed her out the door without another word.
I watched them leave, thinking how her voice sounded like music. Rosebud poked me with his elbow. "Shut your mouth before a fly gets in." He grinned at me.
6
Just then, a door opened at the far end of the room. "Welcome to Bar-LB." This was one of the women we had seen at the tearoom, the pretty one. She walked toward us. "I'm Laura Barnwell, director of the camp."
Biggie stood up and took a step toward her. "I'm Biggie Weatherford," she said, "and this is Ruby Muckleroy."
Mrs. Muckleroy stuck out her hand, the one with the big diamond ring. "So pleased," she said.
"And Julia Lockhart," Biggie said.
"You must be Rex's wife." Miss Julia never forgot she was a reporter.
Laura nodded with a smile before greeting each of us, ending with me and Monica. The lady shook hands and said something nice to every one of us.
"We'll have tea in the dining room," she said. "I believe it's ready, if you'd like to follow me."
"I reckon I'll pass," Rosebud said. "Okay if I look around outside?"
"Of course, if that's what you'd rather do," Laura said. "Make yourself at home. I think you'll find Hamp Caldwell, our combination vet and horse trainer, in the barn. I'm sure he'll be happy to show you around."
Rosebud went out one of the French doors while we followed Laura into the wood-paneled dining room.
Monica walked over and started examining the display of food piled on a sideboard along one wall. "Get back here," I hissed. Naturally, she ignored me.
Several people sat in tall-backed chairs with cowhide seats around a long ranch table under a deer-horn chandelier. Windows that reached from floor to ceiling showed a view of rolling hills dotted here and there with the same black cattle we had seen when we arrived.
Biggie looked at the windows with a worried frown. "Storm's coming— and it looks like a bad one."
Sure enough, black clouds boiled up from the tops of the distant woods.
"Tornado season," said a burly man, standing behind a chair at the end of the table. "Hamp's putting the horses in right now."
Laura spoke in a soft voice, but she somehow managed to get everyone's attention. "Everybody, allow me to present our honored guests from town." After she gave our names, she began to introduce the people around the table. She gestured toward a girl with short, black hair who looked to be in her twenties. "This is Rex's daughter, Babe."
Babe waved three fingers in our direction and looked at us with sparkling eyes. "Hey, everybody. Glad y'all could come." She bit into a baby cream puff. "Grab a plate and chow down."
"And this," Laura continued, "is Babe's husband, Rob Parish." She indicated a skinny guy. His thin, straight hair kept falling down over his eyes.
He brushed the hair back with his hand and nodded to us. "Gladameecha," was all he said.
"And this," Laura smiled, "the fellow with the weather report, is Abner Putnam, Rex's oldest friend and ranch foreman."
The burly man nodded and waved his hand toward the sideboard. "Y'all help yourselves, why doncha? We've got iced tea and coffee. Nobody around here drinks their tea hot."
We all moved toward the sideboard, which was piled with food that was anything but dietetic. I saw a pyramid of tiny cream puffs like the one Babe had been eating, just oozing with flavored whipped cream, a silver tray covered with cupcakes, little bitty tea sandwiches, and three or four pies. At one end stood a silver coffee pot and a crystal pitcher of iced tea.
Mrs. Muckleroy, loading up her plate, couldn't hold back any longer. "Where's Rex?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.
"He begged to be excused. But Grace Higgins, our dietitian, should be here any minute. I can't imagine why she's late," Laura said.
"I hope he's not ill." Mrs. Muckleroy wouldn't let it go. She glanced at Biggie out of the corner of her eye.
"Shut up, Ruby," Miss Julia muttered.
"Oh, Daddy's always ill," Babe said. "He's got aches and pains he hasn't even used yet." Her voice sounded bitter.
"Ah, here's Grace." Laura Barnwell passed around a plate of coconut macaroons. "Come