Page 37 of Red Boar's Baby

Diana looked even more amused. Brill simply looked confused. Meanwhile the baby squinched her eyes shut, flailed a little, and then snuggled into Brill’s shoulder, evidently determined to sleep through this sudden and unexpected intrusion of strange adults.

“What do you mean, borrowing? Cece?—”

“She’s evidence in an ongoing investigation,” Costa said, exactly as he hadn’t planned to. Diana made a choking sound. Brill, protectively clutching the baby, narrowed her eyes at him. “We’re taking care of her for a little while. I’ll explain tomorrow, I swear. In the meantime, we need a place to stay for her and us.”

The “us” made Brill notice Diana. “Oh, hello, dear, we haven’t seen you in so long. This isn’t your baby?—?”

“No!” Diana almost yelped.

This finally got the baby awake and fussing. Costa took her back from a reluctant Brill, jiggling her to soothe her.

“I’ll explain everything in the morning,” he said. “Right now, Diana’s had a really long day and we both just need to crash for the night.”

Brill considered. “The saguaro cabin is empty right now, and we keep it made up for company. Actually, I believe there’s a crib in there already, because sometimes your cousins and their kids stay there. I can bring up some fresh linens from the house.”

“That sounds great,” Costa said. “I really appreciate it. We’ll tell you more tomorrow, I promise.”

Since he was holding the baby, Diana got his rucksack from the car along with the bag of the baby’s things and the cooler. “Saguaro cabin?” she asked. “I don’t remember that.”

“It might not have been called that when you were last here. It’s a house that I think was built by a great-uncle of mine a long while back for his wife, but these days it’s mostly used as a guest house. Oh, Aunt Brill!”

His aunt had started back to the house; now she turned around. “Yes, dear?”

“Does Uncle Roddy have any new surprises on the path to the cabin?”

Brill considered. “Not that I know of, but look out for the flags. We’ve been making sure he marks them.”

She waved and vanished into the house.

“I hesitate to ask,” Diana began.

“My uncle has gone deeply paranoid in his old age,” Costa explained. “You know how he’s always bounced around between different interests. He had an artist phase, a car period, and so on.” They started walking on the gravel path behind the main house, with Costa remaining alert. “Well, his new thing is booby-trapping the ranch.”

“I ...what.”

“Look out for flags. Like the kind that you see marking utility lines and that sort of thing.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the point of booby traps?”

“Not if you have no idea it’s marking anything other than a gas main.”

Diana shook her head with a laugh. “Your family, I swear.”

They climbed the path winding up behind the cluster of houses. Costa smelled horses and cattle. His eyes had begun to adapt to the starlight, but it was still too dark to see much. He heard Diana stumble.

“I should’ve brought a flashlight from the car, sorry. I could go back.”

“It’s all right; don’t worry about it. My eyes are adjusting.” He was aware of Diana looking around, and then she asked, “How many people live here right now?”

“About half a dozen. My great-uncle, three aunts, one cousin and his family part time, though I think they’re in Phoenix this spring ... and my brother’s widow and son.”

Even mentioning Jenny and Jay gave him a profound gut-wrench. Diana glanced at him and didn’t ask any more questions.

The saguaro cabin had a driveway, which Costa had forgotten about; he could have driven up and parked here. But it was a pleasant night and he didn’t mind the walk any more than Diana seemed to. As they approached the dark cabin, he could hear the sound of water running in the creek below them—a spring-only phenomenon, as it would be dry later in the year.

The cabin loomed ahead, eerie in the dim light. It had a covered porch with wooden steps that seemed rickety but were actually rock solid. They climbed to the porch, and Costa tested the door one-handed and found it unlocked. He turned the lights on.

Generally he stayed in his old room at the main house when he was back on the ranch, so he hadn’t been in the saguaro cabin in a long while. It was extremely clear that the aunts had been involved with the decorating. There were lace curtains, a pair of armchairs covered in floral fabric, and a door standing open to the bedroom with its four-post bed and hanging curtains. Everything was a little old-fashioned, including a pedestal sink in the bathroom and an ancient iron stove, as well as a slightly newer gas cookstove that looked like it dated to the sixties or seventies. A huge painting of a saguaro cactus took up most of one wall—painted by Uncle Rodrigo during his artist phase—and made the origins of the cabin’s nickname clear.

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