Joanna sighed. “And I can’t tell you, although I suppose the whole state will be reading about it soon enough. In the meantime, though, I almost forgot. I have something I need to give you.”
“For me?” Faye Lambert asked.
“For the troop, really,” Joanna said, digging in her purse for the envelope in which she had stored her poker-playing winnings. “When I was at the Arizona Sheriffs’ Association meeting last weekend, some of my fellow sheriffs were kind enough to take up a collection for your troop—to help out with that planned trip to Disneyland at the end of the summer.”
Faye opened the envelope and peered inside. Her eyes widened. “Why there must be close to seven hundred dollars here.”
“Six ninety-nine, to be exact,” Joanna said.
“How wonderful of them. I’ll need to have the names of the people who made the donations,” Faye said. “The girls will certainly want to send thank-you notes.”
Joanna shook her head. “Don’t bother,” she said. “In this case, I believe they’d all prefer to remain anonymous.”
Faye was called away just then. Joanna looked around the room for Butch and found him chatting with his mother-in-law. “Was that him?” Eleanor asked, when Joanna carne up to join them. “That boy in the back row, the one with the purple hair?”
Joanna nodded. “That was Christopher Bernard,” she said.
Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. She dabbed at them daintily with a lace-edged hanky. “Under the circumstances, it was very good of him to come, wasn’t it? Very brave.”
Joanna leaned over and gave her mother a hug. “Yes, Mom,” Joanna said. “It was.”
“That cut still looks awful. I wouldn’t be surprised if it leaves a terrible scar.”
“It probably will,” Joanna agreed. “And if it does, I deserve it. That’s the price of stupidity.”
EPILOGUE
That night, when Joanna and Butch finally climbed into bed, Joanna scooted over and snuggled under his arm.
“Tough day?” he asked.
“Tough week.”
“Was it only a week?” Butch asked, pulling her close while at the same time being careful not to touch her stitches. “It feels like more than a year since we got back home on Monday afternoon. I’ve barely seen you. You’re working too hard, Joey. You’ll wear yourself out.”
“Sorry,” Joanna said. She was so tired that she was almost falling asleep, but for a change Butch wasn’t sleepy at all. He went right on talking.
“Whoever would have thought they’d do all that in the name of motherhood. I’ve always thought my mother was a couple of bubbles out of plumb, but Irma Sorenson and Amy Bernard put Mom to shame. And speaking of mothers, yours was certainly teary-eyed at the funeral this afternoon. It’s nice that so many people came to the funeral and acted like they cared about Dora, but wouldn’t it have been better if they had cared about her more when she was alive?”
“Amen to that,” Joanna said.
“And would a male sheriff have sorted it all out the way you did?” Butch asked. “That yahoo from Pima County, what’s his name?”
“Bill Forsythe.”
“I can’t imagine him seeing through Amy Bernard the way you did, or charming that confession out of Irma Sorenson, either. And even if I was upset with you for tackling Amy and getting hurt, it was still good work, Joey. I’m really proud of you, stitches and all.”
Joanna was awake now. She sat up, turned on the bedside lamp, and looked Butch in the eye. “How proud?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“How proud are you?” Joanna asked. “Proud enough that you wouldn’t mind if I ran for office again? I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided I want to.”
“Oh, oh. When do we start campaigning?”
“Soon,” Joanna said. “Not right away, but soon.”
“All right,” Butch replied. “I’m new at this, so you’ll have to tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“You have to smile a lot,” she told him. “You have to go on the rubber-chicken circuit and nod your head attentively while I make speeches.”
“Well, Scarface,” he said, “I think I can manage that much. I can probably even do a fairly good job of it, but is there anything in it for me?”
She leaned over and kissed him. “I think so,” she said. “I believe I know one or two things you happen to like. The good news is, you won’t have to wait until after the election to get them.”
Butch kissed her back. “Show me,” he said.
And she did.