Dyeing Wishes (37 page)

“I could be.” I nodded, trying to give him the benefit of a snapless judgment. He was right. I was having trouble getting past the guns. Guns in the streets of Blue Plum. Guns fired out my second-floor windows. Guns in a little skit about a minor land squabble and wandering livestock. I gave myself a shake to jar my focus somewhere other than guns….

“And you can trust me on the gun issue,” he said. “The reenactors will not be just a bunch of good old boys playing with fantasies and popguns.” He grinned, showing me his ivories and also showing me that he could laugh at a stereotype as easily as the next good old boy. “So, Miss Rutledge—Kath—I know this is short notice, but may we have your blessing and permission to stage part of the Blue Plum Piglet War from the upstairs windows of your charming place of business next weekend?”

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