One More Crew Member
Everyone had agreed to meet back on The Tramp Islander at the end of the day and then go out to eat at a restaurant. There, they would review what had been accomplished during the day.
Trace stepped onboard. The odor of food from the galley caught his attention. “Italian,” he murmured. “Garlic, onions, oregano. Coyote’s fixing his famous Texas spaghetti. Cant’t wait. It’s those chilis and jalapeños that make it Texas.”
Trace climbed below from the foredeck’s companionway. He walked through the hallway of passenger cabins and into the mess and salon compartment. Adam, Sage, and Coyote sat at the table. The table was already set.
“Hey, Coyote,” Trace said gleefully, “you didn’t have to cook anything. We were going to go out and eat.”
Adam, Sage, and Coyote smiled and looked toward the galley. Trace bent slightly to peer through the opening between the mess and the galley.
“Makani!” Trace said. “It’s good to see you!”
“Sit and I serve,” Makani said. “We make big plans. No time to waste.”
“You’re coming!” Trace said elatedly. “That’s great!”
“Have a seat,” Adam said
Trace sat at the table. He looked at the place setting. He squinted one eye as if trying to figure out something confusing.
“What’s wrong?” Coyote said. “You act like you’re one a steer short.”
“Or I have a steer too many,” Trace said.
“What do you mean?” Sage said.
“There are five of us,” Trace said, “but there are six places at the table.”
The toilet flushed. The head’s door flung open. It was Pete.
“What’s going on?” Trace said.
“Hey,” Pete said, “Coyote tells me he needs guns, and I asked him for what? He says nothing. I keep asking. And he said, every good cowboy’s last rodeo has to go out with a bang. I want big bang too.”
“He followed me,” Coyote tried to say apologetically.
“Does he know anything?” Trace said.
“Enough,” Adam said.
“He’ll have to come along. We can’t take any chances of this going beyond who already knows,” Trace said.
“Who else knows?” Adam asked.
“I stopped in to talk to Allie,” Trace said. “She’s the one Franks confided in to get somebody to help him. She suggested us.”
“Thank you, Allie,” Sage said sarcastically.
“Franks says no one else knows,” Trace said. “We have to take him at his word. He more than anybody else knows how important it is to keep this secret.”
“Sit down, Pete,” Trace said.
Pete sat.
“You’re about to have some Texas-style spaghetti,” Adam said.
“Makani fixed it?” Trace asked. Before anyone could answer, Trace added, “Coyote’s is sometimes a little too hot.”
“It was all done long before Makani got here,” Sage said. “And if ya can’t stand the heat…”
Trace interrupted, “Stay out of the kitchen?”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Coyote said. “It’s if ya can’t stand the heat, add more noodles. Get it, it spreads the heat out.”
“Trace,” Adam said, “what Coyote inadvertently said makes sense.”
“In other words,” Coyote said, “if I thought it out, it wouldn’t make sense.”
“Likely,” Adam joked, “what I’m saying, Trace, is that another man, like Pete, can be useful. What if you, Sage, Coyote, and me have to go on the island? Let’s say we are captured. That leaves only Makani on the ship.”
“Makes sense,” Trace said and smiled, “but we have to keep Pete and Coyote apart. It would only take a spark to send those guys into a full blaze.”
Makani brought a tray with a large bowl of pasta and one of Texas-style meat sauce. Also, there was a smaller bowl of pasta. Makani set the large bowl of pasta and meat sauce in the middle of the table. He set the small bowl of pasta next to Trace. “This special. May be too hot for sissy boy.”
Trace looked up at Makani while quipping to the others, “Who talked him into coming along?”
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