Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
Peyton could see moonlight reflected off what looked like a river or canal up ahead. The girl with the staff held a pair of garden shears in one hand. She laid down her staff, took the shears, and tried to cut something off the lead alligator’s snout. All of the gators were starting to appear agitated, but the four smaller ones were traveling in a pack while the monstrous creature bringing up the rear kept to himself.
“Now, hold on, fellas, and don’t go all jeepers on me. This is gonna work. Just trust me.”
Apparently, she wasn’t strong enough to do whatever it was she was trying to do. Peyton stepped from behind the tree and walked toward her.
“You need some help?” he asked calmly.
The girl gasped and dropped the shears. “You the game warden?”
“No. I was just passing through when I saw a girl and a bunch o’ alligators crossin’ the highway. I don’t think you can fault me for being a little curious.”
The four alligators in front had broken formation and were starting to slowly wander toward the river.
“You gonna call the police?”
“Why? What are you doin’?”
“You see the Gatorama on the beach?”
“Yeah.”
“My daddy bought that place for the sole reason o’ celebratin’ the gators. Never once made ’em suffer. Kept ’em healthy. Never muzzled ’em. Folks were plenty content to pose by the fenced-in pond he dug for ’em and listen to Daddy tell ’em why Florida gators were the most majestic creatures on earth. And after a while, he’d turn a-loose the ones he had an’ catch some more so none of ’em stayed outta the swamp for very long. But then he died back in the spring, and Mama sold the business. New owner keeps the gators muzzled with a band around their snouts except when he feeds ’em so the stupid tourists can sit on ’em and get their picture made—and because he’s got no idea how to handle ’em or catch more. It’s cruel. And it don’t respect the gators’ dignity. So I’m tryin’ to unmuzzle ’em and let ’em smell their way to the river up yonder. They can follow it to the ’Glades. In case you didn’t notice, they’re about to figure out where the water is, so if we don’t quit runnin’ our traps and get these muzzles off, one of ’em’s liable to get away from us and starve to death with that thing on. What’s it gonna be?”
Peyton had to walk behind the monster gator to get to the girl, dodging a flapping tail from one of the smaller ones as he picked up the shears. “Tell me what to do,” he said.
The girl looked relieved. “Just clip one side o’ the band and then get back as quick as you can.”
Peyton started with the small alligator farthest in front, which was moving slowly but steadily toward the water. It snapped its head up when he slipped the shears under the muzzling band, but he held on and quickly squeezed the handles together. As the muzzle fell off and the gator opened its mouth wide, Peyton realized that he had just given a mighty predator the liberty to eat him. But the gator was focused on the scent of water and began moving swiftly away.