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“That sounds fun.” The more Jessy thought about it, the more it appealed to her. Lately she and Ty had been bickering a lot. A night out, away from the ranch, might be good for both of them.
The restaurant and bar, formerly owned by Sally, had been repainted a dark brown that was already dulled by a coat of dust. Newly mounted atop its porch roof was a huge neon sign that spelled out the letters HARRY’S HIDEAWAY in fluorescent green.
The summer sun had yet to set in the evening sky, but already the parking lot was full when they arrived. Stopping in the driveway, Ty let the others out, then headed across the highway to park at Fedderson’s combination gas station, grocery store, and post office.
Pausing near the base of the entrance steps, Chase surveyed the long, green-glowing sign and snorted his disgust. “Harry’s Hideaway. It doesn’t look to me like a place to hide. I’ll bet you can see the glow of that sign in Miles City.”
Laura had a different opinion as she stared up at the bright letters. She pointed a f
inger at them and jabbered excitedly to Jessy, her expression all alight.
“Laura seems to like it,” Jessy remarked with a smile.
Chase slanted a sideways glance at his granddaughter and muttered, “Sometimes I wonder about that child’s taste.”
Jessy had only to recall how fascinated Laura was with Tara to agree with him. “My mom says she’s at that age where she’s fascinated by anything bright and shiny.”
“That sign is definitely on the gawdy side of that,” Chase declared and glanced at the young boy hooked in his arm. “Don’t you agree, Trey?”
But Trey’s entire attention was focused on the building’s entrance and the steady hum of voices and muffled blare of music that emanated from it.
“Come on. Let’s go in.” Chase signaled for the women to precede him.
“As crowded as it is, we may be in for a long wait to get a table,” Sally murmured worriedly.
“We’d better not. I called ahead to reserve one,” Chase stated.
A cacophony of noise greeted them when they walked inside. Interspersed with the steady chatter of voices were hoots of laughter, and the clink and clatter of dishes and drinks. A honky-tonk song played on the jukebox, its volume cranked as high as it would go. From the bar side came the crack of a cue ball and the rumble of billiard balls rattling across the pool table’s slate surface.
The establishment’s new owner and namesake, Harry Weldon, pumped Chase’s hand in greeting. He was a barrel-chested man with an apron tied around his middle and sweat running down his flushed face.
“It’s crazy in here tonight, but it’s always like that on Saturday nights now. You can’t stir ’em with a stick,” he said with considerable pride, nearly shouting to make himself heard above the noise. “Your table will be ready in two seconds.”
The two seconds were closer to two minutes. By the time Harry Weldon returned, Ty had joined them and taken a squirming Trey from Chase’s arms. The toddler’s head was on a swivel, straining to see everything at once.
“I got ya’ a table fixed up over here in the corner.” Plastic-coated menus in hand, Harry started in that direction, parting a path through the crowd and glancing over his shoulder. “Sorry it took so long. I had to get another keg from the back.”
A soft shoulder bumped into Ty from behind. “Whoops, sorry,” a female voice said. Ty looked back and saw a familiar face among the throng of strangers. It belonged to a Trumbo girl, Emily, the youngest. She recognized him at the same moment. “Ty. I didn’t expect to run into you here, literally. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going. I was too busy giving Dick a hard time.”
His glance flicked to the man behind her and encountered Ballard’s cool blue eyes. Ty knew it was logical that Ballard would be here tonight. It was the only watering hole for miles, making it the natural gathering point for both sexes on a Saturday night. But the realization came as an afterthought.
Emily Trumbo didn’t appear to notice the sudden temperature drop as she continued talking. “Tell him what you told me, Dick,” she urged, then jumped in when he didn’t immediately respond. “He claims he saw a helicopter flying over the ranch on his way into town. I have never seen a helicopter except in the movies. And he says there was one flying over the Triple C. Can you believe it?”
Eyes narrowing at the possible significance of the sighting, Ty pinned his gaze on Ballard. “What kind of helicopter? Military or private?”
“It was too far away to tell. It could have been either.”
“Where was it when you spotted it?” Ty had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the din.
“Northeast of the road,” Ballard all but shouted his answer.
“Near Wolf Meadow?”
“That general area,” Ballard confirmed.
“Which way was it headed?”
“On an easterly course.”
