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Prudence couldn't help but laugh. She liked Granny. "Thank you for the compliments."
"Ain't compliments, just sayin' like it is."
Prudence intended to do the same. "I need to know if you know of a woman I'm looking for."
Granny held up her hand, signaling silence. The barkeep came up behind her and walked around to place the glasses on the table. When he had returned to the bar, Granny spoke. "You don't trust anybody in a saloon. Gossip travels like fever in here."
"You mean everyone in town will have known I've been in here."
"Darn right."
Prudence sighed and reached for her cider. She swallowed several gulps, licking the delicious, odd taste from her lips.
"So tell me about this woman," Granny said after swallowing a good portion of her whiskey.
"She would have been here around eight, maybe nine years ago, in her thirties, shorter than myself, with long dark hair. A soft voice, gentle eyes, an excellent cook—"
"Does she cook a hell of a rum cake?" Granny interrupted.
"Yes," Prudence said anxiously, then drank more of the cider.
"Sounds like a woman I might have known. What's she to you?"
Prudence hesitated a moment.
"Don't bother lying, dearie. I want the truth or you don't get any answers."
Prudence's response was sharp. "She's my mother."
Granny Hayes looked at her intently, reached for her glass, and downed the remaining whiskey. She signaled the barkeep once again. "Two more of the same, Harry."
Prudence waited, wondering over the old woman's strange stare.
"I knew a woman that fits your description. Whether she is your mother or not, I can't say."
Prudence got the distinct feeling that Granny Hayes was trying to protect the woman she spoke about. "Do you know where I could find her now?"
Granny shook her head. "Can't say. She just took off one day."
"What was her name?"
"Called herself Lee."
Prudence lifted her glass but found it empty.
"Harry, two more," Granny yelled again with a wave of her hand. "She walked out on you and your pa?"
The familiar ache reached her chest, and Prudence found herself choking on her words. "Yes, she left us."
Granny leaned forward. "Some women have good reasons for leaving their families."
Prudence was about to disagree, when she saw Harry approach. She waited until he had deposited the glasses and left. "There is no acceptable reason for a mother to desert her child." She lifted the glass and, closing her eyes, swallowed half the contents.
"Age brings wisdom, child. Don't judge her too harshly."
"Is there something you can tell me about her that would help change my opinion?" Prudence asked, still sensing Granny's attempt to protect Lenore Winthrop.
"Ain't my place. It's you who needs to make peace with your ma."
"If I can find her," Prudence said, her words sounding funny to her ears. Her head felt light and her mouth dry. She reached for her glass once again.
"Don't rightly know where to tell you to look," Granny said. "She could have gone anyplace from here."
Prudence ran her hand over her face. "It's rather warm in here."
"You just ain't used to Harry's special cider."
Prudence stared at Granny, rocking back and forth in her seat. Until she realized it wasn't Granny who was rocking. "What do you mean special cider?"
"It's spiked with the finest whiskey made in Plattsmouth."
"Oh no," Prudence moaned, attempting to stand.
She didn't make it. Dizziness engulfed her and she immediately plopped back down in the chair.
"Don't fret so, child. It ain't gonna kill you," Granny said.
"No, it isn't, but I just might," an angry voice boomed.
Prudence moaned and hid her face in her hands. She was in no condition to deal with her husband at this moment.
Granny turned in her seat and smiled. "Heard you were in town. Good to see you again, Zac. You know this woman?
"It's good to see you again, Granny, and believe it or not Prudence is my wife."
"Wife? Prudence? Neither fit you," Granny said with a firm shake of her head.
"Maybe not, but I'm stuck with her," Zac said, and sat in the chair between the two women.
Prudence didn't want to be stuck with any man. She wanted a man to love her unconditionally and irrationally. It wasn't fair. Nobody loved her. Nobody except her father, but then he was her father and would love his daughter no matter what her flaws.
"You promised to stay out of the saloon," Zac said, interrupting Pru's musing.
She peeked through the split in her fingers where they covered her eyes. His features were so handsome that it actually hurt to look upon him. She closed her eyes to make his face vanish.
"Pru?" His voice was low and soft.
If she refused to acknowledge him, perhaps he would go away. Perhaps this was all a dream. Perhaps she cared for Zac Stewart more than she cared to admit.
"Three glasses? Damn, Granny, that was three too many."
She heard the incredibility in his voice. What did he think? That she was incapable of holding her liquor? "I quite enjoyed them," she heard herself respond, and then added, "And kindly watch your mouth, Mr. Stewart."
