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“When I was a young buck, a fella by the name of Jake Loman had this place,” Chase recalled, leaning back in his chair, a reflective tilt to his head. “And there was always a string of pretty girls on hand, willing to show a fella a good time. For a price, of course. Jake always claimed they were his nieces.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience, Gramps.” Trey grinned.
“It was common knowledge,” was all that Chase would admit.
Jessy snuck a glance over her shoulder. “Chase you don’t really think those girls are—”
Chase interrupted before she could finish her question. “The man did say he didn’t want people to have a reason to drive somewhere else, didn’t he?”
His dry comment brought a round of laughter. It faded to smiles when the waitress arrived to take their orders. Afterward, a fellow rancher stopped to say hello to Chase and complain about the lack of rain.
When a discussion of previous dry spells ensued, Laredo gave Jessy’s shoulder a light nudge. “Care to dance?”
Her initial look of surprise quickly turned to warm pleasure. “I’d love to.”
“Let’s do it.” Laredo stood up and moved to the back of Jessy’s chair, pulling it out for her. “We’re going to take a spin on the dance floor,” he told the others, then addressed Trey. “Are you two going to join us?”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Trey knows I’m not much for dancing,” Sloan explained.
“That leaves more room on the dance floor for us,” Laredo said as he steered Jessy away from the table.
The dance area at The Oasis was little more than some open floor in front of the jukebox that also served as a divider separating the dining area from the bar. One other couple circled its perimeter when Jessy and Laredo reached it.
With the ease of one accustomed to her partner, Jessy turned into Laredo’s arms, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder while the other fit itself to his palm. The tune was an old-fashioned Texas two-step, simple and not too lively. Feet moving in unison, they made one circuit of the floor, neither speaking.
“So, when are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Jessy asked, amused and curious. “Not that I don’t enjoy dancing with you, because I do. But something tells me you asked me out here for a different reason.”
“I was only trying to oblige a pretty lady,” he drawled. “I figured you had more questions for me, and I thought I’d give you a chance to ask them with some privacy.”
“You’re right,” Jessy admitted. “Because I still don’t understand what all that was about with Donovan.”
“I didn’t like the way he was dissecting me.” For all the change in his expression, Laredo could have been talking about the weather. “But more than that, I couldn’t figure out why he would. Why should he care who I am or what I do?”
“He is new here,” Jessy reminded him.
“But ask yourself—why would anybody buy a business in a dried-up town in the middle of nowhere and pour a bunch of money into fixing it up? It’s not smart. Did Donovan strike you as being thick between the ears?”
“No.”
“Which brings us right back to the same question—what’s he doing in Blue Moon? Elbow room and lack of competition, that’s what he said. Somebody wanting to disappear might be more like it, but he seems to be doing his damnedest to attract customers. It could be that he plans on setting up some side business.”
“Like what?”
Laredo steered her around the other couple before answering, “In a way, it has the smell of drugs. That still doesn’t explain why he was so interested in me…. Unless…” A possibility occurred to him. “He could have heard that Calder’s daughter was married to the local sheriff, without being told that Logan was killed. It would be natural for him to assume that’s who I am. No wonder he was checking me out so closely,” Laredo mused, then grinned crookedly. “It’s kind’a funny when you think about it—somebody mistaking me for the law.”
Jessy laughed softly in response, relieved that Laredo had no real reason to be suspicious of the man. Just for a moment she had been worried that Chase’s constant warnings about Rutledge might be coming true, and Donovan was Rutledge’s man. But none of that seemed likely now.
At the bar, Donovan deftly poured a shot of whiskey into a glass while simultaneously adding 7-Up. Through it all, he managed to keep one eye on the couple, circling the dance floor. He couldn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling he had about the sandy-haired cowboy who called himself Laredo Smith.
Some little warning bell had gone off in his head the minute he saw the man with the Calders. It wasn’t so much the way the cowboy had initially stayed in the background as it was the sharp, searching way his gaze had shot through the crowd—that, and the coolness in his eyes when they had finally centered on him. At that moment, Donovan had been ready to swear the man was a bodyguard. Then he had been treated to that good ole cowboy routine, complete with an aw-shucks grin.
Yet he’d seen something in the cowboy’s eyes that he recognized right away—a willingness to shoot without hesitation. Maybe the man had done just that in the past. Which made it all the more interesting to Donovan that Laredo Smith was on the Calders’ payroll.
A cowboy stepped up to the bar, blocking his view of the dance floor. Hat pushed to the back of his head, exposing a shock of dark red hair that curled onto his forehead, the man said, “Hey, draw me a beer, will ya?”
“Sure thing.” Donovan shoved a beer mug under the tap and pulled the handle.
