Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Contemporary,
Western,
Love Stories,
Western Stories,
Texas,
Families,
Ranches,
Arson,
Alibi,
Fires
what they were doing here," she argued, gesturing to the men surrounding her.
"I know what they were doing here," Bush replied. "Well?"
"I was having a beer," she answered curtly.
"You didn't lead these men on, did you? You know, wink, flirt, anything like that?"
She didn't deign to answer, and only stared at him with open contempt for even suggesting such a thing. In Pat Bush's estimation she didn't look like a typical bar pickup. During his twenty-year tenure as sheriff he'd broken up enough barroom brawls to recognize a troublemaking broad when he saw one.
This one wasn't typical. Her clothing wasn't provocative. Neither was her demeanor. Rather than inviting male attention, she put out vibes that said Do Not Touch and seemed about as approachable as a lady porcupine.
More out of curiosity than anything, he asked, "You from around here?"
"No, from out of town."
"Where 'bouts?"
"I was just passing through Milton Point," she replied evasively, "on my way to the interstate highway."
Sheriff Bush tipped his hat forward so he could scratch the back of his head beneath it.
"Well, ma'am, the next time you're just passing through, find another place to have a beer, a place more suitable for ladies."
Lucky made an unflattering snorting sound, implying that he didn't believe she fit the distinction.
"I'll take that into consideration, Sheriff."
She gave Lucky another chilling glare. Then, slipping the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, she headed for the door.
"You don't want to press charges for the busted lip?" Sheriff Bush called after her.
"I only want to get out of here." Moving purposefully toward the door, she went out into the waning twilight without looking back.
Every eye in the room followed her departure. "Ungrateful bitch," Lucky muttered.
"What's that?" the sheriff asked, leaning toward Lucky.
"Nothing. Look, I gotta split, too." A glance through the dusty window showed her getting into a red compact car, one of those square, lookalike foreign numbers.
"Hold your horses, Lucky," Sheriff Bush said sternly. "I warned you last time that if you got into any more fights—"
"I didn't start this, Pat."
Though Pat Bush was acting in an official capacity, Lucky addressed him like the family friend he was, one who'd bounced Lucky on his knee when he was still in diapers. So while Lucky respected Pat's uniform, he wasn't intimidated by it.
"Who're you going to believe? Me or them?" he asked, gesturing down to the two injured men.
The red car was pulling onto the two-lane highway, its rear wheels sending up a cloud of dust. Losing his patience, Lucky again confronted Pat, who kept such a watchful eye on the Tylers that very few of their escapades got past him.
He had caught Chase and Lucky pilfering apples from the A&P supermarket when they were kids, and turning over portable toilets at a drilling site one Halloween night, and throwing up their first bottle of whiskey beneath the bleachers at the football stadium. While driving them home, he'd given them a sound lecture on the evils of drinking irresponsibly before turning them over to their daddy for parental "guidance." He'd been a pallbearer at Bud Tyler's funeral two years before, and had cried as hard as any bona fide member of the family.
"Am I under arrest or not?" Lucky asked him now.
"Get on outta here," the sheriff said gruffly. "I'll wait here till these skunks come around." He nudged Little Alvin and Jack Ed with the toe of his lizard boot. "Do something smart for a change, and stay outta their way for a day or two."
"Sure thing."
"And you'd better let your mama take a look at that cut."
"It's fine."
In a hurry, Lucky tossed a five-dollar bill on the bar to cover the cost of his drinks and dashed out the door. He had noted that the red car had turned west onto the highway and remembered the woman saying she was headed for the interstate, which was several miles away. He vaulted into his vintage model Mustang convertible and took out