Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance) (7 page)

She opened the door and stepped inside. A yellowed, cracked mirror hung behind the oak bar which ran the length of the room. A few scattered tables were empty. An old jukebox played the only Kenny Chesney tune she knew.

As she moved through the establishment, Elizabeth felt the gaze of several men upon her. They sat at the bar, all eyeing her. Swallowing hard, pretending to ignore them, she ducked under a dingy light embossed with a beer slogan and found a booth.

Remembering from countless Sunday afternoons spent watching old westerns to always face the front door, she sank into the cracked leather chair and removed her coat and gloves.

When she glanced at the group of men, they seemed to be discussing her. One of them tipped his hat. In L.A., she would have stuck her nose in the air and ignored him. But this wasn’t the city. These men could be possible avenues of information. She nodded back.

“What can I get you?”

Elizabeth glanced up, startled. A petite brunette stood poised above her. “I’m sorry, I was a million miles away.” That was a small white lie. Her mind had been on her day with Cooper. Again. “What’s good?”

“The steak. The enchiladas.”

“Chicken? Fish?”

“Bob, the guy who owns the place, won’t allow fish or chicken on the menu.”

At this point Elizabeth didn’t care that she had vowed to never allow red meat to pass her lips. She’d already eaten bologna today and it hadn’t killed her. Of course the day wasn’t over. “I guess I’ll take a steak. Well done, please. With rice, wild, if you have it.”

“Bob doesn’t believe in overcooking good meat. You’ll get medium-rare at best. No rice. Just potatoes. Baked, mashed or fried?”

Elizabeth’s stomach growled. “Baked. A teaspoon of sour cream and butter, too.” What the hell. If she was going to succeed in fitting in around here, then she’d better get used to the way of life. If that meant eating animals, and vegetables laden with fat, then she’d have to make a few changes.

She’d always expected small-town life to be uneventful, peaceful. A place to be safe. A wave of grief caught her and she fought back tears. Would the pain ever end? She blinked furiously. No tears.

Her attention was drawn to the men huddled at the nearest end of the bar. They now ignored her, for which she was grateful. One of them especially stood out from the others. He wore a long, black duster and knee-high cowboy boots. A rakish black Stetson completed his look. Just like every bad guy in every movie she’d ever seen. Outlaws always wore black.

Cooper’s hat wasn’t white, but brown. She supposed the good guy didn’t always wear white.

Cooper again. Why couldn’t she get her mind off the man? If he had indeed killed Lyle Pritchett, she was making a serious error in character judgment. Why did her gut tell her so strongly that he hadn’t done the dirty deed?

The jukebox went silent and the men at the end of the bar didn’t seem to notice. One of them gestured wildly. His tone was urgent. “I didn’t sign on for this. It’s gone too far.”

Intrigued, Elizabeth eavesdropped. What exactly did the one man want out of? What had gone too far? Could this be the group of rustlers who had stolen Cooper’s cattle? She studied them, but the riders on the hill had been too far away to recognize. Dressed less flamboyantly than his friend, the speaker wore a black Stetson, but no long coat. Two other men had on the black dusters. She shivered. They looked like a gang. Bad men. Outlaws.

Surely they wouldn’t talk openly about committing a crime. But then, why not? The sheriff had shown how much help he would give figuring out who the true killer was. He had made absolutely no effort to find her mother. It made her mad thinking about it. Sheriff Marlowe’s laziness was bad, her own cousin’s attitude worse.

As if thinking about Tom could conjure him up, he opened the door and walked in. She was relieved when he went to the bar and ordered a beer. Was beer the only beverage the men around here drank? Her mouth quirked when she pictured any of these men sipping a martini.

Tom must’ve spotted her in the mirror because he spun around and headed toward her. Elizabeth wanted to groan. She wasn’t up to another lecture from her cousin. Without being invited, he sat at her table. “Long time, no see.”

“I saw you most of last night,” she returned acidly. “Have you found out anything more about my mom?”

He took a long swig of beer and burped. “Nope.”

“Have you tried?”

“I’ve been a bit tied up trying to solve a homicide.”

“Have you? I was under the impression you know exactly who did it.”

“We know who killed old Lyle,” he insisted. “And so do you.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” she retorted sharply. “I had hoped you would have looked into the events of last night a little further instead of closing your mind to any new evidence.”

“All I know is Cooper murdered our uncle in cold blood.” He took a long swig from his beer. “And he’s done it again.”

“Prove it.” Elizabeth stared at her cousin until he dropped his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” At his nod, she continued. “Why did our uncle leave his property to my mother instead of you or Mr. Pritchett? You grew up here, after all. Didn’t you get along?”

“My dad and Henry didn’t see eye-to-eye,” he said. “Henry didn’t speak to me, us. Even after Dad died, Henry refused to make up with me.”

“He didn’t speak to my mother either,” Elizabeth countered, “but he left her everything he owned. Doesn’t that seem odd to you? It had to hurt you that he didn’t patch things up with your family, too.”

“Henry held a grudge all right,” he said noncommittally.

“Then why blame Mr. Cooper for his death if Uncle Henry was so difficult?”

“The only person nastier than Henry is Cooper. Just ask his ex. She’s right there.” Tom nodded toward the waitress.

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. “That’s Cooper’s ex-wife?”

“Yeah, right up until he offed Uncle Henry. She divorced him quick as a rabbit.”

Elizabeth glanced at the waitress with new interest as she came over with two sweating long-necks. The buttons of her western-style shirt strained to stay together and her black jeans fit like a diver’s wetsuit. Waves of blue-black hair fell over one shoulder. “Rufus wants to talk to you, Tom.” She set the bottle in front of Elizabeth. “This one’s for you. He’d like an introduction.”

“Speaking of introductions, Esperanza, meet Elizabeth,” Tom said with a malicious grin. “She’s into your ex.”

Her stomach tightening, Elizabeth looked up and forced a cool smile. She held out her hand. “Hello. Mr. Cooper has been very helpful.”

Esperanza took it, her grip icy cold from the beer she’d been holding. The woman threw her head back and laughed through full, berry-colored lips. The row of men sitting at the bar turned to look. “Honey, that isn’t a word I’d ever spend on Cooper. No. Cold, angry … make that bitter, but he isn’t ‘helpful.’”

Tom threw Elizabeth an ‘I told you so’ look. “Esperanza should know. She was married to him long enough to learn all his nasty secrets.”

“Yep. Too long, if you ask me.” She flipped a wave of long hair over her shoulder. “Honey, there’s a whole town full of men, and not one of them has half the problems Cooper does. Find you another one, someone who won’t break you like you’re a filly.”

A sudden unbidden image — one of Cooper taming her — filled Elizabeth with quivering, aching heat. She took a sip of the icy beer.

“You got that right.” Tom swatted Esperanza’s round rear as she turned away. “Stay away from Cooper, Elizabeth. Even his ex-wife thinks he’s a walking time bomb.”

“Maybe she’s the one who’s trouble.” Elizabeth watched the waitress. She looked like a woman men would hurt each other for.

“Heed my warning.” Tom stood. “I’ll not say anything again.”

“That’d be a relief,” Elizabeth whispered as he went back to join the men at the bar. Esperanza was nowhere in sight. The fact Cooper had an ex who looked like a supermodel left Elizabeth stunned.

A bombshell like Esperanza wasn’t who she’d picture him with. No, someone much more serious would be a better match. Yes, that was it. A woman who could appreciate his reflective side. A woman who didn’t automatically assume he was guilty of every crime committed in Salt Lick.

Someone like her.

Where had that idea come from? Elizabeth took another pull on her beer and made a face. She’d only had a few sips, surely she wasn’t drunk. Maybe she ought to get that way. Any thought of her and Cooper together was just ludicrous. She’d been warned off him by Tom, Sheriff Marlowe, and even his ex-wife. They couldn’t all be wrong.

Turning her attention to the rare steak Esperanza set in front of her, Elizabeth swallowed hard. It wasn’t nice to tease someone as hungry as she was. There wasn’t any way she could put a half living cow in her mouth. She poked the potato instead, grimacing as about a half-pound of butter and sour cream ran out of it, causing her stomach to jump gleefully.

Elizabeth took a bite. As the flavors ran over her tongue, she forgot her resolve not to eat anything that wasn’t healthy. An image of her friends back in LA, all frowning and wagging perfectly manicured nails went through her mind. Deliberately, she took another bite and banished her aerobic-bound friends from her conscience. They’d be back, she knew.

As Elizabeth’s stomach began to get full, she started to unwind. Esperanza had placed a third beer in front of her several minutes ago. Elizabeth was beginning to see why all these fellows liked the flavor so much. She sighed and leaned back in her seat.

The steak remained untouched on her plate, but the potato and the mounds of butter and sour cream she’d consumed filled her belly. Well, almost. The apple pie Esperanza had suggested sounded too good to pass by and she ordered a piece with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream.

First she had to find the little cowgirls’ room. Standing up, Elizabeth’s head swam. Shaking it off, she staggered toward the bathroom. Washing her hands in the small basin, she told her reflection, “You better sober up. This isn’t a safe environment to get drunk.” She feared it was too late.

As she headed back to her table she noticed the man who’d said he didn’t want to be part of something sat hunched over a drink, alone. The others played pool on a scarred table. Maybe he knew something. This was her chance to ask him a few questions. She veered toward him. As she reached his shoulder she said, “Buy you a drink?”

The cowboy looked up, surprised. “Huh?” Up close he was younger than she’d anticipated. But he looked tired, used. “I’m offering you a drink,” she repeated.

He lifted an empty shot glass. “Got one. Thanks.”

“My name is Elizabeth Adams. May I talk to you?”

“About what?” He didn’t offer to introduce himself.

Elizabeth pulled a recent picture of her mother out her pocket and held it under his nose. “Did you happen to see this woman in here in the last month? Maybe around town?”

Something — recognition? — skittered across his face. “No.”

“Please, if you know anything — ”

“I said I didn’t,” he said roughly.

She tried a different approach. “A man was killed in my barn last night, and I wondered if you might have been acquainted with him? Lyle Pritchet?”

“Why would I know anything?” His gaze darted past her to the quartet playing eight ball. “I don’t know nothin’. Leave me alone.”

“I have a hunch you know a lot.” Elizabeth dug in her pocket for a business card. She scratched Henry’s number on it and handed it to him. “If you think of anything, please call me.”

The man dressed like Johnny Cash motioned to her as she went back to her table. Elizabeth ignored him. She wasn’t a dog to be called to her master. As she sat and took a bite of pie she was startled to notice a shadow over her head. Glancing up she looked into flat, oddly colorless eyes. “Yes?”

Without waiting to be asked, the Johnny Cash wannabe pulled out the chair opposite her and settled his lanky frame in it. “I’m thinking you have an unhealthy interest in subjects that ain’t your concern.”

Although her heart felt like it might burst out her chest, Elizabeth forced her features to remain serene. “Such as?”

“Lyle Pritchett.”

“What about him?” Could he tell she was bluffing? Pretending to be unaffected? The meal turned over in her stomach, souring. From the movies, she knew what came next. Big trouble.

“Word is you’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“Your information is incorrect. My mother is missing, and a man was murdered in my barn last night. I would like to know why. I don’t know you, sir, and I’d appreciate it if you would remove yourself from my table.” Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noticed the men at the pool table watching the exchange. Tom had left. Her mouth felt dry. This bar was no place for someone like her. It had been a mistake to come here. The stranger in black reached across the table and lifted her beer. Taking a slow, deliberate drink from it, he studied her with those unnatural eyes. “You live all alone don’t you? Way out at the old Harper place. A long ways from anyone.”

Her ears rang and her scalp scrunched up like a used newspaper. Was he threatening her? “That’s none of your concern.”

He leered at her. “Those are funny words coming from someone who doesn’t know enough to keep her nose out of other folks’ business.”

“I only want to find my mother.” Her palms were drenched.

The door swung open and Cooper walked in with a gust of snow. Elizabeth almost wanted to cry with relief. Their eyes met and he strode to her table. “This seat for me?”

“Yes. I’ve been saving it.”

“What are you doin’ here, Cooper?” the unwelcome guest asked. “You don’t show your face in town very often.”

“Miss Adams and I have things to discuss, Rufus,” Cooper said. “And it looks like you’re bothering her. So, if you don’t mind — ”

“I do mind. The lady was taking my advice.”

“Such as?” Cooper’s voice dropped several degrees.

Elizabeth shivered. Once again, she was reminded of a cougar. Tension vibrated from him. He looked poised to spring. The other man didn’t seem as aware of the danger.

“Butt out, Cooper.”