Page 57 of The Cowboy’s Reckoning

“How about the fight Gremlin had with Joe Whitney?” Jordan asked. “That might have something to do with it.”

“Who doesn’t Joe fight with?” Phil replied. “Honestly, if anyone was going to rat anyone else out, it would have happened by now.”

“Who is Joe Whitney?” Lil asked as they left the sheriff’s office.

“Joe is a really smart guy with a bad temper, who does odd jobs for money because he keeps getting fired from regular jobs.”

“Do you think that my cow was an odd job?”

“Let’s just say I’d like to eliminate the possibility. And for that we’ll go to Joe’s home turf.”

So it was that they headed to the roughest bar in Marietta.

When they arrived at the establishment, Jordan hesitated at the door. “You never know what you’ll come up against in here,” he said. “But midday ought to be quiet. I hope.” He looked down at Lil, as if wondering if he should have her wait outside.

Lil was having none of that. She gestured to the heavy wooden door, and he pulled it open.

The interior was so dark that it took a moment for his eyes to adjust as they stepped inside. A fan turned overhead, stirring the scents of beer and decades-old cigarette smoke that had permeated the walls during the days when smoking in public was legal.

“Hey, Ben,” Jordan said to the barkeep, a smallish man with a luxurious mustache, as he escorted Lil across the room.

Ben lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Because I don’t go to town too often.”

“Heard you had a windfall.”

Jordan simply nodded. “An unexpected one. Two draughts.”

Lil and Jordan settled on stools and, after pouring what must have been Jordan’s usual since he never inquired, the barkeep went about his business of stocking glasses, wiping down bottles. He tossed out a couple more questions about the Willow Creek inheritance as he worked and Jordan answered easily.

“You lost a cow,” the barkeep stated, and Lil glanced down at her beer so as not to telegraph her sudden interest as the man steered the conversation toward their objective.

“Looks like a varmint shooting gone wrong,” Jordan said flatly. “Gremlin said he knew who the bad shot is, but he’s not being too free with the information. I don’t suppose he told you?”

“Gremlin was in the process of being arrested when he said that. He’s full of shit.”

“Strike one,” Jordan muttered to Lil in a low voice as the barkeep disappeared into the stockroom.

They drank their beers, staring into the mirror at the back of the bar instead of talking. The only other patron of the bar, seated near the pool table, scraped his chair back and Lil glanced over her shoulder at the noise. He brought his glass to the bar and set it there, pulled a couple of bills out of his wallet in anticipation of the barkeep’s return.

“You know that Gremlin will say anything to cover his ass,” he said before giving Lil a quick once-over.

Jordan raised a warning eyebrow, and the guy had the grace to look sheepish.

Jordan lifted his glass. “Guess he didn’t do too good a job of that when Joe came looking for him.”

“Yeah. That was something.” The man rubbed his forehead. “Even for Joe. Guess that’ll teach Gremlin not to hit on Joe’s woman.”

“Who is she?” Jordan asked with genuine curiosity. “Anyone I might know?”

The guy frowned. “Dunno.”

Jordan nodded and faced the mirror behind the bar again as the barkeep came out of the stockroom and settled the man’s tab. “See ya,” he called after his patron.

The man raised a hand as he opened the door, momentarily flooding the room with sunlight.

Jordan cocked his head at the barkeep. “Do you know who Joe is seeing?”