“From someone who goes to services every Sunday with the preacher who performed the ceremony.”
“Well, you heard wrong,” she said.
Several of the customers glanced nervously at one another. A few of the older men got up and came closer, making sure Catherine knew they weren’t about to go anywhere.
Gil tried to take a step forward, but again was pushed back by the axe handle. Only then did he look at the barkeep. “You know what’s good for you, you’ll take that stick away before it gets rammed up yer ass.”
The barkeep’s face didn’t change, but his grip around the solid piece of wood tightened.
“You want me to fetch Sheriff Stilson?” the old regular at the bar asked.
Settling into the situation, Catherine walked toward the bar. “No need for that. This is obviously just a mistake. You wanted a brandy?”
“That’s right, but—”
“You’ll have your brandy. Your wife will have her wine, and Gil and I will have a friendly chat like two civilized people.”
The barkeep looked at her and asked, “You sure about that?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” Catherine replied. “If I wanted fights in my place, I would have opened a saloon. Still, I’m sure Gil won’t mind if we take this outside.”
Although he seemed a bit surprised by the sudden shift in the tone of the conversation, Gil nodded and hooked his thumbs under his belt. “That sounds just fine to me.”
Catherine led the way out the front door and Gil was quick to follow. Outside, the sky was dark blue and the stars were appearing overhead like a mess of silver dust that had been tossed into the air. Knowing she wasn’t about to lose Gil anytime soon, Catherine turned toward the corner and walked with a confident stride. “So,” she said, “what brings you to Ocean?”
It took a bit of work, but Gil managed to match Catherine’s pace so he could walk directly beside her. “I heard I could find Nick Graves here. I also heard that you’d know where to find him.”
“You’re not the first to come looking for that man. I wish I could help you.”
“Some folks thought he was dead, but that’s a hard thing to defend anymore. Graves used to be a wanted man. There were some vigilantes in Montana who spread the word about a price on his head from here all the way to the Mississippi. Hell, I even heard a bounty hunter from New York knew about the reward.”
“I’m no bounty hunter,” Catherine stated. “I run a restaurant. That’s the only business I’ve ever been in.”
“So you’re saying all those men who wanted to have a word with you were wrong?”
“What men? The only one that’s come around asking for me is you.”
Gil glared down at her through narrowed eyes. Even though she was several inches shorter than him, Catherine carried herself as if she was on a level field with any man. “That’s a damn lie, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?”
Jumping ahead one step, Gil got in front of Catherine so he could stop her with a stiff hand on each of her shoulders. Once he’d brought her to a halt, Gil closed the gap between himself and Catherine so he could look her in the eyes and speak in a menacing snarl. “I said that’s a damn lie and you know it.”
Before Catherine could respond, there was a knock against the boardwalk, as if something heavy had been dropped a little further along the street. She and Gil both looked. They found the noise had been made by a single boot thumping against the boardwalk as a tall, lean figure stepped up from the street.
The figure wasn’t close enough to listen to what Catherine and Gil were saying and it didn’t make a move toward them. Instead, it stayed put and kept as still as a stone marker protruding from the hallowed ground of a cemetery.
“Why do you want to find this man so badly?” Catherine asked.
“All I want is to ask a question. I don’t have a problem with Graves and I’m not after the price on his head. Nobody even needs to know it was you who told me where to find him.”
Catherine let out a little breath and smiled up at Gil. “That’s good to know.”
“My brother works at a telegraph office not far from here and he told me about a message that was sent by someone who mentioned Graves by name and that he lived here. I got here quick, since there’s so much money involved.”
“Money?” Catherine asked. “What money?”
Gil grinned and said, “I knew that might cover some more ground with you. There’s money to be had and I stand a hell of a chance of getting to it first if I can have a word with Graves. If things go my way, you’ll get your share for steering me in the right direction.”
“How do I know you’d come back to hold up your end?”
Looking down the street, Gil spotted the lean figure still standing in the same place. The only part of the figure that moved was the coat that was flapping around the man’s legs.
When he spoke again, Gil lowered his voice and turned his head away from the figure. “I can give you an advance.”
“What sort of advance?”
“How’s a thousand dollars sound?”
Catherine’s eyes widened and she pulled in a breath. “Come back tomorrow night,” she said. “If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
Still studying her, Gil scowled and gnashed his teeth together. He stopped just short of speaking again when he glanced at the corner to find the dark figure walking slowly toward them. Each step thumped against the boardwalk and sent a rumble all the way up to Gil’s knees. It was difficult to make out many details, but when the man got close enough, Gil caught sight of the badge pinned to his chest.
“Fine,” Gil said. “But you’d better have something for me if I’m to waste so much time around here.”
“You’re free to leave whenever you like,” Catherine offered.
“I’ll find you tomorrow at that place of yours around the same time as now.” Glancing toward the approaching figure, he added, “Make it a few hours earlier.” With that, Gil crossed the street. As the lawman approached Catherine with quicker steps, Gil was more than happy to be on his way.
Catherine walked up to the man as Gil rounded a corner. Reaching out with both hands, she grabbed his coat, pulled him to her and planted a kiss squarely upon his lips.
“My hero,” she whispered after leaning back just enough to get the words out.
Nick’s hands went reflexively to Catherine’s hips, but his eyes darted toward the corner Gil had just turned. Even though the other man was nowhere in sight, Nick watched that spot for a few more seconds.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get off this street.”
THREE
Nick and Catherine walked back to the Tin Pan and stepped inside just as the barkeep was about to lock the door. She said a few words to the barkeep and then held the door open so he could leave for the night. After giving her employee a quick wave, Catherine locked the door and pulled down the shade in the front window.
Leaning against the bar, Nick reached over the top and fished out a bottle of clear liquid. He used his other hand to get a glass, poured himself a healthy dose of the liquor and took a sip. “Sometimes I think it was a mistake to stay here,” he said as the vodka worked its way through his system.
“No, you always think it’s a mistake to stay here,” Catherine said as she leaned against the bar next to him. “It’s almost to the point where I think you regret marrying me.”
Nick looked into her eyes and smiled. The gesture seemed odd for features as harsh as his, but it was genuine enough. A thick beard covered his face, making his cheeks seem fuller and rounded. Cool, steely blue eyes took in the sight of her as he reached out to run a callused hand along the side of Catherine’s face. “You’re the only reason I’d even consider staying,” he said. “You know that.”
“Sure I do, but it’s still nice to hear every now and then.”
