dispassionately, without giving way to tears.
Hearing what had happened, Butch Dixon was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that—”
Joanna held her hand up. “I know. The rings. I suppose I ought to take them off and put them away, but I’m not ready to do that yet. I’m used to wearing them. I may not be married anymore, but I still
Butch nodded. “When did it happen?” he asked.
“Two months ago, back in the middle of September.”
“So it wasn’t all that long ago. Do you have kids?”
Joanna nodded. “Only one, a girl. Her name Jennifer. Jenny. She’s nine.”
“That’s got to be tough.”
“It’s no picnic.”
“Who’s taking care of her while you’re here going to school?”
“Her grandparents. My in-laws. They’re from Bisbee, too. They’re staying out at the ranch and looking after things while I’m away.”
“Ranch?” Butch asked.
Joanna laughed. “Not a big ranch. A little one. It’s only forty acres, but it does have a name. The High Lonesome. It’s been in Andy’s family for years. Right now it belongs to me, but it’ll belong to Jenny someday.”
“Hey, Butch, my margarita’s long gone. I know the broad’s good-looking, but how about paying a little attention to this part of the bar?”
A look of annoyance washed over Butch Dixon face as he turned toward the complaining customer. “Keep your shirt on, Mike,” he growled. “And keep a civil damn tongue in your mouth or go on down the road.”
Joanna watched as Butch mixed Mike’s drink. It was difficult to estimate how old he was. He looked forty but that could have been the lack of hair. He was probably somewhat younger than that. Butch wasn’t particularly tall—only about five ten or so but what there was of him was powerfully and compactly built. As soon as he dropped off the margarita and rang the sale into the cash register, Butch came back to where Joanna was sitting. Resting his forearms on the counter, he leaned in front of her.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Mike’s one of those guys who gets a little out of line on occasion.”
“Compared to some of the things I’ve been called lately, broad’s not all that bad,” Joanna reassured him with a smile. “And I can see why you make a good bartender. You’re very easy to talk to.”
Butch didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the compliment. In reply he picked up her empty glass. “Want another?”
“No. Too much caffeine. When I go home to bed, I’m going to need to sleep. But I did want to discuss something with you. I’m just now on my way home from the Maricopa County Jail. I went down there talk to Jorge Grijalva.”
“Really? Did you manage to talk him out of that plea bargain crap?”
