* * *
COLLIN KNEW IT was too early for a drink, but that didn’t stop him. He walked through the snow to the far end of town to the bar. The bar sign was on, and he could hear music as he pushed open the door. Brushing off snow, he shrugged out of his coat and moved to the bar to drape the snow-covered coat over a stool before taking the one next to it.
The place was empty except for the bartender, who was apparently named Dave if you could believe the T-shirt he was wearing, and another man at the opposite end of the bar. A news show was on the small television behind the bar.
“What can I get you?” Dave asked as he came down the bar. He was a rotund man with thinning hair who Collin guessed was somewhere in his forties. Collin tried not to see himself in the man. How easily he could end up at just such a dead-end job in the middle of nowhere if things didn’t improve and soon.
“A draft, whatever you have.” He pulled out his wallet and threw down a twenty. His cash was running low. He’d put this trip on his credit cards, but even those were reaching their limits.
The bartender set a glass of beer on a cocktail napkin in front of him and went back down the bar to visit with his other customer. A local. Both of them, Collin thought by the looks of them. He couldn’t imagine a more miserable life, trapped in this town, working at a bar, unless of course you were a carpenter in a shitty old carriage house making wooden toys and rockers for tourists.
He took a sip of his beer and looked down the bar at the men. “So, what do you do around here for fun?” he called down to them.
The man on the bar stool laughed. “Dave,” he said to the bartender, “do you even remember fun?”
Dave laughed. “Well, we all know what you do for fun, Lars.”
Lars chuckled and slid off his stool, bringing his drink with him, as he joined Collin. “Heard your SUV part came in. Bet you’re glad to get out of here.” He held out his hand. “Lars Olson. I work at the store and plow snow for my almost-father-in-law who owns almost everything in this town except for this bar, that motel you’re staying in and the abandoned hotel.”
“Me and the bank own the bar,” Dave called down the counter. “Another two thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine payments, and it will be all mine.”
“Exactly,” Lars said. “I just wanted this man to know how bad things are around here for all of us. So, tell me your hard-luck story.”
“What makes you think I have one?” Collin asked, bristling.
Lars laughed. “Don’t take offense. I could use some cheering up since I have to go to work soon. I was hoping your story was worse than mine.” Dave said something under his breath and turned up the news. It was clear that Lars had already had a few beers this morning.
Collin realized he didn’t mind the company as Lars climbed onto the stool next to him. “Well, you already know about my rental car breaking down and the part finally coming in,” Collin said. That meant that Lars had probably heard about Kate’s obsession with the carpenter. “That’s as good as my news gets. So, tell me something,” he said before finishing his beer and signaling for another. “But first, wanna another one?” Lars nodded and tipped his half-empty glass in a silent salute.
When Dave brought two more beers, he reminded Lars he had to plow the streets yet today.
“Got it covered,” Lars assured him and turned to Collin. “Dave’s my best friend. I even work nights sometimes as a swamper, cleaning up his bar to help him out.”
Dave returned to the television before Collin asked, “What do you know about Jon Harper?”
Lars considered his beer for a moment. “I understand your interest, but you have to also understand Buckhorn. We protect our own.”
“You consider Jon Harper one of your own? I thought he’s only been here a few years?”
Lars met his gaze. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but Jon is an okay guy. Actually he’s better than most of us. He’s the kind of man to give you the shirt off his back if you’re in need.”
“I’ve seen his shirt. I’m not impressed.”
Lars laughed. “He’s contributed to this community and helped people just passing through, never wanting credit for it. In fact, some people he helped on the highway outside of town told a newspaper reporter about what he’d done for them. The reporter came to town, wanting to do a story on Jon. He wasn’t having any of it. He’s that kind.”
“Sounds to me like he has something to hide. What do any of you really know about him?”
Lars shook his head. “If you’re asking who he was before he came here, your guess is as good as mine. He doesn’t talk much, never about himself. I get the feeling he’s been through some rough times that have left him leery of people.”
Collin swore under his breath. Maybe the man was Danny Jackson. He finished his second beer. He knew better than to have another. The car would be ready this afternoon. In the meantime, he had to make up with Kate. But all he could think about was what Lars had told him about Jon Harper. He sounded exactly like the kind of man Kate would be attracted to.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN EARL RAY finally shoved off his stool, pulled on his coat and headed for the door, Kate tossed some money on the table and followed him out—only to collide with a solid body just outside the door.
“Sorry,” the man said in a deep, sleepy-sounding voice.
She drew back to look up at his face. She’d gotten glimpses of the man coming out of the closed Crenshaw Hotel on the edge of town. He wore a stocking cap pulled low so only his dark eyes peered out. His long hair and beard were the same color as his eyes. He wore an old army coat that looked as if it might have belonged to his father—or was something he’d picked up at a thrift store. The look on his face was so serious that he gave her a start.
“Sorry,” he mumbled again and held the door for her so she could exit.
She could see Earl Ray down the street and headed in that direction. She hadn’t gone but a few feet, though, before she heard Bessie call after her.
Earl Ray was already half a block past the next street. Having no choice, Kate turned back.
“Are you all right?” Bessie asked. “You look...startled.”
“It’s nothing. That young man—”
“Finnegan?” Bessie huffed. “Says he was hired as caretaker at the Crenshaw Hotel. Looks to me more like a bum who just needed a place to stay for the winter. With the owner dead and the place boarded up for the past two years, guess we have to take his word for it. Finnegan probably isn’t even his real name.”
Kate shifted on her feet. Bessie seemed to realize how anxious she was to get moving. “You forgot your blueberry muffins.” Bessie handed her the package. “You left so fast... Guess you’re just in a hurry to get out of town. Enjoy.” The woman wheeled back inside the warm café as someone called her name.