by B. J Daniels
He wasn’t going there. “I just wanted to make sure you knew which locker was yours and check to see if you needed anything before your shift.”
Mariah looked toward the metal lockers in the corner. “I’m betting the empty one without a name on it is mine.”
He sighed.
“Thanks for trying to make me feel comfortable on my first day, really. But I have what I need.” She indicated her backpack, the same one she’d brought with her that first day. The same one he thought might hold a gun. “Well, almost everything,” she added and met his gaze.
“So have you ever had Texas gumbo?” Billie Dee was asking Mariah.
“With okra and tomatoes and big, fat shrimp in a rich brown file broth?”
The cook laughed. “You have been to Texas.”
“I’ve been a lot of places.”
Darby, seeing that Mariah was making herself at home, said to no one in particular, “I’ll be in the bar.”
* * *
“I DIDN’T ASK YOU what I should wear for work,” Mariah said as she entered the bar a few minutes later. The cowboy looked as if he hadn’t slept much last night. That should have made her feel better than it did. After all, she wasn’t innocent in all this, was she?
“I went by what all of you were wearing yesterday. Is this okay?” Holding out her arms, she turned in a circle, knowing she looked good in the Stagecoach Saloon T-shirt and slim blue jeans that hugged her curves. From the look in Darby’s eyes, he thought so too.
She’d pulled her wild mane of dark hair up and wrapped it with the colorful scarf she’d been wearing at the Chokecherry Festival. She couldn’t miss that split second of recognition she saw on Darby’s face. Like yesterday, she wore the pendant with the circle of black onyx in the center of the gold at her throat. It was something else that she never took off.
Her hand went to her bare wrist and she quickly pulled it back, the missing bracelet an ache. When she saw the cowboy looking at the pendant, she lifted it from her skin to turn it in her fingers. “You like it?”
“It’s pretty. Onyx, right?”
She nodded, still running her fingertips over the stone. “My grandmother gave it to me. For luck. And,” she said with a laugh, “to ward off the evil eye.”
“The evil eye?” he repeated.
“I come from a very superstitious family. If you wrong someone they can put the evil eye on you. Once the curse is on you, well, it’s almost impossible to get it removed. Often you take it to your grave. At least according to my grandmother. Just better to always wear the evil eye pendant to counteract evil.”
“Almost impossible?” he said, looking as if he wasn’t sure he believed any of what she was saying.
She laughed. “Do you have a curse you need removed?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you. I should get to work,” she said as a pickup pulled up out front.
“You can put your name on your locker,” Darby said as if uncomfortable with the topic of curses. “You might want to get a lock for it if you’re worried about someone taking your things.”
She laughed. “Strange, but few people steal from a Romani. The consequences, you know...” She touched the pendant again. Her laugh echoed through the bar as she went to unlock the saloon’s front door for their first customers.
* * *
FLINT STOPPED BY the clothing store—the only place in town that sold the type of tennis shoes that had left the tracks outside the latest crime scene. What made the tread unique other than the pattern on the bottom was that both pairs worn by the culprits appeared to come from brand-new shoes that showed no wear at all.
It didn’t take him long to find the ones he was looking for. He was surprised by both the type of tennis shoe—and the price. But the biggest surprise was yet to come.
“Do boys buy these?” he asked the owner of the store.
“They’re women’s sneakers,” she told him.
“Have you sold many of them?”
“They’re really popular with teens.”
“I need to know who in town has purchased them. Is that possible?”
The owner shook her head. “I wasn’t here. Maybe the clerk might remember who bought them.”
He was still processing the fact that his thieves were more than likely girls. “Is the clerk around?” he asked.
The owner hesitated before she said, “In the back helping with the shipment we got this morning. I suppose you could talk to her. If it doesn’t take too long. I have customers coming in. They’ve been waiting for some of the new dresses.”
“I’ll be brief,” he promised as he grabbed one of the tennis shoes and stepped back into the employees-only area. It was dusty and a little dark back there, the area crammed with loaded shelves. He found a young woman tearing into a stack of boxes by the open back door.
“Sheriff?” Finn Marsh said in surprise as she looked up.
He hadn’t realized she was back in town since, not only had he gone to school with her, she’d also dated his brother Hawk. “Finn, I didn’t know you were working here.”
“Again,” she said ruefully. “Just like in high school.”
He knew she’d gone away to college and gotten a job. He couldn’t remember doing what. Strange that she was back, he thought. “I know you’re busy. I just need to ask you if you remember selling three local girls these shoes?”
Finn smiled and nodded. “Funny you should ask. They bought them at the same time. The reason I remember is that Tori and Wendy used their mother’s credit cards and the other girl paid with what looked like her piggy bank money—mostly small bills and coins. It was painful to watch.”
“Is that unusual for a kid to pay with money they’ve saved?”
“No, but it was strange. I got the feeling that Tori and Wendy were forcing her to buy the shoes.” Finn shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I was thinking they might be bullying her since the girl wasn’t one of them, you know what I mean?”
“Who was the girl?”
“Laralee Fraser.”
He knew the Fraser family. The father was a truck driver on the road a lot. The mother took in laundry. The family barely scraped by. So what was Laralee doing buying expensive tennis shoes with Tori and Wendy? He didn’t like the sound of this at all given that the shoe prints had turned up at three of the four break-ins. This sounded like the three were in some kind of cahoots. Or that the two were setting Laralee up to take the fall for the break-ins.
He thanked Finn and walked back up front to replace the tennis shoe he’d borrowed.
“I don’t think they have those in your size,” said a familiar female voice behind him. He turned to find his ex-wife, Celeste, smiling up at him.
One of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place was that she was adorable, from her button nose and her big green eyes to her bow-shaped mouth and her blond bob. Celeste had been a cheerleader, one of the popular girls in school, the girl most likely to marry well.
Her only misstep had been marrying him. But she’d rectified that by having an affair with Wayne Duma, one of the movers and shakers in town. The now Mrs. Wayne Duma was the last person he wanted to see.
“Celeste.”
“It’s good to see you, Flint. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
This was definitely not what he wanted to hear.
“I didn’t like the way we left it, the last time we saw each other,” she said, actually sounding nervous. But that, like so much of her, could be an act.
Keeping his voice down, he said, “The last time we saw each other, I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you.”
“I know you were angry—”
“Celeste, why can’t you leave me alone?”
&nbs
p; Her eyes filled with tears. “You really don’t know?”
“I know you can’t stand the thought that I might move on, might find some happiness with someone other than you.”
“You can’t think you’ll find happiness with Maggie” She scoffed at the idea.
What had it been about Maggie that had made Celeste come after him again? He’d dated other women and Celeste hadn’t seemed to care one way or another. But Maggie had set her off. Was it because she saw that he had true feelings for the woman?
“I’m not discussing this with you. I can be with anyone I want.”
“But Maggie? She’s so wrong for you.”
He glanced toward the owner of the store, knowing she was probably listening to all of this. He lowered his voice. “It’s none of your business, but I’m not seeing Maggie anymore.”
Celeste looked as relieved as if he’d told her his cancer was in remission. “I think that’s for the best.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t care what you think. It’s none of your damned business.” He’d raised his voice again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the owner shoot them a glance.
“See, now you’re getting angry again.”
“Celeste.” He wanted to wring the woman’s neck. “Leave. Me. Alone. Stay out of my business. Stay out of my life.” He turned and stormed out of the store, but he could feel her gaze boring into his back—along with that of the owner of the store.
Just saying Maggie’s name made his heart hurt. He hadn’t seen her for months—as badly as he’d wanted to. He couldn’t explain it to himself. It wasn’t because he still felt anything for Celeste other than a growing hatred and fear. Fear of what Celeste might do if he were to start seeing Maggie again.
The thought made him wonder if he was as crazy as his ex-wife. What did he think Celeste would do?
But look what she’d done in the past. Interrupted his last two dates with Maggie and come between them. He feared there was something terribly wrong with his ex-wife and he didn’t want her near Maggie.
Or was that exactly what Celeste wanted him to believe so she could control him and keep him away from the one woman he might find happiness with?
* * *
THE WORKDAY PASSED quickly since it was summer and the saloon was busy the whole time. Darby did his best to watch Mariah and still hold down the bar. What he did see was efficiency. She was even better at this than Kendall, which was saying a lot. He couldn’t help being impressed.
“Do you have a tip jar behind the bar?” she asked as she handed over the money with her first order. Clearly she knew he didn’t trust her and wanted to make sure every transaction was taken care of right away. She wasn’t going to give him any reason to mistrust her.
When it got so busy even he was having trouble keeping up, Mariah came behind the bar and got her own beer and even helped make a couple of the more time-consuming drinks.
When he did have a moment to think, he thought about what she’d said about stealing from a Romani.
“You’re really good at this,” he said as the last patron left and he was able to bolt the door closed for the night and turn out all but the lights behind the bar.
“Thanks.” She sighed as if tired. He knew he was. But she didn’t look tired. She looked...beautiful. A lock of her dark hair had fallen down to curve around her high cheekbone. It made her eyes look even darker. For a moment, their gazes met. He felt his breath escape him. That feeling he’d had at the Chokecherry Festival of being shot through the heart was mild compared to this one. He was right. The woman had put a curse on him, he thought as he dragged his gaze away.
“Give me a minute and I can settle up with you on the tips.”
“Don’t worry about that tonight.” Her voice was low, sultry in the empty bar, darkness deep against the windows. “But I would love a glass of wine. Red. Something cheap and sweet would be wonderful.”
He laughed as he looked at her again. “I took you for something more exotic. Champagne, maybe.”
“Really?” She moved with fluid grace to the bar, slid up on a stool and, dropping her elbows to the bar top, cupped her chin in her hands as she settled her gaze on him. “Was it my backpack with my entire life in it? Or my bike?”
“I haven’t seen a bike like yours before.”
“You know motorcycles?”
“I know horses, but I can appreciate a vintage bike like that,” he said as he poured her a glass of wine and himself a diet cola.
“It was my father’s. It has a 750 cc V-twin engine so it moves. Gets good gas mileage. I can go over three hundred miles on a tank of gas.” She shrugged. “It gets me where I want to go.”
“And where is that?” he asked, seeing her obvious love of the bike that had belonged to her father.
She smiled, lighting up the darkened saloon. “Wherever the road takes me.”
“I’m envious.” He could see it surprised her.
“But you have everything here.”
Darby had to chuckle at that, remembering what Billie Dee had told him was wrong with him. “Not everything.”
Mariah’s eyes narrowed. “You really think you could get on a bike and just go and leave all of this behind?”
“Some days I definitely do. But then I remind myself that most places are pretty much the same. I don’t think what I’m looking for is over that next hill.”
She cocked her head, studying him. “What is it you’re looking for?”
He shook his head and glanced away. “That’s just it, I don’t know. Excitement. Adventure. A challenge. Hitting the road like that sounds almost...”
“Romantic?” She scoffed. “It’s not.”
“What are you looking for?”
Mariah frowned. “I’m not. I’m just...going.”
They drank in companionable silence for a while. It was a quiet dark night outside the saloon. Even the earlier traffic on the road had stopped. Darby felt as if they were the only two people left on Earth.
He kept thinking about what it would be like to get on that motorcycle parked outside and just go. “Is there any place you haven’t been?”
“A few.” She shrugged as he refilled her glass and his own. She stared at the wine for a long moment and then, lifting the glass carefully, took a sip.
“You’re right though,” she said quietly. “Most every place is like another.” When she raised her gaze, he saw sadness there.
“Earlier did you say you were a Romani?” he said, changing the subject. He hadn’t wanted to make her sad. He loved her smile too much.
She nodded. “My grandmother was Romani and determined to keep the culture and traditions of her people. She came to this country as a young girl in the 1930s, hoping to find a better life.” Mariah met his gaze. “She thought it was just a matter of luck. Unfortunately, she also believed there was a curse on our family.”
“Even if you wear the evil eye necklace?” he asked, half joking.
Mariah smiled. “You don’t believe in curses?”
“No, but lately...” He shook his head, sorry he’d brought it up as she finished her wine and slid off the barstool. He thought she might bring up the bracelet.
“I should get going. What do I owe you for the drinks?” She looked at him in a way that made his heart beat faster.
“It’s on the house.”
“Sleep well, then.”
Her words brought a chill of both excitement and anxiety. Was she trying to warn him that tonight would be the night? “You too.”
She started out but stopped in the kitchen doorway to turn as a vehicle roared past. Darby looked up from behind the bar to find Mariah silhouetted against the kitchen light. He stared at her profile with both shock and admiration.
The image of the Roma Queen on t
he bracelet. Mariah looked exactly like her before she stepped outside into the darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARIAH PACED THE small cabin. She should have finished this days ago and moved on. Staying in one place was dangerous—even in such a small town so out of the way in a remote part of Montana.
Her first week at the Stagecoach Saloon had gone by in a blur. Each day, she told herself that she needed to get her bracelet and move on. Each day, she found another excuse not to do what had to be done.
These nights working with Darby... She shook her head. The work kept her busy. It was afterward, after they closed the bar, when they visited over something to drink. When they talked. When she looked into the cowboy’s gray eyes...
Shaking her head now, she told herself that she didn’t like the way being here made her feel. She didn’t like the way Darby made her feel. Had she forgotten how dangerous all this was—and not just for her?
Mariah stopped in front of the cabin window that looked out on the rolling hills and the town of Gilt Edge in the distance. What am I still doing here?
What if Darby had gotten rid of the bracelet? Just tossed it out like a piece of junk? Or had it appraised and sold it? That was another possibility.
Why don’t you just ask him for it?
She knew that was what he was waiting for. Was that why she hadn’t done that the first day she’d walked into the Stagecoach Saloon? What was the worst he would have done? Accuse her of taking his wallet? She’d seen him pick it up after she’d dropped it. He couldn’t prove she’d tried to take it.
But after she’d heard that his brother was the sheriff... She didn’t want any trouble. And she could hide out here a while just as easily as anywhere else. If Darby Cahill was going to call the sheriff on her, he would have that first day when she’d asked for a job. He could have laughed in her face. He could have sent her packing.
So why hadn’t he?
Was it possible he hadn’t remembered her?
No, she thought, thinking back to their conversations. He was curious about her. Curious about her evil eye pendant. Curious no doubt what she was waiting for. And him? He was waiting too. Waiting to see what she was going to do.