The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas - Jodi Thomas Page 0,31
but tonight she thought she’d be civil. “Did you come to see me play?”
“Nope. I’m here for the beer.”
She laughed. One beer wasn’t worth the twenty-mile drive to Someday Valley. He’d had to pass two other bars to get to this run-down place.
“You ever think of buying a six-pack and staying home for a month?”
“Nope.”
Marcie couldn’t decide if she disliked Brandon Rodgers or just found him dead boring. If they spoke, they had pretty much the same conversation every week. He was a Clydesdale of a man, bigger than most, but easy moving. She had no doubt he talked to his horses far more than he ever did people.
It wasn’t like she didn’t know him. He was about three years older than her, owned a place north of here. Ran a few cattle and bred some kind of horses, she’d heard. Folks always commented that the Rodgers clan kept to themselves, but lately he was the only Rodgers around. His mother died and his sister married and moved off. He’d never dated anyone that she knew about. In his twenties he had gone off to the Marines for six years.
“You want to sit down?” He dipped his worn Stetson toward the chair to his left.
She almost jumped in surprise. He’d never asked her to join him. But Marcie didn’t want to make a scene. He never talked to anyone and no one talked to her, so they could sit at the same table in silence together.
In a strange way they were made for each other, she decided. “Sure.”
“You want a drink?” His words were so low they seemed faded by the time they reached her.
“No.” Marcie folded her arms and stared at him. They’d run out of conversation, and with his hat on, she couldn’t see anything but the bottom half of his face. Strong jaw. A one-inch scar on the left of his chin was almost camouflaged by his week-old beard. He wasn’t handsome or homely.
She decided to wait him out. She guessed he wasn’t a man to enjoy chatter.
“I’m not trying to pick you up, Marcie,” he finally said with the same emotion he’d use to read a fortune cookie.
“I know. ‘You want to sit down’ is the worst pickup line ever.” She raised her voice slightly, as a half dozen good ol’ boys who smelled like they’d been fishing stumbled in. They all lived around Someday Valley, most with their folks, and even though they were near her age, not one had a full-time job.
Joey Hattly, the shortest of the pack, bumped into Marcie’s chair. He must have heard her, because he grinned.
“I got a line that never fails.” The stinky guy pushed out his chest as if performing to a crowd.
Marcie smelled cheap liquor on his breath and fish bait on his clothes. She moved an inch closer to Brand. She wasn’t afraid of Joey, but she didn’t want her sins listed again. Some of the bar regulars liked to remind her that she was a jailbird’s girlfriend.
Luckily, Joey was more interested in talking about himself tonight. “I can pick up any gal with just a few words. I walk up to a table of pretty gals and say, ‘Evening ladies. This is your lucky night. I’m single and here to dance. I’ve got a college education and I know my ABDs.’ ”
He held up a finger to silence everyone before adding, “Wanta C what I can do?”
The fishing buddies laughed. One slapped Joey on the back. “Don’t waste your lines on Marcie; she’s not interested. She’s sworn off all men since she slept with the bottom of the barrel.”
She didn’t much like Brand, but right now he was the safest bet in the room. A pack of drunks was never good, and they all appeared to have more than a few bottles of courage in them.
Another fisherman mumbled, “Yeah, she was shacking up with a killer. They say a man who thinks about burning folks alive is sick in the head. If you ask me, she knew what he was planning. She don’t deserve to just walk away free when that fire Boone set almost killed four people. Least we should do is give her a spanking.”
The oldest of the group added, as he scratched his bald head, “Maybe we should strip her and paint an A on her chest, like they did in that old book Mrs. Warren made us read.”
“They stripped a woman in The Scarlet Letter?” Joey’s squeaky voice chimed in. “Maybe