Page 10 of Midnight Ride

“No idea, Tammy. I’ve never seen her in a volatile situation. Some women handle themselves real well. Good as any man.”

“Huh,” I said. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

Billy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Dry Run Roadhouse. Coyote Creek.

Around nine, we drove down to the roadhouse to see what the hunters were bragging about. We needed to find other hunters who were camped near the ones we were looking for. Most hunters on vacay drove into the small towns at night for beer and to look for hot dates.

I knew from experience there weren’t that many hot dates in Coyote Creek, but the guys from out of state didn’t know that.

We sat in a booth about halfway back kind of in the middle of the action. Before Travis joined us, he talked to Jack, the roadhouse owner, at the bar to see if he’d heard any rumors about the murder. The bartender in a place as busy as the Dry Run heard a lot of talk—some bullshit, but some of it had a hint of truth to it.

Tessa got us a couple of pitchers and we were sipping our first cold one when Travis came back from the bar shaking his head. “Jack didn’t hear anything. He heard about the murder up near Oilmont time and time again, but nothing else.”

“Huh,” said Billy. “People should be talking about it and stirring things up. It’s kind of too quiet for a murder just happening on our own doorstep. Might even call it spooky.”

Tammy glanced up and whispered, “Savanna just came in, Daddy. She’s sitting at the bar talking to Jack.”

Travis shrugged. “Not much I can do about it. She was wrong getting all frazzled over Olivia. Nothing going on there for a long time and I’m not apologizing for having a business meeting.”

Yep. Dad was stubborn as a mule and if he was right, he wouldn’t be the one backing down. In the latest fight between Dad and Savanna, she was in the wrong.

We’d been in our booth listening to the music for a couple of hours when there was a lot of yelling and hollering on the dance floor. One girl screamed and Travis jumped to his feet.

He ran out into the middle of the big dust up and Virge and I trailed along to help him out if he needed a hand.

Two drunk hunters were beating each other up over a woman who, to me, didn’t look worth the effort, but what did I know?

The bouncers who worked the roadhouse jumped into the fray and separated the two hunters. Never seen them before, but that didn’t mean much. Always new people hanging around the roadhouse.

The bouncers took both of the guys and shoved them out the front door and that was the end of it. Or we thought that was the end of it.

An hour later when we went to the parking lot to go home, the two guys were fighting with two different guys. Not the guys from earlier. They were yelling and cursing and pushing each other into the parked cars and trucks.

Two of the hunters were trying to get into their pickup and leave, but the two guys from inside blocked them from getting to their truck.

“Okay, enough,” said Travis. “Stand down or I’m going to cool y’all off in the tank.”

One of them laughed. “Like you’re man enough?”

Wham.

That mouthy guy was out cold, and the other one tried to stagger away.

“Cuff him, Harlan.” Travis pointed to the guy on the pavement, then turned and pointed at the guy staggering to his truck. “Grab that asshole and cuff him, Virge. We got us a couple of ornery drunks.”

Chapter Three

Wednesday, September 4th.

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

When we got to the station a few minutes before eight, the new game warden, Linda Tucker, was leaning on Molly’s desk drinking a coffee and eating a chocolate donut.

Tall and fairly big for a woman, Linda’s auburn hair was pulled back in a braid that hung way down her back.

Molly introduced Linda to everyone, “This is Warden Linda Tucker.” Molly named each one of us, but Linda probably wouldn’t remember all our names.

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