Broken Wings

8

"Now, hold it right there, Davin," someone else from the table said in a calming and slightly patronizing tone. "That there's a threat not a one of us will tolerate."

"Hush up, Thomas," Davin sneered in a southern drawl, "this ain't none of your business." He jerked his finger once more at the person across from him and doggedly demanded, "Roll up your sleeves. I know what I saw."

Silence met the angry command. Tension in the air grew so thick, it could have been sawed and felled like a tree.

"What'd I miss," Strickland murmured, dripping rain on the table as he pulled up a chair beside Shepard. "How's the grub?"

Shepard glanced at him and whispered out the side of his mouth, "Food's good, and someone's been accused of cheating at cards."

"They fight yet?" Strickland asked before shoveling in a mouthful of stew.

Shepard shook his head.

Strickland grunted.

"Did the Sheriff know where to find Hazel?"

Strickland nodded and swallowed, then leaned in and whispered, "Said to try her dress shop. I told him we checked there first; he said she lives above it; if she ain't there, she might be gone."

Shepard looked at him, a worried frown creasing his brow. "Gone where?"

Strickland tore into a roll, closing his eyes on a moan as he chewed.

Shepard nudged him and repeated, "Where?"

Strickland sighed, "He wasn't sure; apparently, he hasn't seen her in the last two days."

Foreboding whispered across Shepard's skin and settled in his gut like a lead weight. "Do you think-"

"It's a possibility," Strickland murmured, not letting Shepard finish. "But, this roll makes me believe things might not be as terrible as we think they are. We'll recheck her place after we're done here and take it from there."

"Do you honestly expect me to roll up my sleeves, Mr. Porter?" A woman asked in a dulcet voice that sent Shepard's heart to hammering like mad in his chest.

She stood, and Strickland choked on his food.

Reaching for his drink and looking red-faced and teary-eyed, he nudged Shepard in the ribs as he took a swig and nodded with his chin at the striking, raven-haired beauty.

"Miss Hazel," he wheezed, coughing again before taking another long guzzle.

Shepard stared at her in stunned disbelief, watching as she wove her way around the table as graceful as a dancer to stand eye to eye with the tall man she'd called Mr. Porter. The hairs on the back of Shepard's neck rose in warning, and without thinking,

he withdrew his revolver.

Keeping her attention focused on the fuming blonde standing in front of her with angry daggers shooting from his green eyes, Hazel ignored the flutter of nerves in her belly and made a big show of stretching out her right arm.

Slowly, to ensure he saw every move she made, she unbuttoned all three mother of pearl fasteners at her wrist. She then mimicked the sultry movements she'd seen Alice do countless times at The Lilypad and peeled back the ochre and navy calico sleeve to expose her naked forearm.

Hazel arched a brow in feigned surprise. "Still think I'm a cheater, Davin," she whispered, watching a healthy blush stained his cheeks.

Davin growled low in his throat, his fingers curling into tight fists at his side as he bit out, "Now the left one."