Chapter 12 #2
Without realizing it, I’d worked through dinner without eating, and now my stomach was painfully empty.
I cured that problem by making myself a sandwich and downing a glass of milk, all accomplished while standing at the kitchen counter.
The last thing I wanted to do was socialize, but I needed to check on my guests, so I slid my boots back on and headed out.
Music emanated from the Round Room, windows lit with a golden glow, and when I got within twenty feet of the door, I stopped to listen.
Such nights took me back to earlier times at Silver Sage, when guests filled every cabin and cottage, and evenings overflowed with laughter and camaraderie.
I wanted so badly to restore our ranch to the way it once was, both for my parents’ sake and my daughter’s.
Whether we failed or succeeded was all on my shoulders.
“Matthew?” a soft voice called out in the darkness.
I turned to see Lauren approaching. She was wearing those red boots she purchased in town, along with a pair of blue jeans and a white cotton blouse. The sight of her lifted my spirits a little.
“Hey, there. Are you headed to hear the music?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m going that way. I needed to use your office because I had to make a call and couldn’t get reception anywhere else. I hope that was okay?”
My gut twisted. “Of course it’s okay. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.
Reception has always been an issue here.
” We used to encourage guests to disengage from the outside world and enjoy their time reconnecting with nature at Silver Sage, but in an era where people were addicted to their devices and had work-from-anywhere jobs, that was becoming a harder sell.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I was actually hoping to run into you. I saw someone racing out of here in your Suburban when I was in the office, and I was wondering if everything was okay?”
“My Suburban?” I looked over at where I’d parked it, and sure enough, the space was empty. “Did you see who was driving?”
“A man with short, curly blonde hair,” she said. “That’s all I could see. Why? Did you not know about it?”
“Shit. That was probably Chef Damon.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned on her face. “Is he the person who isn’t supposed to drink alcohol?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the tight muscles on the back of my neck. “I’ve got to catch up to him. How long ago did he leave?”
“About ten or fifteen minutes.”
My mind started formulating a plan to get Chef back to the ranch before he wrecked himself or my vehicle. God forbid he hurt anyone before I could reach him.
“I need to ask Kyra if Gigi can sleep over in her cabin tonight because I don’t know how long this is going to take me.”
“I can watch her if you’d like?”
It was sweet of her to offer, but I would not let her be my babysitter. At least I could compensate Kyra for her help.
“That’s alright, but I appreciate the offer.” I started walking backwards toward the Round Room. “I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll go with you.” She kept pace with me. “Let me help.”
“Absolutely not. Get some sleep and forget I even told you about this. I’m mortified already.”
She grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “Why are you embarrassed?” She looked up at me with those pretty brown eyes. “Please let me go with you. It’s dark out, and you’re upset. I want to help.”
We had only known each other a few days and here she was, worrying about me, the guy who always took care of everyone else. My throat tightened up, making it difficult to answer, and I lowered my chin so she wouldn’t see the emotion in my eyes. “I’ll be fine. You’re a guest?—”
“I’m also your friend, right? Go talk to Gigi, and I’ll meet you back at the office,” she said firmly. “I’m going back to my room to grab a sweater.”
Before I could argue, she was jogging away from me.
Honestly, the part of me that wasn’t embarrassed was glad I didn’t have to go on this mission alone.
Kyra was, as expected, happy to take on some babysitting hours, and Gigi was thrilled about the sleepover.
I didn’t bother telling either of them what was happening because I didn’t need gossip spreading around the ranch.
With that handled, I hurried back to the office to meet Lauren, and minutes later we were in a pickup truck, bouncing over ruts and stones on the road out of the ranch.
“Where are we going first?” she asked.
“The Mangy Marmot. If he’s not there, he could be at another bar outside of town called Roy’s, although I don’t know how he’d hear about that place. It’s all locals, and it’s pretty rough.”
“Like a biker bar?” Her earnest expression made me laugh.
“But less cool. A lot of guys with missing teeth and mullets.” Her eyes grew round, like one of those anime characters, and despite my dire employee situation, I laughed. “Rural Wyoming is real sexy.”
“Hmmm, some parts of it are sexy,” she whispered, a little smile dancing on her lips.
Damn. What a waste of an evening. If Chef wasn’t already dead, I might just kill him.
* * *
“What’s our plan?” Lauren yelled into my ear to be heard above the noise that engulfed us the moment we walked into The Mangy Marmot Bar and Grill.
On the weekends, everyone in a hundred-mile radius came there looking to blow off steam, get lucky, or both.
I put a protective arm around Lauren’s shoulder as a burly guy shoved past us on his way out the door.
“Let’s head to the bar and ask my friend Ella if she’s seen him.”
She nodded, and I led us through the crowd to the long bar that ran along the one side of the room.
Ella was pulling caps off bottles and taking orders at the same time.
As we approached, she set five shot glasses up in front of her, deftly poured whiskey in them, then slid the shots down the counter to the people waiting for them. Not a drop of drink got spilled.
“Am I seeing things?” With a bit of dramatic flair, she rubbed her eyes and blinked at me. “Is that Matthew Hart at my bar? It’s a miracle!”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Hey, Ella.” Then I leaned in so she could hear me over the din. “I’m looking for an employee. Fifty-seven, blonde curly hair, just shy of five foot ten. Seen him tonight?”
“No,” she said, “but Andy might have served him.”
I glanced over at the other bartender on duty. He was as busy as she was. “Alright, thanks. We’ll ask him.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “I haven’t met your friend yet. Are you hiding her?”
Lauren stood on her tiptoes and peered over my shoulder. “Hello!”
“This is Lauren Wagonblast,” I said. “She’s a ranch guest.”
“Hey, there.” Ella smiled politely at Lauren, then smirked at me. “Nice to meet you.”
It was time to move on before Ella said something embarrassing about me to Lauren. There was a reason she and my brother Sam were best friends.
“If you see me carrying a guy out of here in a fireman’s hold,” I said, “just look the other way.”
“That’s just a typical night at The Marmot.” Ella lifted her hand to wave as we left the bar area and dove into the rowdy crowd.
At first, we didn’t see any sign of Chef Damon. He wasn’t at the tables near the windows or in the center of the room on the Marmot’s makeshift dance floor. Just as I was going to suggest we question Andy, a familiar arrogant voice rang out.
“Leaning is cheating!”
I peered over a few people’s heads and spotted Chef Damon back by the pool tables, telling a guy twice his size he’d broken pool etiquette by leaning on the table.
“Follow me.” I pushed my way toward Chef, and Lauren kept close behind, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Run to the front of the bar if trouble starts,” I warned her.
“Seriously?” The warm tickle of her whisper on my neck made me shiver in a good way. “I’m a New Yorker, Matthew. I can handle myself.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. She had no idea what this place could get like when a man accused another man of cheating at pool. Hell, I’d seen our local librarian, Melba Rooster, throw a drink in a guy’s face because he insisted listening to audiobooks wasn’t really reading.
“Chef!” I called out.
He spun around at the sound of his name, stumbling over his own feet.
Crap. He was already drunk, which was going to make this more difficult.
The only thing standing between us now was a pool table and a guy with greasy hair and pock-marked skin who looked like he’d enjoy pummeling someone tonight.
“Go away!” Chef called back to me. “I have the night off.”
“Yeah, and you got here by stealing my Suburban. I thought I could trust you more than that. Now you get back in that car and come home with us.” I sounded like some kind of possessive Joleen come to take back her man. My life was becoming a melodramatic mess.
Greasy guy stepped toward me, bristling for a fight. “He’s not going anywhere until he pays me.”
“Matthew!” A hand punched my shoulder. “What are you doing here?” I whipped my head to see the friendly grin of Luke Daltry, owner of The Eternal Springs Spa. Either he didn’t notice what was going on between me and the pool players, or he was trying to diffuse the situation.
“About to get my head kicked in by”—I looked at Mr. Greaser—“what’s your name, sir?”
“Dwight.”
“Dwight,” I repeated to Luke.
“How can I help?” He folded his arms on his chest, showing off his impressive biceps. Luke was former Canadian military, and he was ready to jump into action.
I nodded at Lauren. “Keep her safe.”
“I’m fine,” Lauren protested with less gusto than before.
“Okay,” Luke said, moving closer to her. “You can protect me then, ma’am.”
Now that I knew she’d be alright, I approached my new friend Dwight. I wasn’t about to be a hero. Black eyes and broken noses hurt worse when you were sober.
“Let’s end this without violence,” I said calmly. “What does he owe you?”
“Five hundred.”
My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head at Chef in disbelief. “Seriously? Five hundred dollars? Are you even good at pool?”
“Yes!” Chef rapped the end of his pool stick on the floor. “He only won because he cheated!”
“That’s it.” Dwight spat on the floor. “You’re a dead man.
” I expected him to run around the table to get to his opponent, but nope, he scrambled over it like Gollum going after a magical ring.
I followed in hot pursuit, going around, not over.
God help me, I was gonna pull a hammy trying to save this stupid man.
Chef scampered away from Dwight and, in an amateur move, tossed aside his only weapon, the pool stick. Dwight easily latched onto the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards.
“Pay up,” he growled into Chef’s ear as he pulled him into a headlock.
I was still moving toward them when someone grabbed my left arm and jerked me to a halt.
Either Dwight had friends or other guys were itching for a fight.
It didn’t matter. I reflexively raised my right arm to ward off a potential blow as I rotated my left arm and backed up to slip out of his grip.
Now that I was free, I had to deal with the fist he was about to throw.