Chapter Eleven
C olton stepped through the double doors of the Fresh Springs saloon.
It was a quaint little bar made up to look like an old-fashioned western saloon.
The bar ran the entire length of the left wall, with a wide-open center filled with round tables and wooden, straight-back chairs.
In the back was a pool room set up with enough pool tables to run a tournament if necessary.
Storm stepped in behind him, standing at his side.
They both quickly assessed the dimly lit room and moved toward the back.
Colton held up two fingers as he caught the bartender’s attention.
When the man slid two longnecks his way, he pulled a bill out of his wallet and laid it down on the table within the bartender’s reach.
He handed a beer to Storm before heading to the pool room.
As soon as they stepped inside, they saw the sheriff racking balls at a table on the right side of the room.
Colton tilted his head to the left and they took one of the empty tables and began setting up for a game.
During the investigation on Restoration Ranch, Colton’s colleagues Jennings and Gleason had come here a time or two to check out the locals and see if anyone here could be responsible for Aja’s troubles.
They’d mentioned Hastings’s habit of coming to the saloon straight from work.
That bit of info was why he and Storm were here now, and fortunately, it paid off.
Colton pretended to pay attention to the label on his beer bottle while he stole glances at Hastings out of the corner of his eye.
The man was playing alone, just like his colleagues reported he usually did, when he got off shift.
His predictability was a good thing as far as Colton was concerned.
He was certain it would land Hastings right in his clutches when this was all said and done.
Storm grabbed a couple of cues from a nearby wall and gave Colton a knowing nod to signal he was ready to start their little show whenever he was.
“Damn, man, could it take you any longer to get the damn sticks?”
Storm picked up his beer he’d rested on a nearby table and took a long swig. “Listen, don’t start with me just because you’re pissed at the skirt that signs our paychecks.”
“I’ve taken enough from that disrespectful smart-ass at Restoration Ranch today.
I don’t need any shit from you tonight either.
” Colton glanced in Hastings’s direction and saw the man was staring over at their table.
He pretended he didn’t notice the man and focused on the balls racked in the center of the green felt tabletop.
Colton lined up his shot, making sure his aim was slightly off as the cue ball broke the perfect triangle, sending the balls scattering, but landing none in any of the holes.
Storm, whose back was to Hastings, pursed his lips in mock concern. “Damn, man, even you are better at pool than this. She must really be fucking with your head.”
Colton remained silent, stepping aside to let his friend line up his shot. He could tell by the way Hastings kept glancing out the side of his eye that he was still listening in on the conversation Storm and Colton were having.
Good, his nosy ass is hooked. Time to reel him in.
When Storm was finished knocking three solid balls in holes in succession before missing his fourth shot, Colton leaned over the table and lined up his shot, making sure he missed the corner pocket shot he was taking.
“Dammit!”
Storm chuckled at how far Colton was taking this. They both knew he was a solid pool player, and the fact that he was doing so terribly could only be on purpose. Good thing Hastings didn’t know that, though.
“Damn, man.” Storm laughed. “You practically handed me this game. The way you’re playing, looks like you’ll be buying all my beers tonight.”
Colton saw Hastings leaning against his pool table, joining in laughter with Storm. “You’re pitiful, man. Even the sheriff can’t keep a straight face watching you lose so bad.”
“Your friend is right,” Hastings added. “Your game is looking pretty pitiful from where I’m standing. What’s got you in such a bad mood?”
“My boss at Restoration Ranch has been riding my ass all day.”
“From what I know of that Everett woman, that doesn’t sound so strange. She’s a feisty one, that’s for sure.”
Hastings wore a nasty sneer on his face that made Colton want to pop him in his mouth.
“The few interactions I’ve had with her haven’t gone all that well either.” The sheriff picked up his beer and stepped over to their table. “What’d she do to get you so hot under the collar?”
Colton stepped away from the table and tipped his bottle to his mouth to take a quick sip. The goal was to make it look like he was drinking as much as Hastings while he pimped the unsuspecting man for information.
“You’re a hand out there on her land, right?”
He nodded. “Started out as a hand. But once all them pranks started on her property, she decided to promote me to security detail. Had me overseeing that fancy new security system installation ’bout a couple of months back.
And after some fool broke into her house and tried to kill her, I get it.
She’s jumpy as hell. But this nagging me day in and day out about making sure every lock is turned is getting on my nerves real quick.
Like I don’t know how to do my job.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“No man wants to be nagged by a woman all day, especially when she ain’t his. ”
Hastings nodded and shared what must’ve been his version of a commiserating grin with Colton. “I’ve got news, friend, even when she is yours, don’t no man want a nagging woman in his ear. Especially when she’s an uppity gal like that one. She just don’t know her place. None of ’em do.”
Colton tipped his beer to his lips to keep from spitting in Hastings’s face. He let the tasteless beverage slide down his throat before he peered at Hastings through squinted eyes. “By them, you mean women?”
“Course,” Hastings added, before taking another successful shot at the pool table. He stepped next to Colton and gave him what was supposed to be a friendly slap across the back. “Really, all of that Everett gal’s kind think much too highly of themselves. But you know how them folks are.”
The knowing smile on Hastings’s face was a familiar one.
You couldn’t look like Colton looked growing up in certain parts of the South and not have these strange encounters where white men like Hastings who felt they could connect with Colton based on nothing more than his perceived whiteness.
The mask had apparently come off and Hastings felt emboldened to reveal himself.
Men like Hastings, who lived in small towns below the Mason Dixon used phrases like uppity gal to denigrate Black women. He’d heard that kind of talk one too many times and it never ceased to piss him off.
But if this was the in he needed to connect with this lowlife, no matter how the idea of making this asshole feel safe sickened Colton, he’d do it if it helped Seneca.
He secured his game face and managed an easy smile before pointing in Hastings’s direction.
“Smarter words have never been spoken, Sheriff.” Colton lifted his chin toward Storm.
“Go get this man another beer. Nothing better than drinking with a man who understands the blight of all hardworking good men is a loud-mouthed woman.”
They played a couple of rounds while Colton and Hastings bellyached about the women who strove to make their lives a living hell. Storm hung back, acting as a gofer for drinks and snacks.
For Storm and Colton, this was all an act.
But the disdainful snarl Hastings used whenever he talked about Aja and the rest of the women on that confounded ranch set Colton’s teeth on edge.
It was only his years of training in undercover work that kept him calm and his face free of any expression that would give the ruse away.
Storm left for another round of drinks and Hastings took the opportunity to turn his attention to Colton.
“So, if that Everett woman is giving you too much grief, why don’t you quit?”
Colton ran fingers through his wavy hair. “The economy ain’t all that great. Without specialized education, even as a ranch hand, it’s hard to find work. Ms. Everett might ride my ass, but she pays real good. I can’t give that up so easily.”
Hastings’s cool glance slid over Colton and it took everything in him to keep from squirming under what felt like filth.
“That’s true. But I might be able to put you in contact with someone willing to pay a whole lot more than that Everett gal. The work might be a little unconventional, though.”
Bingo. Hastings is on the hook.
“I’d do just about anything to get away from Restoration Ranch. If you’ve got a solid line on work, I’d take you up on it in a second.”
The sheriff nodded, handing Colton a plain white card with a single phone number printed across it.
“Text your number here. Wait a few days, and someone will get back to you.” He pointed at Colton.
“Oh, and the invitation is just for you. Not your friend. We look out for our own in these parts. It’s getting so men like you and me can’t make it any other way unless we have each other’s backs. You get what I mean?”
Disgust soured Colton’s belly, but he swallowed it down and nodded, sticking to his role. “I understand you completely, Sheriff.”
Storm walked in with their next round of drinks. He gave one to Colton and offered the next to Hastings, but he begged off.