Miss Lizzy's Legacy (2 page)

Callie tucked the slip of paper into her jacket pocket. Knowing that all the places he'd mentioned would be closed by now, she settled on the suggestion of talking to Judd Barker. “And where do I find the Blue Bell Saloon?”

“One block west on the corner. Can't miss it. Just tell Judd, Frank sent you.”

“Thanks.” Callie pushed out the door, quickly folding the plackets of her jacket tighter around her as a blast of wind hit her full force. With a shiver she tucked her hands beneath her armpits and headed west in the direction the hotel clerk had suggested. The street both behind and beyond her was abandoned. Lights shone from a few businesses that were still open, but the only sounds in the night came from the click of her bootheels against the brick sidewalk that stretched in front of her and the whine of the wind as it whistled its way into the buildings' nooks and crannies.

Streetlamps cast a golden glow, lighting her way while turning the bricks beneath her feet a rosy hue. Intent on her mission and with her head bowed against the wind, she passed the Victor Building, crossed a short alley, and then a café without offering any of them a second glance. Her steps slowed, though, as she passed a single, weathered door that looked unused and long-forgotten wedged in the wall of brick.

Faint strains of music drifted through the night air, but it was the sound of a woman's laugh that made Callie stop and listen. She glanced at the locked door then inched closer to peer through its dusty glass. Though dark inside, with the aid of the streetlamp behind her she made out a wooden staircase in the narrow hallway beyond, its painted steps worn with time and hollowed with the scrape of feet traveling upwards to a second floor. The building appeared empty, yet Callie was sure the music and laughter she'd heard had come from within.

Using the heel of her fist, she rubbed a clean spot on the dusty glass, then looked again. Shadows danced on the landing above, their forms surreal, ghostlike. A woman's laugh came low and lusty, and Callie could have sworn she heard the woman's invitation to, “Come on up and join us.”

Stepping back from the door, she placed a hand over a heart that was thudding a little faster than a moment before. “You're losing it, Callie,” she warned beneath her breath. Turning on her heel, she all but ran the remaining distance to the Blue Bell Saloon.

Set in the corner of the building, the bar's door offered welcoming light and the comforting sound of conversation and laughter. Fighting the wind, she wrestled open the door and slipped inside.

While she took a moment to catch her breath, she glanced around. A long bar stretched on her left, behind it a mirror spanned its length. Polished brass gleamed from the footrails of the stools pushed up to the antique bar. On her right, tables covered with linen cloths were arranged in cozy groups for the diners enjoying an evening meal.

She took a step inside, intent on reaching the bar and ordering a hot cup of coffee laced with whiskey to calm her nerves before seeking out Judd Barker. A low growl stopped her—one that sounded frighteningly familiar. Steeling herself, she slowly turned and saw Baby standing between her and the door she'd just entered.

His hair bristled around the collar at his neck and down his spine, and his teeth were bared. Had he followed her in? She stole a glance at the door, expecting it to open and his owner to appear, but there wasn't a sign of the man through the glass. She thought about screaming, but feared that would only upset the dog further. Surely someone in the bar would see the dog and come to her rescue. Keeping her eye on him, she slowly began to back away. “It's okay, Baby,” she soothed in a voice pitched low to hide her fear. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Her back hit a wall of flesh and she stopped, her eyes widening in surprise. Not wanting to make any sudden movements, she whispered, “Quick! Get the owner or the manager. This dog followed me in here.”

“He didn't follow you, he was here first.”

At the sound of the familiar male voice, Callie whirled. “You,” she whispered accusingly when her gaze met the brown eyes of Baby's owner.

He spread his arms wide. “None other.”

She threw a glance back at the dog to make sure he hadn't snuck up behind her before she turned to glare at the man again. “Isn't there a law against having dogs in bars?”

He shrugged. “Probably. Nobody complains, though. Baby's sort of the mascot of the place.”

“Well,
I'm
complaining,” she said, stabbing her thumb at her chest for emphasis. She pushed past the irritating man and made for the bar. Angling a hip to slide onto a stool, she folded her hands on the bar and managed a smile for the bartender. “Are you the owner, sir?” she asked politely.

He glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her, then looked down again, hiding a smile. “No, ma'am. I just work here.”

“Well, my name is Callie Benson. I'm a visitor in Guthrie, but I've already had one run-in with that dog this afternoon and don't relish another one. Would you mind asking this man to remove the animal, please?”

“I—” The bartender shifted his gaze from hers to a spot above and behind her. Slowly, he shook his head as he returned his gaze to her. “No, ma'am. I'm sorry, but I can't.”

Imperiously Callie straightened, adding a good two inches to her height. “Then I would like to speak to the owner, please. Is he here?”

“Yes, ma'am.” The bartender picked up a towel, trying real hard not to laugh and said in an overly loud voice, “Judd, this woman here wants to talk to you. Says she wants you to kick out Baby.”

If the bartender had lifted a pistol and squeezed off a shot, he couldn't have stopped the conversation in the room any quicker. In horror Callie watched the mirrored reflection of the room's interior as every occupant turned his head to stare at her.

“Really?”

Callie shifted her gaze on the mirror to focus on the speaker of the single word, the man behind her—Baby's owner. She watched as he moseyed up to the bar beside her.

Nausea quickly replaced horror.

“You're the owner?” she whispered weakly.

“Yep.”

She swallowed hard. “Judd Barker?”

“One and the same.”

“Oh, God.” She dropped her elbows to the bar and her face to her open palms.

“Baby, heel.”

Callie heard the pad of Baby's paws and the occasional click of a claw hitting the wooden floor as the dog made his way across the room. Embarrassment kept her eyes hidden beneath her hands.

“Now, Baby,” she heard Judd say, “this lady here seems to be holding a grudge against you for the way you greeted her earlier today, and she doesn't think you ought to be in the Blue Bell. My pappy taught me long ago that the customer's always right, but heck, Baby, I sorta' hate to put you out on a night as cold as this one. Can you think of a solution to this problem?”

Callie split her fingers a crack, just enough so she could peek down at the dog. He sat on his haunches not a foot away, his eyes as soulful as a cocker spaniel's and looking for all the world like a repentant child being lectured by his father. She closed her eyes against the sight of him, refusing to soften to the beast who had twice that day scared the living daylights out of her.

The next thing she knew, Baby's front paws were planted on her right thigh and his tongue, as coarse and abrasive as the pumice stone she kept on the side of her sink at the studio, was licking at her pressed fingers.

Steeling herself against the warmth flooding her heart, she knotted her hands on top of the bar, but continued to ignore him.... That is, she did so until she felt the damp, velvety texture of his snout as he nuzzled her cheek and heard the most pitiful whimper rumble low in his chest. Then she crumbled.

“Oh, good heavens,” she said, trying to hide the effect he had on her with irritation. He lifted his head and barked twice in rapid succession, then looked at her, panting happily, his tongue lolling, dripping saliva on the leg of her jeans.

Laughing, Callie cuffed him behind his ears and as a reward earned a full lick on the cheek. She looked up at Judd, her eyes dancing. “How do you call off this beast?”

“Baby, sit.” Immediately the black Labrador dropped to his haunches beside Callie's barstool, but continued to stare at her with those huge black eyes. She looked right back, but with humor this time, not irritation or fright. Stealing a pretzel from the bowl on the bar, she held one out to him. He nabbed it, then lay down at her feet and happily crunched away.

“Does this mean he can stay?”

Callie turned her head to look at Judd. “Do I have a choice?” She opened a palm and gestured toward the customers in the bar who had gone back to their own private conversations. “Between them and Fido here, I think if push came to shove,
I'd
be the one cast out on the street, not him.” She looked down at the dog again and snorted. His paws were as large as her opened hand. “How in the world did a beast like that earn the name Baby?”

Judd sidled up to the bar and lowered a hip to the barstool beside her, his knee brushing her thigh. Heat radiated from his leg to hers. Callie felt it, but didn't draw away. Neither did Judd, although she knew by the slight narrowing of his eyes that he was as aware as she of the contact. She arched one brow slightly as she listened to his explanation.

“He wasn't always this big. Believe it or not, when I first got him, I could hold him in the palm of my hand. He was the runt of a litter of fifteen and about as poor as they come. Why, you could pluck the chords of a song on his rib cage, he was so skinny.”

Callie couldn't help but laugh.

“My goodness, Baby,” he said in mock surprise. “The lady can smile.”

Immediately, her lips puckered into a frown. “Don't push your luck. I still may press charges for assault with intent to kill.”

“Baby? Kill? He wouldn't hurt a fly. That's just how he greets people.”

Callie looked down at the dog at the same moment Baby looked up. His appearance alone was enough to intimidate a person. Wide, square forehead set off by two pricked ears, shoulders as broad as any professional linebacker and paws as wide as her outspread hand. But his eyes... Once she looked into them, really looked, she knew the dog was a pussycat. His eyes were pure black, but soft and totally endearing. As she looked into them now, she couldn't believe she'd been afraid of this animal.

“Yeah, well...” she said in embarrassment. “He looks innocent enough now, but that growl.” She suppressed a shudder, remembering, then cocked her head to look at Judd. “If he's so safe, why did he growl at me like that?”

“He's protective.”

“Of what?”

“Not what, whom.” He bent to scratch Baby behind the ears. “He thought you might pose a threat to me.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He straightened, and Callie saw a half grin tug at one corner of his mouth. She couldn't help thinking how similar the pet and his owner were. Like his dog, Judd Barker looked meaner than sin. A gunslinger, she remembered thinking when she'd first seen him earlier that evening. And that's exactly what he'd looked like. Tall and lanky, the lines of his face hard and unforgiving.

But now, without the sinister black duster and Stetson, and with that grin softening the hard lines of his face, he looked almost friendly. She was sure he'd deny the comparison, but beneath that rough exterior she would swear lay a heart as soft as Baby's.

“You raised your voice this afternoon, and Baby takes offense at anybody who yells at me. So when you came in the door a minute ago, Baby was just warning you to keep your distance.”

“Well, for heaven's sake,” she said in exasperation.

“No, for mine.” He chuckled and signaled the bartender. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Something warm and strong.”

He eyed her a moment, then told the man behind the bar, “A Jersey Mint for the lady and a beer for me.” He hooked the heels of his boots over the barstool's brass rail and spun toward her. The graze of starched jeans against her leg was like bumping up against a live electrical wire. The jolt brought every nerve ending in her body humming to life.

“Now tell me,” he said, turning his elbows out and splaying his hands on his knees. “What's a beautiful lady like you doing in a place like this?”

The line was old, but delivered with such a smoothness, Callie had to fight back a laugh. That he was a flirt was obvious, but she could give as good as she got. “Looking for you,” she said demurely.

The muscles in his neck immediately tensed. “Me?”

“Yes,” she replied, chuckling at his raised brow. She extended her hand. “I'm Callie Benson.” His fingers closed firmly around hers. Instead of shaking as she'd intended, he merely held her hand in his while he studied her through narrowed eyes.

“And what would a pretty girl like you want with an old cowboy like me?”

The ball of his thumb moved in a slow, seductive arc across her knuckles while he asked the question, and Callie had to swallow twice before she could form an answer. “The hotel clerk at the Harrison House said you might be able to help me.”

“In what way?”

The bartender appeared and shoved a steaming mug topped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate in front of her. Thankful for the excuse to remove her hand from the heat of Judd's, Callie accepted the mug with a grateful smile. She took a tentative sip, and her eyes widened in surprise. “This is delicious. What is it?”

“A Jersey Mint. Hot chocolate with a shot of peppermint schnapps and wallop of whipped cream on top. Thought you might enjoy the taste.”

“It's wonderful!” She sipped again, letting the warmth of the drink penetrate while savoring the minty, chocolaty flavor. “Anyway,” she said as she licked at her upper lip to capture the smudge of whipped cream that stuck there, “I'm trying to locate information about my great-grandfather's mother, and the clerk said you might be able to help me. I have her name and the approximate date of her arrival in Guthrie.” She wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately, that's all I've got.”