Free Hoaley Ill-Manored by Declan Sands Page B

was
still standing on two feet after the event.
    The wood floor beneath Adam’s feet was
covered in peanut shells that crunched underfoot as he and Dirk
started toward the bar. The drinking establishment inhabited one
end of the building, cut off from the restaurant by a pair of
swinging half doors. Just like a saloon from the wild, wild
west.
    Adam resisted the urge to check his pistols
and shove his cowboy hat back on his head as he pushed through the
doors. The peanut shell on the floor thing had carried into the
bar, and the long, U-shaped bar and dozen or so high topped tables
were made of the same dark, glossy wood as the booths in the
restaurant. The bar was full-ish for a summer weeknight and
noisy.
    Behind the bar was a wall of glistening
bottles that appeared to represent every shape, size, color, and
type of booze and manufacturer known to civilized man. Also behind
the bar was Teddy Worth, currently holding a white bar towel in one
hand and glowering at them.
    Adam got the distinct impression that, had
country music not been blaring through the room, Teddy Worth would
have been screaming at them to vacate the premises. Fortunately for
them he could only radiate hate vibes across the room as they
sauntered over and bellied up to the bar.
    Trying for levity, Adam slammed a quarter
onto the bar and fake-tipped his invisible cowboy hat. I’ll take a
double sarsaparilla in a dirty glass. My friend here takes his milk
warm, with a cherry.”
    Teddy looked at him like he was an idiot. “I
knew that cop wouldn’t throw your ass in jail.”
    Dirk slid his delicious derriere onto a bar
stool. “If it makes you feel any better, CC was really
tempted.”
    Teddy picked up a beer glass and lifted it
to Dirk in question, apparently deciding the best way to handle the
idiot with the invisible cowboy hat was to ignore him.
    Dirk nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take whatever you
have on tap.”
    A moment later, Teddy handed Dirk an
expertly tapped draft beer and wiped his big hands on the towel. “I
cleaned that pistol up like Detective Clandestine suggested and
took it to the bank. It sure is a pretty little thing.”
    Dirk licked foam off his lip and nodded.
    “I’ll take one of those too, please.” Adam
tried. He might as well have been talking to the back end of a
horse.
    All too happy to go with the “let’s ignore
Adam” plan, Dirk went on. “I’m surprised your gramma buried that
gun instead of selling it. It’s worth a lot of money you know.
Those jewels looked real.”
    “Sentimental value.” Teddy swiped his towel
across the spotless surface of the bar. “She told me her fiancé
gave it to her. I hadn’t seen it since I was a kid.”
    “Delf Bilsworth?” Adam asked.
    Comfortably ensconced on the “Ignore Adam
Express” Teddy told Dirk, “I think she was hiding it from my old
man. He always wanted to sell it. Even tried to cart it off once,
but my mama stopped him. The gun disappeared after that and Gramma
always told the old man she’d hidden it where he’d never find it.
Turns out she was right.”
    “Where is your old man, Teddy?” Adam thought
if he just kept talking somebody might forget he was an ass and
respond to him by accident.
    A husky female voice called out and Teddy
looked away. He nodded toward the far end of the bar and grabbed
some icy mugs from the freezer, pouring two more drafts and
carrying them to a couple of young women who were smiling at Adam
and Dirk.
    The women were obviously fishing and they
had pretty good bait. Both girls were pretty, with big hair, big
boobs, big smiles, and small asses. Little did they know they were
casting their lines into the wrong pond. They lifted their drafts
to Dirk and Adam and Dirk returned the salute, smiling widely.
    A frothy beer showed up in front of Adam.
Apparently he was finally to be acknowledged. “Thanks, Teddy.” The
big man inclined his head. “Look, I’m an ass. I’m really sorry for
digging around in your barn. All I can say