Free Red Velvet Revenge by Jenn McKinlay Page B

doesn’t matter where you were looking”—she paused to give Angie a quelling glance—“but whether you saw anything out of the ordinary or not. Now, everyone think. Do you remember anything unusual or out of place?”
    They were quiet for a moment as they each tried to recall the events as they’d seen them right before the
bang
of gunfire. One by one they shook their heads. With such a large crowd, Mel had a feeling it would have been extraordinary for any of them to have noted anything odd, but still, they had to try.
    “Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Angie asked. She sounded worried, and Mel knew exactly how she felt. Theyhadn’t known Slim very long, but he seemed like a nice man, not someone with an enemy who would shoot him.
    “Let’s go see what we can find out,” Tate said. He led the way down the narrow stairs to the small lobby below. They entered the Last Chance through the small side door provided and found the place unusually subdued in the aftermath of the shooting.
    Delia from the front desk was there, and she looked wide-eyed and worried. Ever the gracious hostess, she hurried over.
    “Are you folks all right?” she asked. “Is there anything I can get you?”
    “No, we’re fine,” Marty said. He gave her a concerned look. “Are you all right?”
    And just like that Delia crumpled into a heap of sobs and tears. Mel knew how she felt. After her father died, she had fought to maintain her composure, and usually she was fine, right up until someone asked how she was, and then she fell apart.
    Marty gently took Delia into his arms and let her cry all over his shirt.
    Mel and the others left him to comfort her and made their way to the bar to see if the bartender knew anything more about what happened.
    With his salt-and-pepper mustache still waxed into curls, the bartender was wiping down the bar in a compulsive sort of way, leading Mel to think he was doing it more to comfort himself than because it needed cleaning.
    Tate leaned on the bar and asked, “Excuse me, sir. We were wondering if there’s been any word about Mr. Hazard yet?”
    The bartender looked up and offered his hand. “Folks call me Henry,” he said. He and Tate shook. “We heard on the scanner a few minutes ago that they’re almost at the hospital, but we’ve heard nothing since.”
    A pall settled over the group.
    “Did anyone see anything?” Mel asked Henry.
    He shook his head. “Not that I know of. I assume the police will be questioning folks, but I haven’t heard anyone say they saw the shooter.”
    “Who would want to shoot Slim?” Angie asked.
    Henry shook his head. “Can’t say. He’s the heart and soul of Juniper Pass; without him there’s no rodeo. Without the rodeo, we’re a ghost town.”
    A customer signaled Henry from down the bar, and he gave their group a nod before he went back to work.
    “Is it just me,” Oz asked, “or are the rest of you getting a bad feeling about this?”

Ten

    “What do you mean?” Angie asked.
    “I mean, someone tried to kill Mr. Hazard,” Oz said. His voice was high, and although Mel couldn’t see them through the fringe of bangs over his face, she was sure his eyes were bugging.
    “We don’t know that,” Tate said.
    “Tate’s right. It could have been an accident,” Mel said. “Maybe someone just got overexcited about the parade.”
    “And what—tried to let the air out of Slim’s tires?” Angie asked. “I’m with Oz on this. There is definitely a bad vibe about this.”
    A commotion at the front door stopped their conversation as they all turned to see what the ruckus was about. In strolled Ty Stokes, the famous rodeo star. He had his entourage of three cowboys with him, and they kept close to himas if they were a moving wall, separating him from the riffraff.
    Even from across the room, Mel could feel the energy pour off of the guy like he was a movie star or a demigod. Ty made straight for the bar and took an empty seat where his