Читать книгу: «The Swinging R Ranch», страница 5

6

ABBY SCANNED the sea of smiling faces. The speech had gone well. She’d quickly shed most of her nervousness. And as expected, the roasted chicken from Edna’s Edibles was a hit. Everything was going fine until she thought she heard a man’s gruff voice yell out Max Bennett’s name.

She glanced around the room again, but she didn’t see Max, nor anyone who might be calling to him. Most of the people were facing her, still chuckling over the little joke she’d made about everyone getting home before acting mayor Cleghorn had the streets rolled up. A few others were looking around, mostly just distracted, probably by the lateness of the hour. Nothing unusual.

Great. Now her overtaxed brain was playing tricks on her. No one here even knew Max, and anyway, the people of Bingo weren’t so impolite as to holler over her speech, even if she had just wrapped things up.

“Okay, anyone have any questions?” she asked, more as a friendly gesture than anything else. Ida Brewster and Tommy Lee Smith had already fired two at her earlier. She expected everyone wanted to go home by now.

“Aren’t you going to answer mine?”

At the same gruff voice Abby thought she’d heard earlier, everyone twisted in their seats to see who it was. She herself squinted, trying to see past the last grouping of tables but she still couldn’t identify the speaker. It hadn’t helped that his voice was somewhat garbled. Heaven help her, she hoped Fritz Walker hadn’t crawled into his moonshine again and wanted to pick a philosophical fight about today’s mores.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still unsuccessfully scanning the room. “I didn’t hear the question.”

“I wanna know about the Swinging R, what that Max Bennett plans to do with it.”

Mention of the Swinging R started the murmuring again. Abby’s patience slipped three notches. She shaded her eyes against the lights’ glare and strained for a better look. “Fritz, is that you?”

No one answered.

Something was fishy. The Swinging R wasn’t an issue. She had made it a personal one, but politically, no one had questioned the existence of the brothel in her entire lifetime. Why would someone bring it up now?

“I’d like to see whom I’m addressing before I answer the question,” she stated firmly, and the few people who hadn’t already craned their necks for a look, turned around to see who it was.

Herb Hanson stepped out from behind a large fake ficus plant. “I guess that would be me.” He shuffled forward a couple of feet, his face redder than the bandana around his neck.

“Why you wanna know? You finally gonna marry Mona?” someone shouted out, and everyone else laughed.

“That ain’t none of your business,” Herb said, and headed for the far corner of the room, grumbling under his breath. Something made him stop, or someone.

He slowly turned around and faced Abby, his reluctance as obvious as white icing on a chocolate cake. He stuck a finger in between his neck and bandana and tried to loosen it. “Well, Abigail, what’s your answer?”

Someone clearly had put Herb up to this to rattle her, but she wasn’t giving in easily. Maybe she could even embarrass him into sitting down and keeping his mouth shut. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat the question?”

“Oh, come on, Abigail, you heard me.”

“With all the commotion, I forgot,” she said with a sweet smile and a small shrug.

He just stood there for a moment, and she hoped he was reconsidering allowing himself to be a puppet for whomever was pulling the strings. Not that it was too hard to guess who that would be. Mona, probably. Except that didn’t make any sense. Why would she want to put the Swinging R in the spotlight?

A sudden thought struck Abby. Viagra. Was Mona serious?

“Did you say you want to reopen the Swinging R?” she asked and received exactly the reaction she wanted.

While the audience issued a collective gasp, Herb’s cheeks colored with outrage, and he whipped off his tan Stetson and slapped the side of his leg with it. “Are you loco?”

She raised her brows in innocence. “I’m not really sure what you’re getting at.”

Herb glanced over his shoulder. Abby tried to see whom he was looking at but a row of silk trees in the back of the room blocked her view. When she moved her head slightly to the right, she saw him.

Max Bennett.

What the dickens did he have up his sleeve?

“Tell me exactly what you want, Herb.” Her patience was gone, the sharpness in her voice vibrating into the microphone and bouncing off the walls.

“Gosh darnit, you’re getting me all confused.”

“Why? Don’t you know what you want? Or maybe you’re speaking on someone else’s behalf? Mr. Bennett’s, perhaps? Did he ask you to do his dirty work for him?”

Herb started stammering, and regret pricked Abby for picking on him. She started to let him off the hook when Max stepped forward.

“That’s enough, Abby,” he said, holding her gaze. “I assure you I don’t know anything about this.”

The room grew absurdly quiet as everyone gawked at him. Then like dominoes, the younger women started putting their heads together and whispering. The older ones seemed to all turn their avid attention to Abby.

She cleared her throat, then gritted her teeth when the sound echoed through the microphone. “Fine. Then if there aren’t any more questions, we’ll wrap this evening up.”

“Come on, Abigail,” someone from the audience yelled. “Who is this guy?”

She’d brought this on herself, she realized with disgust, by trying to provoke poor Herb. Her only comfort was that Max looked about as happy as she was over this situation. “This is Maxwell Bennett. Mr. Bennett is Lily McIntyre’s nephew, and the new owner of the Swinging R.”

The silence lasted only a moment, and then the collective murmur grew to a roar. Obviously, few if anyone had seen Max before now, although how they could have missed him was beyond her. He was taller than almost anyone here, his shoulders definitely broader. He was only one of three men who wore a suit. Plus, he had green eyes.

Finally, Virgil Mayflower, who owned both the gas station and the general store, stood and approached Max with an extended hand. “Welcome to Bingo, son. We’re sure glad to see you.”

Max smiled and shook Virgil’s hand, but Abby could tell he was uncomfortable. No one else could possibly detect his unease, he was too polished, and it puzzled her that she was able to see it. She didn’t know him well enough, yet she had no doubt she was correct.

“You just get into town?” Virgil asked, stepping back to appraise Max, frowning as he slicked back his dark straight hair.

Virgil took pride in the fact that he was always the best-dressed man in Bingo, and generally he was, but his dark brown western-cut suit didn’t hold a candle to the custom Italian design Max wore.

“Yesterday.”

“Good, good. Glad you could make it tonight. Wish you’d spoken up sooner.”

Max swept a glance around the room. Everyone’s gaze was glued to him. “I leave tomorrow.”

“What?” Virgil reared back his head. “Then what did you decide to do with the Swinging R?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Abby smiled to herself. If Max thought he could get away with that answer, he was in for one heck of a surprise. Virgil was also the richest man in Bingo but he was always looking for ways to increase his business, and probably the only one who’d like to see the brothel restored to its glory days to provide more traffic through town.

“When are you gonna know?” Virgil demanded, his legendary impatience sharpening his tone. “That old place has been run-down for years. You look like you could afford to put quite a few bucks in the place.”

Max reacted with a bark of laughter. “You seem to have a strong opinion. Care to buy the place?”

Some people gasped, others laughed. Abby leaned on the podium, enjoying the fireworks and being off the hot-seat.

“Well, maybe I just might.” The telltale vein popped out along Virgil’s receding hairline. He was both angry and flustered, not a pretty combination for him.

“Ah, shut up, Virgil, and let the young man speak,” Mabel Salazar said, crossing her arms over her enormous bosom. “We all know you wouldn’t put a plug nickel into the place. You’re just interested in making money, not spending it.”

Other than a murmur or two, no one said anything. Virgil had both influence and a temper, and people didn’t like having to drive to the next town for groceries when he got steamed.

“Hey, Virgil.” Max surprised the older man by shaking his hand again, distracting him from the menacing look he was giving Mabel. “No hard feelings, huh? I had a rough flight, and I’m pretty tired. I’m still trying to decide what to do with the place.”

Virgil gave a grudging shrug, but he still looked peeved when he slid Mabel another look. “No problem.”

“If it’s not too much of an imposition, and if you have some time tomorrow morning, maybe we could have coffee and you could give me some ideas.”

The way Virgil’s chest suddenly puffed out was almost comical. “Sure, son, I can probably fit you into my schedule.”

“Terrific. I’ll call your office and check with your secretary.”

That startled laughs out of half the audience. Virgil had neither. He had a desk in his garage.

“If I’m not there my wife will know where I am,” he mumbled and went back to his table.

Abby silently shook her head. Amazing. Max had even charmed that old goat Virgil. But she’d eat her day planner if Max had any intention of giving Virgil’s opinion a passing thought. What the heck was he up to?

Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. Maybe he’d just wanted to help defuse the situation. And maybe Candy’s new pet iguana would learn to fly.

“Sorry for the interruption.” Max gave her a slight bow of his head. “Abby.”

The way he’d said her name sent a shiver down her spine. It sounded entirely too familiar, intimate almost. And it wasn’t her imagination, judging by the exchange of knowing glances among the women.

She straightened and gave him a tight smile. “No harm done. We’re through here.” Her smile broadened for the audience. “Thank you all so much for coming.”

“Not so fast.”

Oh, no. Abby briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she watched Mona and her grandmother march toward the podium. Behind them, Mona dragged Herb, who’d slunk off earlier.

“We still want to know why you want to close down the Swinging R.” Mona stopped beside Max, who looked like he’d rather be on the front line of a pie-throwing contest.

Big mistake, Mona, Abby thought with a smug lift of her chin. The townspeople would probably be on Abby’s side…

Her chin came down and her jaw slackened as her gaze bounced from one face to the next. Everyone stared at her in such indignant shock as if she’d suggested they all get naked.

“What?” She turned up her palms. “I didn’t say that,” she muttered, and Mona snorted. “Not exactly, anyway.”

“You mean, you wanna board up the doors and windows?” Mabel Salazar asked in a scandalized voice.

“That’s not—” She got cut off by several people speaking at once.

“You going to tear it down?” someone called out.

“She can’t do that. The place is practically a national landmark.”

“Where would all the ladies go?”

“That’s a horrible idea, Abigail. Your mama and papa would turn over in their graves.”

Everyone kept talking until Abby wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. Instead, she glared at Mona, who had the audacity to grin and wink. Beside her, Gramms shifted from one foot to the other, looking distraught.

Abby felt no pity. This was supposed to be her big night and it was turning into something horrible. How could her grandmother have participated in this calamity? “Would everyone please calm down and listen?” she began. If only they understood…

When the noise only grew louder, Max picked up an empty water glass and hit the side with a spoon. It made enough of an odd tinkling noise that he got most everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said with one of his charming smiles, “perhaps I can help clear up this misunderstanding.” The women all smiled back, and some of them started fanning themselves. The men waited rather patiently for him to continue.

Mixed feelings plagued Abby. She was glad he got them to settle down, but she didn’t want to be rescued by him, or feel obliged to him in any way.

“Yesterday I arrived to a couple of surprises.” He glanced at Mona, and then smiled at all and sundry again. “You see, Aunt Lily’s will wasn’t all that specific.”

He paused, and a brief silence followed, until comprehension dawned and the crowd started laughing. Mona looked a tad put out, and Abby didn’t mind that one bit.

Max gave a good-natured shrug. “To make a long story short, Abby was teasing me when she mentioned something about shutting down the Swinging R.”

His eyes found hers, daring her to contradict him.

Virgil turned to her. “So you don’t really have some foolish idea to close those gals down.”

She hesitated, stewing over the corner Max had backed her into. “Close those gals down? We were talking about a place, a building, not the ladies.”

“Same thing.” Virgil waved a dismissive hand. “The Swinging R is practically an institution and so are them gals.”

A chorus of “yeahs” made her teeth grind together.

“So, what is it, Abigail?” Virgil had gone to stand next to Max and Mona. Wasn’t that just cozy?

She glanced at Gramms. Their eyes met for a second, and then Gramms looked away. That hurt.

Abby sniffed. “Weren’t you all listening to what I said tonight? I have enough on my plate to worry about without expending my energy on the Swinging R.”

Virgil frowned, along with several others. “That means you’re leaving the Swinging R alone?”

She glanced at Max. He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a grin, and she gave him a look that told him how delighted she was to provide him with all this entertainment.

He let the grin take over, then mouthed, “Just cry uncle.”

That did it. She tapped the microphone, and assured that it still worked, she leaned toward it and said, “Okay, everyone, if you have a few more minutes, let’s talk about the Swinging R. How many of you have been out there lately?”

The men all sat there stone-faced, while some of their wives waited for their answers.

After a long silence, Herb held up a hand, and said, “I have.”

Everyone roared with laughter.

Mona gave his arm a light smack with the back of her hand. “They already know that, Herbie.”

Abby waited until the crowd settled down. “All right, I have a question for you, Herbert. What sort of shape is the place in? Do you think it’s safe?”

He started loosening his bandana again, glancing at Mona and looking as though he wanted to hightail it out of the hall. “Well, I’m not sure.”

“What about the back steps? There were a few rotting boards you had to replace, weren’t there? And didn’t a couple of others come loose. Aren’t you afraid Mona, or one of the other ladies might fall and hurt themselves? Didn’t you ask them to avoid using the back door if possible?”

“For crying out loud, you sound like a prosecutor,” Mona said. “You want to be mayor, or are you looking to take over Chester Southby’s law practice?”

“Sounds to me like she’s the one doing the avoiding—the issue, that is.” Virgil narrowed his gaze on her. “Maybe you need some competition, young lady. Someone besides old Cleghorn.”

Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She waited for someone to come to her defense, to tell Virgil he was crazy, but most of the women were too busy ogling Max, and the men didn’t want the place shut down.

She looked at Gramms for support, but she turned away. Abby sucked in a breath. Geez Louise, if her own grandmother wasn’t on Abby’s side…

Boy, was she screwed.