Bush looked at the woman, who had been standing nearby, silently fuming. She had tried to leave earlier, but had been instructed to stay put until the sheriff got around to asking her a few questions.
"You okay, ma'am?" The sheriff was looking worriedly at her lip. It was slightly swollen, but no longer bleeding. Despite the unnatural fullness, it was pulled into a tight, narrow grimace.
"I'm perfectly fine. I was perfectly fine when Sir Galahad here took it upon himself to interfere."
"Sorry," Lucky snapped, "I thought I was helping you out."
"Helping? You call this helping?" She flung her arms wide to encompass the damage done to the place. "All you did was create an unnecessary ruckus."
"That true, Lucky?" the sheriff asked.
Barely controlling his temper as he glared down at the woman, Lucky said, "Ask the witnesses."
The sheriff methodically polled the bystanders. All murmured agreement to Lucky's version of what had taken place. The woman gave each one a disdainful glare. "Am I free to go now?" she asked the sheriff.
"How'd your lip get busted, ma'am?"
"The gorilla did it
," she said, nodding down at Little Alvin and corroborating Lucky's account of her injury.
"What was your business here?"
"You didn't ask what they were doing here," she argued, gesturing to the men surrounding her.
"I know what they were doing here," Bush replied. "Well?"
"I was having a beer," she answered curtly.
"You didn't lead these men on, did you? You know, wink, flirt, anything like that?"
She didn't deign to answer, and only stared at him with open contempt for even suggesting such a thing. In Pat Bush's estimation she didn't look like a typical bar pickup. During his twenty-year tenure as sheriff he'd broken up enough barroom brawls to recognize a troublemaking broad when he saw one.
This one wasn't typical. Her clothing wasn't provocative. Neither was her demeanor. Rather than inviting male attention, she put out vibes that said Do Not Touch and seemed about as approachable as a lady porcupine.
More out of curiosity than anything, he asked, "You from around here?"
"No, from out of town."
"Where 'bouts?"
"I was just passing through Milton Point," she replied evasively, "on my way to the interstate highway."
Sheriff Bush tipped his hat forward so he could scratch the back of his head beneath it.
"Well, ma'am, the next time you're just passing through, find another place to have a beer, a place more suitable for ladies."
Lucky made an unflattering snorting sound, implying that he didn't believe she fit the distinction.
"I'll take that into consideration, Sheriff."
She gave Lucky another chilling glare. Then, slipping the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, she headed for the door.
"You don't want to press charges for the busted lip?" Sheriff Bush called after her.
"I only want to get out of here." Moving purposefully toward the door, she went out into the waning twilight without looking back.
Every eye in the room followed her departure. "Ungrateful bitch," Lucky muttered.