Cowboy Courage

The melodic sound of a steel guitar grew louder as she neared the front steps, and when she opened the door, a bell tinkled, alerting a short, stocky bartender and a gray-haired waitress of her arrival. Both eyed her briefly before returning their attention to a couple in the corner booth. Lauren couldn’t help but follow their gaze to an angry man clad in a white T-shirt and jeans and his sad-eyed female companion, but another grumble in her stomach quelled her curiosity as well as her awareness of the dingy room and the scent of stale tobacco.

Instead of a table, she chose a seat at the bar, next to a television with the volume turned down. The music from an old red-and-chrome jukebox filled the room.

“What’ll ya have?” the balding bartender asked, his hooded eyes still glued to the corner booth.

“Ice tea,” she answered. “And a menu, please.”

“Sure.” The bartender furrowed his brow, all the while staring at the couple. He reached beneath the counter and slapped a worn, food-stained menu in front of Lauren.

“Damn it, Kerri-Leigh,” a gruff male voice bellowed, loud and belligerent. “Don’t go tellin’ me what to do. I’m not ready to leave.” Then he hollered at the bartender. “Ben, bring me another beer.”

Unable to help herself, Lauren stole another look at the couple. She studied the woman with the stringy blond hair. Young, was her first observation. Nervous, her second.

“I’m not trying to rush you, Brady,” the woman named Kerri-Leigh said. “I’m just tired. I worked the night shift and I need some sleep.”

When Lauren gazed back at the menu, her sunglasses slipped down the bridge of her nose. Well, no wonder it was so dark in here. But even after she removed the tinted glasses, the Long Shot remained unlit and dingy.

“I’ll have a tuna salad,” she told the bartender, not wanting to take the time to read the menu. He nodded, his attention on neither her nor her order.

She sensed danger. Trouble, like the storm that threatened outside. Maybe she should order a sandwich to go, but before she could speak, the bartender turned to a phone against the wall.

He dialed, then paused. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “Cole, it’s me. Brady’s in here with your sister again. He’s plenty drunk and gettin’ himself worked up. You told me to call you next time.”

Ben nodded his balding head. “Okay, but you’d better hurry. Last time he jerked her into his truck and drove off before I got the chance to call you.” He nodded again. “No problem. I don’t cotton to men gettin’ rough with women.”

Great, Lauren thought. There was going to be a fight of some kind. Well, she wasn’t about to let herself get involved in a public brawl in a honky-tonk that was more of a bar than a diner. She didn’t need the excitement or the danger. “Excuse me,” she told the bartender. “I’ve changed my mind. Make my order a tuna sandwich—to go.”

Ben glanced at the corner booth, then back to her. “Sure thing. That’s probably a good idea.”

When he gazed behind Lauren, she looked over her shoulder and spotted the teary-eyed woman following an arrow that pointed toward the rest room. Not much of a reprieve, Lauren thought. She didn’t want to think about the hard life of the woman who’d made only a temporary escape. Or her own short-term bout of avoidance.

She returned her attention to the television. National news, the caption read. When the camera zoomed in on the parklike yard of the home she and Daniel had intended to share, her mouth dropped. The words were hard to hear over the beat of a country love song blaring in the background, but she strained her ears just the same.

“Lauren Taylor…fiancée…State Senate candidate, Daniel Walker…disappeared…FBI called in…. kidnapping…wealthy socialite.”

Lauren gripped the countertop, knuckles white and aching. Kidnapped? She’d run away, for goodness sake. Hadn’t Daniel realized the shattered Waterford vase and upended table were evidence of her hasty but temperamental goodbye? And surely he’d seen the engagement ring she’d thrown across the room. The rock-sized diamond had bounced along the Spanish-tiled floor and rested in a pool of water, glistening amidst shards of crystal and scattered red roses.

She had the urge to call, to straighten things out but, deep inside, something bruised and vulnerable put her first inclination to rest.

Choices. It was all about having choices, a luxury Lauren never allowed herself. But things were going to change. Lauren Taylor didn’t want to go back. Not now, maybe not ever.

She slipped on her sunglasses, fumbled for her bags, then glanced around the diner. Who else had seen the news broadcast? Maybe no one, but she wouldn’t take the chance. The rest room. She’d slip in there for a while, maybe until her lunch was ready. Then she’d take off—although she had no idea where.

Lauren walked with long, quick strides, then entered the ladies’ room and paused as the door swung closed behind her. The woman named Kerri-Leigh was trying to wiggle through a narrow window. “I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

Kerri-Leigh stopped struggling and slid to the tiled floor. She faced Lauren, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

Lauren’s heart went out to the young woman whose life appeared to be in worse turmoil than her own. “I don’t blame you. Can I help?”

“Not without getting your teeth jarred. Brady gets downright ornery when he’s mad.” The young woman leaned against the baby-blue-painted cubicle. “My brother warned me. He said those court-ordered anger management classes wouldn’t help a hardheaded man like Brady, but I disagreed.”

“They didn’t help?”

“Things were better for a while, especially after he quit drinking and went back to AA.” Kerri-Leigh nodded toward the door. “But you heard him yelling at me. And you probably saw him drinking.” She ran her hands along the tops of her arms as though chilled. “You know, it’s gotten to where I can feel a beating coming.”

“So you were going to run away.”

Kerri-Leigh eyed her with a pained intensity. “He won’t let me walk out the front door. I can’t think of a better way, can you?”

“I overheard the bartender call a man named Cole. I think he’s on his way.”

Kerri-Leigh slumped against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Oh, no.”

“You don’t look too happy about that.”

“I’m not.” Kerri-Leigh sighed heavily. “Don’t get me wrong. My brother is the greatest guy who ever lived. He has a rock-hard sense of right and wrong, especially when it comes to the way people treat each other.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Lauren asked. She could think of a few people she wished were so honorable.

“The last time Brady laid a hand on me, Cole swore he’d kill him if he touched me again.” Kerri-Leigh glanced up, worry etched on her face. “Believe me, Cole will tear into Brady if he thinks I’m in trouble. And then, all heck will break out.” She looked back at Lauren, as though beseeching her to understand. “My brother can’t get involved. And if the police come…” She shook her head and reexamined the small overhead window. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

Lauren couldn’t comprehend the brutal life this woman had lived, but God knew she understood the desire to run away, to escape. They both needed to slip out undetected. But how? She bit her bottom lip, then a wild idea came to mind. “How badly do you want to leave?”

“You have no idea.” Kerri-Leigh blew out a heavy sigh, then glanced at the small window. “But it’s impossible.”

Lauren placed an arm around Kerri-Leigh, and drew the stringy-haired blonde to the smudged, bathroom mirror. They stood side by side and stared into the cloudy glass. “What do you see?”

Kerri-Leigh shrugged. “Two women.”

“Two women who could never pass as twins, granted. But with a little work, a bit of makeup and imagination, we just might be able to pass long enough for you to reach the front door.”

Kerri-Leigh shook her head. “Brady might be drunk, but he’s not blind.”

“We won’t let him see your face.” Lauren placed her gym bag on the countertop, then dug inside for her brush, disregarding the yellow envelope she hadn’t taken time to open. “With your hair pulled up and my sunglasses on…”

“It’ll never work.”

“I’m taller, but…” Lauren continued to comb Kerri-Leigh’s yellow-blond hair, noting the shorter woman didn’t pull away.

“And much thinner,” Kerri-Leigh said. “Heck, you look like a New York fashion model and I’m—”

“In trouble,” Lauren reminded her. “Just listen to my plan.” Unclipping her own hair, Lauren shook out the strands. “I’ll wear your clothes, slip out of the bathroom and slide along the wall to the jukebox, my back to everyone in the diner. As I play around with the buttons, you walk out the door, head high.”

“And then run like hell?” Kerri-Leigh arched a brow, then shook her head. “I might want to leave Brady, but I’m not crazy. He’d chase me down in that big old Plymouth of his.”

For a moment, Lauren worried about the wisdom of getting involved, but she couldn’t stand by and let Kerri-Leigh be brutalized by that man. And as for loaning her car to a stranger, she should probably dump the vehicle anyway, especially if her kidnapping had made national news. She dug through her purse and withdrew her car keys and a pen. “I have a Ford Expedition outside.”

“Oh, I couldn’t take your car. How will you get home?”