She closed her eyes. Nothing. Squeezing them tighter, she concentrated.
With a start, she recalled that his cowboy hat had been a light gray. She focused on her mark’s other physical attributes. Long legs clad in denim, slim hips, muscular thighs, broad shoulders. A very nice behind. She shook off that image. A jean jacket over a pale blue checked shirt. Her pickpocketing might not be up to par, but at least there was nothing wrong with her memory, she thought as she opened her eyes and again scanned the crowd. Her uncle had taught her well.
But she needed more. She closed her eyes again. She’d gotten only a glimpse of his face when he’d grabbed first her scarf and then her arm. Her eyes flew open as she had a thought. He must have been on to her immediately. Had she botched the pick that badly? She really was out of practice.
She closed her eyes again and tried to concentrate over the sound of the two teens still arguing over the T-shirt. Yes, she’d seen his face. A handsome rugged face and pale eyes. Not blue. No. Gray? Yes. With a start she realized where she’d seen him before. It was the man from the bandstand, the one who’d thrown the T-shirt and hit her. She was sure of it.
“Excuse me, I’ll buy that T-shirt from you,” she said, catching up to the two teens as they took their squabble off toward a burger stand.
They both turned to look at her in surprise. “It’s not for sale,” said the one.
The other asked, “How much?”
“Ten bucks.”
“No way.”
“You got it free,” Mariah pointed out only to have both girls’ faces freeze in stubborn determination. “Fine, twenty.”
“Make it thirty,” the greedier of the two said.
She shook her head as she dug out the money. Her grandmother would have given them the evil eye. Or threatened to put some kind of curse on them. “You’re thieves, you know that?” she said as she grabbed the T-shirt before they could take off with it and her money.
Escaping down one of the side streets, she finally got a good look at what was printed across the front of the T-shirt. Stagecoach Saloon, Gilt Edge, Montana.
* * *
LILLIE CAHILL HESITATED at the back door of the Stagecoach Saloon. It had been a stagecoach stop back in the 1800s when gold had been coming out of the mine at Gilt Edge. Each stone in the saloon’s walls, like each of the old wooden floorboards inside, had a story. She’d often wished the building could talk.
When the old stagecoach stop had come on the market, she had jumped at purchasing it, determined to save the historical two-story stone building. It had been her twin’s idea to open a bar and café. She’d been skeptical at first, but trusted Darby’s instincts. The place had taken off.
Lately, she felt sad just looking at the place.
Until recently, she’d lived upstairs in the remodeled apartment. She’d moved in when they bought the old building and had made it hers by collecting a mix of furnishings from garage sales and junk shops. This had not just been her home. It was her heart, she thought, eyes misting as she remembered the day she’d moved out.
Since her engagement to Trask Beaumont and the completion of their home on the ranch, she’d given up her apartment to her twin, Darby. He had been living in a cabin not far from the bar, but he’d jumped at the chance to live upstairs.
Now she glanced toward the back window. The curtains were some she’d left when she’d moved out. One of them flapped in the wind. Darby must have left the window open. She hadn’t been up there to see what he’d done with the place. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know since she’d moved most everything out, leaving it pretty much a blank slate. She thought it might still be a blank slate, knowing her brother.
Pushing open the back door into the bar kitchen, she was met with the most wonderful of familiar scents. Fortunately, not everything had changed in her life, she thought, her mood picking up some as she entered the warm café kitchen.
“Tell me those are your famous enchiladas,” she said to Billie Dee, their heavy-set, fiftysomething Texas cook.
“You know it, sugar,” the cook said with a laugh. “You want me to dish you up a plate? I’ve got homemade pinto beans and some Spanish rice like you’ve never tasted.”
“You mean hotter than I’ve ever tasted.”
“Oh, you Montanans. I’ll toughen you up yet.”
Lillie laughed. “I’d love a plate.” She pulled out a chair at the table where the help usually ate in the kitchen and watched Billie Dee fill two plates.
“So how are the wedding plans coming along?” the cook asked as she joined her at the table.
“I thought a simple wedding here with family and friends would be a cinch,” Lillie said as she took a bite of the enchilada. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sweet and then hot bite of peppers before all the other flavors hit her. She groaned softly. “These are the best you’ve ever made.”
“Bless your heart,” Billie Dee said smiling. “I take it the wedding has gotten more complicated?”
“I can’t get married without my father and who knows when he’ll be coming out of the mountains.” Their father, Ely Cahill, was a true mountain man now who spent most of the year up in the mountains either panning for gold or living off the land. He’d given up ranching after their mother had died and had turned the business over to her brothers Hawk and Cyrus.
Their oldest brother, Tucker, had taken off at eighteen. They hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Their father was the only one who wasn’t worried about him.
“Tuck needs space. He’s gone off to find himself. He’ll come home when he’s ready,” Ely had said.
The rest of the family hadn’t been so convinced. But if Tuck was anything like their father, they would have heard something from the cops. Ely had a bad habit of coming out of the mountains thirsty for whiskey—and ending up in their brother Sheriff Flint Cahill’s jail. Who knew where Tuck was. Lillie didn’t worry about him. She had four other brothers to deal with right here in Gilt Edge.
“I can see somethin’s botherin’ you,” Billie Dee said now.
Lillie nodded. “Trask insists we wait to get married since he hopes to have the finishing touches on the house so we can have the reception there.”
Trask, the only man she’d ever loved, had come back into her life after so many years that she’d thought she’d never see him again. But they’d found their way back together and now he was building a house for them on the ranch he’d bought not far from the bar.
“Waitin’ sounds reasonable,” the cook said between bites.
“I wish we’d eloped.”
“Something tells me the wedding isn’t the problem,” Billie Dee said, using her fork to punctuate her words.
“I’ll admit it’s been hard giving up my apartment upstairs. I put so much love into it.”
“Darby will take good care of it.”
She couldn’t help shooting a disbelieving look at Billie Dee. “He’ll probably just throw down a bedroll and call it home. You know how he is. Have you seen what he’s moved in so far?”
Billie Dee gave her a sympathetic look. “I know it was your baby, but once you took out your things, it didn’t feel so much like yours, right?”
Lillie nodded. “Still, it was my home for so long. I thought maybe Darby might need my help decorating it.”
The cook laughed. “I’d say ‘decorating’ is probably the last thing on his mind. So how is the new home?”
“Beautiful. Trask is great about letting me do whatever I want. But it still isn’t like