The Outlaw's Return by Victoria Bylin Page B

temptation, he walked away from the saloon at a rapid pace. In the distance he saw the Newcastle Theater and decided to walk by it. It wouldn’t hurt to remind Roy that he had his eye on Mary.
    When he reached the theater, the doors opened and the crowd began to go inside. Among the wealthy couples, he spotted Roy speaking to a girl in her late teens. Dressed in pink, she had cinnamon hair and a sparkle that reminded him of Mary. Next to her stood a brunette wearing a crimson gown with gold trim. He guessed her to be in her twenties and far more sophisticated than the girl. He was sure of it when Roy made the younger girl blush with just a look.
    J.T. didn’t know the girl at all, but he wanted to drag her home to her family. What was she doing at the theater without a chaperone? The thought surprised him, because he didn’t like chaperones. The ones he’d encountered had been nosy old women who’d gotten in his way. Watching Roy with this girl changed his mind about the custom. She was smiling too brightly, encouraging him without knowing the nature of his thoughts.
    J.T. recognized that innocence. He’d been seventeen when Zeke Carver recruited him to be the lookout on a bank job. He’d done well and had ridden off with them. That night he’d gotten drunk for the first time. He didn’t remember much, but it had been the start of his worst years. With regret thick in his throat, he watched the girl and her friend enter the theater. Roy watched them with too much intensity. J.T. stared hard at the man, willing him to look at him instead. It took a long minute, but the man finally turned and their eyes locked. Roy smiled.
    J.T. didn’t.
    Smirking, Roy followed the last of his guests into the theater and closed the door.
    More distrustful of the man than ever, J.T. walked past the building. Near the doors he saw a poster in a glass case. Below a drawing of a gypsy woman, it read:
    Coming Soon!
    The Bohemian Girl
    Auditions for the role of Arline
    Saturday, August 3rd at 2 p.m.
    Did the sign mean Roy had given up on Mary? J.T. didn’t think so. Knowing how much she loved to perform, he saw the poster as bait. Tomorrow after supper she’d get an earful about Roy.
    As he entered a quieter part of the city, he slowed his pace. To his surprise, he ended up in front of the saloon where he’d found Mary a few days ago. Instead of the shuffle of cards, he heard fiddle music. And in the place of whiskey, he smelled chili so hot it stung his eyes. Mary used to tease that he didn’t know good food when he had it, because he’d burned off his taste buds. Maybe he had. He’d burned a lot of things in his life—bridges, women, even friends. His life was one big pile of ash, but a man still had to eat.
    With his stomach rumbling, he pushed through the door. He glanced at the fiddler, an old man playing “Buffalo Gals,” and headed for the counter. The barkeep, a large fellow with red hair, greeted him with a nod. “What can I get you, friend?”
    â€œA bowl of chili.”
    The man indicated a stool. “Have a seat.”
    J.T. ambled to the far side of the counter and sat where he could see the door. The place wasn’t busy, and he wondered why. Maybe the owner served cheap whiskey, or maybe he didn’t serve whiskey at all. He looked behind the bar. Instead of bottles, he saw a hodgepodge of canned goods, tin plates and a row of glasses. A mirror hung on the wall, reflecting both the room and J.T. himself. Six months ago, he’d had deep crevices at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes had been bloodshot. The man staring at him now looked almost young, though J.T. felt as burdened as ever.
    The barkeep put the chili in front of him. “That stuff’s hot. Want something to put out the fire?”
    Beer. “Just water.”
    â€œGot some sweet tea,” he offered.
    â€œSure.”
    After the barkeep left, a man with the look of