and even more conscious of the burning if irrational need to get back to Wy before she vanished on him again. "What exactly happened here?"
"Teddy shot up the place," she replied promptly. "He come in here all liquored up, then got more so--my fault for not cutting him off sooner. He takes exception to what's on the jukebox, which isn't any of his goddamn business and he can go down to the Seaside and listen to punk rock music and like it from now on." She glared again at the miscreant, who seemed to shrink inside his clothes.
"And?" Liam prompted.
Her face darkened. "I got to him before he got more than one off, but that one hit my jukebox. Right in the middle of "Margaritaville."" She looked back at Liam. "Nobody does that to Jimmy Buffett. Not in my bar. Nobody."
"Uh-huh," Liam said. Bill's priorities seemed a little skewed to him, given the number of people in the room who could have been shot instead, herself included. "And we are doing--what, now?"
"I was deciding on that when the cavalry barreled in the door," she said with a sardonic look. "By the way, where is your uniform, trooper?"
Bill was an officer of the court, and as such his coconspirator in upholding the letter as well as the spirit of the law in this section of the Alaskan Bush. Liam reminded himself of this, and took care to keep his tone civil. "In my luggage. I just got off the plane," he added, sounding to his own ears a little aggrieved.
"Uh-huh," she mimicked him, and smiled suddenly. He stared, dazzled. It was like the sun coming out on a bare and wintry day. Her face was strong of brow, nose, and jaw and her skin was lined at the corners of eyes and mouth, but there was no mistaking the warm humor, the manifest charm, and the undeniable sex appeal.
"Watch it, boy," someone growled, and Liam turned to see the Old Fart glaring at him. "She's taken." He pointed with the screwdriver. "And so are you."
Liam blinked. A ripple of laughter went around the room, defusing some of the tension. He shook himself. The Old Fart must have picked up on Wy at the airport. It seemed unlikely, given that the Old Fart must have adjourned to Bill's early on, but then if any part of what Liam had been feeling had showed on his face, he had probably been lit up like one of the neon signs on the wall behind him. It was an uncomfortable thought for a deeply private man, and he turned back to Bill. "What were you intending to do with Mr. Engebretsen, Bill?"
They both regarded the bound man for a moment. The bar watched and waited in silence. "Well," Bill said finally, "I was thinking about supergluing his shooting hand to one cheek of his ass and his other hand around a beer bottle."
Liam stared. She appeared to be absolutely serious. He opened his mouth, and she said, "He drinks too much, does Teddy. I'm not totally unfeeling--the bottle of beer will be a full one, but after it's gone, that's it."
"I like it," the Old Fart said, and grinned evilly when Teddy's eyes bulged over the edge of the gag.
"Or we could just shoot him," she said, and raised the .30-06 to work the action. She gave a satisfied nod. "Plenty of ammunition. 'Course at this distance I really only need one."
The crowd, as a unit, took one step back.
Not just a court-martial, Liam thought, but an execution as well. He admired Bill's efficiency. He started to say something soothing, only to be beaten to it by Jim Earl. "Now, Bill--"
"Put a lid on it, Jim Earl," Bill said. "You been letting this boy run wild since he starting courting your daughter in high school." She bent a severe look upon the mayor. "Why you let him court her is something we won't get into right now." The mayor's face went red, and he began to splutter. Ignoring him, Bill continued, "Fact is, somebody's got to shake some sense into Teddy, and it looks like I've been elected. Besides," she added inexorably, in what was becoming a litany, "he came into my saloon, and he shot up my jukebox, and he shot it up when Jimmy was