"Thought y’ had a live one there, eh, Lula?" Orlan Nettles leaned over the counter and squeezed her buttock.

"Damn you, Orlan, git your hands off!" she squawked, twisting free and swatting his wrist with the wet rag.

Orlan eased back onto the stool, his eyebrows mounting his forehead. "Hoo-ee! Would y’ look at that now, Jack." Jack Quigley turned droll eyes on the pair. "I never knew old Lula to slap away a man’s hand before, have you, Jack?"

"You got a right filthy mouth, Orlan Nettles!" Lula yelped.

Orlan grinned lazily, lifted his coffee cup and watched her over the brim. "Now what do you suppose that feller’s doing up Rock Creek Road, Jack?"

Jack at last showed some sign of life as he drawled, "Could be he’s goin’ up to check out the Widow Dinsmore."

"Could be. Can’t figger what else he’d of found in that newspaper, can you, Lula?"

"How should I know what he’s doin’ up Rock Creek Road? Wouldn’t open his mouth enough to give a person his name."

Orlan loudly swallowed the last of his coffee. "Yup!" With the back of a hand he smeared the wetness from the corners of his mouth over the rest of it. "Reckon he went on up to check out Eleanor Dinsmore."

"That crazy old coot?" Lula spat. "Why, if he did, he’ll be back down in one all-fire hurry."

"Don’t you just wish, Lula… don’t you just wish?" Orlan chuckled, bowed his legs and backed off the stool, then dropped a nickel on the counter.

Lula scraped up her tip, dropped it into her pocket and dumped his coffee cup into a sink beneath the counter. "Go on, git out o’ here, you two. Ain’t givin’ me no business anyway, sittin’ there soppin’ up coffee."

"C’mon, Jack, what say we sashay up to the lumber mill, do a little snoopin’ around, see what we can find out."

Lula glared at him, refusing to break down and ask him to come back and tell her what he learned about the tall, handsome stranger. The town was small enough that it wouldn’t take her long to find out on her own.