Read Online Redemption: Reckless Desires (Blue Moon Saloon Book 3) by Anna Lowe - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Lowe
sure?” Emma and Jessica asked at the same time.
“It’s the least I can do.”
They made her swear not to clean the floors, only to close out the register and do the books. By the time she finished, the saloon seemed busier than ever, so she went over for a look.
“Whoa,” she murmured, standing just inside the swinging doors of the saloon, beside the faded old sign that said,
Check your guns at the door.
The place was packed, and the football game was still in the first quarter. The poker tables in the middle of the saloon were crowded with extra chairs, and the booths lining the sides were packed, too. All she could see of the bar at the opposite side of the room was the top section — her favorite part — carved with a scene that might have come straight from home. A bear waded through a stream, a wolf howled at the moon, and an eagle soared over their heads. The whole bar was a masterpiece carved by some expert decades back — maybe as far back in time as the antique Winchester that hung high on the wall above the intricately carved shelves glittering with bottles of booze. The varnish gleamed with the light reflecting in the mirror centerpiece, and she suspected Soren, who loved woodworking, was responsible for that.
“Can you believe this?” Jessica bustled by with a tray of drinks, shaking her head.
Sarah spotted Janna and Emma hurrying through the crowd, too, delivering orders. Simon and Soren were both busy behind the bar, which Simon usually ran on his own. Even Cole was flipping burgers in the saloon kitchen, as she noticed when Jess rushed through the door. Everyone was helping.
Everyone but her.
Sarah bumped her way from the door to the bar, where Soren stood. His brow furrowed deeply as he juggled an overflowing beer glass, a bill, and a customer’s credit card.
She slid in behind the bar and plucked the credit card out of his hand. “I got this. You concentrate on the bar.”
“But—”
“I got this,” she said, tapping away at the register.
Simon pushed a spare barstool in her direction, and she took a seat to ring up the payments coming through. It was just like the café, except with bigger orders, higher bills.
That, and when the cash drawer slid open, something else slid, too. A couple of rolling cylinders clinked and clanked in a subdivided section of the drawer right above the dimes.
Sarah handed a customer his change, then picked up one of the cylinders.
A bullet. She held it up to the light and gaped. A silver bullet?
She peered up at the antique rifle hanging over the bar. A .44 Winchester, by the look of it. A furtive glance at the Voss brothers showed them both busy pouring drinks, so she jammed the bullet back in the drawer and slid the till shut. Out of sight, but not out of mind. Why on earth would the Voss brothers keep silver bullets around? A whole handful of them, not just a single lucky charm.
The next couple of customers paid with credit cards, but whenever anyone used cash, she snuck a peek at the bullets rattling in the back.
“Everything okay?” Jess asked the next time she swung by for drinks.
“Sure,” Sarah replied, trying to get her mind back to work.
The noise in the bar ebbed and peaked. Simon’s deep voice would call out occasionally beside her, while Soren stuck to nods and intense looks. Good old Soren, communicating more with his eyes than his mouth. He’d slam a glass on the bar, fill it with scarcely a splash, and slide it all the way down the varnished surface of the counter.
No wonder customers loved the place. There was even a pianist, hammering out a jaunty ragtime tune that could barely be heard above the crowd. Live music was another of Jessica’s new ideas they were trying out for the first time. The football game was muted, and if Sarah looked away from the screen, the scene was as Wild West as she could imagine, right down to hand towels hung at intervals along the bar — the type used in olden days to wipe handlebar
“It’s the least I can do.”
They made her swear not to clean the floors, only to close out the register and do the books. By the time she finished, the saloon seemed busier than ever, so she went over for a look.
“Whoa,” she murmured, standing just inside the swinging doors of the saloon, beside the faded old sign that said,
Check your guns at the door.
The place was packed, and the football game was still in the first quarter. The poker tables in the middle of the saloon were crowded with extra chairs, and the booths lining the sides were packed, too. All she could see of the bar at the opposite side of the room was the top section — her favorite part — carved with a scene that might have come straight from home. A bear waded through a stream, a wolf howled at the moon, and an eagle soared over their heads. The whole bar was a masterpiece carved by some expert decades back — maybe as far back in time as the antique Winchester that hung high on the wall above the intricately carved shelves glittering with bottles of booze. The varnish gleamed with the light reflecting in the mirror centerpiece, and she suspected Soren, who loved woodworking, was responsible for that.
“Can you believe this?” Jessica bustled by with a tray of drinks, shaking her head.
Sarah spotted Janna and Emma hurrying through the crowd, too, delivering orders. Simon and Soren were both busy behind the bar, which Simon usually ran on his own. Even Cole was flipping burgers in the saloon kitchen, as she noticed when Jess rushed through the door. Everyone was helping.
Everyone but her.
Sarah bumped her way from the door to the bar, where Soren stood. His brow furrowed deeply as he juggled an overflowing beer glass, a bill, and a customer’s credit card.
She slid in behind the bar and plucked the credit card out of his hand. “I got this. You concentrate on the bar.”
“But—”
“I got this,” she said, tapping away at the register.
Simon pushed a spare barstool in her direction, and she took a seat to ring up the payments coming through. It was just like the café, except with bigger orders, higher bills.
That, and when the cash drawer slid open, something else slid, too. A couple of rolling cylinders clinked and clanked in a subdivided section of the drawer right above the dimes.
Sarah handed a customer his change, then picked up one of the cylinders.
A bullet. She held it up to the light and gaped. A silver bullet?
She peered up at the antique rifle hanging over the bar. A .44 Winchester, by the look of it. A furtive glance at the Voss brothers showed them both busy pouring drinks, so she jammed the bullet back in the drawer and slid the till shut. Out of sight, but not out of mind. Why on earth would the Voss brothers keep silver bullets around? A whole handful of them, not just a single lucky charm.
The next couple of customers paid with credit cards, but whenever anyone used cash, she snuck a peek at the bullets rattling in the back.
“Everything okay?” Jess asked the next time she swung by for drinks.
“Sure,” Sarah replied, trying to get her mind back to work.
The noise in the bar ebbed and peaked. Simon’s deep voice would call out occasionally beside her, while Soren stuck to nods and intense looks. Good old Soren, communicating more with his eyes than his mouth. He’d slam a glass on the bar, fill it with scarcely a splash, and slide it all the way down the varnished surface of the counter.
No wonder customers loved the place. There was even a pianist, hammering out a jaunty ragtime tune that could barely be heard above the crowd. Live music was another of Jessica’s new ideas they were trying out for the first time. The football game was muted, and if Sarah looked away from the screen, the scene was as Wild West as she could imagine, right down to hand towels hung at intervals along the bar — the type used in olden days to wipe handlebar
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