A Week From Sunday (16 page)

Ignorant and piss-mean from the moment he could walk, Reuben had spent most of his life drifting in and out of the sheriff’s jail cell. Nearly as wide as he was tall, he was the type of man who was far more likely to let his fists do the talking, whether or not any talking was needed. With a thick beard and a puffy, whiskered face, he looked almost comical; but with a few drinks in him he was anything but funny. Most of the townspeople of Lee’s Point had learned to give him a wide berth. Several years earlier, he had gotten into a fight with a salesman passing through town and broken both of the man’s arms and a couple of ribs. Reuben had done his time for the crime, but prison hadn’t changed him.

Something
bad
was going to happen.

Gabe too saw Reuben move toward the piano and sidled down the length of the bar toward Quinn. He absentmindedly wiped the counter, but his eyes, much like Quinn’s, were locked on the mountain of a man approaching Adrianna.

“I done bet ya is a touch nervous, Gabe,” Roy cackled from his vantage point at the bar. “Ol’ Reuben is like a caged bear, I done do swear!”

“You might be right,
mon ami,
” Gabe answered jovially, his tone a far cry from the seriousness in his eyes. Then to Quinn, “Seems like he’s taking an interest in our pretty new musician,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“Ya got that right! He ain’t took his eyes off’a her,” the drunk put in, swiveling in his chair.

“What the hell is he doing here anyway?” Quinn asked his manager.

“I have a guess.”

“You think Lola sent him here?” he ventured.

“None other.”

For years, there had been a rumor floating around Lee’s Point that Reuben Griffin held a candle for Lola but that she refused to return his feelings. Was it possible that she had put Reuben up to coming to the tavern and causing trouble, hoping to scare Adrianna off?

Quinn was still trying to come to grips with his own thoughts, when the sounds of glasses shattering, swearing, and fisticuffs began to fill the Whipsaw.

“You can’t play that piano for shit, you high-toned bitch.”

Adrianna’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, as the gigantic man leaned closer to where she sat. His breath was even more putrid than Roy’s, which she would have found difficult to believe if she hadn’t been so frightened that she couldn’t think clearly.

“Get away from me,” she shouted, wanting to be heard over the noise in the room.

“All you high-falutin’ types are the same,” the man snarled. “You think you can just walk in here and start givin’ orders like you’re a queen or somethin’?”

With surprising quickness, the man slammed his empty beer mug down on top of the piano with a crash. The fury of his actions combined with the sudden noise made Adrianna nearly jump off her stool. Fear began to creep into the corners of her mind.
Is this man really going to hurt me in front of all of these people?

“Get away from me,” she said again, wondering if Quinn had seen the man approach her.

“I do as I damn well please, girlie.” He grinned. With that unruly brush of hair, he looked more like a wild animal than a man. “Uppity bitches like you don’t understand nothin’ unless it’s from the back of a man’s . . .”

“Get the hell away from her, Reuben!” a man’s voice interrupted the brute’s threats. Adrianna’s heart leapt! But when the man-mountain moved, she was doubly surprised to see that her rescuer was
not
Gabe or Quinn, but a complete stranger! A middle-aged man, obviously three sheets to the wind, who stood on wobbly legs next to the piano. His bulbous nose was crisscrossed with broken red veins, and he jabbed the air with a shaky finger.

“You ain’t bossin’ me,” Reuben snarled.

Before her defender could say another word, the man he’d called Reuben swung a meaty fist that crashed squarely into his bright red nose. An audible crack filled the room like a rifle shot, the cartilage shattering and blood spilling down onto the hardwood floor. The man fell like a sack of flour, his arms and legs splayed around him.

A pregnant pause filled the tavern as everyone took in the spectacle before them. Then suddenly, like a tornado bursting forth from a clear blue sky, the room exploded into chaos. Shouts and curses flew like raindrops, a bottle whizzed toward the bar and struck a man in the temple; another man jumped onto Reuben’s back and began to beat him about the ears before being tossed like a rag doll. A half-full mug of beer shattered on the wall beside Adrianna, dousing her in alcohol.

“Ahh!” she shrieked.

With an eye for self-preservation, she slid from her stool and headed for relative safety behind the piano. On shaky legs, she peered tentatively out into the melee as she tried to wipe the beer from her face with the sleeve of her blouse.

Another man grabbed a fistful of Reuben’s shirt but was beaten down more savagely than the first who’d tried to interrupt him. The sound of his fist striking the man’s face was like meat being slapped against the countertop in preparation for dinner. Adrianna felt her heart in her throat; as soon as he finished with his opponent, what would stop him from turning his attention back to his original target . . .
her
?

“Reuben! You stupid son of a bitch!”

Adrianna gasped as Quinn sprang into view. He stood facing the bearded man with a locked jaw and taut arm muscles ending in clenched fists. She was both horrified and excited by what she saw; he looked so fearsome and determined to inflict harm, but she could not deny that he also looked dashing. Never in her life had she seen a man like Quinn.

“Should have finished you long ago,” Reuben spat.

“Here’s your chance.”

The big man lumbered toward Quinn and threw a punch. Adrianna cringed, certain that the bar owner would meet the same fate as the others. Instead, he effortlessly ducked under the punch and released one of his own that crashed into Reuben’s rib cage. The force of the blow drove the air from his lungs with a whoosh.

“Unnhhh,” he grunted.

Reuben took a hesitant step back in the hopes of regaining his balance, but Quinn was on him, determined to give him no respite. A hard left hand pounded into the bigger man’s jaw, whipping his head to the side. His knees buckled and, for a brief moment, it looked as if he would go down, but somehow he managed to stay upright.

With his foe nearly beaten, Quinn’s attention briefly wavered as he glanced around the rest of the tavern. Watching from behind the piano, Adrianna could clearly see Reuben as he gained a moment of clarity and balled up his fist for another swing. The man’s hand was so large that the only thing Adrianna could compare it with was a Christmas ham. If he should strike Quinn while his attention was diverted . . .

“Look out!” she shrieked in warning.

Reuben threw the haymaker punch but his intended target was nowhere to be found, and the blow sailed wildly past Quinn, who had ducked safely beneath the hulking man’s arm, and landed a solid body blow of his own. A grimace of pain shot across Reuben’s face, and he doubled over, his hands covering his aching gut. Then, with his opponent’s head lowered, Quinn wound up and smashed Reuben in the jaw with an uppercut of such force, it lifted the big man off his feet. This time there would be no stopping his fall. Like a downed oak, Reuben crashed to the floor, crushing a wayward chair beneath him as he went, its legs splayed out beneath him.

“Yeah!” Adrianna shouted with joy.

“It’s over, goddamnit,” Quinn shouted. “The rest of you guys settle down, or you’ll be out the door on your ear.”

Now with the bigger man defeated, she expected Quinn to rush over to her and see if she was all right, but instead he disappeared into the melee of bodies that surrounded him. In that instant, she suddenly became aware of the rest of the Whipsaw. While her attention had been focused solely on Quinn and Reuben, utter bedlam had erupted around them. She had no idea what everyone was fighting about. The only person responsible for starting the ruckus was Reuben, but several other brawls had broken out.

“What in heaven?” she wondered aloud.

Over at the bar, all of the stools had emptied save one. Roy Long sat with his back to the bar, looking out over the chaos with a smile that went from ear to ear. To Adrianna, it was as if he were the cat that had caught the canary. Roars of laughter came from his mouth as he slapped a palm against his knee.
He’s having the time of his life!

Adrianna was wondering if it was safe to come out from behind the piano when the tavern door flew open with a bang, and a thunderous voice somehow managed to carry over the din.

“What in the hell is goin’ on in here?”

As if a thunderclap had gone off indoors, all heads stopped and turned to the voice. Through the narrowest break in the crowd, Adrianna could see the man who had asked the question. Wearing dark slacks and a sweat-stained white, button-down shirt, the man had a protruding stomach that threatened to spill over his waistline. Beady eyes stared from above a porcine nose. Still, none of these features was particularly memorable. What did stand out was the shiny revolver he held in one pudgy hand and the shiny tin badge that adorned his chest.

“What in tarnation y’all think is goin’ on here?” he barked again. It wasn’t so much a question as a demand that he didn’t seem inclined to wait for.

“Just a quarrel that got out of control is all,” Quinn offered, stepping out from behind the bar to join the lawman.

“Do you take me for a fool, Baxter?”

“No.”

“Maybe I ought to close this place down.” As he spoke, he waved the revolver around loosely, as if to demonstrate his authority.

Adrianna slipped out from behind the piano and sat down.

“Look, Sheriff, it was just a little argument . . .” Quinn began, but the lawman waved him off. With one hand gripping his weapon and the other hitched into his belt buckle, he began to walk through the bar, gazing from one set of eyes to another. Finally, as he neared the piano, he stopped, his eyes on Adrianna.

“And who are you, darlin’?”

When Adrianna didn’t answer, he let go with a long whistle and wiped one greasy arm across his sweaty brow. “Well, it ain’t hard to see what set ol’ Reuben off,” he said. “He was at the center of this ruckus, or I’ll eat my hat. I suppose I’d be safe in saying that you had a role in this here fight?”

“Sure as shit, I done do swear!” Roy offered, his voice loud in the now quiet room.

“That’s right,” Gabe echoed, a touch more delicately, from the bar. “Reuben was drinking most of the night,
c’est la vérité
. As soon as the first sing-along ended, he became a wild man.”

With a shake of his round head, Sheriff Beauchamp took an abandoned glass full of drink and emptied its contents onto the unconscious man’s face. Sputtering and coughing, Reuben shot awake. Momentarily startled, the bearish man looked for a second as if he still had some fight in him but the wind went out of his sails as soon as he caught sight of the sheriff.

“On your feet, boy,” Sheriff Beauchamp commanded, “and head for the door.”

With a hangdog look on his face, Reuben did as he was told. He kept his head down for most of the way but, as soon as he reached Quinn he lifted it and shot him a glare full of hatred. The barman stared coolly back.

At the door, the sheriff turned and scolded, “Now I sure as shit didn’t fall off no turnip truck today, so don’t think for one second I believe this was all Reuben’s fault. Things best change around here or I’m a gonna be back . . . and ain’t a one of you wants that.”

A few grumbles came from the crowd but nothing more.

Before he left, he leaned in close to Quinn, the smell of liver and onions on his breath. “This here’s another strike against you, Baxter. You keep this up, there ain’t a gonna be nothin’ remainin’ of your daddy in Lee’s Point. Best keep that in mind.”

Quinn ignored him.

As soon as the sheriff left, things returned to a bizarre normalcy. Adrianna watched as men who had been fighting one another only minutes before now slapped each other on the back and headed to the bar for another drink. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing. It was as if nothing had happened! She was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears began to well up. Before the first one could fall, she looked up to see Quinn standing before her, his hand extended.

With a mischievous grin and a wink, he said, “Welcome to the Whipsaw.”

With quivering fingers, she took his offered hand and was pulled to her feet. Her eyes searched his face. “Does this happen often?”

A few coal-black clouds drifted over Lee’s Point, their wispy shapes outlined boldly by the bright moon above. To Adrianna, they looked like a couple of ducks that had been separated from their flock, in much the same way as she’d been separated from the life she had known. She made a silent wish that they too would find their way home.

With Quinn’s hand firmly attached to her elbow, she was retracing the route from the Whipsaw to home. It was late, a little past midnight, when they’d herded the last of the paying customers out of the bar and shooed them home. She and Quinn had offered to stay behind and help with the cleanup, but Gabe had insisted that he had things under control and bade them good night.

With every step, Adrianna became more conscious of the tall man walking beside her. Ever since Reuben had towered over her, she’d been in a state of anxiety that she wouldn’t have been able to explain if her life had depended on it. Even when things had returned to normal, she’d found herself breathless and her muscles taut. Quinn had refused to let her play any longer but she’d scarcely found the calm to sit still behind the bar. Even now, an hour later, she still reverberated with the exhilaration she’d felt when she first saw Quinn leap into the fray. The cool breeze that rustled through the bushes and high tree branches did little to cool the flame that had been lit by the fight.