On The Texas Border. Linda Warren

like outsiders interfering.

      Mick stood. “I gotta get back to work.” He patted Jonas on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend.”

      As Mick walked away, Jonas watched the activity in the bar. It was after nine and the place was filling up. Jim Colson, the bank president, was dancing with Teresa Gomez. Their bodies were welded together, and soon they’d be in one of Mick’s rooms upstairs. Jim had a wife and three kids, and Sunday morning he’d be on the front pew in church singing his praises to the Lord. Jonas, who’d never been part of a real family, didn’t understand a man who was willing to jeopardize everything he had.

      Of course, no one ever breathed a word of Jim’s infidelities. His bank owned the mortgages on most of the homes and titles to most of the vehicles in this town. And Brewster owned the bank. For the first time, Jonas wondered if Brewster really had had an affair with a Mexican girl. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, he supposed.

      Workers were piling into the bar to drink, dance and have a good time. It didn’t matter that they had to work tomorrow. They lived for the moment. Jonas thought that was a damn good idea. Maybe Jim had the right idea, too. Tomorrow was a crapshoot, anyway.

      He stood and laid some bills on the table. “G’night Mick. It’s been a long day.”

      “Jonas.”

      Jonas fitted his hat on his head and glanced at Mick.

      “Don’t be so down about this. You’ll spend time with a pretty woman and that ain’t bad. It’s the best way I know to get rid of those tight muscles.”

      Jonas didn’t respond. He just walked outside to his truck. But he knew what Mick was suggesting. Dammit, he wasn’t listening to Mick.

      When he reached the office, he saw her car parked in front. That crazy woman. She was still searching through the files. Well, she could search until the cows came home. He was going to bed. He headed for the outside staircase that led to his apartment over the warehouse. He had built it twelve years ago with Brewster’s approval. He’d gotten tired of sleeping on a cot in a storeroom.