By Starlight by Dorothy Garlock Page A

or so men and women customers have a good time. Smoke, bits of conversation, and laughter floated around the cellar. Shadows danced on the walls in the low light. A couple swayed to the music beside the record player. Maddy smiled as Seth Pettigrew cackled at another of his stale jokes.
    And through it all, liquor was drunk.
    Because the selling of that alcohol was illegal, Jeffers made sure someone was guarding the door at all times. He’d been careful about whom he’d told about the speakeasy, keeping it among people he knew or considered trustworthy, but he wasn’t a fool, either. Word had gotten out; every night there was a new face, someone he hadn’t expected. Sometime soon, there’d be a visitor who hadn’t come in search of a good time.
    That was why Sumner was there. He wasn’t much more than a boy, barely eighteen, but thought himself far older. With his short-cropped blond hair, blemished skin, cold blue eyes, and nervous tongue, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Skinny as a stray cat, he still had his uses. Though small, he was tougher than he looked. He followed Jeffers around like a dog, doing whatever he was told and only occasionally needing a beating to remind him of his place. If the kid didn’t do so much damn talking, Jeffers might even have considered liking him.
    “I’m gonna go take a look around,” Jeffers said.
    “Let’s go,” Sumner answered, leaping up from his chair as if to follow.
    Jeffers grabbed him by the arm and squeezed hard enough to make sure he had the kid’s undivided attention. “You ain’t leavin’ this door till you’re told,” he snarled. “I don’t care if the damn roof is cavin’ in, you stay put ’less I tell you otherwise, understand?”
    “Sure, sure, sure,” Sumner whimpered, rapidly nodding his head in agreement. “Whatever you say!” When Jeffers finally let him go, he practically leaped back into his chair, turning to stare at the door as if it were the most important thing in the world.
    “Don’t leave till I come back,” Jeffers repeated.
    “Got it, boss,” Sumner answered quickly, his eyes never leaving the door.
    Shaking his head, Jeffers made his way farther into the speakeasy.
     
    Jeffers had never been comfortable around lots of people, but thankfully most folks were even more uneasy around him and gave him a wide berth. Even in the speakeasy, he noticed how they got out of his way; it was done subtly, a shifting of a chair here, a repositioning of the feet there, but he saw how they glanced in his direction, aware of where he was in the room. It didn’t bother him; on the contrary, it pleased him greatly.
    He wanted the people of Colton to be afraid of him.
    Making his way through the tables, Jeffers nodded at the few patrons who were brave enough to look him in the eye. Because of his imposing size, threatening people came easy to him, almost effortlessly. He was no stranger to violence; he’d been in more fights than he could count and had never come out on the losing end. He’d shot men who’d stuck their nose into his business, had stabbed others, and even had trampled one poor bastard with his horse. Everyone knew he wasn’t to be trifled with.
    Everyone except Maddy Aldridge.
    From the opposite side of the cellar, Jeffers watched as Maddy poured Seth Pettigrew another drink. When she took his money, she smiled so brightly that her whole face lit up. Absently, she flipped a few loose strands of hair over her shoulder. Jeffers was so caught up in what she was doing that he nearly ran into one of the cellar’s support beams.
    Damn, if she didn’t get his heart racing.
    Jeffers was surprised he hadn’t noticed her much in the last couple of years. He’d see her at her father’s store from time to time, but he’d never paid much attention; if was as if she were part of the fixtures. Maybe it was because they were so completely different; she was smart and witty, always ready with a warm smile for everyone she met, and a bit