Pecos Bill and The Big, Hairy Murder (RowanOak Book #1)

The months Bill had been in RowanOak had taught him to move through the town quietly without ever really being seen. That was how he wanted it, and that’s what he thought he’d accomplished. He was wrong, of course. There were several townspeople who saw him quite clearly. They saw him go about the chores that normally brought people to town without ever really talking to anyone. They saw what interested him. They saw his strength and kindness. They noted what he found amusing. They saw him watching them.
Bill took the shortcut across the courthouse square to the first stop on his mental to-do list. The library. He had quite a few questions about civil rights, the Vietnam War and hippies he was anxious to get answered. The librarian, Miss Libertad “Libby” Mendoza, had been helpful with his questions in the past, so he was pretty sure there would be a pile of books waiting for him. He had more than a few questions about Miss Libby herself. He’d never ask them, though, because she might think it gave her permission to turn it around to ask about him. Questions he might not have answers for. Still, he did wonder how a woman came to be missing a leg and an eye. He was still pondering that question as he entered the coolness of the old red stone library.
“Be right with you, Mr. Pecos,” Libby said as she stamped the last of several books and handed them over the counter to a girl with a long blonde braid and dusty blue jeans.
“Thanks, Miss Libby,” the girl said after putting her cowboy hat on to free up her hands to take the books. Although she was addressing the librarian, she was assessing Bill. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down.
After a few seconds of scrutiny, “So little lady, do I pass muster?”
“Not sure, maybe… when I find out what you’re hiding,” was all she allowed before taking her books and heading for the door.
“Cute kid,” he said over the girl’s head to Miss Libby, who nodded in reply. Bill and Libby watched her readjust her stack of books so she could open the heavy library door. Just before the door closed, she looked back at them with pursed lips and then slipped out into the hot day.
“Yeah and sharp as a snake’s ass, that’s for sure,” Miss Libby chuckled. “So, Mr. P, what are you curious about today?”
A couple of hours later, Bill left the library with his own stack of books. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about hippies and “flower power," but he’d let those thoughts gin around in the back of his mind while he plowed on with what he thought of as his catch-up reading. He had found out while talking about that Vietnam War that Libby had lost her eye and leg in a different war in the Middle East. He hadn’t been able to piece together any details, but now he had a powerful curiosity about it. He sighed heavily, just one more item on a very long list of things he was curious about these days. Like, how’d that little girl know he was hiding something?

* * * * *

“Now watch, Rod. He’s been in there for what, a couple of hours, right? Watch his horse… and who rides a horse into town these days anyway? See? I swear that horse looked both ways before crossing the street. It sure makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Rod Clayton, sheriff of RowanOak shook his head, “What I’m wondering, Lawrence Pierce, is why you care so much about a man’s horse?”
“What? Oh, well, not the horse so much as I’m wondering about him.”
The sheriff chuckled, “Do you even hear the words as they come out of your mouth? ‘Cause that’s not a heck of a lot better, Larry.”
“Oh, hahaha, Rod. Very funny. But no, really, he’s exactly what we need as the face of RowanOak.” He grabbed what he thought of as his “riverboat gambler’s hat” off the rack by the door of the newspaper office, twirled it dramatically, and adjusted it to a jaunty angle. He grinned at his friend, “I’m going to make him a star!”
“I don’t know about that. Mr. Pecos seems like a pretty private fella…” the sheriff started saying as the newspaperman walked away, not paying any attention at all.

* * * * *

Bill was just arranging the last book in his saddle bags as the dandified man with the hat approached. He had seen him head out of the newspaper office like a man on a mission.
“Tarnation,” Bill muttered under his breath. It sure looked like Bill himself might be that mission.
“Mr. Pecos?” Ever since that guy in the saloon, Bill had been a might skittish about men with “fancy” hats, so he didn’t reply. “Your name is W.H. Pecos… isn’t it?”
Bill sighed and turned to face the questions he feared were coming next, “It is.”
“Superb! This is your lucky day because I have a great proposition for you!” the man continued in an unnaturally cheerful voice.
Bill swung up into the saddle on the tall palomino, “Don’t recall ever being propositioned by a man.” He grinned at the slack-jawed fella, “Don’t reckon on starting today neither.”
The newspaperman stood dumbfounded as Bill nodded and nonchalantly rode away. He looked back toward his office and frowned when he saw Rod laugh and salute him with his cup of coffee as if to say, “I told you so.”
The next stop on Bill’s list was The Medicine Man shop run by J.P. (Jaype) and Tanis Far Walker. He liked the couple and knew he could get the willow bark he needed for headaches from them without a lot of questions. Maybe it was their Indian heritage that let them accept him without knowing every little detail about him. He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was he felt comfortable around them. Their shop felt just as familiar as all the general stores he got supplies from when he was a kid, except The Medicine Man didn’t have sacks of flour, work shirts and licorice sticks. Instead, they carried what they called “traditional” medicine… like the willow bark he was after and “vintage” tools for doing things “the old-fashioned way.” But the worn wood floor and long counters with shelving on the wall behind them were the same. In a cozy alcove at the back, there were a few tables and cane-bottomed chairs surrounded by shelves full to bursting with books. Books about what Bill supposed could be classified as the natural way of things.
He appreciated reading about “the old ways” that didn’t seem so old to him. He had spent quite a few afternoons in The Medicine Man reading about this and that. Not only for the books, though, for there was one other thing about The Medicine Man he appreciated. Coffee. Tanis had a gleaming monster of a machine behind the counter that produced something called espresso, but it was the big metal coffee pot in the back with bubbling hot coffee Bill preferred. The Medicine Man was always good for a cup of coffee that tasted like coffee was supposed to taste. Like it was cooked over a campfire.
“So,” said Bill a bit later as he handed his mug over to Jaype Far Walker for a refill. “What’s up with that fancy man at the newspaper?”
Coffee spewed out of Jaype’s mouth, “Geez, man!”
Jaype’s wife, Tanis, handed him a dishcloth all the while keeping her lips tightly drawn to control the smile and giggle that threatened to escape otherwise. It was her way. “You mean Larry Pierce?”
“Well, I don’t know. Didn’t hang around to ask his name. Too…”
“Slick," Jaype said at the same time Tanis said, “Nosy”.
“And pushy,” added Bill.
“Well yeah, he’s that alright, but he’s not from RowanOak,” Jaype shrugged, as if that explained everything.
“He’s always trying to get a Starbucks and Walmart here,” added Tanis. It amused Bill to note Tanis didn’t hide her disdain the same way she hid her smiles.
Bill wasn’t sure what either of those were. “Hmmm… That don’t really explain what he wants from me. And he just looks like the kind of feller that has a card or two up his sleeve. Wonder what he wanted?”
Jaype held up the coffee pot to ask if Bill wanted more, “I guess you’d know if you hadn’t high-tailed it so fast!”