The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1) Read Online Free PDF

tablecloths adorning the tables groaning under the weight of dishes of all kinds. Potato salad, mixed beans, condiments and toppings, rolls and flatbread.
    Marcus was on his last trip, lugging the aluminum folding tables to add to the restaurant’s collection of outdoor benches and seats clustered under the patio roof. It wasn’t nearly enough space to hold the townsfolk, let alone all the ranchers who came in for the monthly service. Usually they offered cake and coffee but today was special and Centurion had gussied up to make a good first impression.
    Polly tapped Marcus on the shoulder. “Is that the last?” He nodded. “Can you help the fellas inside? Looks like most everyone’s gonna be here. We’ll need those chairs from the basement.”
    “On it. I put the extra ice in your big freezer.”
    To get to the basement Marcus had to pass the line of homemade grills, most fashioned off old fifty gallon drums and soldered to tripods on the ends. He recognized John Barnes and stopped to say hello and remark on the man’s secret recipe for barbeque sauce. He and his wife had walked off with so many blue ribbons at the state fairs that everyone considered it a Centurion treasure.
    Marcus asked, “Polly still after you to let her sell that in the restaurant?”
    “Can’t do that. The missus says it was passed down from her granddaddy's daddy. Been in the family since time began. She says it’s a sacred trust.” He brushed the rack of smoked elk ribs and smirked. “Not sure I believe that, myself.”
    Laughing, Marcus said, “One of these days some business type is gonna come along waving a wad of cash, and your sacred trust is gonna look damn fine on a designer label in an upscale grocery store over in Cheyenne.”
    “Well, just between you, me and that light post, I wouldn’t turn down an offer, so long’s as they understand just how much sacred’s worth.” He shut the lid and wiped his hands on a towel.
    When Marcus mentioned he needed to find more folding chairs, John joined him. They gathered as many as they could and lugged them up the steps and then into the restaurant. Most of the area's teenage boys were busy lining up rows of chairs, leaving a center aisle and angling them around so everyone got a good line of sight to the cash register that always doubled as a pulpit. The irony wasn’t lost on Marcus.
    John said something to his son, then turned to Marcus. “You hear anything about that date of Petilune’s? I asked Will but he didn’t know nothing about it.”
    Feeling a stab of guilt for having forgotten all about the incident, Marcus explained, “No, sorry. She went out to the porch. When I went to talk with her, she’d already left.” He decided Barnes didn’t need to know that Josh Foxglove showing up for the second time, filling his doorway and then filling the emptiness in his night, had driven all consideration about Petilune’s whereabouts clean out of his head.
    “Might want to ask her when you see her.” John’s expression could only be interpreted as concerned parent.
    “What’s up, Barnes? Is there something I need to know about?”
    Everybody knew Petilune spent most of her afterschool hours at the store. Truth be told, the town had started seeing him as her guardian, sort of a surrogate uncle. It didn’t sit well that he was apparently falling down on the job by ignoring something going on right under his nose. Worse yet, it wasn’t just a matter of ignoring it. He was coming across as completely clueless.
    It wasn’t a good feeling, knowing he was letting people down. But then... Hell, he wasn’t a relation to the family. He was a lonely middle-aged man, trying to run a business, and not doing so hot at that. Why did the town suddenly think he was father material for a sixteen-year-old girl who might, or might not, be simple in the head?
    John pulled him toward the front porch, far enough away from the commotion inside they could speak without being