Miss Lizzy's Legacy. Peggy Moreland

possibly think he could remember enough about your family’s history for you to run off on some half-cocked errand to locate his mother’s grave for him?”

      “Because I love him and because he asked me to and because I needed a vacation. Satisfied?”

      “No.” Silence followed, then more reluctantly, “Just be careful and hurry home. I do miss you. Sort of.”

      * * *

      Anxious to escape her room before her mother or Stephen located her, Callie headed for the lobby. Behind the front desk, a man sat with his head bent, his back to her and seemingly oblivious to her presence as he scribbled entries into a ledger sprawled across a rolltop desk.

      An old display case, the bubbles and waves in its glass a testament to its age, separated her from the clerk’s desk. The jewelry and trinkets filling it caught her eye, and she stopped to admire then. Colorful stones ensconced in various settings of silver, gold and platinum blinked up at her.

      “Would you like to have a closer look?”

      Startled, Callie glanced up to find the man still had his back to her. “No, just browsing.”

      “Here on vacation?”

      A particularly interesting cluster of stones on a brooch caught her eye, and she replied offhandedly, “That and a quest.”

      “Yours wouldn’t be the first.” Tucking the pen in the valley created by the ledger’s swelled pages, he spun his chair around to smile at her. “And what quest would you be on?”

      Tufts of white hair puffed over the man’s ears and a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. He looked like an absentminded professor, but it was the openness of his smile that made Callie forget the brooch. After her encounter with the gunslinger on the street earlier, she’d been half-afraid the entire population of Guthrie shared his personality.

      Thankful to discover that at least one person didn’t, she propped her elbows on the top of the glass and smiled back. “My great-grandfather’s to be honest. He asked me to track down some of his family who lived here during the late eighteen hundreds, but the only information I have is the woman’s maiden name. I’ve never done anything like this before. Any suggestions on where I might start?”

      “The courthouse, the State Capital Publishing Museum, the Oklahoma Territorial Museum, the historical society, the police records, the—”

      “Whoa!” Callie laughed as she straightened to dig a scrap of paper and a pen from her purse. She scribbled the information quickly, then glanced up. “Where else?”

      Springs creaked as the man reared back in the chair and folded his arms across his ample middle. “That would depend on what information you have to work with.”

      Callie shrugged, embarrassed that she had so little to go on. “A name, an approximate time she moved here...that’s about it.”

      He puckered his lips thoughtfully. “All those places I mentioned will be helpful, but if you want to know more, Judd Barker down at the Blue Bell Saloon might be able to help you. He knows everything worth knowing about Guthrie.”

      Callie tucked the slip of paper into her jacket pocket. Knowing that all the places he’d mentioned would be closed by now, she settled on the suggestion of talking to Judd Barker. “And where do I find the Blue Bell Saloon?”

      “One block west on the corner. Can’t miss it. Just tell Judd, Frank sent you.”

      “Thanks.” Callie pushed out the door, quickly folding the plackets of her jacket tighter around her as a blast of wind hit her full force. With a shiver she tucked her hands beneath her armpits and headed west in the direction the hotel clerk had suggested. The street both behind and beyond her was abandoned. Lights shone from a few businesses that were still open, but the only sounds in the night came from the click of her bootheels against the brick sidewalk that stretched in front of her and the whine of the wind as it whistled its way into the buildings’ nooks and crannies.

      Streetlamps cast a golden glow, lighting her way while turning the bricks beneath her feet a rosy hue. Intent on her mission and with her head bowed against the wind, she passed the Victor Building, crossed a short alley, and then a café without offering any of them a second glance. Her steps slowed, though, as she passed a single, weathered door that looked unused and long-forgotten wedged in the wall of brick.

      Faint strains of music drifted through the night air, but it was the sound of a woman’s laugh that made Callie stop and listen. She glanced at the locked door then inched closer to peer through its dusty glass. Though dark inside, with the aid of the streetlamp behind her she made out a wooden staircase in the narrow hallway beyond, its painted steps worn with time and hollowed with the scrape of feet traveling upwards to a second floor. The building appeared empty, yet Callie was sure the music and laughter she’d heard had come from within.

      Using the heel of her fist, she rubbed a clean spot on the dusty glass, then looked again. Shadows danced on the landing above, their forms surreal, ghostlike. A woman’s laugh came low and lusty, and Callie could have sworn she heard the woman’s invitation to, “Come on up and join us.”

      Stepping back from the door, she placed a hand over a heart that was thudding a little faster than a moment before. “You’re losing it, Callie,” she warned beneath her breath. Turning on her heel, she all but ran the remaining distance to the Blue Bell Saloon.

      Set in the corner of the building, the bar’s door offered welcoming light and the comforting sound of conversation and laughter. Fighting the wind, she wrestled open the door and slipped inside.

      While she took a moment to catch her breath, she glanced around. A long bar stretched on her left, behind it a mirror spanned its length. Polished brass gleamed from the footrails of the stools pushed up to the antique bar. On her right, tables covered with linen cloths were arranged in cozy groups for the diners enjoying an evening meal.

      She took a step inside, intent on reaching the bar and ordering a hot cup of coffee laced with whiskey to calm her nerves before seeking out Judd Barker. A low growl stopped her—one that sounded frighteningly familiar. Steeling herself, she slowly turned and saw Baby standing between her and the door she’d just entered.

      His hair bristled around the collar at his neck and down his spine, and his teeth were bared. Had he followed her in? She stole a glance at the door, expecting it to open and his owner to appear, but there wasn’t a sign of the man through the glass. She thought about screaming, but feared that would only upset the dog further. Surely someone in the bar would see the dog and come to her rescue. Keeping her eye on him, she slowly began to back away. “It’s okay, Baby,” she soothed in a voice pitched low to hide her fear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

      Her back hit a wall of flesh and she stopped, her eyes widening in surprise. Not wanting to make any sudden movements, she whispered, “Quick! Get the owner or the manager. This dog followed me in here.”

      “He didn’t follow you, he was here first.”

      At the sound of the familiar male voice, Callie whirled. “You,” she whispered accusingly when her gaze met the brown eyes of Baby’s owner.

      He spread his arms wide. “None other.”

      She threw a glance back at the dog to make sure he hadn’t snuck up behind her before she turned to glare at the man again. “Isn’t there a law against having dogs in bars?”

      He shrugged. “Probably. Nobody complains, though. Baby’s sort of the mascot of the place.”

      “Well, I’m complaining,” she said, stabbing her thumb at her chest for emphasis. She pushed past the irritating man and made for the bar. Angling a hip to slide onto a stool, she folded her hands on the bar and managed a smile for the bartender. “Are you the owner, sir?” she asked politely.

      He glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her, then looked down again, hiding a smile. “No, ma’am. I just work here.”

      “Well,