Page 17 of Clearly Charmed

‘Keep up the good work! We’ll see you two at his next checkup.’

She smiled, tugging Banjo back to the bench while I ducked inside the tavern.

Dark wood and low lighting made the space feel like a cave. A lingering scent of stale beer and day-old French fries coated the air. An old George Jones song warbled out of the ancient Wurlitzer in a back corner.

The town’s ex-mayor, and local farmer, Randall Pelgrew, was in his regular spot at the bar. A half-empty mug of the local dark stout sat in front of him. His longtime friend George Spellner sat next to him nursing an iced tea.

Randall’s thick gray brows bunched together as soon as he saw me. ‘Oof. Who put a bee under your bonnet?’

‘I’ve got a guess,’ George said, tilting his pointed chin to the end of the bar where Mo stood.

Sensing a storm brewing, they quickly vacated their stools. As George walked past, he said in his deep gravel-laced voice, ‘Got a pregnant cow that had a real hard time giving birth last year. Could you come out and take a look at her when you get a chance? I promise to corral the other cows in a different pen.’

The last time I was at his farm, a dozen of his cows trotted toward me. They were beautiful Jerseys with a dark fawn coloring. I moved around the corral, greeting each of them by the head, but the more I interacted with them, the tighter they circled me until I had to climb over the fence. George apologized profusely, but I waved him off knowing they meant me no harm.

He waited for my answer. Gave me that typical knowing look I got from most of the locals. I bit my tongue. There was no use in telling him I did not have magic, only great training, and perhaps a sense of calm that attracted animals. I’d learned long ago that my protests fell on deaf ears, though. People in town had been telling themselves stories about the McGuires for so long that no one cared about the truth anymore. There was also the fact that the mythical tales added cachet to our little town, which was always competing with other places like Salida and Leadville for precious tourist dollars.

‘Yes, I’ll stop by next week.’

‘Thanks, Dani,’ he said before heading out the door.

I pulled in a solid breath and walked to the end of the bar. Mo stood behind the long maple-hued counter having a friendly conversation with a man who, by the looks of it, had just purchased a ridiculously oversized cowboy hat from one of the local stores.

‘Excuse me. I need to have a word with the owner.’

The man heard the steel in my voice and inched away from the bar.

Mo gave me that customer-friendly, all-teeth smile. ‘Dani, can I get you a drink?’

‘Let’s not play games, Maureen. You know why I’m here.’

The tense set of my voice stopped more than one conversation in the room.

She tucked her chin. Good. Maybe she felt a little guilt. ‘I have some work to do in the office. Care to join me?’

Without waiting for an answer, she walked in the direction of the area behind the bar and past a small square kitchen. Her low-heeled boots clacked across the old pine floor. Tight silver ringlets hung down the back of her faded black T-shirt.

When we reached the door to her small, cramped office, she waved a hand as if inviting me in.

‘This is as far as I go.’

‘Suit yourself. Probably better that you don’t stay. It’ll start all kinds of rumors, and you know how the locals love to gossip.’

It was hard not to roll my eyes. She was the reigning queen of spreading tales in Harvest Moon. They may as well give her a crown and a damn scepter, because word from her spread faster than any Wi-Fi signal around here.

‘I’m tired of repeating myself, but I’ll say it for like the fiftieth time. Stop telling any tourist who will listen that my sisters and I have magic. It’s not true, and it screws with our lives.’ She started to protest, but I held up a finger. ‘And don’t you ever send a stranger to Clo’s house again.’

She hitched one boot over the other and leaned into the doorway, attempting to act casual, but she couldn’t hide the uncomfortable tic in her cheek. ‘I admit the thing with Clo was wrong. But in my defense, that reporter was freaking out over his dog and it was scaring my customers.’

‘That’s no excuse for what you did.’

She raised her hands in surrender. ‘Fine, but I have to ask why you get more ornery than a black bear right after hibernation if what we all say is untrue?’

‘Because those stories you spew make people act weird. They come into my clinic expecting me to recite some damn incantation before I treat their animals. Every time a new person joins Lia’s SAR team, they stare as if her head’s going to spin around before she predicts where they’ll make their next search.’

‘But Aster…’

I held up a hand to stop her. ‘My little sister has synesthesia. There’s no magic to it.’