in Thunder Canyon history, as it had once been The Shady Lady Saloon, the town’s most notorious watering hole, run by the mysterious Shady Lady herself, Lily Divine, back in the 1890s.
Grant turned into the lot, which was packed. But luck was with him. He found a space in the last row as a muddy pickup slid out and drove away.
Inside, the place was jumping. The jukebox played country-western at full volume. Grant knew that later in the evening a local band would be taking the stage at the far end of the barnlike space.
One side was a restaurant, the other the bar, with no wall to separate the two. Grant stuck to the bar side, elbowing his way up through the crowd and sliding onto a stool as another man vacated it.
The portrait on the wall behind the bar was of a well-endowed blond beauty, resting seductively on a red-velvet chaise lounge, wearing nothing but pearls and a few bits of almost-transparent black fabric strategically placed to hint at more than they revealed. The lady was none other than the notorious Lily herself and that painting had hung in the exact same spot over a century before when she owned and ran the place.
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