your cost in two.”
“You say you’re from Texas, mister?”
The blunt question came from behind Jonas, and he turned to see the man with the mustache standing a few steps behind him. There was a clench to his jaw and a flinty look in his eye that said he was just itching for a fight. Which didn’t make any sense. Jonas had never seen the man before in his life.
“I did. San Antonio.” He wanted to ask the man if he had any problem with that, but having a saloon fight in a feed store wasn’t a part of his duties as a Texas Ranger. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.
“You managing the Chaparral now?” the man asked curtly.
“Right again,” Jonas said coolly.
The man’s jaw grew even tighter. “Good! Because I want to know what in hell your men thought they were doing when they cut the fence to my back pasture!”
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