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was; there was no way of checking if—
    She moved out of the washroom quickly.
    “Excuse me,” she said as she walked by the man in the fedora, “I want to make a call first.”
    She walked stiffly to the wall phone, shuddering as she thought of them coming after her. She picked up the ear piece. There was no dial tone. She waited a moment, then tensed herself and turned to face the two watching men.
    “Does—does it work?”
    “Who ya call—” started the man in the white ducks, but the other man interrupted.
    “You gotta crank it, ma’am,” he said slowly. Jean noticed the other man glaring at him suddenly, and when she turned back to the phone, she heard their voices whispering heatedly.
    She turned the crank with shaking fingers.
What if they come at me
? The thought wouldn’t leave her.
    “Yes?” a thin voice asked over the phone.
    Jean swallowed. “Would you get me the marshal, please?” she asked.
    “Marshal?”
    “Yes, the—”
    She lowered her voice suddenly, hoping the men wouldn’t hear her. “The
marshal
,” she repeated.
    “There’s no marshal, ma’am.”
    She felt close to screaming. “Who do I call?”
    “You might want the sheriff, ma’am,” the operator said.
    Jean closed her eyes and ran her tongue over dry lips. “The sheriff then,” she said.
    There was a sputtering sound over the phone, a series of dull buzzes and then the sound of a receiver being lifted.
    “Sheriff’s office,” said a voice.
    “Sheriff, would you please come out to—”
    “One second. I’ll get the sheriff.”
    Jean’s stomach muscles pulled in and her throat became taut. As she waited, she felt the eyes of the two men on her. She heard one of them move and her shoulders twitched spasmodically.
    “Sheriff speaking.”
    “Sheriff, would you please come out to the—”
    Her lips trembled as she realized suddenly that she didn’t know the name of the cafe. She turned nervously and her heartbeat lurched when she saw the men looking at her coldly.
    “What’s the name of the cafe?”
    “Why do you want to know?” asked the man in the white ducks.
    He isn’t going to tell me
, she thought.
He’s going to make me go out to look at the sign so that he can
—
    “Are you going to—” she started to say, then turned quickly as the sheriff said, “Hello?”
    “Please don’t hang up,” she said hurriedly. “I’m in a cafe on the edge of the town near the desert. On the western edge of town, I mean. I came here with my husband and now he’s gone. He—just disappeared.”
    The sound of her own words made her shudder.
    “You at the Blue Eagle?” the sheriff asked.
    “I—I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know the name. They won’t tell—”
    Again she broke off nervously.
    “Ma’am, if you want to know the name,” said the man in the fedora, “it’s the Blue Eagle.”
    “Yes, yes,” she relayed to the mouthpiece. “The Blue Eagle.”
    “I’ll be right over,” said the sheriff.
    “What you tell her for?” the man in the white ducks spoke angrily behind her.
    “Son, we don’t want no trouble with the sheriff. We ain’t done nothin’. Why shouldn’t he come?”
    For a long moment Jean leaned her forehead against the phone and drew in deep breaths.
They can’t do anything now
, she kept telling herself.
I’ve told the sheriff and they have to leave me alone
. She heard one of the men moving to the door but no sound of the door opening.
    She turned and saw that the man in the fedora was looking out the door while the other one stared at her.
    “You tryin’ to make trouble for my place?” he asked.
    “I’m not trying to make trouble, but I want my husband back.”
    “Lady, we ain’t done nothing with your husband!”
    The man in the fedora turned around with a wry grin. “Looks like your husband lit out,” he said blandly.
    “He did not!” Jean said angrily.
    “Then where’s your car, ma’am?” the man asked.
    There was a sudden dropping sensation in