A horrible exhilaration crept through her as she watched his surgically efficient counterattack. Few things in life were as black and white as this, and seeing justice being dispensed so swiftly filled her with longing. If only Dean, with his great strength, quick reflexes, and odd chivalry, could right all the evils in the world, then Virginia Bailey wouldn’t have to.

As Grizzly lay on the floor, the big, balding man Dean had pointed out earlier as the high school principal pushed through the crowd. “Ronnie Archer, you still don’t have the brains of a flea. Pull yourself together and get out of here.”

Grizzly tried to roll to his back but didn’t get far. Karen Ann, in the meantime, had crawled into a stall to heave.

The hairdresser and the bartender pulled Grizzly to his feet. Judging by their expressions, he wasn’t the most popular guy in town. One of the men shoved a paper towel at him to staunch the blood while the other led him out the door. Blue made her way to Dean’s side, but other than a scraped elbow and some dirt on his designer jeans, he didn’t seem any the worse for wear.

“That was fun.” He gave her the once-over. “You okay?”

Her fight had ended before it had begun, but she appreciated his concern. “I’m fine.”

The sound of retching finally stopped, and the principal disappeared into the stall. He emerged with a pasty-faced Karen Ann wobbling at his side. “The rest of us do not appreciate having the two of you make us look like a bunch of drunken hillbillies in front of strangers.” He led her through the crowd. “Do you intend to spend the rest of your life picking fights with every short woman who reminds you of your sister?”

Blue and Dean traded glances.

After the drunks were disposed of, the county judge, Gary the hairdresser, the principal, and a woman everybody called Syl, who turned out to own the local resale shop, insisted on buying Dean and Blue a drink. They quickly learned that Ronnie was stupid, but not bad. That Karen Ann was just plain mean—as one look at her split ends and bad dye job testified—and that she’d been mean even before her pretty, petite younger sister Lyla ran off with both Karen Ann’s husband and, most damning, Karen Ann’s red Trans Am.

“She sure did love that car,” Judge Pete Haskins said.

Sister Lyla, it turned out, was just about Blue’s size and also had dark hair, although hers had a tad more shape to the cut, Gary tactfully pointed out.

“Tell me about it,” Dean muttered.

“Karen Ann went after Margo Gilbert a couple of weeks ago,” Syl pointed out, “and she doesn’t look nearly as much like Lyla as Blue does.”