Inn the Spirit of Trickery

by Becki Willis

  Shelton chewed the inside of his lip as he mulled over the situation. “What were Rusty’s duties?” he asked.

  “Besides caring for their physical needs, he prepped the horses for each performance. We have multiple skits in each show, but he never missed a cue. Rusty wasn’t very good with people, but he had a real knack for horses.”

  The farrier pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calendar. “I reckon I could move a few things around,” he thought aloud. “It’s just for the next three days, right?”

  “Four,” Jazz corrected. “Today through Sunday. We pull out after the Sunday matinee.”

  “I don’t know much about show business,” Shelton warned.

  “If you can saddle a horse, open a gate on cue, and hand the reins to each rider, you know enough to get by.”

  A slow smile broke out across his handsome face. “Well, then, ladies. It looks like I’m going in the show business.”

  “Really?” Hannah all but squealed. She had every bit as much at stake as Jazz did. “You’ll do it?”

  “I reckon I can give it my best shot. I can’t leave you ladies in the lurch, not when I can saddle a horse as well as the next fella.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Mr. Long,” Jazz said.

  “Call me Shelton. And no, ma’am, I’m sorry to say I couldn’t save your friend’s life. But maybe I can make his death just a tad bit easier, at least during the show.”

  “Thank you, so much.” Jazz blinked away grateful tears as she placed her hand over her heart. “Seriously. You can’t imagine what this means to me.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Yes, thank you, Shelton,” Hannah agreed. “If you weren’t willing to pitch in and help, we might have had to cancel the entire show, and then the grand opening would be ruined, and…” She stopped herself before she hyperventilated. “Needless to say, we owe you. Big time. How can we ever repay you?”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, throwing her a flirtatious smile. “I’ll think of something.”

  Sadie returned with a tray of iced tea and a plate of cookies. “I called the sheriff’s office. They’re sending a deputy, the Justice of the Peace, and an ambulance right out.”

  “Not to sound crass, but I think it’s too late for an ambulance,” Jazz remarked.

  “We’re a small community,” Sadie explained as she passed around refreshments. “We don’t have a coroner on call, not like the big cities do. The JP will pronounce him dead. As long as the deputy doesn’t suspect foul play, our volunteer fire department and EMS services will take care of the rest. ”

  “Like I said, Rusty’s favorite pastime was complaining, but none of us took him seriously. No one would ever hurt Rusty, not on purpose,” Jazz said with confidence.

  “You can explain that to the deputy when he gets here,” Hannah assured her. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to collect yourself and unwind? I know you’ve had quite a shock this morning.”

  “To say the least. Thank you, for being so kind to me. And for understanding the predicament this puts us in.” Her hand trembled as she lifted the glass to her mouth and took a sip of Sadie’s tea, brewed up strong and extra sweet. “Mmm,” she murmured in appreciation, allowing the dark concoction to work its way through her tense muscles. She seemed to immediately relax.

  After a moment of quiet reflection, Jazz opened her eyes and remembered to thank the farrier. “And thank you, Shelton Long, for coming to our rescue.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am,” he grinned, tipping his iced tea glass her way. “But there is one thing.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I warned you I didn’t know much about show business, but I know even less about llamas,” he admitted.

  “Don’t worry,” Jazz assured him with a bark of laughter. “Our llama thinks he’s a horse.”

  Shelton stayed long enough to check on the inn’s horses, promising to return later that afternoon to take on his new responsibilities. Hannah and Leroy met him at the corral as he finished, just as the ambulance pulled up to the inn. As Sadie told the dispatcher, there was no need for lights and sirens, or for hurrying.

  “That’s a real shame about that fella,” Shelton said, watching as the deputy went out to greet the driver.

  Hannah agreed with a solemn nod. “It’s terrible. I don’t think I even met him yesterday, but it’s no less shocking. I guess that just goes to show, we never know when it’s our time.”

  “Guess not. How’d Miss Jazz do with the deputy?”

  “Fine, I guess. I tried to give them a little privacy as he asked his questions.” They walked toward his truck, but both their eyes were on the other vehicles, now making their way across the pasture to collect the deceased.

  “Found him there on the couch, huh? What a shame.”

  “I can’t imagine how that must have been for his roommates, finding him there like that.”

  “And knowing they slept in the same trailer as a dead man,” Shelton added, his voice low and ominous. “Gives me the willies, just thinking about it.”

  “Thank you, again, for stepping up and agreeing to help out. I know you have a full schedule and plenty of things to do with your own business, without squeezing in multiple performances out here this weekend.”

  “Who knows? It might be fun,” he grinned. “It never hurts to build your resume, just in case.” Instead of reaching for the truck door, he reached for her hand and smiled down at her. “Besides, I’d do just about anything to help you.”

  “Th—Thank you.”

  Shelton stopped and turned to face her, gently squeezing her fingers. “I know this might not be the best time, but I’d like to take you out sometime. Maybe we could go out for dinner, or to a movie.” When she didn’t immediately answer, he prodded, “Are you interested?”

  Was she interested? Shelton Long was a handsome man, and he had such an easy personality. She found herself smiling while in his presence. He had called a few times in the past week, and she discovered that she enjoyed their chats. No doubt, a night out with Shelton would be fun and easy, and a nice diversion from the stress of the past few weeks. Or of the past few months, if she cared to go back that far.

  When, exactly, was the last time she had a night of fun? Jill’s bachelorette party? Back before the government seized the investment company she worked for. Back before she lost her job and most of her savings. Back before she came to Hannah to check out her uncle’s latest crazy scheme and her unwanted birthday present.

  Yet, she knew that wasn’t exactly true. She may not have gone out, but there had been many fun evenings over the last two months. Sadie and Fred knew how to play a mean game of Rummy. Throw in Sadie’s cooking and Fred’s exploration with making wine and craft beer, and it definitely qualified as a fun evening. There had been other times, too. Movie nights with the sisters, curled up in her favorite easy chair, munching on popcorn and brownies. The night she filled in at Bunk-O, when the sisters hosted the monthly game at their cottage. Hannah was the only one there without gray hair, but the evening with fifteen highly competitive senior citizens left her winded and sporting scratches on her knuckles. As it turned out, some of those church ladies took dice rolling seriously, and didn’t mind grabbing for stolen points.

  There were quiet evenings when the sisters turned reflective and talked about the early years here at the inn, and some of their favorite and most colorful guests. Those evenings were always fun, because it gave her a glimpse into the past, and helped her imagine a new future here at the inn. And there were the nights down by the pond, when Walker brought his portable grill, and they dined beside the water. On two occasions, the sisters joined them, but that first night, it had been just her and Walker. That was the night he almost kissed her. The night he told her they could never be more than friendly business acquaintances.

  So, why was it that she hesitated now? Strong, handsome, and fun to be with, Shelton was the kind of man she was normally attracted to. She was
attracted to him. Maybe not in the rip-his-shirt-off kind of way, but in the get-to-know-him-better kind of way. She wanted to spend more time with him. Now was not the time to be thinking of Walker and wondering how he would react to her going out with the farrier.

  “So, is that a no?” he asked, turning loose of her hand.

  “No. It’s yes. I mean, I—I am interested. In dinner or a movie. But…”

  “But not in me?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I didn’t say that. It’s—It’s the timing.”

  Shelton looked toward the back of the property, where the production company was set up and where, even though they couldn’t see it from here, the medics collected the body of Rusty the wrangler. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, blowing out a breath. “My timing does kinda suck.”

  “Maybe after opening weekend,” she promised. “And after things go back to normal. I mean, it’s not every day someone dies on my property.” A thought occurred to her, puckering her forehead. “Although with guests checking in here, what with their unknown backgrounds and medical histories, I suppose it’s something that’s definitely possible.” Her mind drifted to new worries, which she murmured aloud. “I should talk to Walker about it; make sure our insurance policy covers natural death occurrences. In fact, maybe I should call him now, about Rusty.” Hadn’t there been a mention of such, in the packet of papers she signed for Hats Off?

  From his lofty height advantage, Shelton looked down at her and frowned. “What’s the deal with you and Jacoby?”

  Her answer was quick. “He’s my attorney.”

  “Yeah, but I think there’s something more between the two of you than just that.”

  She didn’t like the way he studied her reaction to his words. Her blue eyes flashed with irritation. “I don’t know why you would say such a thing.”

  “Maybe because I just asked you out on a date, and your first instinct was to call another man,” he pointed out.

  “That has nothing to do with you asking me out. It has to do with that poor man who died on my property, and whether I could somehow be held financially responsible!” she snapped.

  The farrier drew his eyes together in thought. “I don’t see how you could be at fault. He died of a heart attack.”

  “We assume. For all I know, he was poisoned, or stabbed in the throat, or strangled to death.”

  “I think you’re getting a might bit worked up,” he said. He used his exaggerated drawl again, the one that made him sound country bumpkin and cowboy charming, all at the same time. He placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him between gulped breaths. “Breathe, darlin’. Take in a nice, deep, slow breath. There you go. That’s better now, don’t you think?”

  His smile was contagious. Hannah forced herself to relax as her mouth curled in imitation. “I’m sorry. It’s just I have a lot riding on this weekend. I wanted everything to go smooth and perfect. But here it is, one day before we even get started, and I’ve already killed a man!”

  Shelton chuckled and pulled her in for a quick hug. “You didn’t kill that man, missy. He probably had a faulty ticker. It’s just one of those things. Tragic, but just one of those things. Most likely, the public will never even know.”

  Hannah pulled away, her eyes wide with newly imagined horrors. “The public!” she cried. “I hadn’t thought about that! What will they think? What will it do to our reputation? Will anyone even want to come, once they hear—”

  Hannah was clearly panicking. She was on a roll, spouting out one borrowed problem after another. It was the only way he knew to shut her up. Shelton pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his own, smothering her worries in an impromptu kiss.

  The action shocked her into silence. After a brief break in her rant, she tried to speak again, to pull away and say something more, but he continued the onslaught of his mouth. By then, the kiss wasn’t so shocking. In fact, it was rather nice. A few more moments, and Hannah found herself yielding to the unexpected pleasure of kissing Shelton Long. His hands slipped from her shoulders to catch her waist and hold her loosely against his long form. Just as Hannah reached her hand up to explore the curve of his neck and opened her mouth to welcome a more thorough kiss, a door banged behind them and startled their lips apart.

  “Pardon me,” Caroline said, floating out in her yellow hoop skirt. She fluttered a matching lace fan in front of her pale face. “Have you seen my beloved? He’s in Company A, Gillespie Rifles, of the Third Texas Infantry. I can’t seem to find him anywhere I look.”

  Hannah jerked away from the farrier, embarrassed to have been caught kissing him.

  She shook her head, slightly amused at her own foolishness. Caroline was a ghost, for Heaven’s sake, searching for her fiancé who died in the Civil War. Why should she care what a ghost thought? Yet here she was, putting a proper distance between her and the tall gentleman, and looking anywhere but at his eyes.

  She did, however, sneak a peek his way. If he saw the apparition floating just a few feet away from where they stood, he made no show of it. He frowned, no doubt misinterpreting the negative shake of her head. It seemed easiest to let him think she regretted the kiss, than to explain a ghost had interrupted them. Besides, she wasn’t all that certain she didn’t regret kissing him back. No matter how nice it had been, she didn’t want to encourage him. Not now.

  “Thank you, Shelton, for calming me down.”

  A wry smile twisted his mouth. “I’d rather my kiss rile you up, not calm you down.”

  Hannah gave him a little push, flustered by his frank assessment of the situation. “You know what I mean. I appreciate everything you’ve done today, coming to our rescue with the show, and making me calm down and look at things reasonably.” She tucked a tendril of dark hair behind her ear and dodged looking into his eyes. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I know you have a ton of things to take care of, especially now since we’ve dumped all these new duties on you.”

  Instead of arguing with her, he willingly opened the truck door. “I do have a busy day ahead. I need to see as many clients today as possible, so that my weekend is free.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek, his eyes drawn to the lips he had recently kissed. “I’m anxious to get the next few days behind us, you know, so that we can pick up where we left off.”

  Hannah’s only reply was a blush. Shelton was still laughing as he drove away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  By the time Walker arrived, Hannah’s nerves ran high again.

  “What took you so long?” she demanded. She gave his boot just enough time to hit the ground before attack. Leroy danced around her feet, excited to see one of his favorite people.

  “I was in Mason, with another client.” She hadn’t said what the matter was, just that she had an emergency. Glancing at the inn behind her, the attorney saw nothing amiss as he absently scratched behind the dog’s ear. “What was so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone? You aren’t my only client, you know.”

  “I bet I’m your only client with a dead man on their property!”

  “Dead man? What are you talking about?” Perplexed, he tilted his dark head. “Did Orlan do something to upset you?”

  Orlan Varela was the ghost of a Spanish vaquero known to inhabit the property. To Walker’s knowledge, the spirit was non-intrusive and always polite. He had helped save all of their lives when Hannah first arrived, so he found it surprising that she would now be upset with him. If anything, he was more a guardian angel than a haunt.

  “I’m not talking about Orlan! I’m talking about Rusty Thompson, the show’s wrangler who died here overnight. What if they file against my insurance? What if it was foul play, and they shut down the performance? What if the police put crime scene tape all around, and people are afraid to stay here? What if he had a virus of some kind, and the CDC quarantines the town? What if—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Walker said, his tone gentling. “Slow down. Take a deep breath, and try
to relax.”

  “Relax? How can I relax? Opening day is tomorrow! I can’t relax!”

  “Come here.” His voice was somewhere between comforting and resigned. “It looks like you could use a hug.”

  Not even the most hopeless romantic could spin this into a seductive overture. There was nothing remotely romantic about the way he gathered her into his arms and gave her a perfunctory squeeze. Hannah had received warmer hugs from a sweater.

  Despite the stiff gesture, she drew comfort from the feel of his arms around her. Walker was warm and solid, and exactly what her fractured nerves needed. She couldn’t say why, but having him here made all the difference.

  “A man died last night, Walker.” Without the sharp lilt of hysteria, her voice was lower. Walker had to bend his head to hear the words muffled into his shoulder.

  He still held her stiffly in an awkward embrace. Hannah’s arms circled his waist, refusing to end this moment of comfort, no matter how meager. She felt his hesitation, and in the moment it took for him to yield, her heart crumbled.

  When he blew out a long-held breath and relaxed against her, the crumbles didn’t seem as disjointed. When he tightened his arms and pulled her in for a true embrace, she decided the crumbles were simply dust, knocked loose from her crusty emotions.

  “Tell me what happened,” he encouraged, continuing to hold her close. He somehow sensed that was what she needed now, more than his counsel.

  Her hair brushed against his cheek as she moved her head in a slight shake. “I—I don’t know. Jazz came in early this morning, white as a sheet, saying her main wrangler was dead. His roommates found him, still on the couch.” Hannah stopped, wanting to relay the facts correctly. Had Jazz mentioned the couch, or Shelton? No, it had to have come from Jazz. She nodded this time, feeling more confident in her reporting. “They thought he was passed out drunk—which apparently has been known to happen—but didn’t realize until this morning that he was dead.” She squeezed his waist, daring to admit, “I know it’s terrible. A man is dead, but all I can think of is how this will affect opening day.”