Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  An unfamiliar warmth swirled in Hunter’s chest. “I’m in need of one.”

  “Then I’m the person to help,” she enthusiastically replied. “Is it meant to be a gift?”

  “Ah, well . . .” He didn’t really want everyone in Logan Meadows to think him a dunce. He was going to have an uphill battle as it was, once he spoke with Kendall. Rubbing his hands together for a second, he nodded. “You might say that.” For myself.

  Her smile widened. “Perfect.”

  Looking at her, Hunter was inclined to agree.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tabitha almost gasped with joy. A book sale! And to the handsome stranger she’d witnessed riding up the street. The transaction would be the first for her in a couple of days. Tabitha hadn’t said Jessie was in to buy, but still she felt a bit guilty leading Maude to believe just that, even if her friend’s comments had been a bit mean. Perhaps Jessie would fall in love with a title this morning, one she couldn’t live without.

  Now that she was within arm’s reach of the windswept man—using Jessie’s description—she could see he wasn’t as young as she’d previously thought. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d passed his fortieth birthday—several years ago.

  “I’m just down at the end of the block,” she said. “Between Shady Creek and the sheriff’s office. Storybook Lodge. It’s not really a lodge, just a little bookshop. Stop by any time. I’m happy to help.”

  The man watched her intently, and if she didn’t get out of the mercantile quickly, she just might say something stupid like: May I see if your buckskin shirt feels as soft as it looks? Or: Would you mind if I touched your cheek? I’ve never felt one covered in stubble.

  Scandalous! What has happened to my thinking?

  Perhaps her approaching twenty-ninth birthday was the cause of her sudden desires. Still, why she felt drawn to him, a man who looked as untamed as a wolf, was perplexing. “Are you just passing through?”

  An amused expression crossed his eyes. What in the blue blazes is wrong with my tongue? Surely, someone this attractive had women falling at his feet.

  “For the time being, I’m camping in the meadow between town and the train depot. Didn’t think anyone would mind.”

  “That’s the festival grounds,” Beth Fairington said stiffly from behind the newcomer. “You’ll have to get permission from the sheriff if you intend to camp out there.”

  Their conversation had snagged the curiosity of the town gossip. Tabitha had noticed Beth moving quietly forward, her ear turned in their direction. A spider stalking an unsuspecting fly came to mind.

  Maude straightened. “Don’t be so uncharitable, Beth! We’re trying to make customers, not run ’em off. Albert won’t have a problem a-tall with him staying out there. It’s a free country, you know.”

  When his eyes met Tabitha’s, the flush on his face deepened, and he returned her smile with a tentative one of his own. He must be used to people gawking at him or giving him censure for the way he looks. And yet, she’d hate to see him ride out of town so soon. He was interesting. Reminded her of the daguerreotypes she’d seen of Wild Bill Hickok, the gunfighter, or Grizzly Adams, the famous mountain man. He was a combination of the two—only better looking.

  “Maude’s right,” Tabitha agreed. “There won’t be an issue with you making camp in the meadow. The land is only used for special occasions, and we have none coming up at this time. Don’t be put off by Miss Fairington”—she arched her brow at Beth—“and be warned. She’s been known to fabricate stories and spread them around town to anyone who’ll listen, which are few and far between in our good town, but still . . .”

  Beth’s nostrils flared, reminding Tabitha of an angry bull. “Say what you want,” she stated without emotion. “Your words can’t harm me.”

  “And neither can yours, me,” Tabitha replied. “Even though you gave it a good try.”

  Maude held up her hand between them. “Girls.”

  As soon as Tabitha had arrived on the train with her many trunks and more than a handful of large pieces of furniture, Beth hadn’t wasted one second whispering falsehoods that Frank Lloyd’s spinster niece had fled to Logan Meadows to live out her disgraced, unmarried days far from the eyes of the town where she’d been rejected by every unmarried man therein. Not so! If I’d wanted to, I could have had my pick of husbands. But I had dreams of owning my own bookstore someday, and that wasn’t attainable in New York, where retail space is so costly. Beth is not but a year or two younger than me. If I’m a spinster, so is she. At least I’m not a spinster and a shrew!

  She’d learned of the clerk’s slander from poor little Nate Preston, the sheriff’s son. He’d come in red faced one day to look at the picture books displayed in the shop’s front window. When she’d asked why he looked out of sorts, her small friend had hemmed and hawed, but she could tell something important was on his mind. Finally dragging out the snippet of chinwag, Tabitha had marched down to the mercantile to confront Beth. It felt good to put the gossip on notice. She’d not put up with one second of Miss Fairington’s meddling, about her, or anyone else.

  When an uncomfortable expression crossed the stranger’s face, she regretted that her hasty words had pulled him into the fray.

  “I’ll keep that in mind when I come to make my purchases,” he said.

  “I’m Miss Canterbury, that’s Maude Miller, and she is Miss Fairington.” It went against everything Tabitha was to totally leave Beth out, even though she sometimes wished she could be more hard-hearted like the store clerk.

  His large hand enveloped hers as they shook. “Pleased to meet you all. I’m Hunter Wade.”

  A jolt of awareness sparked from the contact with his palm and skittered all the way up her arm. Silliness, to be sure. She dug deep into her years of practice in proper conduct, poise, and grace. “My pleasure, Mr. Wade,” she replied. “I’ll look forward to our speaking again soon.”

  The rest of the day sailed by in a blur of errands, chores, and busy chatter. After Chase and Shane had collected Jessie, Brenna Hutton—who had married Logan Meadows’s teacher the day of the horrible train wreck—stopped by just in time to help Tabitha move a small table upstairs. They’d placed it next to the door that opened onto a side balcony overlooking Shady Creek, which also had a view of the festival grounds.

  The exact spot where Mr. Wade had said he would be camping.

  Questions about him tumbled through Tabitha’s mind. She sort of wished Beth had been her nosy self and asked a few personal questions. Then she wouldn’t have this curiosity burning in her mind and making her waste hours in her day.

  She needed to stop daydreaming about the new man in town and drum up interest in her shop! She couldn’t just wait for customers to stumble in on their own, she had to go out and cultivate them. Plant the seed and water the ground. Bring them along like a new crop of wheat.

  Reading was foreign to many in the Wyoming Territory, and yet their lives would be so much fuller, richer, if someone taught them a love for literature. Cowboys, miners, and even drifters, she thought with a smile.

  Has God sent me here to do just that?

  The door downstairs jingled, and she glanced at her bedside clock. Six o’clock. She’d come upstairs and neglected to turn the sign and lock the door.

  “Tabitha?” A knocking on the door frame. “You upstairs? Your door is unlocked.”

  Hannah. She heard Thom, Hannah’s husband, who was deputy sheriff, laughing in his deep voice at something his wife had said.

  “Yes. I’ll be down directly.” Putting away her rambling thoughts, she picked up the hem of her skirt and hurried down the stairs. The couple stood arm in arm.

  “I hope you don’t mind I brought Thom along.” Hannah glanced up at her handsome Irishman, her face full of smiles. “Susanna is finishing up at the restaurant, and Thom wanted to spend a little time with me before I headed for home. He’s on the evening shift tonight and won’t be home until later. We’re taking a walk.”


  “Of course I don’t mind. But it would be better if the two of you go along without me. It’s a beautiful evening. Who knows how many more like this there’ll be before the weather sets in. I’m so far behind in my work I shouldn’t be taking time off anyway.” In reality, she didn’t want to be a third wheel. Sometimes witnessing their obvious romance incurred feelings of loneliness in the long evening hours. Best they go alone.

  Hannah raised a brow, glancing around at her perfectly ordered shop. “Just try and tell me what you have to do in here, Tabitha. Not a thing is out of place. I insist you come along.”

  Even though she hadn’t known Hannah long, the two had quickly grown close. Their family hailed from Ohio, but when Tabitha’s grandparents died in an influenza epidemic, it had been up to Uncle Frank to support his two sisters. In his early twenties he’d taken a job as a teller in a bank. Marigold, Tabitha’s mother, then nineteen, married a distinguished young man and moved to his family home in New York. A few years later, an opportunity arose for Uncle Frank to buy a bank in a small western town. Thrilled at the opportunity to make something of himself, he’d packed up his youngest sister, Roberta, and headed west. Soon after they arrived, Roberta met and married a young farmer, but he’d died when Hannah was only fifteen.

  “Tabby, I’m not taking no for an answer,” Hannah teased. “We planned this visit, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  Once Hannah set her mind to something, that was that. Tabitha sighed. “Fine then. Let me go fetch a wrap.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  With his knife gripped firmly in his left hand, Hunter sawed at the can of peaches with anticipation. He’d eaten one can earlier, and couldn’t resist another. Prying the lid back, he licked the sugary liquid that spilled onto his fingers, then picked up his fork as he stretched back against a log.

  All the comforts of home.

  He stabbed a thick yellowy-pink slice of goodness floating at the top of the syrup. Forking the fruit in to his waiting taste buds, he wiped the drops that had landed on his chin with the back of his hand. His mouth exploded, and his eyes closed in ecstasy. Swallowing, he repeated the process, making fast work of the treat.

  After he’d set up camp, he’d stabled his gelding and mule at the livery, knowing he’d draw less attention if they weren’t staked out in the meadow. Win Preston, owner of the large barn and forge, was a friendly sort. They’d talked for a good forty minutes, the blacksmith filling him in on the train wreck the town had experienced a few months back. Later tonight, Hunter planned to go to the hotel and have a real meal of meat and potatoes.

  “Hello in the camp?” a man’s voice called. The slight Irish accent brought to mind a family he and Thorp had guided to Oregon. “Anyone here?” the voice called again.

  Now what? He was minding his own business. He hoped that gossipy woman in the mercantile hadn’t encouraged someone to run him off. He was tired. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Still wearing his revolver, Hunter stood and stepped out into the clearing, surprised to see Tabitha, as well as another woman and a man.

  The fella walked forward with purpose. “I’m Thom Donovan. Deputy sheriff of Logan Meadows.” He gestured to the woman at his side. “My wife, Hannah Donovan. I heard that you’ve already met Miss Canterbury. We were out for a stroll, and I wanted to stop by and welcome you to town, Mr. Wade.” He held out his hand.

  Hunter grasped the deputy’s hand, all the while sizing him up. “Thank you.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from meandering over to Tabitha.

  She gave a small shrug. “Beth, in the mercantile, told Thom about you. I didn’t know Thom and Hannah planned on walking out here until I’d already agreed to join them.”

  A mite defensive. “Glad you did, miss,” he said on a half chuckle. After having Quincy’s deed signed over to him, he’d been in a fine mood for days. Still was. He felt young again. Excited for this new chapter in his life.

  She looked past him into his camp. “There’s a hotel in town, and also an inn on the other side of Logan Meadows, in case you’d be more comfortable there.”

  “Camping is fine for the time being. That is, if I’m not breaking any laws.”

  “None,” the deputy responded. “If you start trouble, now, that’ll be a different story. You can count on seeing me or Albert then.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  Thom’s smile seemed friendly enough as he said, “Didn’t think so after what Tabitha said about meeting you in the mercantile. We welcome newcomers. If you like Logan Meadows, you just might stay on.”

  Hunter nodded. “I just may do that, Deputy.” He’d lived on the trail his whole life. Journeyed from Independence, Missouri, to various destinations in Oregon and California twenty-one times, a blanket on the ground his only bed. He was tired. The thought of settling somewhere was mighty appealing.

  Mrs. Donovan sent him a smile. “I hope you’ll stop in to our restaurant sometime soon. It’s called the Silky Hen, located inside the hotel next to the lobby. Has the best food in town, if I do say so myself. Your first dessert is on the house.”

  “Much obliged, Mrs. Donovan. Actually, I was just about to amble in for a hot meal this evening. Plan to do that shortly.”

  The deputy’s wife’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful. Be sure and mention to Susanna or Roberta—that’s my mother—what I offered. Don’t be shy. They’ll know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not shy, ma’am. I appreciate your offer and your recommendations.”

  “Also, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you there are other restaurants in town as well,” she added. “During your stay, if you tire of our food, I can recommend Nana’s Place one street over.”

  “We should be going,” Tabitha said, glancing back over her shoulder at the town. “Let Mr. Wade get back to what he was doing before we barged in. I’m sure he has things to do.”

  His chuckle slipped out before he could stop it. “Not much to do, Miss Canterbury, except to think about my next meal and how good my blanket is going to feel tonight. But I do appreciate your concern over my privacy.”

  Thom reached out and they shook once again. “I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”

  Imagine so, when Kendall Martin finds out I’m his new partner.

  As the three walked away, their conversation growing quiet, melancholy settled around Hunter’s shoulders. He dug his fingers through his hair, remembering the camaraderie he’d enjoyed on each wagon train he’d led, filled with all sorts of different kinds of people. Down-home, helpful, hardworking, lazy, studious, gullible, and even deviant. He hadn’t figured out what Tabitha was yet. No doubt about it, he thought as he watched them disappear from sight, I look forward to learning more.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  With a clean, moist cloth, Roberta Brown wiped down the table she’d just cleared, glancing up as a tall stranger walked through the restaurant door. He looked around at the few occupied tables, and then took a seat on the far wall where he’d have a good view of the door. She noticed his wide shoulders and interesting face. For a second, the gun on his hip put her off, but then his gaze met hers and he smiled. An unfamiliar pang made her breath catch. She left the rag on the table, went to the sideboard under the clock, and picked up a menu.

  “Good evening,” she said in her most polished voice as she arrived by his side. She handed him the paper.

  “Evenin’,” he replied, taking the menu, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.

  My, he’s even more handsome up close! Heat crept into her cheeks, and she hoped they weren’t turning red. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Relieved at something to do, she turned for the kitchen. Pushing through the swinging door, she went directly to the stove, reached for a mug on the shelf above, and poured, noting a slight tremor in her hand.

  “Roberta, is everything all right?” Daisy asked, concern in her voice. The petite seventeen-year-old was stirring a pot of stew, her face
rosy pink from the heat of the stove. “Your hand is trembling.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, irritated at herself for letting a handsome face affect her so. Widows weren’t supposed to have longings and desires. They were like horses whose race had been run and were now out to pasture. She thought of her late husband, Harvey, and how they’d met over a cup of coffee after church. He’d been tall and handsome, too, much like the man out in the dining room. Her older brother, Frank, had approved of the hardworking farmer and encouraged her to accept his hand. Their years working the land together hadn’t been easy, but they had been years full of love, kindness, and respect. She’d known how lucky she was. Harvey was a gentle man who wouldn’t hurt a flea. He didn’t believe in carrying a gun on his hip, and never had. Not every woman was so fortunate. Janet, her girlfriend from back home, had written over the years with frightening stories of abuse at the hand of her husband. He’d hidden a hardened past from her until after the wedding. Soon, he’d gambled away every cent of their money and ended up in prison, leaving Janet without a penny to her name. Her life had been one of toil and hardships, making Roberta all the more grateful for the caring husband she’d had. And the wisdom of her brother, who’d watched out for her future.

  Daisy, still frowning with worry, went to the door and peeked out into the dining room. “Oh!” she said, a smile replacing her frown.

  “What?” Susanna asked from her position at the break table; she was cutting the last of the biscuits and placing them on a greased baking sheet.

  Having already set the mug of coffee on the counter, Roberta pulled a small tray from underneath. She added a small pitcher of milk, even though she’d forgotten to ask the stranger if he’d like any. Someday, if the right man came along, maybe she’d consider a new marriage. That wasn’t out of the question. “It’s nothing!” She shouldn’t sound so peevish, or the girls would surely think her behavior odd.