“Bravo, bravo,” the crowd cried.
There must be fifty people here. Tabitha couldn’t believe it.
Aunt Roberta, along with most of her girlfriends, and a sprinkle of the older people of the town, took up the first two rows, as well as the benches. Their husbands and the single men stood around the sides, and lined the back wall entirely. Jessie, and her family, were absent, which surprised Tabitha a little. As did Mrs. Hollyhock’s absence. She hoped her dear old friend wasn’t feeling poorly tonight. She’d promised to come when they were having tea on Saturday. Uncle Frank’s face beamed with pride, bringing her another rush of emotion.
She swallowed back a knot of joy. How she’d longed to see that same look on her father’s face once or twice, or even her mother’s. If only they could see my success tonight.
“Thank you so much, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, placing the novel on the side of her desk as she stood. “Thank you for coming out for the first of many nights of entertainment at Storybook Lodge. As you can see in the back, Susanna and Hannah are at the refreshment table, ready to assist you.” And to hand the treats out judiciously so we don’t run out. “I’ll be available for anyone who might have any questions about this book, or others. Please feel free to browse.” She pointed to the left corner. “And be sure to take a look at our Lending Library. There are twenty-three titles for your reading pleasure. We’ll be resuming at ten minutes past seven, which gives you fifteen minutes to stretch your legs.”
As people stood, talking and making their way to the goodie table, Tabitha returned their smiles, all the while sneaking glances at the plate-glass window. Mr. Wade is not coming! Nor should I wish him to. Especially after tonight. It’ll be all too embarrassing the first time we have an encounter.
Nell Axelrose held Maddie’s hand as they got in line for refreshments while Charlie, her husband, spoke with some of the men Tabitha didn’t know, who must be from one of the ranches. Roberta had a firm hold on Markus, and Nate stood quietly at Albert’s side. When Nate glanced her way, she smiled, but the boy quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, his winsome smile nowhere to be seen. She wondered why. Hadn’t he liked the story at all?
Two cowboys along the wall, hats in hands, smiled at her. More men I don’t know. I expected to see more women tonight. The way the one on the left’s eyebrow raised in invitation, she didn’t think he was here to further his literary awareness. Her face pricked with heat, even more than it had been already. She nodded and politely turned away.
“Miss Canterbury, may I have a moment of your time?” Mr. Hutton, the schoolteacher, approached. Brenna, his wife, stood at his side nibbling on a walnut cookie, her eyes bright with the pleasure of the night, Tabitha supposed.
“Yes, of course.”
“You read beautifully. I couldn’t help wondering if you might come to the school every so often and read for the children. You have a way of making the story come to life. I felt as if I were there.”
Such praise coming from the schoolteacher! “I’m sure you can do the same, or better, Mr. Hutton.”
“I think not. Besides, it’s good for the children to see that others besides myself have a love for books and the written word. They already know I do. Your presence will give weight to what I’ve been trying to drill into their heads. Good readers find other aspects of their life easier.”
“I believe that’s true, as well,” she agreed, thinking of her conversation with Mr. Wade about the many places a good story could take him. Surely he’d come around to her way of thinking on the hitching rail, see her concerns, and soften. He was new to Logan Meadows. He’d been so good with Violet, and then again with her tonight. It was only a matter of better communication between them.
“I’d be so appreciative if you’d agree. May I schedule you?”
“I’d be pleased to help in any way that I can. And actually, it sounds like fun. You just give me a day and time and I’ll be there.”
Mr. Hutton glanced at Brenna, a warm smile on his face, and then looked back at her. “Perfect. I’ll look at my schedule, and then let you know.”
“What would you like me to read?”
“Anything age appropriate that you’d like. Surprise me.”
Over Mr. Hutton’s shoulder, Mr. Wade appeared outside the glass of the front door. His gaze started on the far side of the room and tracked slowly around it, causing her a small flutter of warmth. Is he looking for me? When his search ended and their eyes met, a jolt of awareness made her inhale. He’d washed, shaved, and his hair was properly combed. The soft buckskin shirt that had grabbed her attention in the mercantile brought a smile to her lips. She was glad he’d come. Embarrassment or not, her heart filled with anticipation. He opened the door and stepped into the shop, made cozy by all the warm bodies. A hush descended for only a moment, and then the chatter picked back up.
Because of her proximity, she had to greet him right away or else look rude. She hoped her face didn’t give her away. “Mr. Wade.” She remembered the outhouse, and how his gentle voice had sent tingles up her back.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Miss Canterbury. Did I miss the reading?” He glanced around. “Is it over?”
He means to stay? Listen? “Not at all. This is intermission.” She glimpsed the goodie table and found Susanna watching them. “If you hurry, there are still a few treats left.” Maybe he came for another round of cookies.
He glanced at the others still circling the refreshments three deep and then back at her.
Mr. Hutton and Brenna had wandered off and were gazing at a book in the history section. Oh, to sell a big book like that.
“I’m relieved to hear I didn’t miss the whole thing. Business is slow as molasses over in the saloon. I offered to let Kendall attend while I watched the bar, but he said he might get claustrophobic being squished in here with all these people.” He chuckled as he again glanced around. “He insisted that I come, and represent. Show the people of Logan Meadows that the owners of the Bright Nugget are forward thinkers.” His muscular shoulder lifted and he ran a hand down his leather shirt. “I hope you don’t mind. This was the best I could do.”
“Mind?” For some strange reason she felt exceedingly happy. Be careful. Words have power. “Not at all. I’m delighted you came. The cadence you’ll hear from me will help you with your own reading.”
His look was skeptical. “Even after I told you about the hitching rail?”
It’s not built yet. “We’ll discuss that later.”
He chuckled. “I’m not the most popular person in Logan Meadows, these days. I suppose I can understand why. Either people like me or hate me. Seems there’s no in-between.”
“Surely, you’re exaggerating, Mr. Wade. Everyone likes you. And as soon as they get to know your charming self, the situation will even itself out.”
When people began taking their seats, Tabitha glanced at the tiny watch she had pinned to her bodice.
“Oh, it’s almost time to recommence.”
His eyes widened and he shuffled uncomfortably.
“Begin again. I don’t mind your staying. The way I see it, I owe you a great deal. If you hadn’t stumbled across me outside”—she avoided the word outhouse—“I might still be trapped. And no one would be the wiser. Thank you again for that.”
Aunt Roberta, dressed to the hilt, navigated the crowd toward them. It touched Tabitha deeply that Roberta thought so highly of her to dress the part. But the frown on her face . . .
“It’s twelve past seven,” her aunt said, her expression none too pleased as she glanced between her and Mr. Wade. Only moments ago, before he’d arrived, Roberta had been singing Tabitha’s praises, and telling her what a wonderful job she’d done. Now she looked as if she’d just stepped in a fresh pile of horse droppings with her best shoes. “Time to resume,” she said curtly. “Some of your guests have a long ride home. Tomorrow is a workday, as well as school. I wouldn’t want to keep them later than necessary.�
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“No. I don’t want to do that. Punctuality is important.”
“I’ll just find a place to stand,” Mr. Wade said. He nodded politely and walked away.
Maude, from her seat in the second row, held up a book to show Tabitha she’d found something to buy. Uncle Frank did the same in the back of the room. Tabitha smiled and nodded back, excited that her plan seemed to be working.
Hunter found a small spot in the back and was able to slide one shoulder in to lean against the wall. Most of the people seemed friendly, but a few still sent scowls in his direction. Kendall’s friends, I’m sure. He recognized Maude Miller, the clerk from the mercantile—but he didn’t see the younger busybody.
An hour passed in the blink of an eye. He found he enjoyed listening to Tabitha’s voice. He’d decided her brown hair reminded him of roasted hazelnuts. The way it was fashioned, it seemed as if the thick mass might tumble off her head at any moment. He watched, mesmerized, waiting for the event to happen. The soft light from the lantern on her desk made her green eyes appear mysterious and filled with unspoken questions.
Surprised at how many things he liked about Tabitha, he wondered if she’d ever been kissed. Really kissed. The image that thought conjured up made him smile. She’d be all shocked and businesslike, but soft and vulnerable, too. Why hadn’t some lucky man snapped her up the minute she arrived in town? She delivered a line, then paused for theatrics, her mouth formed into a perfect little rose.
You can like her, and be friends, his conscience whispered, but don’t go getting romantic thoughts. You’ve never been much good at that. You have a knack for messing things up. Logan Meadows is your hometown now. You’ll be living here for a good long time. Having to face a relationship gone bad day after day would be uncomfortable . . .
Winthrop, the livery owner, nodded to him from the other side of the room. Hunter hardly recognized the man in his clean clothes and jacket. So many other men here tonight, too. He’d like to have them in the saloon.
Tabitha leaned forward, her eyes opened wide. Her voice, a good imitation of a male speaking broken English, breathed the story into life right before their eyes. Hunter had come in late, but had put together that a young lad named Pip was in all sorts of trouble.
“Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times, looking for you, Pip,” she read, glancing up from the book from time to time. “And she’s out now, making it a baker’s dozen.”
“Is she?”
“Yes, Pip,” said Joe; “and what’s worse, she got Tickler with her.”
“At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my waistcoat round and round, and looked in great depression at the fire. Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn smooth by collision with my tickled frame.”
Tabitha read with earnest, and Hunter couldn’t hold back his admiration. The children in the crowd leaned forward in anticipation, almost shivering in fear of the whipping Pip was about to receive, the room so quiet he could have heard a snowflake melt. Adding another point to her list of good qualities, Hunter leaned back and enjoyed the story.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jake, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” The happiness Daisy had felt when she’d opened the door to her small living quarters behind the hotel evaporated the moment she saw her love’s eyes. He was troubled, and hurting.
“We need to talk, Daisy. Do you have a few minutes? I know it’s late, but this is important.”
She didn’t dare invite him inside at eight o’clock at night. With her reputation, that would surely start the gossipers to talking. As a reformed saloon girl, she had to be doubly careful about the things she did, or said. She’d been in love with Jake since she was fifteen years old. Back then, he’d been her stalwart support. Helped her out of her old life, finding her employment at the Silky Hen and moving her to this tiny place. Trading Tabitha baking for the book she’d ordered had strengthened her today. There were all kinds of opportunities, if one just looked for them in the right places. She had to remember that. But the unreadable—and disconcerting—expression on Jake’s face worried her. What was wrong?
Leaning inside, she lifted her shawl from the back of the battered old Queen Anne chair that belonged to the landlord, then stepped out and closed the door. They walked around to the front of the hotel and sat on the bench outside the establishment’s glass front doors, in the respectable amount of light. It was their usual meeting place, where townsfolk could see they were keeping their relationship chaste until they married.
She took his warm hand into her own, finding comfort in his strength, the roughness of his palm, the way his thumb moved over her fingers in a never-ending promise. He’d been her champion for over two years. Her only thought from sunup to sundown. She couldn’t wait until they were man and wife. Just as soon as he saved a little more money and felt ready to take on the responsibilities of starting a family, he’d promised that was exactly what they would do.
“What’s happened?” she asked. “I can see a storm brewing in your eyes, Jake. Don’t try to hide it from me.”
His face clouded over. “Yeah, something’s happened,” he said low, leaning toward her. “Something I never thought would. I don’t know completely how I feel about it yet myself.”
“Well, tell me, please. This waiting is killing me.”
He sat a little straighter. “Jake Costner.”
“What?”
A small smile played around the corners of his lips. With his free hand, he patted his chest. “I have a name, Daisy. I’m Jake Costner.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “What?” she said again, completely at a loss. “How?”
Three riders approached the hotel, so Daisy waited to continue until they rode past. The moment gave her time to gather the feelings thundering around her chest. Change was in the air. How would it affect them? “Jake, I’m so happy for you. How on earth did this information find you?” Her happiness for him mixed with trepidation. Would this discovery alter his feelings? With a complete identity, once the missing wound where his father was healed, would he still want someone as damaged as her?
“My mother is here in Logan Meadows.”
“Your mother?” This was so unreal.
“Yes. I spoke with her tonight. She gave me a letter from the man she claims is my father.” With his free hand, he pulled a dented envelope from his pocket and set it on his lap. “He’s dying. Want’s to meet me.”
“Dying from what?” Lack of heart?
“The letter doesn’t say.”
Unable to look him in his eyes for fear he’d see her distress, she kept her gaze trained on his hand held firmly in her own. What did this mean? Jake was leaving? There wasn’t an inkling of doubt in her mind that he would respond, go when summonsed away from Logan Meadows. After he learned what he’d been seeking, would he ever come back? After all was said and done? Or would he stay on? Did this mean he didn’t want to marry her anymore?
“Daisy, darlin’, what’re you thinkin’? Why’re you so quiet?”
With a gentle finger, he lifted her chin and found her gaze.
She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Hearing this is just such a shock. I don’t know what to think.” You’re leaving me, Jake, that’s what I know. That’s why my heart is breaking and sorrow has its hand tight around my throat. I love you. I don’t want you to go.
“I know. I felt the same. And still do.”
“Where’s your ma now?”
“She’s staying at the Red Rooster with Violet.”
“Violet? I’m surprised. Mrs. Hollyhock is a Christian woman, but sometimes she even has limits. I’m astonished, is all.”
“She’s making the effort for me. But, I feel the same as you.”
Well, it’s plain to see he’s going. I won’t stop him. And if I love him like I do, I’ll make it easy to go . . .
“When will you leave?”
He let go a whoosh of air, and a full-blown smile stretched across his handsome face. “I’m
happy to hear you say that, Daisy. I didn’t know how you would respond. I’d never do anything to hurt you, or us, but this is something I have to do. For the both of us.”
“Of course, I want you to go find your pa. Any woman worth her salt would. I love you, Jake, and I only want what makes you happy. If traveling away from Logan Meadows for a time will do that, then I say you better go. What does Chase say about losing you for a while?”
“He’s fine with it. Says I need to go meet my father before he passes away. That’s why I need to hurry.”
Oh, how she wished she could give him a kiss.
Nothing was certain any longer. The queen of spades had dealt her a vicious blow, as she always did, wanting to muddle up any good luck that came Daisy’s way. Well, she wouldn’t fret just yet.
This wasn’t the end, she reminded herself as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. It was the beginning of their future. Together. She desperately wanted to trust her thoughts, but something inside kept twisting her heart. She’d believe it when he walked back into her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When the reading concluded, Hunter was one of the first out on the boardwalk. He sucked in a deep breath of air, appreciating the openness and the sight of the stars in the sky. His roots were in the wide-open spaces, the prairie, the mountains, the long-forgotten ghost towns.
Great Expectations had been engaging. He’d like to get a copy of the book and read it himself, but only after he finished Tom Sawyer. He’d worked for some time today on that project, getting to the end of chapter one. Standing back, he nodded as people exited, chatting excitedly about the event, then proceeded on their way home. Through the window, he could see Tabitha taking money from a few hands in payment. She’d made some sales. Good. He wondered how Kendall had fared in the saloon. Frank Lloyd came out of the bookstore, smiled, and continued on his way home.
Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) Page 11