Just then, the Union Pacific tooted its horn and began chugging away, the sound a death knell to Tabitha. Its important cargo sat in the wagon before her, looking like she should be on a fashion runway in New York. Hunter knew this girl? This young, beautiful girl? Had sent for her? She’d thought they were making headway. That he was coming to see her reasoning. Their discussion had only been a handful of days ago. He’d said things hadn’t been decided. He’d lied. Tabitha swallowed down her hurt, but the emotion clawed its way back up her throat as anger.
“Ciao, amore!” the beauty called from the wagon, all but standing with excitement, before the buckboard had stopped completely. “I packed my things the moment I received your telegram and boarded the first train I could.” She glanced up the street, a wide smile displaying her perfect white teeth, all the while twirling her parasol above her head. Her tiny waist was no larger than Tabitha’s two hands touching finger to finger. Oh, that was an exaggeration of course, but if Tabitha didn’t make a joke, she just might burst into tears—or kill Hunter. Neither option viable at the moment.
Hunter hurried to the wagon’s side, took ahold of that impossibly small waist, and whisked her down with no effort at all. “Dichelle! You should have let me know of your arrival so I could meet your train.” He took her arm and brought her over to the boardwalk, having the decency to look embarrassed.
“Everyone, I’d like to introduce an old friend of mine, Miss Dichelle Bastianelli. Dichelle, this is Miss Canterbury, the proprietor of this bookstore, that’s Sheriff Albert Preston, and his son, Nate.”
Old friend? Ha! The girl couldn’t be more than eighteen years old. Tabitha found herself nodding and smiling, although she felt completely betrayed. What had all those sultry looks been about this morning? And the lingering touch of his fingers? She was such a fool! Just like Aunt Roberta said.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bastianelli,” Albert said first, sounding out her last name slowly. He doffed his hat. “What kind of an accent do I hear?”
She gave a small smile. “Italian.”
Trying to look normal, Tabitha felt her chin dip, and was acutely aware of her eyelids blinking. She must look a fool. “Welcome to Logan Meadows, Miss Bastianelli.” There. She’d gotten the words out. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kendall rushing over from the saloon.
Albert nudged Nate.
“Hello, m-ma’am,” he sputtered.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Bel ragazzo—he is so darling.” Her kid leather–gloved hand fluttered to her breast, and then she fanned it in front of her face. “Penso di essere innamorata!”
Tabitha had to look away. Nate’s adoration was enough to make her cry. She wasn’t sure what she’d said, but was almost certain it had something to do with love—and hypnotizing the male species. Her accent wrapped around the men like warm chocolate.
Kendall arrived with a red, excited face. “Is this her, Hunter?”
“Uh huh.” Hunter kept his gaze away from Tabitha.
An approving whistle emanated from the bartender. “You weren’t kiddin’, were ya?” He was about to go on, but Hunter clapped a large hand on his partner’s shoulder.
“Meet Miss Bastianelli, Kendall. Dichelle, this is my partner in the Bright Nugget, Kendall Martin.”
“She’s the goose that’ll lay us the golden eggs,” Kendall chortled. “Just like you said.”
“Oh?” Miss Bastianelli lifted a softly penciled eyebrow at Hunter. “Is that right?”
Hunter shot Kendall a dirty look and the man clamped his mouth shut.
“Maybe. A few anyway. Best not to get ahead of ourselves, though. She’s come to help us revive the Bright Nugget. You can’t fault a man for wanting to do that.”
Mr. Hatfield loudly cleared his throat. “If we’re all finished, I’d like to get her trunks delivered and get back to the depot.”
“Of course. You can leave her things here and Kendall and I will take them to the saloon.”
Miss Bastianelli put out a questioning hand. “What is this, Hunter? You expect me to room in the saloon?”
Tabitha wanted to laugh when the smile fell off Hunter’s face. “Well, yes. I’ve spent all week fixing a room just for you. Right next to Philomena’s.”
“And mine,” Kendall added.
“Oh, no, no, that will not do. You must book me a room in the hotel. Your finest.” She looked over her shoulder and down the street. “Is there one nearby?”
“Right down the street,” Mr. Hatfield pointed to the El Dorado. They’ll have a room for you, Miss Bastianelli. If you’d like, I’ll take your things there straightaway.”
The woman looked to Hunter.
“Go on, Mr. Hatfield. Take her things to the El Dorado. I’ll walk her down after she sees the Bright Nugget.”
A crowd of onlookers had gathered on the other side of the street. Tabitha took a small step back, thinking how much she was going to enjoy slipping into her shop and closing the door. If she could sneak away unnoticed, she’d do it this very second. As it was, Mr. Hatfield had climbed back onto his buckboard and shook the reins over Blacky’s back. The wagon lurched forward, and then rolled away.
“Let’s go, Nate,” Albert said. He took a step and then stopped. “That is if you’re all finished with him, Miss Canterbury.”
Thank heavens! Something sane to speak about. “Yes I am, Albert. He did a fine job.” She looked down at the boy. “Thank you, Nate. I appreciate all your hard work.”
“Isn’t he supposed to help you clean up your kitchen?” Hunter asked, his gaze trying to catch hers. His warm voice tried to stir her heart, but she wouldn’t let it. “By now, those skillets will be tough to scour. Let him help you.”
She lifted her eyes to his, praying her hurt wouldn’t show. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Wade. Nate’s done enough for the day, and paid his debt to you.”
With a firm nod, Hunter’s gaze left hers, and he laid his hand on the small of Miss Bastianelli’s perfectly straight back. “Ready?”
“Sì. I wish to have a nice, hot meal with you, Hunter.” She smiled warmly into his face. “Catch up on old times.”
The bittersweet memory of the morning that had brought Tabitha so much joy only a few minutes ago made her sick. At this moment she thought she might never feel happy again. Taking a tiny step back, she watched as Albert and Nate started for the sheriff’s office. Mr. Hatfield was already alongside the El Dorado, and he was letting down the wagon’s tailgate. None of that mattered, though, not like the sight of Hunter and Kendall holding the saloon door open for Miss Bastianelli. Would he glance back? See if she were still standing where he’d left her?
Don’t wait to find out. Be gone if he does.
Listening to her inner voice, Tabitha squared her shoulders and stepped inside Storybook Lodge, resigned to the fact that she was a businesswoman. A happy businesswoman. The scent of bacon still lingered in the air. Going to the kitchen, she grasped her pump handle, working it until water gushed into the sink.
Hunter Wade had hurt her for the last time. He was what her aunt had proclaimed. A saloon owner with no scruples at best, and a killer at worst. No, she corrected herself, a lying saloon owner with no scruples at best. She’d not forget that anytime soon.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
With shaky hands, Mrs. Hollyhock pulled the amber embroidery floss through the white linen in her needlepoint loop, then fingered the basket-weave stitch. Dissatisfied with her work, she silently harrumphed. Getting old wasn’t easy. Beside her, the fire popped, and the front door to the Red Rooster opened.
Marlene stepped inside. The woman, who’d been at the laundry house since early morning, gave her an uninterested look, then continued on into the kitchen.
Violet set her work aside and pushed herself out of the chair. Going to the kitchen, she halted to see what Marlene was doing.
“Yer home early.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ain’t even noon yet.”
“The Ling
s told me to take a break for an hour, get something to eat.”
All Marlene had on her plate were two slices of bread and a glob of butter. “That’s not much. Let me scramble ya a couple of eggs.” She noticed Marlene’s reddened hands. Not used to washing every day in the soap, they’d taken a beating and looked like they hurt more than she was letting on.
Before Marlene had a chance to answer about the eggs, Violet shuffled down her hall and came back with a jar of cream she’d made from beeswax, almond milk, and honey. She set the half-full jar beside Marlene’s plate. “Go on and rub some on.”
Marlene looked up at Violet from where she sat, slowly chewing. “What’s all this about? You don’t have to pretend you care.”
“I ain’t pretending nothin’! Just do as I say.” She shuffled to the back door and went onto the porch for her basket of eggs. She took up three and went inside, shivering from the chilly fall air.
Taking out a mixing bowl, Violet carefully cracked all three eggs and whipped them. Pulling out a skillet, she scooped in a large spoonful of butter and then stoked the stove. It wasn’t but a moment before the melting butter had spread across the pan. She poured in the eggs and salted and peppered. “These’ll be done in a minute more.”
“I never said I wanted any.”
“I say you do. So shush up.”
Marlene harrumphed.
A knock on the door preceded the sound of it opening. Violet turned from her cooking to see who had arrived.
“Violet?” Jessie called. “You home? I see a nice cozy fire burning.”
“Come in, darlin’ girl! I was jist thinkin’ about you.” She hurried to the door and enveloped Jessie in a hug. “What brings ya by?”
“I wanted to say hello. I’ve been feeling pretty low since Jake left and—” Seeing Jake’s mother, she snapped her mouth closed. Who could forget the awful way the woman had treated him in Valley Springs when he was just a boy? Her drunken rages and foul mouth.
“Hello, Marlene,” Jessie said, dipping her head.
Jake’s mother seemed to pull back in her chair as if she’d like to disappear. “Mrs. Logan,” she replied softly.
“I’m interrupting. I’ll come back another time.”
Violet caught Jessie’s arm as her friend tried to retreat. “Oh, pooh, yer doin’ nothin’ of the sort. Hungry? I’m scramblin’. No trouble a-tall to add a couple more.”
“Oh, no, I’ve eaten. I can’t stay but a minute.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Gabe and Sarah are watching Shane for me so I can run a few errands. Do you need anything at the mercantile?” Her gaze kept straying to Marlene sitting at the table with her plate of bread.
Violet went to the stove, scraped the cooked eggs onto another plate, took it to the woman, and set it alongside the other dish.
“Nothin’, dearie. I’m just sittin’ by the fire workin’ on some Christmas presents. But there is something I’ve made up fer you.” She waved Jessie past Marlene, who was very good at ignoring everything that went on around her, to the back of the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and took out her lacquered wooden box of herbal remedies. Opening the lid, she reached for a small sack made of red cloth tied up with a string, and handed it to Jessie.
Jessie’s brows drew down. “What’s this?” she asked softly.
“Jist make yerself a nice cup of brew each night. It don’t have ta be strong, just get into a habit that it’s the last thing you take before crawlin’ under the covers with that man of yours.”
Jessie’s eyes went wide. “Mrs. Hollyhock! What’re you talking about?”
“You know very well what I’m talkin’ about. You’ve been a wife fer a while now. Don’t tell me ya don’t know about the birds and the bees, cause Shane would prove ya wrong.”
With one hand on her hip, Jessie glanced behind, and lowered her voice even more before whispering, “I’m not sick. What is this? What’s it for?”
Violet searched her friend’s face, hoping Jessie wouldn’t be angry for her butting in. “Jist a mixture of yarrow, parsley, red clover, and dandelion.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not drinking anything until I know what it’s for.”
“I’m thinkin’ Shane’s gettin’ pretty old now. Almost four.” She glanced down at Jessie’s trim midsection and wiggled her eyebrows. “This’ll speed things up.”
Jessie’s lips wobbled.
“See, I knowed ya been thinkin’ about it, too.” She picked up Jessie’s hand and held it between her own. “That’s why I’m still here. You ain’t got nothin’ ta worry over. Jist do as I say and all will be well.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Three hours after Dichelle’s arrival, Hunter exited the saloon and headed to the Feed and Seed for more lumber. Dichelle had nearly swooned when she’d seen there wasn’t a performance stage anywhere in the Bright Nugget. She’d insisted there was no way she could perform in a room full of men standing by the piano. Someone of her stature must be lifted above, where pawing hands couldn’t touch. Kendall wasn’t happy about the mounting costs of the songbird, between a hotel room and a small stage at the end of the bar accessible by way of the staircase. Hunter hoped his idea to bring Dichelle here wouldn’t prove to be a bad one.
Charging several two-by-fours to the saloon’s account, Hunter carried the boards on his shoulder past Storybook Lodge, keeping his gaze trained straight ahead. Tabitha’s hurt expression haunted him. He’d felt something warm brewing last Saturday when they’d sat with Mrs. Hollyhock in the Silky Hen. They’d weathered two arguments, a kiss, a face slap, and then this morning, something more had changed. He’d seen it in her eyes, too. And then Dichelle had arrived. Seriously! It boiled his blood when he recalled Tabitha’s accusatory look. Did she really think so little of him? Could she actually believe he’d be involved with a woman young enough to be his daughter?
Almost past the sheriff’s office, Albert and Susanna stepped out. He stopped and wiped his moist brow.
“More carpentry work, Wade?” Albert asked. “Thought you were finished with the upstairs room.”
If he could believe his eyes, Susanna Preston was not happy to see him. The half-friendly smile on her lips didn’t reach her eyes. Surely, Nate and Albert had filled her in on Logan Meadows’s newest arrival. “I finished that room several days ago. And if I do say so myself, it turned out pretty nice.” But not nice enough for Dichelle. “This is for a small performance stage.”
Albert whistled. “A performance stage, you say? You sure are making some big changes. Between your Italian and Miss Canterbury doing a reading each week, I feel like we’re living in a metropolis. Keep up the good work.”
“Metropolis?”
“A large city,” Susanna explained, a tone of censure to her voice. That was all right, the women would adjust. For business’s sake, he hoped they would. The clerk at the El Dorado had been only too happy to check Dichelle in for an extended period of time. But fifty cents a day would add up fast.
Albert and Susanna were about to move on when Hunter remembered something. “Albert, I saw that fella I told you about that had been in the saloon with Dwight a while back. The one you asked me to keep an eye out for.”
Albert stopped, his face going serious. “When?”
“Last night. I stepped out of the saloon for some fresh air and to stretch my legs. He was standing in front of the telegraph office. When he saw me, he left at once as if he were up to no good.”
“Dwight with him?”
Hunter shook his head.
“Who, Albert?” Susanna asked.
“A stranger. Heard tell he may be a bounty hunter. I don’t like bounty hunters in my town. Most of ’em are ruthless. Shoot first and ask questions later. I won’t have that here in Logan Meadows.”
Hunter couldn’t help but notice how the color drained from Mrs. Preston’s face. Her gaze darted across the street and all the way down to Ling’s Laundry. It was almost as if she knew something they didn’t.
&n
bsp; “Mrs. Preston?” Hunter asked. “Is something bothering you?”
Albert turned to his wife in question. He wasn’t in on it. Now Hunter’s curiosity was really piqued.
“Susanna?” Albert asked. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
Her gaze went back and forth between him and Albert.
“Yes. I was sworn to secrecy, but in light of this news, I feel compelled to speak.”
Albert’s eyebrow peaked. “Go on.”
She paused, letting her gaze rest on Hunter.
“I best get back to my work.” Hunter hefted the boards onto his shoulder, being careful not to hit anyone.
“Stay,” Albert said. “You were good enough to keep an eye out, and then to let me know what you’d seen. I trust you.” He looked at his wife.
“I trust you as well,” Susanna said. “But if this has nothing to do with what the two of you think, you must promise to keep it to yourself. Never to speak of it. The fewer people who know of this law, the better.”
Albert looked puzzled. “Law?”
“Bao told me about it a few months ago, right after the train crash at Three Pines Turn. Any Chinese coming into the country after 1880, by law can be deported. Tap Ling came here a couple years before he sent for Bao and Lan. And now Bao is going to have another baby. She’s frightened that, because of the animosity growing in Rock Springs, someone will find out about her. Could someone be paying the bounty hunter to find Chinese to deport?”
“Susanna, I’d appreciate if you left the sheriffin’ to me, darlin’. I had no idea the Lings were worried. I need to be aware, to be able to keep people safe.”
“I heard about that from Miss Canterbury. More people know about it than just the Lings. That’s something to keep in mind.”
“I can’t believe how cruel men can be,” Susanna said.
Albert clenched a fist. “Money talks. Someone you might never suspect might be tempted. You’d be surprised.”
Kendall stepped out of the Bright Nugget, a broom in hand, and began sweeping the front boardwalk. When he saw Hunter, he called, “You gonna stand there all day, Wade? That performance stage ain’t going to build itself. Only have a few hours before the Saturday crowd rides in.”
Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) Page 21