Thom came through the office door. When he saw the three women, a wide smile drew across his face. He swept his hat from his head and gave a low bow. “Ladies. This is a nice surprise.”
Albert almost groaned. Thom didn’t know what was about to hit him.
Susanna tipped her head thoughtfully. “Afternoon, Thom,” she said in a pleasant tone. “I guess you’ve heard about the singer that arrived in Logan Meadows on Saturday . . .”
“Hasn’t everyone?” Thom’s gaze trailed over to Albert, but he didn’t leave it there long enough for Albert to warn him. Thom’s usual good instincts were overwhelmed by all the femininity in the office.
“I guess then you’ll be going to her show Saturday night?” Susanna went on, leading him easily down the path of no return.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. An opportunity like this doesn’t present itself every day. I hear Hunter has even built a stage. I’m looking forward to it.”
When he caught Albert’s frown, he blinked several times and snapped closed his mouth.
Brenna’s toe began to tap a fast rhythm on the wooden floor. “Yes, why wouldn’t you, Deputy?”
Thom’s smile was now nowhere to be seen. “I mean, I’m sure Albert will agree, there should be someone there to be sure the men stay nice and polite.” He shrugged. Turning, he marched over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee, running from the exchange like a frightened dog.
Albert put his hand on Susanna’s shoulder. “Today’s only Monday. We have time to figure this out.” And I have time to speak with the other men. It was obvious Thom didn’t know a thing yet about the women’s show. Hannah, being the forward thinker that she was, was sure to want to go—and would lead the way into the Bright Nugget with her head held high. He still couldn’t believe it. What was the world coming to? The saloon was the men’s sacred ground, so to speak. A place a fella could go and not worry about offending anyone’s sensibilities. And Jessie? What about her? Would she want to go? Nell, Maude, Julia, Violet . . . the list was endless. What Wade was up to with this, he couldn’t fathom. But he was sure going to find out.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
With so much going on making sure Dichelle was settled and happy, Tabitha’s Tuesday evening reading caught Hunter off guard. The sound of laughter drew him from a sink full of dirty glassware to the saloon’s batwing doors. With a towel in his hands, he watched as townsfolk gathered, turning out in droves to support their local bookstore owner. Good. He was glad. She’d most likely sell some books and turn a profit. Would the residents do the same for him and Kendall on Saturday night?
He hadn’t seen or searched out Miss Hoity-Toity since Dichelle had arrived. The devastation in her eyes had rocked him to his socks. That was not a feeling he wanted to relive—not today or ever.
Still, at the sound of merriment coming from the quaint bookstore, Hunter was tempted to meander over, as he’d done last week, and join the festivities. The memory of his gaze first meeting Tabitha’s through the windowpane brought a pang of awareness. Then inside, the sugary scented air had warmed him inside and out. He’d felt included, accepted by everyone, even in his buckskin shirt. So different than being in the saloon. Her awareness of him had been heady, and he’d reveled in the feeling. At least until the end of their walk when she’d jerked her hand from his arm, embarrassed at being caught consorting with someone like him.
He’d not go over tonight. She didn’t want to see him. His presence might even upset her so much she might not be able to perform. She’d kept away, and hadn’t been on her nightly walks. He recalled the unseen stink kitty, and the tremor in her voice when she’d asked him not to kill the varmint. With a melancholy smile, he turned and headed back into the room.
“What’re you smiling at?” Kendall asked, pouring a whiskey for Dwight. Several other men stood at the bar talking. Buckskin Jack sat at a table alone, nursing the only whiskey Hunter was allowing, and two ranch hands played a game of poker that had gone on all day. He hoped they didn’t end up killing each other. Twice he’d had to break up their aggressive conduct with the threat of kicking them out.
I’d rather be at Storybook Lodge. “Nothin’ in particular,” Hunter replied. “Just thinkin’ business is a little better than it was last Tuesday night. At least Farley’s at the piano, and not Buckskin Jack.”
Buckskin, catching his name, looked up.
“You know what your problem is, Wade?” Kendall said loud enough for everyone to hear. “You think too much. Business will never be the same one night to the next. Things were a hell of a lot simpler before you showed up.”
Truer words were probably never spoken. Hunter ignored Kendall’s gibe and ambled to the back of the room where the back door beckoned. He wished he hadn’t been so hasty to give Miss Hoity-Toity back her book. Getting lost in Tom Sawyer felt better than hanging out here with a bunch of men intent on getting drunk. He wished he could get the feel of her hand on his arm off his mind. Or how soft her lips had been during the kiss that was supposed to wipe her out of his head. And yes, even her know-it-all smile had a way of lightening his day. Damn!
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall, feeling antsy to get outside.
“When we gonna see that new gal—the singer?” one of the card players called, after throwing down his cards in a snit of anger. “Does she do more than sing?”
Hunter bristled at the slur to Dichelle. The cowboy winner collected his money from the center of the table with an outstretched arm, threw back what was left in his glass, then laughed in glee.
“Saturday night, nine o’clock. Told you that before, Terry,” Hunter bit out.
“I’m looking forward to the show,” Dwight said. “Nothing much ever goes on in New Meringue. That place is as dead as a doornail. Don’t know why I ever moved over there in the first place.”
“I do,” Buckskin slurred. “You was shamefaced after Sheriff Albert fired yer backside.”
Dwight scowled.
“Let’s not forget, you almost hanged Jake for rustling cattle he’d never seen,” Kendall said. “That might’ve played a part in your decision.”
Dwight tossed back his whiskey, then slammed his glass onto the bar. “Can’t a man drink in peace?”
Buckskin hiccuped, then wiped his arm across his lips. “Yer the one who brought it up, Dwight . . . I was just makin’ conversation.”
“Well, don’t!” Dwight pulled out a coin and flipped it onto the bar top. “Where’s Philomena, anyway? Haven’t seen her all day.”
“Has the night off,” Hunter said, walking forward. It had been years since he’d gotten into a fight—a real fight—but tonight the temptation to punch someone in the face was growing increasingly attractive. “No need for her to twiddle her thumbs when we can handle things around here.”
Dwight turned, looking Hunter up and down. His chin jutted out and his eyes narrowed to snake slits. “Isn’t it her job to entertain customers?”
Poker Winner snickered.
Hunter’s already-ruffled annoyance grew. “Sometimes it’s her job, and sometimes it’s not. Tonight, it’s not.”
“Wade!” Kendall barked in a warning tone. “You’re supposed to stop fights, not start any of your own.”
“I’m not fighting Dwight,” he said, sizing Dwight up and finding him lacking. He may have been younger, but Hunter could have taken him down in seconds. “I don’t like him asking about our saloon girl when she’s clearly not here. He should show a little respect.”
Dwight’s mouth dropped open. “For Philomena?” He let go a laugh, and the other men in the room, minus Kendall, joined in.
Before he knew what he was about to do, Hunter had Dwight by the shirtfront and yanked him up close to his face. “Yes, Hoskins, for Philomena. That’s exactly what I said.”
Hunter thrust Dwight away. Dwight slammed his back against the bar, grunting in pain.
With a laughable display of anger, Hoskins straightened
the front of his shirt, avoiding Hunter’s hard gaze. “I won’t be back anytime soon, Kendall. I can promise you that.”
“Good,” Hunter retorted. “Go drink in your own saloon! The one in New Meringue. You’re here so much, I doubt that’s even true.”
As fast as Kendall could move, he hurried around the long bar to meet Hoskins just as he was about to exit. “He didn’t mean it, Dwight. He’s just riled tonight.”
Hoskins jammed on his hat, tromped through the door, and was gone.
Kendall’s furious expression didn’t faze Hunter. “We’re supposed to be making customers, not throwing ’em out!”
Kendall was right. He’d let his anger and frustration get the best of him. He pushed his hand through his disheveled hair, feeling prickly and out of sorts. Maybe it was time he made peace with Tabitha, talked with her to see what she was thinking. Even if they got into an argument, that was better than this deafening silence he felt coming from her shop.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Feeling ever so optimistic, Tabitha, dressed in a soft pink dress, finished her afternoon bookkeeping and put the money she’d earned from last night’s reading securely in the little cloth bag she used to transport it to the bank, anxious to see Uncle Frank. The smile she felt in her heart spilled onto her lips. Last night had been standing room only, and she’d sold eight books. The best she’d ever done in a single day, grossing a whole forty-four dollars. Only eight dollars of that was profit, but if she multiplied that amount by thirty days, sometime in the near future her monthly income would be enough to pay the mortgage. One could dream . . .
A few minutes before people had begun to arrive, she’d decided to have a raffle. Ten cents a try. Everyone had participated, and many bought three or four chances to win a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, a secondhand book in good condition. The winner from New Meringue had been delighted.
Gathering her shawl, reticule with the money safely inside, and her key, Tabitha put up her BACK IN TEN MINUTES sign and locked the door. Only when she turned toward the Bright Nugget did her bubble of happiness burst.
Hunter. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of him since yesterday morning. Every time her mind tried to stray his way, she roughly pulled it back to safer ground. How was he, she wondered, hearing the sound of merriment coming from inside the saloon as she passed. She didn’t turn her head and look into the room. Perhaps Miss Bastianelli was there. A rush of bitterness squeezed her insides.
Reaching the bank, she huffed out her discontent and pulled open the door to Uncle Frank’s foyer. The oak siding gave the place a manly feel, but the chandelier offset the room with an elegant touch. With a quick glance in the mirror, Tabitha was just about to make herself comfortable in a chair when she heard her uncle laugh. A moment later, he appeared in the hall with Hunter directly behind.
What are the chances?
Had she imagined it, or had Hunter’s eyes just brightened?
“Tabitha,” Uncle Frank called happily. “I’ve been expecting you. Last night was a resounding success. I’ve had a smile on my face all day. Tell me, did you sell many books? I saw you taking money for two.”
Ignoring her warming cheeks, she nodded. “Eight.” She jingled her reticule. “I’m here to make a deposit.” She couldn’t stop her gaze from straying over to Hunter, whose warm smile was all too disarming.
“Congratulations, Miss Canterbury,” he said. “I wish my business was doing as well.”
She could tell by his twitching lips he was kidding. The saloon did well enough on the weekends to make up for the slower days during the week. She felt bold with her uncle at her shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Wade. I missed you last night. After your presence at the first reading, I assumed you were also a lover of books.”
“Not since I lost my tutor. I guess that sort of burst my sails.”
She pulled up. Her gaze cut to Uncle Frank. Was he catching any of this?
Her uncle had pulled out his watch, and clicked open the lid. “If you mean to make a deposit, we should do that now. I have an appointment coming in in a few minutes.”
Disappointment dropped like a stone in Tabitha’s tummy. She’d had so little time with Hunter, these few moments felt like gold. “Yes, of course. Should we go into your office?”
“Certainly.” He extended a hand toward Hunter. “Good to see you. I think what you have planned is very forward thinking. Let me know if I can help.”
That was mysterious.
She smiled at Hunter and said, “Good day, Mr. Wade.”
He nodded, still holding his hat in his hands, and she proceeded down the hall with her uncle.
Hunter felt like following Tabitha back into Frank’s office. It seemed like years since they’d had a verbal sparring, and he missed her arched eyebrow and censoring smile.
Disconcerted over his feelings, his hat clutched in his fingers, he ambled over to the wall and studied a painting of a stag and a herd of does in a snow-covered meadow. The lighting in the picture was subdued and gave the painting an overall dreamlike feel. He imagined Logan Meadows would look much the same after the first good snowfall. Glancing behind the counter to a calendar on the wall, he stared at it blankly, minutes passing until the door down the hall opened.
“Thank you, Uncle. I’ll see you soon.”
Tabitha pulled up when she saw him still standing in the foyer. Her gaze darted to the door, and then back at him. “Mr. Wade . . . you’re still here.” Her tone held a mountain of caution, and he guessed he couldn’t blame her.
He swallowed. “I’m waiting on you. Thought to ask after how you were. I haven’t seen you around town like I used to.”
“I’ve been busy in the store.” She smiled, touched the side of her hair. Her disinterested expression said she hadn’t noticed the separation at all. “You know, thinking up ways to entice people inside. Take a look at what I’ve got. Maybe buy a book or two.”
There! The arched eyebrow. He felt better. Less neglected.
“You’ve been busy as well, I’m sure,” she went on speaking softly. Very ladylike. “I’ve heard your hammer working long hours throughout the mornings and evenings, building your new performance stage for Miss Bastianelli.”
Leave it to Miss Hoity-Toity to get directly to the point. He nodded her along, sure it was best if she voiced all her grievances now. Bringing Dichelle here may not have been in his best interest. Her beauty, even for the most gorgeous young woman, would be a difficult pill to swallow. He’d noticed Tabitha’s reaction to some of his innocent comments pertaining to their ages—a fact of life they couldn’t deny. He was forty and she had just turned twenty-nine. No spring chickens anymore, but hardly old. She thought wrongly if she believed she didn’t measure up to Dichelle. Tabitha was beautiful, but her mind made her so much more attractive to Hunter. Sometimes all he could think about were her jibs and jabs.
“The new stage in the Bright Nugget and the women’s show is about all that anyone talks about these days,” she said. “I’m sure you have to stop the pounding in the afternoons when customers come in. Am I right?”
“Yeah, you’re correct. I do what I can early on and put the hammer away about two o’clock. Are you planning on coming to the women’s show Friday?”
“I’ve yet to decide.”
“Well, I hope you do.”
Hunter motioned to the two chairs set out by the window. “Would you like to have a seat? So we can talk?”
Her brow scrunched. “In the bank?”
“Why not? For now, it’s private and quiet.” He walked over to the nearest chair, but waited for her to comply.
“Uncle Frank . . .”
“He’s busy in his office. I’m sure he won’t mind if we pass a little time in his lobby.”
A rosy blush crept into her cheeks. “All right, but I don’t have much time. I left my sign in the window and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”
Relieved that she agreed, he waited until she was seated befor
e sitting himself. Quiet wrapped around them. He was at a crossroads. He knew, because each time he woke up or right before he fell asleep, Tabitha was on his mind. Each hour of the rest of the day was filled with thoughts of her and their time in the bookstore or their walk under the stars. Since Saturday, the arrival of Dichelle, and the hurt he’d seen in Tabitha’s eyes, he’d been irritable with everyone. It was no way to live.
“I was wondering if I could come back to the bookstore for my reading lessons?”
She sat back, assessing him with her soft green gaze. Hunter knew he never wanted to be on the wrong end of her affections again. What would it take to win her over? It was her aunt. If he could just get past Roberta Brown, change her opinion of him, Tabitha would crumble like a cake too soon out of the pan.
“Would you have some time for me? Maybe later today?”
She looked up at him with a small smile. “I don’t have any plans for this afternoon if you’d like to come by. I’m glad you haven’t given up altogether on your desire to read better.”
That’s not the only thing I desire, he thought, smiling back. He reached out and she placed her hand in his, transporting him back to their starry stroll on the boardwalk.
The door to the bank opened and Dichelle, dressed in a soft cream-colored dress, stepped through the door, the shade emphasizing her dark beauty. She smiled brightly when she saw them and hurried over.
Tabitha pulled her hand away.
“Ciao, Hunter. Miss Canterbury. I am happy to . . .” Her voice trailed off and she took a tiny step back. “Actually, I just remembered something I forgot to do! Forgive me.” She quickly turned before he could say a word and pushed back through the door, frigid air rushing inside in her wake.
“I think we should forget about the reading lesson, Mr. Wade. I don’t think you have time, with your new girl in town. I’m sure she’d like some of your attention.”
Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) Page 23