“And I hope they stay that way,” he replied, able to see past a shorter man in front of him. He was glad he’d taken the time and money to build the stage. It had worked out well.
“At a dollar a ticket, you and Kendall have made a boatload of money tonight. And that’s not counting the whiskey and beer you’ll sell.”
“I hope so. We’ve spent a tidy sum bringing this venture together.”
Albert nodded. “I’ll bet.”
There was a murmur from the men up front just as Dichelle took her final bow, and the crush of men leaned to the left, shuffling in the extremely tight space. He and Albert exchanged a look.
This may be good for business, but Hunter felt wary. He didn’t really know why. Caution flashed through him again when the crowd leaned unexpectedly to the right forcing him to catch his balance when he was shoved on the shoulder. Someone shouted out in pain. Kendall, behind the bar, was pouring whiskey into several tumblers on Philomena’s tray, unaware of anything unusual.
Earlier, when the crowd had begun to fill faster than he’d expected, Hunter removed the chairs, stacking them in the alley to make room for more men. Seemed waiting a few days after Dichelle had arrived had given time for the word to spread. The locals were few and far between in a sea of unknown faces. He and Kendall had recruited one of the young locals to help behind the bar so Hunter could remain free, to keep an eye on the fellas. Make sure their merrymaking stayed at that. Dichelle’s safety was his utmost concern. Philomena’s too.
A man grasped the side of the stage and pulled himself up. He yanked Dichelle into his arms. She screamed, struggling to get free as he tried to kiss her. Alarmed, Hunter pushed forward, but was hampered by the crowd.
Gabe, who’d arrived early, claiming a prime spot in front of the stage, climbed up behind the fellow and put a choke hold around his neck, pulling him away.
Dichelle took that moment to dash away, up the stairs.
Albert shouted for everyone to be still, but the pushing had begun. The man who’d started the fuss, plainly inebriated by the way he had trouble standing, was shoved to the platform by Gabe, to a round of applause.
Below, on the floor, a few more punches were thrown amid heated cursing, and shattering glass rent the air. Hunter knew if he didn’t get ahold of the situation quickly, they would have a full-blown brawl on their hands. Reaching the stairs, he took them two at a time until he was on the stage. He pulled his gun and shot into the rafters, being careful to keep his aim away from the second-story bedrooms.
At the deafening roar of his .45 Colt, the crowd fell back and the fighting stopped.
“Hold up!” Hunter shouted. “One man took liberties who shouldn’t have, and now he’s going to jail. Just settle down!” He really didn’t want to break up the party just yet.
Albert pushed in next to him, hardly room with four men on the small stage. Once the handcuffs were set, Gabe hopped off and Albert pushed the offender toward the steps. “I’ll be back just as soon as I lock him up. I’d hate to close this down, but I will if it gets further out of hand.” He paused and looked back at Hunter. “And if you want to be enjoying your wedding night tonight, I’d not shoot your weapon again. That’s against the law in Logan Meadows and I’ll have to lock you up alongside this fellow. Consider yourself warned.”
Hunter nodded and holstered his gun. “Everyone just settle down! Now that the show is over, I’ll bring in a few tables for poker. Farley,” he called. “Get playing!”
Grumbles turned into laughter as the music returned. Hunter watched Albert push his prisoner through the crowd. He wondered if Tabitha had heard the gunshot and was frightened. Was she waiting for him to come home? With this motley group of men, that wouldn’t be for hours.
It was five in the morning, and the sun was about to lighten the sky, when Tabitha heard Hunter use the key in the front door. She’d known last night was the big show, the one he and Kendall had been planning for days. Their wedding was business, so she shouldn’t feel hurt that he’d stayed out all night. That’s what saloon owners did. When the gunshot had gone off around eleven last night, she’d about jumped out of her skin. Then hours had passed without any bad news. She’d finally put down her book and blown out her lamp knowing the counterpane on Hunter’s bed in the guest room was turned down, but sleep eluded her. He’d be in when he was in, and not a moment before.
At four she’d risen and made a cup of tea, bringing it upstairs, and had been reading by the light of her lantern in her bedroom chair ever since. At Hunter’s slow, heavy footsteps on the stairs, she pulled tight her robe sash, listening, wondering.
His door clicked closed.
He’d gone to bed.
She sat for a good ten minutes to be sure he was settled, and then quietly made her way to the first floor. It was a strange feeling having someone else here. Besides the one night Susanna had stayed over when Albert was guarding the million dollars in the bank, he was her only guest. She’d gone to sleep and awoken to her own company every night since she’d moved in. What should she do? Today was Sunday, and they were closed, so she didn’t have to worry about opening the store and making noise that might disturb Hunter.
Gathering a few logs from the basket she kept next to the stove, she put them inside, and then stirred the coals. Rolling paper into balls, she soon had them smoking. Making breakfast for Hunter now would be silly. She was eager, but she’d not be wasteful. Taking the bread she kept in her breadbox, she sliced two large pieces and spread them with butter and jam. She took them to the chair by the shade-covered window and tried to relax. After eating, she cuddled back into the chair with her soft throw to keep her warm. The quiet shop was a blessing. Her lids grew heavy from her lack of sleep the night before. Closing them felt so good.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
A rapping sound brought Hunter out of a deep sleep. Not recognizing the ceiling above his head, he sat up, letting the covers fall to his hips. He’d been dreaming, but he couldn’t remember about what.
The sound came again. He was in the bookstore’s upstairs bedroom. Where was Tabitha? Standing, he tugged on his pants and went to the door, pushing the hair from his eyes. He was halfway down the stairs before he realized he was shirtless and being stared at by Tabitha and, at the front door, her mother.
“When you didn’t show up to Sunday service I got worried,” Mrs. Canterbury stated, not taking her gaze off him. “I thought this heathen might have hurt you.”
“Mother, can you please come back later?” Tabitha said from behind her hand. “As you can see, now’s not the best of times.”
“I should say not!”
This woman was really getting on his nerves. “What did you expect, Mother? Last night was our wedding night.”
Her eyes bulged. He didn’t know if it was his familiarity or the subject matter. Either one, he couldn’t stop himself and laughed heartily. A smile appeared on his wife’s face as well. Marigold turned on her heel and was gone.
Closing the door, Tabitha took the throw from her chair and held it out. Feeling a mite shy, he wrapped it around his shoulders.
“Good morning,” she said first, her face flushed. Her dark hair hung loose down her back. Her prim and proper robe was cinched tight, just exactly as he’d expect it to be.
“Good morning.”
“I’m sorry about my mother. I know you came in very late. I’m sure you can use a few more hours of rest.”
“No, I’m fine, I’m fine.” The shop was warm. She must have been up for hours. From the looks of it, she hadn’t gotten much sleep herself last night. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Just past eleven.”
“Six hours of sleep is plenty for me. How about coffee? Have any?”
“I do. I’ll go put some on. I can’t believe I fell asleep in the chair by the window. Stayed asleep, too, even with people walking by on the boardwalk. I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m sure you haven’t, Miss Hoity-Toity. You’r
e by the book with everything you do. Sleeping in is probably a sin.”
She laughed again as he followed her to the curtained-off kitchen. He stood back and let her fill the pot with water and then grind the coffee beans. The heady aroma reminded him of mornings out on the trail.
“How was the show last night?” she asked as she worked. “The last time I looked, men were streaming in from everywhere. Did you pack the house?”
“Packed doesn’t do it justice. I’m anticipating the take. We made a bucketload of money. Hope to do the same next weekend.”
“Oh? Dichelle’s staying on? I don’t know why, but I sort of figured she’d be going home.”
“I hope she’ll stay. Can’t say for sure. She’s a free spirit, comes and goes on a whim.” He appreciated her interest in the saloon. A man couldn’t ask for more than that from his—partner.
“Will you bring in more shows?”
He smiled and rubbed a hand over his whiskered chin. “I don’t see why not, after the great turnout—and the stage we now have.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. I heard a gunshot. Was anyone hurt? I worry about Dichelle and Philomena in such a raucous atmosphere.”
“Raucous?”
“Wild. Loud. Disorderly.”
He’d remember that word and use it on Kendall. “Some fella hopped on the stage and tried to kiss Dichelle.”
Tabitha whipped around from what she was doing. “Is she all right?”
“Shaken up, but fine. She ran into raucous behavior in Soda Springs as well. A room full of men is unpredictable. The gunshot was me firing a warning to settle the crowd. That got me a warning from Albert. But, we’ll be ready next time. No one else will be climbing onto the stage.”
Tabitha smiled, catching his use of raucous. “Especially when imbibing.”
Now she was just showing off.
“After the show, I walked her back to the hotel. That was around ten thirty. From there, the men commenced to play poker and drink themselves senseless.” He rubbed a hand across his stubbled chin again, not quite understanding why men so freely threw away their hard-earned money.
Someone outside shouted, then the clomping of horse hooves echoed as it crossed the bridge. Laughter. More talking. A dog barking, people walking by. The place was not big on privacy.
“I feel like I’m in a fishbowl.”
“It’s not much different than above the sheriff’s office,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder, the length of her hair flowing down her back drawing his gaze.
“It’s much different. The height of being over the jail and the door being around back and up a staircase help. Here, anyone walking by might knock on your door.” He pulled the throw more securely around his shoulders, clearly making his point.
She blushed.
Knock knock knock.
Tabitha’s eyes grew wide and she sputtered a laugh.
When she started for the door, he caught her by her arm. “It’s Sunday. You’re closed. Besides, it’s probably your mother having thought of another stupid question. Let it go.”
“You sure? It might be Kendall?”
“It better not be Kendall. He knows better.”
When whoever was there went away without knocking again, she released a breath. It must be difficult to be a woman, doing and saying all the right things, or else being looked down upon. He couldn’t do it. No sir, not for a minute.
Without asking, he stepped past her to a loaf of bread and pulled off a chunk and put it in his mouth.
“Would you like me to cook some breakfast? I still have some bacon and eggs in my cold box.”
“I sure wouldn’t.” He chuckled at the look of dismay on her face. “When you’re ready, I’d like to take you out to breakfast. Nana’s Place or the Silky Hen. Whichever you prefer.”
She stared at him so long he thought she’d decline.
“Hunter, you don’t need to do that. This is business, remember? I don’t mind cooking.”
I’m not forgetting you’re miles above me, and I don’t need a reminder of how you feel. “Business or not, I’d like to go out. Make a showing. Is that all right with you, Partner?”
She glanced away, and he saw her swallow. “Sure it is. I can be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Good, time enough for me to have a cup of coffee and shave.”
She started for the stairs, her color high. “I’ll meet you down here then. Everything you need is in your room.”
“I’ve seen it all, Miss Hoity—”
“—Toity,” she finished for him over her shoulder. “I’ll have to think up a name for you. Perhaps something that captures your wildness.”
“Wildness?” That made him puff out his chest and smile.
“That’s the first thing I thought when I saw you ride over the bridge and into town. That you were an untamed mountain man, windblown and hard.” Her laughter followed her up the stairs. “Little did I know you were really as sweet as a pup.”
“Let’s not get carried away!” he called out just as he heard her door click shut. “I liked the wild mountain man much better.”
Too late—she was gone.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Sunday afternoon Tabitha sat at her desk looking over her bookwork, a stab of melancholy trying to burst her bubble of happiness. The last day and a half married to Hunter had been exciting. She recalled how handsome he’d looked on the stairs this morning, shirtless, while he’d addressed her mother as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She wished she weren’t so susceptible to her mother, and could just brush off her words as easily as Hunter seemed to. It was true what she’d told him about being happiest here the last year, living on her own. Now, he’d come along to make things even better.
It’s only pretend. Don’t lose your heart to him.
At Hunter’s bidding, she’d left her shades pulled down on all the windows, and because she had, the shop had stayed quiet. Cozy. She liked it. Two lamps burned in the shadowy room. It was Sunday, and everyone deserved a real day of rest.
In the past, she’d never really wanted one. She’d been here to do her friends’ bidding on a whim. She’d open up and let them look through the books. Now, she waited on Hunter to return from the saloon. The quiet seclusion felt good. What would they talk about? What would they do? Friends were staying away because they thought it was her honeymoon. She appreciated that.
The key rattled in the lock, and the door opened. Hunter came in looking a little self-conscious. He shrugged out of his coat, then hooked it by the door. He rubbed a hand over his soft leather shirt, and still wore the gun he never left behind. Did living in a town change a man?
“Are you going to take a shift tonight at the saloon?”
“I offered, but Kendall insists on doing it. Says a man only gets one honeymoon, and to take tonight off since I had to work yesterday.” He glanced around nervously. “At least the disorder from last night is all cleaned up.” He stretched his back and worked the muscles of his neck with one hand. He yawned and briefly closed his eyes, all the while standing by the front door.
“Sleepy? You haven’t had much rest.”
“I am.” He seemed to jump on that. Did he regret tying himself to her for even one month?
“Why don’t you go to bed early, since you have the night off?” she suggested, disappointment weighing her shoulders.
When he glanced at the kitchen, she realized that without even a small supper table, the place wasn’t very conducive to relaxation. She took most of her meals upstairs to eat in her bedroom chair. She’d need to find a small table that wouldn’t take up much room. Make a spot near the kitchen where he could have coffee, relax, read the newspaper.
He shrugged. Ambled over to the chair by the shaded window and lowered his large frame down slowly. “It’s only five. Much too early for that.” He sucked in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “But soon. I do feel a bit worn around the edges.”
“Are you hungry? You haven’t e
aten since our late breakfast. I can make you something, if you’d like.”
“No need. Philomena made some beans and meat at the saloon. I’m good, thanks anyway.”
She glanced away from his face to the ledger open on the desk. Hurt swirled inside. This was business. Nothing more. It was apparent he didn’t want her hovering, feeding, or suggesting things for him to do. Perhaps he was just tired, like he said. She shouldn’t read more into his grumpy mood.
The charming feel of the room had changed, and now she felt trapped. Conscious of her every thought or action, she stood. “I’m going to warm a cup of milk for myself. There are a couple butter cookies left, if you’d like.”
“No, thanks.”
His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed over his chest. Perhaps the planning of Dichelle’s performance had taken more out of him than he or she thought. He was tired. And should go to bed. But she’d not suggest it again. Really, what did she know of him? Not all that much. Not all that much at all.
She moved around the kitchen trying not to make noise, which was difficult when one was working the heavy iron door of the stove. All the anticipation of his return whooshed out of her in one great exhalation. What to do on a long Sunday afternoon when the one you wanted to be with didn’t want to be with you? That was the question. What had possessed her to make such a request to marry? Her pride. The dressing down in front of all the women. She shuddered and pushed the hurtful memory away. Her life had been going along so well before Hunter had come to town. And even after the walk, the kiss, and the slap. The two of them were on even footing then. At least she’d been her own woman and could hold up her head.
Not now. Would she ever again?
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Tabitha sat bolt upright in bed when a loud clanging and banging sounded somewhere close outside. Had a late hibernating bear come into town, upsetting things in his path? Had she left her trash out again? She’d heard tell before that this time of year bears could make pests of themselves before settling in for winter, as they hunted for last-minute food.
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