by Becki Willis
“That’s understandable,” he assured her.
“No, it’s not.” She started to pull away, her voice a miserable wail. “What’s wrong with me? I’m a terrible person! How can I think of myself and my business at a time like this? A man has died!”
He refused to release her, holding her steadfast within his arms. “Shh. You’re not a terrible person. You didn’t even know the man. It’s natural to think about this in a non-emotional, rational manner.” A smile lifted the edges of his mouth. “Although, I’m not sure how rational you were a few minutes ago. I’d say you were pretty close to being hysterical.”
“I know,” she admitted, relaxing against the arms clasped behind her. “It’s just that I have so much riding on this weekend, and I wanted everything to be perfect. Then, first rattle out of the box, I kill a man.”
“You didn’t kill him, Hannah,” he said. If she hadn’t been so distraught, she might have marveled over the fact that Walker actually chuckled.
“That’s what Shelton said,” she sighed, “but I don’t—”
He released his arms so suddenly, Hannah stumbled backwards. She cried out in surprise, catching herself before she fell.
“What was horse boy doing out here?” the attorney demanded, his blue eyes snapping. “Why were you talking to him about this?”
“Because he stopped by to check on the horses, just as Jazz was telling us what happened. And when I got a bit hysterical that time, too, he managed to calm me down.” A blush crept into her cheeks when she remembered the exact method he used, but she refused to dwell on it. “He reasoned with me and told me it wasn’t my fault. The poor man died of a heart attack.”
“Then what was all that about police tape and quarantine?”
Hannah pressed her fingers just above her eyebrows, where a dull throb had begun. “Nerves,” she admitted. “Hysteria.” She dropped her hands and looked at him. His yelling would only make her headache worse, but she may as well get it over with. “I know you won’t like it, but you may as well know. Shelton agreed to take Rusty’s place in the show.”
“WHAT?”
Funny how the reverberation from a single yelled word could ping-pong its way around in her brain and cause so much pain.
“What do you mean, he’s taking his place?” the attorney bellowed. “What does Shelton Long know about show business? Who does he think he is, pushing his way in and taking over?”
“Please stop yelling,” Hannah said, keeping her voice calm and low. “First of all, he didn’t push his way in. In fact, I asked him to pitch in and help. And thank goodness he said yes!”
“You asked him?” He repeated the words as she had said them, but in a much harsher—and louder—voice.
“Stop staring at me like I have horns sprouting from my head!”
“Long is the one with horns,” he hissed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the man wasn’t the devil himself.”
“I know you don’t like him, but stop being so dramatic,” Hannah snapped.
He refused to back down. His blue eyes were the color of a turbulent, churning thundercloud. “What on earth possessed you to ask that man to help?”
“I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation.”
He interrupted her before she could explain, sulking like a petulant child, “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. Long isn’t someone you want to get tangled up with.”
“You keep saying that, but you won’t give me a reason!”
“He can’t be trusted. I wouldn’t trust that man any further than I could throw him. And with those long arms and legs sticking out in every direction, I couldn’t throw him from here to there!” He jabbed a finger into the air, indicating a spot just a few feet away.
The pressure behind her eyes continued to build. She didn’t have the strength to argue, so she went back to explaining.
“Without his help, we’d probably have to cancel the show. Hats Off has a very lean staff, with no one to pick up the slack for Rusty. Without a wrangler, there’s no horses. And without horses, there’s no show. No show means there’s no entertainment this weekend. Entertainment that I advertised heavily across half of Texas, and was counting on to pull in a crowd. No crowd means no money. And no money means our opening weekend will be a complete failure!” She paused to pull in a ragged breath. “There!” she charged. “Are you happy? I’m hysterical again.”
He was as relentless as a starving dog with a new bone. “No, I’m not happy. I don’t want Long sticking his bony finger in where it doesn’t belong.”
Hannah pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. “Can you please forget about Shelton Long for a moment and concentrate on why I asked you to come out here?”
“I can, as soon as you tell me why I’m here.”
Hannah would eat nails before she admitted that she had wanted him here, more than needed him. For whatever reason, she had known his presence would calm her down. Perhaps not her temper, but her unsettled nerves.
Instead of the truth, she fabricated an excuse. “I want you to look over the insurance papers and the contract with Hats Off and assure me that I have nothing to worry about.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“You didn’t even look at anything!”
“Yes, I did. I looked over every single contract, every single paper, before you ever signed them. There’s absolutely no way you can be held liable for a man dying of a heart attack.”
“What if he was poisoned?”
“Unless you put Strychnine or some other deadly substance in his food or drink, you have nothing to worry about.”
“How can you sound so calm?” It was an accusation.
“Because you have nothing to worry about.”
“What if he had an airborne illness and they quarantine the town?”
“Then you have something to worry about, but not from a legal standpoint.”
“So, you do admit, I have reason to worry!”
Walker put his hands onto her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “What’s going on, Hannah?” he asked. “You aren’t usually this high-strung. I admit, you had a similar reaction when you found out you owned a town that came with its own resident ghosts, but that was understandable. Who wouldn’t freak out about that? But I watched you stand up to the Hatfield brothers. You were fearless in the face of danger. A man held a gun on you, but you managed to talk your way out of the situation.” His voice gentled as he cupped her cheek in his large hand. “You didn’t panic then. Why are you now? Why is this so different?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it.”
“Try.”
Her gaze drifted to the inn behind them. Long and lean, it had been constructed of limestone and hewn lumber over a hundred and sixty years ago. The two-story structure had weathered the years and the elements, mankind and modernization, yet it still stood strong and steady. It was a beacon in the community, not just to the has-been town of Hannah, but to the countryside as a whole. The old stagecoach stop had a history every bit as rich and proud as the rest of the Lone Star State. Each whitewashed board sheltered that history; each sandy stone anchored a piece of the past. And for Hannah, it held the promise of a future.
“JoeJoe may have bought this town on a whim, but to me, it’s become more than that,” she confided. “I studied investments in college, because it’s what I knew. My father and uncle were always looking for investors for Duncan Drilling. I interned at Lawrence, Schuster and McMahon Investments, and somehow, I just never left. It was a good career, but it was almost as if it just… happened.” She shook her head, turning reflective. “Maybe it came too easy.”
“I happen to know you graduated with honors. That’s not what most people classify as too easy, Hannah,” he interjected softly.
“Don’t get me wrong. I worked hard for my degree. I worked hard for the agency. But it was just something I did, not something I truly wanted.” She glanced up at him. “Does that make any s
ense?”
“I think it does.”
“I want this, Walker,” she admitted, daring to bare her soul to this man. “I never thought it possible, but I’ve become emotionally attached to this place. To this inn, and this sad little excuse of a town. To the animals, and especially to Sadie and Fred. I want to make Miss Wilhelmina proud, and to carry on the legacy her family started, all those years ago.” She looked him directly in the eye. “If I’ve learned anything from my impulsive, flamboyant uncle over the years, it’s to give my all to a project. Anything worth doing is worth doing better than it has to be done. JoeJoe’s motto has always been Go Big or Go Home.” Her blue eyes took on a warm glow. “This is my home now, Walker, and I intend to Go Big. The thought of failing scares me to death.”
“You aren’t going to fail. You’ve got this.”
His genuine smile almost convinced her, but there was still the matter of the dead man. “But what if—”
He silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips.
“No more ‘what ifs,’” he told her.
“But—”
“No more ‘buts,’ either. With or without the show, you have a fully booked house. Most of them are repeat guests. They’ve been coming here for years without the promise of entertainment, and they’ll keep coming back for years, with or without that promise. The town, and the area, is entertainment enough.”
“I suppose you’re right.” The words, spoken against the finger still at her lips, lacked conviction.
“I’m always right,” Walker said with a smug smile.
She stuck her tongue out, pushing his finger away. “You are so full of yourself,” she complained. “You’d better be right about this. Jazz better not be able to sue me.”
“Who, by the way, is this Jazz person you keep mentioning?”
“Jazz Dawson, owner of Hats Off Promotions. You probably recognize her by her legal name, Jasmine. Right now, she’s still in shock over Rusty’s death. I just don’t want the shock to wear off and the greed to set in. Some people are sue happy, you know.” She pierced him with her look, as if his position as a lawyer made him responsible for all lawsuits.
Walker released a weary sigh. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll look over the papers. Again.”
“Actually,” she replied smartly, “it would. And after that, maybe you should meet Jazz. It wouldn’t hurt for her to know I have someone looking out for the town’s best interests.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hannah convinced herself it was the cookies that made her feel better. Sadie had brought out another plate of macaroons while she and Walker holed up in the office, looking through contracts and insurance policies. Alternately, she reasoned that it could have been Walker’s legal expertise, and his assurance that, after combing through the paperwork to confirm what he already knew, she had absolutely nothing to worry about.
It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with inhaling his unique scent, or listening to the strong, smooth cadence of his voice for the past hour. It couldn’t be his mere presence that made her feel decidedly better. No, she stood by the cookie theory. They had to be responsible for her shift in spirits.
By the time they headed for the show set, Hannah felt no lingering traces of hysteria.
“Wow, this is quite impressive,” Walker said with a low whistle, expressing his approval of the makeshift ‘town.’
“I agree,” Hannah said.
It looked one hundred percent better than it had when she saw it yesterday, proving Fred right. Watching it go up had been nerve wracking, but seeing the finished product gave her a surge of confidence. Maybe, just maybe, everything would work out, after all.
Portable bleachers flanked the row of wooden storefronts, allowing prime visibility of skits and performances. More than enough speakers and lighting strung through the air to ensure the audience an enjoyable experience. The rodeo arena and holding pens wrapped around the left side of the stands, and to the right was a string of food trucks and carnival-like game trailers. Beyond that were the eighteen-wheelers, RVs, and trailers needed to run an operation of this capacity.
“I don’t see how people on the far side of the bleachers will see what’s happening in the arena,” Walker said. “It’s going to be hard enough for the ones on this side. They’ll have to crane their necks or sit sideways.”
“Look again. See that platform the stands are on?” Hannah pointed to the massive steel circle under them. “It turns. The whole thing’s like a giant lazy Susan. After the skits, the stands turn this way, so that the audience can watch the rodeo portion of the program.”
Looking suitably impressed, Walker nodded. “Very smart.” He gazed across at the food trucks, reading their brightly colored banners. “I see they have all the prerequisites for a carnival. Kettle corn. Cotton candy. Corn dogs. Fried everything.”
“And don’t forget funnel cakes. They’re my favorite.”
When she stumbled on the uneven turf, he put a hand at her back to guide her along. They turned toward the food trucks by silent accord, even though none were open yet. Hannah knew that Jazz’s RV was the fancy one directly behind her preferred treat.
“That’s something I worry about,” she confided.
“The funnel cakes? What, are you worried you’ll eat too many and gain a pound?”
“Sadie’s cooking has already done that. And I’ve gained more than just a pound, I’m afraid.” She laughed breezily, before turning serious. “But no, I’m not talking about the funnel cakes. I worry about the uneven ground, and people falling.”
“You worry too much. And if the worse should happen, and someone does fall, that’s what the extra insurance policy is for.”
“I guess.”
The wide break between the ‘town’ and the food trucks led directly to the backstage area and the trailers beyond. Hannah knew that during show times, orange netting would keep people from snooping in the restricted space, but for now, the netting was cast to one side. As they approached, the sound of a woman’s laughter drew their attention. They looked up in time to see Jazz and Shelton Long stepping from the front RV.
“Speak of the devil,” Walker muttered. She felt his muscles tighten, even though his hand barely grazed her back. She could feel the tension seeping into the air.
“Try to behave,” she said out of the side of her mouth. Jazz saw them and waved them over, her expression much brighter than it had been this morning.
Hannah could swear that Shelton wore a guilty expression on his face, but she couldn’t imagine why. Then she remembered the kiss, and assumed he was afraid she would think something of seeing him step from another woman’s personal trailer. In truth, it never occurred to her to be jealous. He would be working for Jazz, at least for the next few days. It was only natural they had business to attend to. And if it turned out to be more than business… Hannah wasn’t sure she would be jealous. The kiss had been nice enough, but she had all but forgotten it in the course of the day.
“Hannah, I’m so glad you came! Look who dropped by to learn the ropes.” Jazz motioned to the man behind her.
“I hope we aren’t bothering you. I wanted to introduce you to someone,” Hannah said. “Jazz, this is my attorney, Walker Jacoby. Walker, this is Jazz Dawson, the dynamo behind everything you see here.”
“Nice to meet you,” Walker said, extending his hand for a cordial greeting. The nod he issued the farrier was far less welcoming. “Long.”
“Jacoby,” he returned with equal coolness.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jazz cooed, placing her other hand upon Walker’s. The gesture effectively pulled his attention back to her, as she clung to his hand and went on about finally meeting the man behind the emails.
Hannah watched the exchange with pursed lips. Okay, so maybe she was jealous, after all. Just over a different man.
“I was sorry to hear about your wrangler, Miss Dawson,” Walker said, gently tugging his hand free.
“Pl
ease, call me Jazz. We’re all one big family around here. Which, of course, it why Rusty’s death hit us so hard.” A shadow crossed her face, puckering her pretty features into a frown. “But we’re also professionals, and we know that the show must go on. Rusty would expect nothing less from us.”
“Has the sheriff’s office released the scene?” Walker asked.
“Yes. They finished their investigation about an hour ago, and gave us the go-ahead for tomorrow night. It appears Rusty died of natural causes or the bottle, one of the two. Either way, they’ve taken down the tape and released the trailer back to his roommates.”
“Who were his roommates?” Hannah asked, for no reason in particular.
“Guy Woods and Pierce Maldonado. I think you may have met Pierce yesterday. Tall, dark, and handsome.” She wiggled her eyebrows and then smiled up at Walker. “Actually, he reminds me a bit of you, Walker. I can call you Walker, can’t I?”
“Of course.”
Hannah didn’t like the flash of jealousy that slammed through her, any more than she liked the stupid smile that curled Walker’s lips.
Behind his new boss, Shelton sneered at the attorney’s reaction to the petite blonde.
“I don’t know what we would have done if Hannah hadn’t suggested Shelton.” Jazz spun unexpectedly and caught the farrier’s arm, almost catching him in the act of openly mocking the other man. “Most likely, we would have had to cancel the shows. Thank goodness, this man came to the rescue. He’s a true god-send for us.”
It was Shelton’s turn to preen beneath her praise. “You haven’t seen me at work yet, ma’am,” he reminded her.
“Hannah says you’re excellent with horses. Her endorsement is good enough for me.”
Now Hannah felt like a heel, being jealous over a woman who was so genuinely nice and flattering to everyone. Flirting just seemed to be her nature.
“I was just about to take Shelton around and introduce him to the rest of the crew. Would you two like to come along?” Jazz offered with a bright smile.
