by Becki Willis
“Sure,” Hannah answered for them. She was familiar with some of their names and faces from the website, but nothing compared to meeting each person in the flesh.
Hats Off did, indeed, run a lean crew. It didn’t take long to make the rounds, meet the entire entourage, and hear about the multi-functions they performed. Some were in the middle of practice or necessary preparations, while a trio of them shared an afternoon beer and swapped stories about their late cast mate. From what Hannah could determine, most of them viewed Rusty as a crusty and grumpy old uncle, the kind you tolerated more than enjoyed, but the kind you cared about, all the same. Everyone seemed saddened by his passing.
“You remember John Boy Hoskins, Hannah. You met him yesterday.” Jazz made the introductions to the burly man who barked out orders to anyone who would listen. He had done the same thing yesterday, for the little time Hannah had been around him. “Shelton, you’ll report directly to John Boy or me. Some of the others may try to give you orders, but ignore them. This man or I are the final authority.”
As they moved along, Jazz explained, “John Boy is my general manager and right-hand man. He oversees set up and take down and helps with training. Employees, not animals,” she clarified. “He’s also the emcee for the event, and on some nights, he helps at the gates. Hannah, you remember that you’ll need to supply one attendee at the gate for each performance? I’ve found it’s best to have two people, one from our side, one from the hosts, to assure that everyone’s happy. That way there’s no misunderstanding about how many people came through, or how the money was handled. And of course, we have a counter on the turnstile, for the official count. That’s how you’ll be paid. Fifty percent of the entry fee for every person through the gate. Once we reach capacity or the show starts, whichever comes first, the gates close and attendants are free to move on to their other tasks. For John Boy, that’s as emcee during the show, security afterward.”
“What events do you have?” Walker asked.
“We do several comedy skits, including the one with dogs, a few musical numbers, and a Wild West gun fight. During the rodeo portion of the show, we do barrel racing, stunts, mutton busting, and trick riding.”
“You never mentioned sheep,” Shelton said stiffly.
Jazz looked unconcerned with the oversight. “All you have to do is open the gate, let them in, and then herd them out again. Petro takes care of the sheep. Kids from the audience ride them. It’s a crowd favorite.”
“And the dogs?” he clarified.
“Duke and Madge Artledge, the married couple I introduced you to. They train, care for, and perform with the dogs. They also sing duet, and work the food and carnival trucks. Because of our lean crew, the carnival is only open before and after the show. Likewise for the food trucks. At intermission, we sell drinks and popcorn in the stands. Because of safety issues around the turning grandstands, we try to keep our audience seated as much as possible.”
“Sounds wise,” Walker said. No doubt, his head swam with dozens of potential litigation issues surrounding the giant turntable.
“I still don’t see how that few of people,” Hannah motioned to the crew in general, “do all of this.” She motioned to the stage and the carnival trailers.
“We all wear multiple hats,” Jazz assured her. “As our main wrangler, Rusty was one of the few people who had a singular job. But with animals being the main focus in our performances, even in some of the comedy skits, it’s arguably the most important job of all. Which is why you have been such a huge lifesaver, Shelton. Without a proper wrangler, our show would fall apart.” She beamed up at the lanky blond man.
“That sounds like a lot for one man,” Hannah remarked.
“Yes, it is. Our gopher Jeff helps him, but there are so many other tasks that demand his attention. His brother pitches in from time to time, but Guy is our electrician and mechanic. When something breaks down, or when the turntable needs rotating, he’s the man. And Pierce is excellent with the stock, but he has his own duties. His good looks make him a natural for the gates and the carnival games. During the show, he’s one of our lead actors and performs stunts during the rodeo.”
“What kind of stunts does the cast perform?” asked Walker.
“Daphne has a high wire act, Pierce does roping and trick riding, as do I, we have a chuck wagon sequence, and Talia plays with fire.”
“Plays with fire? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Stunts are always dangerous,” Jazz said. Her smile widened and she took Walker by the arm, her eyes a-twinkle. “That’s what makes them so much fun, don’t you think?” She tugged him toward the row of fake storefronts. “Come. I’ll show you the behind-the-scene secret to some of our most popular skits. One hint: trap doors, so watch where you walk. Or lean, as the case may be.” Seeing Hannah’s confusion, the petite blonde laughed aloud in delight. “It’s all about trickery, my friend. Things are seldom as they seem.”
CHAPTER NINE
The phone rang, breaking the stillness of the night.
“Hello?”
The caller did not bother with pleasantries. “Do you have my money?”
“It’s not Friday yet.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“You never specified a time.”
“Fine,” the caller said. “12:01. AM.”
“But—But that’s in three minutes, at best!” This, in a flash of panic.
“Very well. Another five thousand will buy you a twenty-four hour extension.”
“That’s twenty thousand dollars by tomorrow morning.”
“Ah, you can count. Don’t forget to add the interest penalty. You now owe me forty grand.”
“That’s double what I borrowed.”
“Your mathematical skills continue to astound me.”
There was a brief lull, accentuated by a painfully loud gulp of courage. Then came a daring move. “I have a proposition for you.”
“You have a proposition for me?” the caller scoffed. “Need I remind you? You are hardly in a position for bargaining.”
“This is no bargaining tool. And certainly no bargain. This could be worth millions.”
The caller allowed a pregnant moment, ripe with the palatable threat of silence, to tick away. “I’m listening.”
“I may have just stumbled into the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m sure you’re familiar with the name Joseph Duncan, of Duncan Drilling?”
“Of course.”
“I may have an inside track to his Achilles’ heel. His favorite—and only—niece. Hannah Duncan.”
The voice on the other end of the line was cold. “You have five minutes to make your pitch. Don’t waste my time.”
CHAPTER TEN
Friday morning dawned bright and sunny. At least the weather seemed to be cooperating for opening weekend.
Hannah’s nerves had returned in grand fashion, but a huge bouquet of yellow roses was the soothing balm she needed. Before she could call Walker and express her appreciation, he walked through the door.
“Walker! The roses just arrived. I love them!” She beamed from beside the fragrant bouquet, her smile as bright as the sunny petals. “Thank you so much.”
He wore an odd expression upon his face. “The roses aren’t from me,” he told her.
“They’re not? But who—” She dug through the leather leaf, until she found the hidden card. Reading the brief note, she knew exactly who had sent them.
Break a leg.
(Not literally. It’s part of this new show-biz lingo I’m learning.)
“Never mind,” she murmured. Tucking the card away, she attempted to change the subject. “What brings you by this morning? Fan of train wrecks in the making?”
“No, I came to bring you these.” He looked slightly embarrassed as he pulled a simple but elegant wildflower bouquet from behind his back. “I know it’s not as fancy as roses. And I know you ordered similar bouquets for all the rooms.” He thrust the flowers forward, his voice softeni
ng. “But these are for you.”
Her face pinked with pleasure, and tears misted her eyes. “Thank you, Walker,” she said softly. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“They’re not as flashy as roses,” he grumbled. He knew exactly who had sent them.
“No, they’re not,” she agreed. “These are so much more perfect. I love them.” The soft glow on her face confirmed the words.
When Walker rubbed the back of his neck, Hannah knew he came bearing bad news.
“You may as well just say it.” Her voice was resigned.
“Say what?”
“Whatever it is you’re working up the courage to say.”
“How do you know I’m working up to say something?”
“You always scrub the back of your neck. I hope you don’t do that in court. The opposing counsel will immediately know when you’re bluffing. Or when you’re not sure of your position.”
He jerked the offending arm down, his expression one of guilty as charged. “I try not to,” he murmured. “But you’re right. I am working up to say something. The flowers aren’t just a wish for good luck. They’re also a peace offering.”
She narrowed her blue gaze to study him. “And why, exactly, do you need to offer me a peace offering?” A horrible thought occurred to her, widening her eyes into giant orbs. “It’s the insurance policy, isn’t it? They’re going to sue us for Rusty’s death!”
Walker scowled at her melodramatic response. “No, nothing like that. I came to tell you that I’ll be out of town for the day. There’s a sensitive legal issue I must handle immediately, and I have to go to Abilene.”
“Oh. Of course.” She made a shooing motion with her fingers. “There’s no need for you to be here today. The real test doesn’t start until tonight, when the guests arrive and the first performance begins.”
“That’s the thing,” he told her, his voice solemn. “As much as I would hate to miss it, there’s a good possibility I won’t be back until late tonight.”
Hannah blinked, absorbing the bad news like a physical blow. She knew it was irrational, but she felt as if he were letting her down. She realized then how much she depended on him and his silent strength. Like yesterday, just knowing he was present made all the difference. How could she get through opening night without him?
The disappointment was plain on her face, even though she tried to hide it.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said, stepping closer. “If there was any way I could postpone this, I would. But it is paramount I go today.”
Her voice was subdued. “Of course. I understand.” She did understand. She knew she wasn’t his only client. Despite his active involvement in her estate, it was only natural that other clients would take precedence from time to time. Hannah had no doubt he wouldn’t go if it weren’t important. “I’m disappointed, of course, but I do understand.”
Walker remained close, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I’ll do my best to get back here in time for the show,” he promised, voice low. “I’m sorry I won’t be here for you.”
Her first instinct was to say, ‘it’s okay.’ But to do so would be lying, so she said, instead, “Don’t rush on my account. Do a good job for your client, and drive safely.” She touched her fingers against his hand as she spoke.
It was a daring gesture on both their parts. Both knew it was a poor excuse for the kiss that could never happen.
His dark-blue gaze danced with hers, slow and sincere.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I am. I know how important today is for you. I wanted to be here for you. To share it with you.”
Her smile was sad. This was probably the most personal thing he had ever said to her, the closest he had come to saying he cared. Not as her attorney, or as the executor of the estate. Not as a social connection, or as a friend. The simmering glow in his eyes, and the low timbre of his voice, revealed that he cared.
“You’ll be with me in spirit.”
“Absolutely.” His fingers trailed away from her cheek in a gentle caress, setting off delightful shivers all through Hannah’s body. His smile caused a hitch in her breathing. This was a smile just for her.
Stepping back, he put space between them. Otherwise, he might never say goodbye. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be in meetings, but I’ll return the call as soon as I can.”
“I will. Definitely.”
“You promise?”
He obviously had trouble leaving. Hannah gave him a gentle shove. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can get back here,” she pointed out. “And the sooner I can get back to work.”
“Right. Okay.” He took a few steps of retreat. “Well, good luck. Keep me posted on how things are going.”
“I’ll try to limit it to major catastrophes and shining victories,” she promised with a smile.
“Good plan.” He finally turned around, taking his first steps toward the exit.
He was halfway to the door when Hannah called his name. He turned to see her hurrying across the room.
“Thanks again for the flowers,” she said, brushing a quick kiss across his cheek.
The image of his pleased smile stayed with her through the rest of the day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By one o’clock, Hannah had checked, rechecked, and re-rechecked her list a hundred times. As impossible as it seemed, there was nothing left to do. Everything was done, with time to spare.
“I knew we could do it, girl,” Fred said with a confident smile.
“I couldn’t have, not without you two,” Hannah assured them. “You ladies are amazing. As soon as Walker comes home, I’m telling him to give you both a raise.”
“It’s a shame that boy couldn’t be here today,” Sadie said, genuine sorrow in her voice. “He’s been such an important part of this place for so long. It doesn’t seem right, having opening night without him.”
“I know, but he had to go to Abilene. It must have been something important to make him miss this,” Hannah agreed.
“He’s involved with the university there, you know,” Fred said. “On the board or some-such panel. Every so often, he has a meeting he can’t miss. It’s just a shame that it happened today, of all days.”
“Walker is on the board of a major university?” Hannah asked in surprise.
“Don’t let the small-town image fool you, dear. Walker Jacoby is as smart as a whip, and quite accomplished for a man so young.”
“He’d make quite a catch for some lucky woman,” Sadie put in. She none too discreetly cut her eyes toward Hannah.
“I suppose some women are out fishing,” Hannah conceded, “but not this one. So get that look out of your eyes and banish that thought from your head.” To signify the matter closed, Hannah clasped her hands together with a loud pop. “I think I’m going to wander out back and see how things are coming with the show. Anyone care to join me?”
“I’ve got a cake in the oven,” Sadie said, shaking her gray curls.
Fred also declined the invitation. “I want to stay close to the front desk. Check-in doesn’t start until three, but you never know when someone will show up early.”
“Okay, I won’t be long. Call me if you need me.” Hannah waved her cell phone at them before tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans.
While things were quiet at the inn, nothing could be further from the truth at the Hats Off site. To Hannah, it seemed that a hundred things were happening at once, giving new meaning to the phrase ‘like a three-ring circus.’ This was a condensed version of the entire show, played out simultaneously.
Inside the arena, the lovely Talia Petrosian stood barefoot upon the back of a magnificent Arabian stallion, twirling a baton. Flames flared out from either end of the shiny stick as the horse galloped around the ring.
Behind the stands, Duke and Madge practiced with their team of trained dogs. Hannah counted five Dachshunds and one hound dog. All were long and lean, with floppy ears
and sleek red coats. Hannah laughed when she saw the hound dog shrink its large body and slip through a long, narrow tube behind the weenie dogs.
A gunfight was underway in front of the string of storefronts. Heedless to their shouts of bravado, Ted McCavish sat behind them, strumming his guitar and crooning out a sad western ballad. His voice was surprisingly good. With his talent, not to mention his looks, Hannah had no doubt he would be welcomed on much bigger stages than this.
She spotted Jazz and John Boy having an animated conversation with the darkly handsome Pierce Maldonado. Jazz used exaggerated hand gestures to get her point across and John Boy scowled heavily, but Pierce’s expression caught Hannah’s attention. For a man in a heated discussion with his immediate superiors, he looked oddly calm and confident. If the cocky smile playing upon his lips was any indication, he faired quite well in the match up.
Hannah was hesitant to intrude on the conversation. While she stood back and debated approaching, she saw John Boy throw his hands up in exasperation and stalk away. What she saw next shocked her, although it shouldn’t have. Besides, it was none of her business. Hannah watched as Jazz ran her hand up Pierce’s arm, a cajoling smile working across her lips. He frowned at first, but when she stepped closer, he couldn’t resist. He swept her against him and gave her a hard, passionate kiss. Hannah felt the steam all the way from where she stood.
More reluctant than ever to intrude, Hannah started to turn away. Before she could quietly melt away into the shadows, she saw Shelton Long approach the couple. Obviously, he had no so such qualms about intruding upon their private moment. He launched into an immediate conversation with his new boss. Their expressions struck Hannah as amusing. Jazz looked un-fazed by the interruption (and about being caught lipped-locked with a member of the cast), Pierce looked aggravated, and Shelton seemed oblivious to it all.
Pierce soon huffed his displeasure and stomped away, his exit drawing attention to Hannah.
“Oh, hi there, Hannah!” Jazz called, her smile bright and inviting. “Come on over. We’re just making last-minute adjustments.”
