by Becki Willis
Hannah ignored Walker’s snort. She didn’t recall the horse being in any significant pain earlier, but in truth, she had been more concerned with her own safety than with the horse’s.
“I understand,” she said kindly. “You’re very attached to your horse, and you were worried. And as it turned out, I was fine. Walker saw to that.” She worked her wrist out of Shelton’s hold. “He pulled me from the horse, before I fell off. Walker may have very well saved my life.”
Instead of looking grateful, the man glared at her companion. “That explains the bruise to Ladybird’s flank. When you jerked the saddle, the girth bit into her and left a mark.”
Walker brushed the other man aside and all but grabbed Hannah’s arm. He thrust it forward to reveal the burgeoning bruise on her forearm. “Hannah received multiple bruises.” His voice was cold. “That happened when your horse broke rank, got herself tangled in a mess of her own making, and raced across the open pasture at will. The outcome could have been much worse. For that horse,” he jabbed a finger toward Ladybird, “and for Hannah.”
“Don’t try to blame this on my horse!”
“The blame is entirely on your horse!”
The two men stood toe to toe, their faces within inches of one another. For one terrible moment, Hannah thought it might come to blows.
“This is about Doc, ain’t it?” Shelton jeered. “You can’t stand it, because she sided with me!”
“You influenced her testimony, and you know it.”
“She gave her opinion, exactly like the judge ordered her to do.”
“She changed her opinion when you two started dating.”
“You just couldn’t stand it, could you? The fact that she chose me, over you!”
Behind them, Hannah gasped. They both turned to her in surprise, having forgotten she was present.
“A woman!” she spat. “That’s what’s behind this ridiculous vendetta you two have? A woman?” Her fingers curled into fists, and fire flashed from her blue eyes. She started to stomp away but whirled around to give them a parting word of advice. “Grow up! Both of you!”
“Hannah! Hannah, wait!”
She heard Walker calling her name as she hurried from the livestock area. She was too angry to face him right now. Angry, and sore, and hurt. She wasn’t certain which of the three took precedence.
Earlier today, her heart had warmed at the way Walker took up for her. Not as a possession, not as a pawn, but as a person.
But now the truth came out. The real reason he objected to Shelton. Not because of the farrier’s lack of character, or because of an old lawsuit, or even because of her. He wasn’t jealous over her and Shelton. He was jealous over another woman and Shelton!
What is it with men? Why are they so childish? Always posturing. Always so competitive, fighting to be the fastest, the strongest, the best. They couldn’t stand to be outdone, particularly in the romance department.
Was that the real reason Shelton Long seemed determined to pursue her? Sure, they had talked several times over the phone this week, but he seemed to think they had established some sort of relationship. One kiss did not a romance make. While she hadn’t completely shut down his advances, she hadn’t particularly encouraged them, either. Did he keep asking her out because he genuinely liked her, or because he knew it would get under Walker’s skin? Was she just another rung on his ladder of competition with the lawyer?
And who, Hannah had to wonder, was this woman, the one that had caused such open hostility between the men? Walker must have truly cared for her, a fact that pricked at Hannah’s heart.
Worst of all was this sting of disappointment she felt; it forced her to acknowledge a side of Walker she didn’t think existed. After getting to know the attorney and the kind of man she thought he was, Hannah found herself disillusioned. Of all people, she thought Walker was above such pettiness. She expected more of him.
Just goes to show, she thought, clicking her tongue.
People can fool you, every time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sunday Brunch brought another full house to the Spirits of Texas Inn. Hannah went through the motions of personally greeting and visiting with the guests, but her mind was elsewhere.
Last night, Hannah had taken her second soaking bath of the day. She had added extra bath salts and extra wine, hoping to heal her wounded pride, alongside her wounded body. When daylight burst into her room a few scant hours later, she had a slight hangover, one slightly bruised ego, and a host of new aches and pains.
As she spoke to guests and refilled water glasses, Hannah ran through the list that played like ticker tape in her head. Check guests out by noon… clean rooms… more towels for the Elliotts… check supplies for the coming week… confirm new bookings… tally up with Jazz after the matinee and write final check… book them again for next year… ask Walker if he remembered to call the sheriff’s office… smile at the women coming this way…
“Hello!” the younger of the women said, her smile warm and friendly. She thrust her hand forward for a proper greeting. “We’ve not met, not officially, but we’ve talked over the phone. I’m Tracey Ann Crenwelge. This is my mother, Maureen.”
“Tracey…? Oh, from the sheriff’s office. You’re the dispatcher.” The one not so secretly infatuated with Walker and the one who probably thinks I’m a kook. How was I supposed to know the intruder I reported was actually a ghost? Anyone could have made the mistake.
“You sure know how to stir things up, don’t you?” Tracey Ann grinned. Taking a seat at the newly cleared table, she explained to her companion, “This is Hannah, the new owner. She’s only been here a few months, and already she’s called in an intruder, a break-in, two armed assailants, and now a death. Usually my job is rather boring—mostly reports of fender benders and people hitting deer—but this one here keeps things hopping!”
“It’s not as if I’m actually responsible for any of those things happening,” Hannah pointed out in self-defense. “I just make the phone call.”
“It’s the most excitement we’ve seen on this side of the county in ages! And now you’ve brought all those carnies into town.” She wiggled in excitement. “I’m having so much fun, running their backgrounds!”
“Uhm… er… what do you mean?”
“Oh, some of those Hats Off crew are real characters, if you know what I mean.” Tracey Ann cupped her mouth, her whisper too loud to be construed as confidential. “Most have criminal records.”
Hannah swallowed hard. She had planned to invite the troupe back next year, but if what Tracey Ann said was true… She pulled out a chair and slid into it without invitation. “That doesn’t sound good. Maybe you should tell me more.”
“Well,” Tracey Ann said with a dramatic flair, clearly loving the attention. She leaned forward to give her words more weight. “I can’t name names, of course, but one of the men served six years in the pen for insurance fraud. Two brothers have records of domestic abuse and battery. Almost all of them are wanted for tax evasion or child support, or at least some sort of petty crime. And one of the women has more ex-husbands than I have freckles!”
Hannah listened worriedly. It would have been nice to have this information before now. Before she booked their services and brought them to town! “And the owner? What do you know about her?”
Tracey Ann tossed her blond head and happily supplied the information. Hannah wondered how much was public knowledge, and how much ‘privileged’ information. Tracey Ann might need to brush up on the department’s privacy and non-disclosure policies.
But not before she gave Hannah the scoop on Jazz.
“Diane Jasmine Dawson, thirty-two, originally from Phoenix, and more or less born into show business. Her mother was an acrobat in Vegas, her dad a rodeo bum. When they were kids, Jazz—as she’s now known—and her younger brother had a little act they performed on the street. They were apparently good enough to go out on the road and played all over the Southwest. The act fe
ll apart when Jazz was offered a spot in Vegas. Trick riding in one of those shows with the flashy horses.”
“What happened to the brother?”
“I couldn’t find much on the brother. Their parents split up soon after. Jazz stayed with their father, and David, the brother, went with the mother.”
“So, Jazz’s record is clean?” Hannah asked.
So far, it sounded as if Jazz might be one of those good-hearted people who hired less fortunate, down-on-their-luck lost souls and offered them a second chance.
“I didn’t find anything of significance on her. But get this. Dad was a small-time scam artist. While the kids dazzled the audience with music and magic tricks, Dad helped himself to their pockets. He left a string of arrests in every town they toured.”
“Great role model,” Hannah murmured. She looked at Tracey Ann and asked, “How did you say you know all this? More importantly, why do you know all this?”
“A formality, really,” the dispatcher assured her. “Background checks on the cast and crew. The sheriff is ninety-five percent certain that poor man died of natural causes. But,” she added, with a wiggle of her eyebrows, “there’s always that five percent!”
Hannah nibbled on her lip. “Now that you mention it, there’s something the sheriff may need to know about the case. Walker plans to call him today.”
“Oh, sheriff’s out fishing today.”
“Can I report it to you, then?”
“To me?” Tracy Ann’s initial look of surprise gave way to flattery. “Why, yes. Yes, of course. I’m not on duty, but of course, you can give me the information. I’ll make certain the sheriff gets it, first thing in the morning.”
“It can’t wait that long. The show is set to pull out this afternoon, so by then, it would be too late.”
“Too late for what?”
Hannah wondered if she were doing the right thing. Was she stirring up trouble where there was none? Was Daphne a reliable source, or an over-zealous gossip? In the end, Hannah went with her gut feeling. There could be no harm in sharing what little she knew. It would be up to the sheriff whether to pursue it.
“The thing is… one of the cast members thinks there may be something more to Rusty’s death than meets the eye.”
“Are you saying she believes there’s more than a five percent chance this man didn’t really have a heart attack?”
Hannah nodded. “From what I understand, that’s exactly what she believes.”
Tracy Ann clapped her hands together in delight, her eyes twinkling. “You see, Mom?” she said, turning to the older woman. “I told you Hannah keeps things hopping! Now she’s brought us a murder!”
Hannah started to deny the ridiculous claim, but something held her back. Technically, she was responsible for bringing the show to town, so in a manner of speaking, she had brought a murderer into their midst.
If, indeed, the poor man had been murdered, she reminded herself. They didn’t know for certain yet. Before excusing herself, Hannah thanked Tracey Ann for the information and for relaying her message to the sheriff.
As she wove her way through the tables, nodding and smiling at other guests as her mind raced miles ahead, a woman snagged her arm.
“I’m Barbara Schuleter,” the woman said with a broad smile. “I just want to tell you what a fine job you’ve done here, revitalizing the old inn.”
“Why, thank you. I take it you live in the area?”
“A few miles south of here, closer to Sisterdale. My husband and I were so excited when we learned you were bringing back the weekend brunches! That Sadie Tanner is one fine cook.”
“Yes, she certainly is.”
She dipped her fork into a pile of thin, crispy potato pancakes and brought it up for dreamy examination. “It’s been much too long since I’ve had her kartoffelpuffer. They’re just like Mama used to make.”
Hannah noticed a vacated spot with a half-filled juice glass beside the other woman. “Is your husband with you today?”
It took her a moment to answer, but Barbara nodded emphatically while she chewed. She had been unable to resist the temptation, popping the crepe-like pancake into her mouth. Swallowing, she said, “He was even more excited about the brunch than I was! He’s getting his second plate now.”
Her comment gave Hannah pause. Did they have a limit on refills, or was the buffet all you can eat? As owner, that was definitely something she should know. She’d put that on the ticker tape, too… ask Sadie if we’re losing money on the buffet… consider buying smaller plates…
“Tell me something, dear,” Barbara said, putting the fork down and propping her elbows unapologetically upon the table. “I’ll be quick, before Harvey gets back. He doesn’t believe in such, but I hear the inn has some, shall we say, special guests.”
“Actually, we consider all of our guests special,” Hannah sincerely answered.
“Oh, of course, but I mean… okay, I’ll just say it. The inn is rumored to have ghosts.” She all but quivered in excitement. “Is that true?”
Unsure of how to answer, Hannah did the next best thing. She hedged. “Actually, I’ve heard those same rumors myself.”
“And?” The eager expression on Barbara Schuleter’s face turned suddenly to disappointment. “Oh, here comes Harvey, and he doesn’t like me talking about such things.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just give me a quick yes or no.”
Hannah turned and watched as an older gentleman approached the table. It wasn’t the over-flowing plate that snagged Hannah’s attention. (Although getting smaller buffet plates suddenly moved up a few slots on her mental ticker tape list.) It was the woman on his arm that she first noticed.
Decked out in her Southern belle finery, Caroline floated gracefully by his side, like royalty being escorted into the room. Her dainty hand snugged into the crook of his arm, and she wore a smile upon her face. She looked every bit the queen of the ball, except for two minor facts. One, her feet glided several inches off the floor. And two, Harvey Schuleter had no inkling of the spirit’s presence.
Biting back a giggle, Hannah addressed Harvey’s wife. “Let’s just say, I’ll keep my eyes open.”
The man set his plate on the table and hefted his considerable bulk into the chair, but not before a shiver ran through his shoulders. “Are you okay sitting here?” he asked his wife. “Seems a might drafty, if you ask me.”
Barbara waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m quite comfortable. I was just chatting with the new owner, Hannah… what was your last name, dear? This is my husband, Harvey.”
“Duncan. Hannah Duncan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schuleter.”
They exchanged pleasantries and small talk before Hannah bid them good day. As she moved on with the rest of her duties, a flash of yellow caught her eye. Caroline sat at the table with the Sanchez family now, exchanging silly faces with the little boy.
With another successful brunch over, all departing guests checked out, and things at the inn quiet, Hannah had a few moments to spare before working the gate at the final matinee performance of Hats Off.
Despite what Tracey Ann had told her about much of the cast and crew, she still felt that bringing the show to the town of Hannah had been a good call. All five shows had seen a sell-out crowd, meaning more exposure for the inn. With the public obviously enjoying every moment, it created a good camaraderie with her neighbors and made the favorable first impression she had hoped for. She had definitely Gone Big.
She had to admit, Shelton Long had played a big part in this weekend’s success. If he hadn’t pitched in to take the wrangler’s place, and if he hadn’t offered his prize horse as a last-minute replacement, things may have gone quite differently. Hannah was still skeptical of whether his interest in her was sincere—and uncertain of how she felt about it, if it were—but nonetheless felt she owed the man a sincere and proper thank you. Immediately after the show, she determined she would find him and tell him so.
“That was
quite a ride you had yesterday,” Daphne said. Considering she was Hannah’s partner at the gate today, it was a good thing she had dropped her grudge over the ruined shirt.
“I’m still feeling the effects of it,” Hannah admitted. With a rueful smile, she indicated the cushioned pad beneath her.
“It could have turned out worse,” the redhead pointed out.
“Very true.”
“So, tell me something. Which one of those hunky men are you with? The hot lawyer, or the handsome horse whisperer?”
Hannah’s reply was quick and terse. “Neither.”
“I’ve never seen anything quite like what happened yesterday. The way that lawyer came racing to your rescue…” She used hand gestures and dramatic enunciation to make her point. “He came racing through the scene, scattered trail riders every which way, jumped a barrier, and shot out into the pasture. It was just like in the movies! And then the way Shelton took off running on foot, until Jazz came along and gave him a ride.” She laughed, a dreamy expression on her face. “I tell ya, I wish I had two men that looked like them chasing after me, instead of… ” She seemed to think better of finishing her thought, ending with, “…well, I just wish I had those two. Or even one or the other.” With a coarse laugh, she added, “Despite rumors to the contrary, I ain’t greedy.”
“But you do have men chasing after you,” Hannah pointed out. She suspected Daphne was the one with the string of ex-husbands Tracey Ann had mentioned.
Now that she thought about it, this was the perfect opportunity to ask the performer some questions. She could find out how reliable of a source the woman was, or if she had passed her suspicions along for nothing. If Daphne turned out to be nothing but a gossip, or had made up the claims for Walker’s benefit, she could always call Tracey Ann and tell her to forget about the tip.
