Legends of Havenwood Falls 2

by Belinda Boring

  “What happened?” she asked as they followed her down a short hallway, austere and sterile in its white brilliance.

  “We found him like that,” Daniel answered. “But I don’t think he got this way from falling down the stairs.”

  Mickey snorted and almost dropped Herschel’s feet. The jostling woke him up, and he started to thrash.

  “Getoffme!” His swollen lips and lopsided jaw garbled his words.

  “Herschel, knock it off!” Nurse Heller commanded, causing Daniel and even Mickey to stand up straight. “These fine young men are trying to help you.” She continued to chastise him after they had set him down on a gurney.

  “You know him?” Daniel asked.

  Nurse Heller looked up at him, the stethoscope still stuck in her ears. “We grew up together, and he’s always been a grump. It’s a chronic ailment,” she said with a wink before shooing them out of the cramped exam area.

  A small waiting area, to the right of the main entrance, was where they wound up. Several wooden benches, which reminded Daniel of church pews with their straight backs, lined the walls. He leaned his head back against the cool plaster and stretched his legs out in front of him. Dust coated the tops of his boots. Mickey sat down next to him. He leaned forward with his elbows on top of his knees. His head hung down, almost like he was in prayer.

  Moments later, the roar of an engine caught their attention, and their heads swiveled in unison to look out the large front bay window as an ambulance pulled up. It was all white with a red roof, the front round wheel wells merged with running boards that had seen some wear and tear. A single light just above the windshield flashed red. Two men wearing white jackets and red caps hopped out and ran around to the back of the wagon, where they unloaded an empty stretcher. They rushed inside the medical center, steering the stretcher between them. They disappeared down the hall, in the direction of where Herschel had been deposited. Instantly, Mickey and Daniel were on their feet.

  “What do you think is happening?” Mickey asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s good.” Daniel immediately started making a contingency plan in his head. If Herschel Ross was seriously injured or—heaven forbid—dead, then he would most likely be out of a job. He’d have to move back to Fort Collins and find work there. Suddenly, an image of Colleen flooded his mind at the very thought of leaving Havenwood Falls. Like his heart was held in a vise that was being tightened, pain pierced his chest. He doubled over gasping, and when Mickey whipped his head around, Daniel covered it up with a cough.

  “You okay, Hoss?” Mickey asked, a thick dark eyebrow arched in question.

  “Yeah, I think I strained a muscle carrying our boss.” Forcing himself to stand up straight, he winced and rubbed the area over his chest that still burned.

  A flurry of activity exploded in the hallway as Herschel Ross was wheeled out, strapped to the gurney. Nurse Heller rushed after them and passed off a dark brown file to one of the medics like she was passing a baton in a relay race. Within seconds, Herschel was loaded into the back of the ambulance. With sirens blaring and tires squealing, the rig raced off into the night.

  As the siren faded, Daniel began to accept that he would have to move again. The idea didn’t appeal to him. Despite finding his mate and discovering she was human, Daniel was beginning to like Havenwood Falls.

  “Where’s he going?” Mickey asked.

  “Grand Junction. His injuries are too severe to treat here. His jaw will most likely need to be wired shut, and I suspect he has bleeding on his brain. One of his pupils was dilated and the other was fine, which is a good indicator without taking X-rays,” Nurse Heller said. “I really shouldn’t be telling you since you’re not kin, but Herschel doesn’t have anyone, and you found him.”

  They made to leave, but Nurse Heller called out. “Hold tight, boys, the sheriff’s going to want to talk to you.”

  Daniel paused and swallowed deep. He hadn’t thought about a crime having been committed, and here he was, new in town without anyone to vouch for him except for Mickey, but how well did he know Mickey? Would the sheriff be like other small-town cops and find someone easy to pin the blame on?

  Minutes later, a sleek black truck with whitewall tires came to a stop in front of the medical center. A large man stepped out and adjusted his gun belt. He wore jeans and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the gold star badge reflecting the overhead lighting the only indication this man was law enforcement. As the officer walked toward the waiting area, he tipped his tan cowboy hat at Nurse Heller, who blushed before pretending to be busy shuffling papers at the registration desk.

  “Mickey,” he said and pulled out a small notepad from his back pocket. “And you must be Daniel McCabe.” Piercing blue eyes landed on Daniel, and a blast of wolf washed over him as the sheriff projected his scent, sending a message that in addition to sheriff, he was also a wolf shifter.

  “Yes, sir,” Daniel answered, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders, not only hiding his surprise, but sending his own message that he wouldn’t be pushed around. They eyeballed each other, and Mickey shifted nervously next to Daniel the longer the stare down lasted. The sheriff finally smirked and extended his hand.

  “Sheriff Ric Kasun. You mind telling me what happened?”

  Daniel shook his hand, making sure his grip was tight, then he and Mickey launched into telling Sheriff Kasun where they discovered Herschel.

  An hour later, satisfied with their answers, Sheriff Kasun dismissed them.

  Insects danced in the beam from his truck’s headlights as Daniel drove back to the cabin with eyelids so heavy, they threatened to close. Normally he had more energy at night, a side effect of being part feline, but his emotions had been all over the map. Once he was away from the town center, darkness descended, and he struggled to focus. When he turned off on the dirt road that led to the cabins, he slowed down. Trees loomed on either side of the road, their bark looking like leathery skin when illuminated by the headlights.

  Stumbling into the cabin, he tossed his keys on the small rustic dining table and continued straight into the bedroom. Within minutes, he was asleep.

  Chirping birds and the early tendrils of morning sunshine woke Daniel from a restless slumber. He sat up in bed, the top sheet pooling around his waist. Looking around, he noticed his clothes on the floor where he had stripped them off before climbing into bed. His sheets were clean, with no evidence of dirt and leaves, which meant he hadn’t shifted and gone roaming the forest to stand in the shadows, watching Colleen’s house. Relieved it was just a dream, he let out a sigh and fell back against the pillows.

  As he lay there, he thought about Herschel and how the man’s health left his job hanging in the balance. Daniel looked around the room. His suitcase was open on the floor next to the dresser. He hadn’t bothered to unpack yet, so it would be easy to pick up and leave. He was used to it.

  Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet landed on the hardwood floor. Scratching his head, he walked to the window that looked out upon the forest that surrounded the cabin. A light breeze caused tree tops to sway, and birds swooped and flew in their own random dance. A deer stepped out from the tree line and froze, its head raised and eyes alert as it surveyed the area before crossing a small meadow and disappearing into the trees on the other side. Daniel tracked the deer’s movement, the urge to hunt surfacing briefly before his humanity shut it down. How easy it would be to slip out the back door and shift without being seen, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, the urge to hunt faded. He knew he’d have to soon, though. It had been almost a week since his last kill. The longer he went without hunting, the harder it became to curb his urges, and his mountain lion became difficult to contain.

  That was one of the things that appealed to him when Elsmed Fairchild explained Havenwood Falls and how the supernaturals coexisted with humans. He still had to be careful about displaying anything unusual in public, but p
rotections were in place to avoid anything catastrophic. Knowing he would be leaving those safeguards behind, as well as his mate, hurt more than he imagined.

  Despite the internal objections from his mountain lion, Daniel turned away from the window and crossed the bedroom. He hoisted his suitcase onto the bed and tossed in the few things he had unpacked.

  Chapter 7

  Disappointment hung around Colleen’s neck like a weight, causing her shoulders to droop. She scrunched the paper bag from her lunch into a ball. With her book tucked under her arm, she walked along the brick walkway that wove through Town Square Park. As she left the square, she tossed the paper bag into a trash bin before waiting at the intersection to cross the street. Daniel hadn’t shown up for lunch at the bench as she had hoped.

  Apparently, the attraction was one-sided. She doubted he dreamed about her at night the way she did about him. Dreams that left her wanting. Dreams that made her entire body hum and her skin flush from heat that burned deep within. Every morning that week, she woke up feeling like she needed to go directly to church and confess her sins. Did impure thoughts count when they were your subconscious and the thoughts occurred in dreams? She was a good girl, still a virgin and planned on staying that way until her wedding night. The night before, she dreamt she was pregnant and Daniel stood behind her, cupping her swollen breasts. She woke up completely off kilter and longing to see the man who was still a stranger to her in reality, but so familiar to her in her dreams. By the time her lunch break rolled around, Colleen was practically crawling out of her skin with anticipation of seeing Daniel and getting to know him more. She kept checking her watch and scanning the square looking for him, her book abandoned on the bench next to her. But he never showed.

  Sighing, she pushed open the door to her family’s market. The bell chimed, announcing her entrance, and her dad looked up from the register.

  “Hi, pumpkin, what’s wrong?” He peered at her over his bifocals. Slapping a smile in place, she walked over to him.

  “I’m fine, Daddy. Just a little tired is all. It sure is warm out there today.” Nothing distracted her father more than talking about the weather. He could spend hours gabbing with customers over the ice storm of ’39 or the drought of the summer of ’46.

  “They say it could be a record breaker. I better bring in an extra fan from out back.” Just like that, he was gone, and Colleen let her smile fall as she slipped her store apron over her head and tied the strings around her slim waist.

  At around two in the afternoon on Fridays is when business started to pick up. People stopped in for last minute dinner items or to grab things for the weekend. When school was in session, it became even busier at three, when students came in after school to raid the penny candy display and buy bottles of pop. Colleen was ringing people up when she overheard how Herschel Ross had been assaulted, nearly beaten to death and dumped in a dirt lot like a piece of garbage. When she heard Daniel’s name mentioned, her ears perked up.

  “That new foreman, Daniel McCabe, and Mickey Ahusaka found him. They carried him to the medical center, bless them,” Hilary Monroe shared with Melba Ferguson, who stood in line behind her.

  “What do we know about this Daniel McCabe?”

  “He’s a mystery. Patty Parker refuses to say. She acts all high and mighty, claiming employee confidentiality. I think we should pay him a visit.” Melba Ferguson and Hilary Monroe were on the town’s unofficial welcoming committee and two of the town’s biggest busybodies.

  “I think we should. Will he be around, though?”

  “Patty did say he is going to step in and help run things until Herschel has recovered,” Hilary added.

  “Is he still in a coma?” Melba asked.

  “A coma? I hadn’t heard that!”

  “Well, Cindy Adams heard it from Calista Harmon at the library bake sale this morning . . .”

  Colleen rolled her eyes at the gossip mill. Calista owned Callie’s Trinkets, a designer consignment store around the corner from the market. Her shop was frequented by just about every housewife in Havenwood Falls. Colleen knew from watching her mother’s friends, whenever it was her mom’s turn to host bridge club, that idle housewives loved to talk. By tomorrow, Herschel will have achieved martyr status even though he was probably one of the biggest jerks in town. Whenever he walked through the door of the market, she had to brace herself, because he inevitably would complain about something just to get a discount. He liked to wink at her and make suggestive comments, too. One piece of information she overheard, that Daniel was staying on as foreman, she hoped was true and not a rumor.

  After closing, Colleen straightened items on the shelves and made notes on what needed to be restocked or reordered. She wiped down the cooler doors of the hundreds of fingerprints and smudges on the glass, counted down the drawer, and swept the floors. Her dad was in the back office when she went to retrieve her change of clothes. She was meeting her friend Sally Andrews at Burger Bar to talk about Peggy’s wedding. Sally was a bridesmaid and had offered to help plan the bridal shower.

  “All set?” her dad asked, looking up from the ledger when Colleen set the bag of cash and checks in front of him.

  “Yes. I’m going to meet Sal at Burger Bar.”

  “That’s nice. Be safe.”

  “I will, Daddy.” She leaned over the desk and kissed the top of his head, which was already bent over the ledger again.

  Grabbing her bag, she slipped into the restroom and changed out of her capris, slipping on a black pencil skirt that stopped just below her knees. She pulled on a hot-pink short-sleeved knit top. Looking in the mirror, she fluffed her hair and put on a little bit of makeup, just a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. She kept her saddle shoes on because her feet ached after standing all day.

  Less than ten minutes later, she was entering Burger Bar, bypassing the area where people parked their cars and placed their orders. There was a separate dining area like a regular restaurant. The juke box was blaring “Be-Bop-A-Lula” by Gene Vincent, which put a little sway in her step as she crossed the black and white checkerboard floor to the booth where Sally was sitting. Her friend wore a yellow blouse that stood out like a beacon, making her easy to spot. Sally’s thick brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore tortoiseshell horn-rimmed glasses that framed gorgeous hazel eyes. Sally was sipping on a Coke when Colleen slid into the booth.

  “I’m starved!” Colleen proclaimed and snagged a menu from the end of the table, even though she already knew what she was going to order. She always ordered the same thing: a regular cheeseburger with pickles on the side, French fries, and a Coke.

  Sally shook her head and laughed.

  “What?” Colleen asked, scanning through the limited options.

  “You always order the same thing. Why bother looking at the menu?”

  Colleen shrugged and set the menu down on the Formica table. “Maybe something will jump out at me. You make me sound predictable.”

  Sally snorted. “That’s because you are! That’s okay. I still think you’re swell.”

  Colleen frowned at her friend’s opinion. She was too young to be considered predictable. Granted, there weren’t a lot of options to do anything wild in Havenwood Falls, except run with the Greasers who liked to drag race on Blackstone Road late at night. There weren’t any homes along the stretch that ran between County Road and Havenwood Heights, the upscale neighborhood where most of the old money families lived. She could spend time at the Haven Saloon, but she didn’t want to just drink in a bar. That wasn’t fun for her, and darts . . . well, darts could be dangerous. Throwing sharp objects through the air while inebriated didn’t seem like a good idea.

  A waitress came by to take her usual order and rushed off. Friday nights were always busy. Colleen glanced around to see who all was there. Herne Fairchild was sitting at the booth across from hers. He lived down the street from her and his looks always made her pause. With his blond hair, blue eyes, and bright white smile, h
e reminded her of a model from a Sears & Roebuck catalog, right down to his perfectly creased chinos.

  The Bishop brothers, Ronan and Roman, were in another booth. They were a few years older than Colleen and both incredibly handsome, with dark hair and blue, stormy eyes. The Bishop family helped to found Havenwood Falls. With their looks and old money, either one of the brothers would have been a good catch, except there was something about them. They made her think of a bright red apple that looked perfect on the outside, but hid bruises and rotten spots just underneath the skin.

  A man sat in the corner of the restaurant, and Colleen’s lips parted in surprise. She had never seen Viktor Azimov at Burger Bar before. He was always an interesting character—very dark and brooding with thick black hair and eyes a bottomless midnight blue that stood out against skin as white as milk. In the winter, he wore a long black wool coat with a tall top hat, reminiscent of Abraham Lincoln, and he cut a striking figure whenever he walked through town. When Viktor passed by one of the gas-lit streetlamps, he seemed like a ghost from a different era. Now he wore a black leather jacket over a black shirt and denim jeans. His table was empty except for an untouched strawberry milkshake. Ice cream dripped down the side of the glass, and it looked like wax on a candle. He was in observation mode, too, and as if he felt Colleen watching, his dark eyes met hers. Blood rushed to her cheeks when she blushed, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed that she was caught staring.

  The waitress returned with her dinner, and Colleen placed her napkin across her lap before diving in with both hands. Sally filled her in on how she spoke to Irina Petran at the Whisper Falls Inn and secured the dining area for Peggy’s bridal shower. They were going with a traditional tea party theme and agreed the majestic Victorian inn would be the perfect venue. Once they mapped out a list of what needed to be done and who should be invited, Sally steered the conversation back to Colleen’s predictability. Sally’s hazel eyes glittered mischievously behind her glasses, and she flashed a sly grin.