by Annette Lyon
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked at Nathan’s hand and finally reached out to shake it. “Coltrane,” he said slowly. “Wyatt Coltrane.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Coltrane.”
While Hazel didn’t move away from his arm, she folded both of her own and shot him a look of annoyance. Nathan addressed Mr. Coltrane again. “If you’re looking for a tasty dinner, head back about half a mile in the direction you came. Betty’s has the best steak around. And if you head a mile or two that way”— he jutted his thumb toward north — you’ll find a hotel that’s—”
“Thank you kindly,” Coltrane interrupted. “But you see, Miss Adams here already told me as much.” He winked at Hazel, and Nathan’s hand instinctively tightened around her shoulders. She wriggled under his grip, but he wasn’t about to let go.
“But I didn’t tell you about the holiday celebrations,” Hazel said.
Nathan muttered under his breath, hoping only she could hear. “The town doesn’t want a stranger interloping.”
She turned to him with one eyebrow cocked. “The town doesn’t want that?” Before Nathan could come up with a retort, she’d already turned back to Coltrane as if Nathan didn’t exist at all. “If you need to buy anything, be sure to visit Bonner’s soon, because they close at noon.”
“So early?” Coltrane said.
“Only for holidays,” Hazel said.
“Holidays,” Coltrane repeated flatly, clearly not understanding.
“It’s Pioneer Day,” she clarified. “But I’m sure you know that.”
Nathan doubted that very much that Coltrane knew any such thing. That, combined with Hazel’s over bright tone, which was pitched higher than usual, grated on his nerves. Something about this man sent up warning flares in Nathan’s head. Everyone in Utah, Mormon or not, knew about Pioneer Day. You couldn’t escape it. And that wasn’t Hazel’s regular speaking voice, but rather, one she put on when nervous or trying to make a good impression ... or flirting.
“I take it you’re not from Utah?” Nathan said.
“On the contrary. I was born and raised here.” Coltrane nodded as he looked around. “Love the Rockies, don’t you?”
Hazel made a sound that sound almost as if she’d just tasted the most delicious ice cream. “I love the Rockies very much.”
Adjusting his hat, Nathan tried to gently probe a bit more — to prove to Hazel that for whatever reason, this man wasn’t telling the truth. “So what part of the state were you born in? Cache Valley? San Pitch? Hurricane?” He deliberately mispronounced the last two. The area of San Pitch had since been renamed San Pete, and locals knew that Hurricane was pronounced hurricun.
“Hurricane,” Coltrane said quickly. Too quickly, by Nathan’s estimation. And he said the name of the place the same way Nathan had, the way one referred to giant Atlantic storms.
Nathan couldn’t help but nudge Hazel, hoping she caught the shibboleth and recognized what it meant.
“At least, I was born there,” Coltrane said hurriedly, glancing between the two of them. “I grew up mostly in Salt Lake City.”
Sure, he did. Nathan nearly chuffed in disbelief.
“Be sure to come to the parade this afternoon,” Hazel, said. “Right after that is a town picnic, and after that is the first dance.”
“The first?”
“Everyone goes to the afternoon dance, even children. But then later, there’s a dance for the older set. You won’t want to miss it. Especially not the fireworks tonight.”
The fireworks. Did she have to mention those?
Clearly, she was no less enamored with the stranger than before. Maybe she accepted the lie that he’d grown up in Salt Lake as the reason he didn’t know how to say the name of his place of birth. Ridiculous. Every Utahan knew how to say Hurricane, and this man was no Utahan. Hazel was not just one of the smartest women Nathan knew, but one of the smartest people he knew. She had to see right through the man. Only she didn’t.
Was Nathan the foolish one, then? Was he overreacting? Or had Coltrane’s masculine wiles pulled the wool over Hazel’s eyes?
“I might come to the celebrations,” Coltrane said, nodding thoughtfully. “Will you be there?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Hazel said. “I never miss any of it.”
Nathan had to fight down a wave of nausea.
“Sounds like a mighty fine time,” Coltrane said. “And it might help me get to know the folks here. I’m looking to settle down in Midway.” He looked at Nathan, who glared back. “Perhaps you know of a place I could buy.”
“You’re settling ... in Midway,” Nathan repeated.
“I think so,” Coltrane said.
“You looking for land?”
“Possibly.” Coltrane didn’t sound so sure of his answer. He adjusted his hat and looked about the street as if surveying the town. “More likely, I’ll set up a business. I specialize in a few things here and there that the town might find useful.”
In other words, he really was a city boy. Nathan supposed it was possible for the man to have been raised in the middle of Salt Lake around department stores, hotels, trolleys, and such, never learning how to farm. But again, something niggled in the back of his mind that said Coltrane wasn’t who he said he was.
Even with the brass bell clapper knocking back and forth in his head, yelling that Coltrane was bad news, Nathan could not get himself to ask what the interloper intended to do in the way of business here. Something about the man’s bearing, the way he lifted his chin when he looked down his nose from his horse as he spoke to them on the lowly ground, made Coltrane seem extraordinarily arrogant.
Judge not that ye be not judged. So Hazel always said, reminding Nathan that the advice came from the Good Book, not from her. But Nathan insisted that sometimes judging could be the right thing to do, and not judging — or at least, not putting an ear to the ground for danger, as it were — brought evil and other bad things. If Nathan had to guess, he’d have said that Coltrane’s arrival and intentions of doing business — and who knew what else — boded ill.
I’ll resist saying any such thing aloud, however. No doubt, breathing a word would be asking for trouble. The last thing Nathan wanted was to provoke the man into a fight. Or worse, upset Hazel. Disappoint her. A single look from her could do a number on Nathan’s conscience more powerful than Ma’s cocked head and narrowed eyes ever could. He’d walk to the ends of the earth and back to avoid seeing her pinched forehead, her slightly rounded shoulders, her sigh. All of those things that said volumes more than she’d ever speak in words about his behavior, whatever it had been.
“If your business is of the mercantile sort,” Nathan said, “the town’s already got that covered, as you can see.” He gestured at Bonner’s behind him. Hopefully he could show Coltrane that the town had no use for him. “Half the town has dairy cows, so milk and cheese and the like probably won’t be profitable for y—”
“I’ll find something,” Coltrane said, cutting him off.
For a moment, Nathan stared evenly at the stranger. “I have no doubt you will.”
Coltrane would do his best to set up a sham business of some kind. Hopefully Hazel interpreted his comments about Bonner’s and the dairy farmers as an effort to be helpful, though his motives weren’t aimed at keeping Coltrane in town. Rather to the contrary.
Nathan couldn’t detect her reaction without turning to look right at her, but from the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her rolling her eyes. She did raise her nose a little higher and take a step toward the horse, away from him. Nathan took a matching step and draped his arm around her again. He had to make sure she stayed safe near a strange horse and a strange man. Hazel shot him a look of exasperation then addressed the horseman.
“It was mighty nice meeting you, Mr. Coltrane,” she said.
“Likewise, Miss Adams. I hope to see you at the celebrations.” He nodded and winked at her.
That’s twice, and right in front of me. Brazen rat.<
br />
Nathan felt his free hand tightening into a fist, and his nostrils flared. Before he could say something he’d certainly regret, Hazel put a hand on his arm. “Nathan?” Her touch, her voice, brought him back from the fire of anger and returned him to some semblance of reason. Nathan forced himself to breathe in deeply through his nose. Ma always said that helped calm one down.
He reluctantly addressed Coltrane. “If I hear of anyone selling their business or renting out a storefront, I’ll know who to tell.”
“Much obliged.” Coltrane tipped his hat in Hazel’s direction, making her blush anew.
Nathan counted more breaths, jaw clenched. He had no intention of telling Coltrane anything, no matter how many business opportunities appeared in town. Nathan’s words were technically true. He’d know who to tell, but wouldn’t actually tell him a thing.
Without another word, Coltrane nudged the horse’s sides and continued westward down Main Street. The lazy pace didn’t fool Nathan for a moment. Wyatt Coltrane put it on for show as if he were some easygoing, relaxed, harmless fellow who might buy you a pint of beer at the pub.
Nathan’s gut told him otherwise. Though the need for a ruse was gone, he held Hazel even tighter. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.
Chapter Three
Hazel stared at the muted cloud of dust in the distance that marked Wyatt Coltrane’s departing figure. The setting sun made his silhouette all the more intriguing, romantic. But the pleasure of watching him leave was quickly tainted by Nathan’s arm around her shoulders and the memory of his ridiculous behavior. She fumed more with every second that passed but didn’t dare speak until Mr. Coltrane was far enough way that he wouldn’t overhear her.
She turned on Nathan, stepping out of his hold at last, and slapped his arm with the back of her hand.
He flinched and pulled away. “Hey, what was that for?”
“I could ask the same thing,” she said, eyes blazing. She held out an arm in the direction Coltrane was growing smaller in the distance. “What was that all about?”
Nathan peered down the street and then regarded her again. He adjusted his belt with both hands and let his thumbs hang from it. “Well, Hazel,” he said dryly, “I believe we met a man newly arrived to Midway who plans to live here.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he raised a hand and spoke first. “I know that such a thing is somewhat rare in these parts. One might say it’s nearly unheard of, especially for someone without a Swiss tie.”
The aggravating man. Hazel folded her arms, in no mood to be given infantile suggestions when she deserved the truth. “Did you take even a moment to consider that perhaps Mr. Coltrane is a decent man?”
“Can’t say I did, no,” Nathan said. At least he was honest. She rolled her eyes, but either he didn’t notice, or he deliberately ignored it. “I know his kind, and he isn’t to be trusted.”
“How can you say that?” Hazel could feel a rant building inside her but tried to let it out in controlled spurts. “He’s more likely to have an entirely rational reason for coming to Midway than to be a scoundrel. Maybe his grandparents used to live here? Or maybe because he’s Swiss and recently immigrated himself?”
“Did you hear the man speak?” Nathan retorted. “I didn’t detect so much as an English accent on him, let alone a German or French one.”
“Fine.” She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. If she didn’t maintain an objective, emotion-free logic, he’d never listen to her. Forget the fact that Nathan himself was intensely emotional right now, though trying to hide it. She opened her eyes again. “I agree that he must be American born.”
“Aha!”
“So what if he was?” She threw up her hands and started walking toward her home. Nathan followed, of course, but she wasn’t about to stop arguing. “You and I are both American born. That doesn’t mean our heritage isn’t Swiss.”
After a grunt, Nathan said, “He’s a rake. You’re too smart to think otherwise.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hazel said.
Coltrane had flirted with her, which admittedly was a bit forward for a stranger to do upon first meeting a woman. But was it such a sin to be flattered when a handsome man found it worth his while to give you attention? And who knew his character anyway? He might be exactly the kind of man she’d been looking for. He certainly had the appearance of a hero from a novel.
“He just showed up with no prospects, no family, no job, no apparent reason,” Nathan said. “You have to admit that’s a bit odd.”
She wouldn’t admit any such thing, at least not aloud. She increased her pace, which made Nathan take longer strides to keep up. The sight felt oddly satisfying.
“Mr. Coltrane could have any number of reasons to coming here. Maybe he heard of Heber Valley and Midway and what a peaceful, pretty place it is, and he came here specifically because he’s looking for a nice place to make his home.” She was vaguely aware that her voice sounded airy, so she cleared her throat and put on a terse tone. “Did you think of any of that?”
Hands in his pockets, Nathan shook his head. “Yes, I thought of all of that.” He glanced over his shoulder at Coltrane’s receding figure, and Hazel did the same.
“Then ... why in tarnation did you act like that?” She halted on the side of the road and studied his face.
He looked disturbed and worried on top of the jealousy she’d seen earlier, but he didn’t answer her. Rather, he looked up and to her right, as if studying a tree in the distance.
“Nathan, I’ve never seen you act so ... well, strange ... before. Almost...” Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the words to express her thoughts. “You almost seemed like a guard dog watching out for... wait a minute.” A plausible — and painful — explanation came to mind as if someone had just lit a lantern, brightening what had been a basement room.
His expression took on a pain and a softness she hadn’t seen in a year. “Hazel, I’ll always—”
“Nathan, don’t. Please. Just ... don’t.”
He looked at the ground between his feet, and his jaw visibly tensed.
Her suspicions were confirmed, then; he was jealous of Coltrane and the attention she’d gotten from him. Nathan felt threatened by a dashing, handsome city man. No local young man could have elicited this kind of reaction, but then, Nathan had known every man in Midway, young and old alike. He knew that she found none of them attractive.
Wyatt Coltrane, on the other hand...
Once more, he looked down the street at Mr. Coltrane’s retreating shape; she looked that direction too. The sunset had mellowed from looking like a bright peach drenched in honey to a more muted sky streaked with pinks and purples. Nathan seemed to be taking it in right along with her, but she was too distracted by what she thought was really going on in his head to admire the shifting palette of the sinking sun.
Hazel grasped both of Nathan’s arms to get his attention, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, his mouth further tightened into a thin line. Had he been hoping all this time to renew their failed attempt at courtship? The few months they’d dated had been a nightmare, with neither of them able to behave as their normal themselves. Both of them had been miserable. They’d fought. She’d grown insecure. He’d become paranoid.
Actually, they were both insecure and paranoid back then. They stopped talking to each other about anything except for boring things like the weather and how many gallons of milk he estimated his farm would produce in the next month. Courting had meant no more sitting together at the edge of the crater pool, toes in the naturally hot spring water, and telling each other about their innermost thoughts — their dreams and worries, likes and dislikes, victories and losses, joys and sorrows.
Ironically, when he was her beau, she’d missed him more than ever, had never been more miserable or alone. She’d never forget his kiss, and the things it awoke inside her — so powerfully that the moment it ended, she knew that if she didn’t stop what was happening between t
hem, she’d lose her dearest friend forever.
“It’s been a long time,” she whispered.
“Exactly two years,” he murmured without looking at her.
“We agreed that our friendship is too important to risk, remember? We set fire to that bridge and swore we’d never try to cross it again. We both agreed. In your own words, we make great friends—”
“But a terrible couple,” Nathan finished. He met her gaze now, and the sadness in it made Hazel’s chest ache. He licked his lips, which made her want to kiss them one more time. To feel the same fireworks inside her that she had that night, a feeling that had made the actual fireworks above them pale in comparison.
No, she couldn’t go there again. She’d already lost too much.
He sighed. “Would we have to be doomed to be a terrible couple? That was a long time ago. You said so yourself just now.” He gazed into her eyes. Her insides flipped inside out and back again.
Had Nathan Siddoway just suggested that they try to court again? The world seemed to have started spinning, with everything being thrown into chaos and changing. She felt as if she didn’t know anything anymore. If Nathan could spring such a surprising suggestion on her after so long, someone else could inform her that the sky was pink, and she might have to believe them.
“Nathan, I...” Her voice trailed off as she searched for something to say, but all words had fled her mind. If it could be different, then maybe they could be a couple. That was one mighty large if, however, one that would cost her what little friendship she still had with Nathan if it didn’t work out a second time. She wasn’t willing him on the altar of her fate. She finally found a way to explain without painful words.
“No one puts sour milk into an ice chest and hopes it’ll be fresh again in the morning.”
He looked up. “You’re calling us sour milk?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Now she avoided his gaze as he did hers a moment before. “Two-year-old milk.”
“That’s called cheese.” Nathan spoke so evenly that if a passerby had heard his comment, they might have assumed he was describing dairy products to someone who’d never tasted them.
