Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  “When was that?” Albert asked, his smile gone.

  “Couple days after I arrived. They talked quietly and had some coffee. I didn’t like the way he was looking around, though. I made a point of taking a good look, in case I ran into him again.”

  Albert exchanged a glance with Thom.

  Hunter shrugged. “In my former business, forgetting someone’s face could get a man killed. I remember everyone I meet. The practice has always served me well.”

  Albert clapped him on his shoulder. “Well done, Wade. Let us know if he comes back in the saloon, or you see him somewhere else. Some bounty hunters are nothing more than killers. I don’t like to think of one hanging around the area. And yet, if he’s here, he must be looking for someone. I don’t like not knowing.”

  A burst of laughter came from the front room. Tabitha was still surrounded by women.

  “I think she’s looking for you, Hunter,” Thom said, jabbing him friendly-like in the ribs with his elbow. “Maybe you should get out there, help her celebrate her twenty-ninth birthday.”

  When the deputy stressed her age, Hunter couldn’t remain silent a moment longer. If his mouth caused her a problem, so be it. “I don’t know what the two of you are going on about, as well as the rest of Logan Meadows. Miss Canterbury and I are just friends. Nothing more.” Miss Hoity-Toity made sure I knew where I stood with her. And the slap still stings.

  Thom pulled back. “No? You sure about that?”

  “I just said it, didn’t I? All I’m concerned about is bringing more business into the Bright Nugget. I have some ideas in the works.”

  Both men looked interested.

  “But you’ll just have to wait with the rest of the town to find out what they are.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  After a wild Friday night in the saloon, Hunter ambled around the littered room of the Bright Nugget picking up glasses and empty bottles. Stopping before a table full of glassware, a bottle lying on its side, and an overflowing ashtray, he frowned. None too gently, he stacked them on the tray until there wasn’t room for one more item, and started for the maple bar.

  A flamboyant snore rattled from the back of the room.

  Clyde!

  He hadn’t seen the drunk last night in the late hour and dimness of the room. The town sot was slumped over a tabletop, one arm stretched past his ear, and the other dangling by his side, his fingers almost touching the shavings. How he stayed atop the surface in that position was a mystery. His mouth, wide as a barn door, quivered as several snorts shot past his lips.

  Hunter set the tray on the bar top, and then made his way toward the well-oiled man.

  “Hey, wake up,” he said, giving the man’s shoulder a good shake. “It’s morning, time to go home.” Past time to go home. Hours past time to go home.

  Cranky from the little sleep he’d gotten, Hunter mentally counted to ten. Because of his habit of waking just past four, he’d only slept a total of one hour. His eyes burned. Feeling a need to be outside, he’d gone for a long walk. The crisp, cold air had cleared out his head and lungs from all the smoke.

  “Clyde, wake up! You can’t stay here!”

  For several moments, Hunter contemplated slinging him over his back and dumping him in the chair Kendall kept in the back alley for just that purpose. The frosty air would wake him fast enough. In the short time Hunter had been in Logan Meadows, Kendall had done it three times to the fella.

  “Whass . . . ? Whass matter?” Clyde slurred, lifting his head for three whole seconds before letting it fall back to the table with a clunk. A groan slipped past the man’s lips.

  Darn drunk. Why did men have to get wasted? It didn’t make any sense. The memory of Hunter’s one and only hangover made moisture spring into his mouth. Feeling a mustard seed of compassion for the man, he strode to the woodstove and poured a cup of thick, black brew, then returned. “Here, drink some of this.”

  Clyde rolled his head back and forth. “Hunter, thass you, man? Why’re ya screaming in my ear? Feels like ya got yer boot on my skull.”

  “I’m not screaming in your ear—just drink the coffee. You can’t stay all morning.”

  “But I like it here . . .”

  Thank heavens for the new shavings. The placed smelled a good sight better than it had when he’d first come to town. Leaving Clyde with his untouched cup of coffee, Hunter went behind the bar. One by one, he loaded the dirty glasses into a bucket of water.

  With heavy lids, he ran a hand over his stubbled chin. After Miss Hoity-Toity’s birthday party, the woman had kept a low profile, staying in her shop or somewhere else out of his sight. He’d not seen her out in the evening in front of her shop like he sometimes used to.

  Kendall clomped down the stairs, pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. At the bottom of the staircase, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”

  “Nine fifteen,” Hunter replied after glancing at the clock behind the bar. Why the man couldn’t just look for himself was beyond Hunter. “Time to rise and shine.”

  “If you say so. Anything on the stove for breakfast?”

  Hunter had made coffee, but eating the day-old beans in the pot left from last night didn’t sit well with his stomach. He planned on heading to the Silky Hen in a few minutes. “Just the beans from last night and a fresh pot of coffee.”

  Kendall grumbled something about ungratefulness, and ambled to the back of the room.

  “Where’s Philomena? Seen her yet this morning?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Nope. Not a peep.”

  That was another thing that had begun to bother him. Before he’d come to know the woman, he hadn’t had any trouble thinking about how she made her living. But now, after nine days in town, he was beginning to feel a bit protective over their one employee. As the days passed, he’d come to know the kind of joke that would make her laugh, or how her eyes lit up with curiosity, and something deeper that he didn’t want to think about, while she stood at the door, watching the town from her protected spot. It made him feel sad. She had a pretty smile. Did she have hopes and dreams, like Tabitha said?

  A light rapping sounded at the door. Who knocks at a saloon?

  Hunter strode over and pulled open the inner door to the batwings hoping it wasn’t Violet.

  “Morning, Mr. Wade.”

  Hunter dropped his gaze. Nate Preston stood in the doorway. Glancing toward the sheriff’s office, he spotted Albert watching from his office, a cup of coffee in his hand. He smiled all friendly-like and nodded toward his son.

  “Mornin’, Nate. What brings you out so early?” The boy had a freshly scrubbed face and his clothes were clean. His small boots were as shiny as a new penny.

  “It’s Saturday!”

  Was it? Yes, that was true enough, but Hunter didn’t know what that had to do with him. “And?”

  “You told me to come to the bookshop on Saturday morning. To do chores for Miss Canterbury. You know, because I made Clementine mad, and almost killed ya?”

  Hunter held back a chuckle.

  “Did you forget? Pa thought it was a good idea if I checked in with you first to see if you had anything spa-spa-cific ya wanted me to do.”

  Clementine! The bookshop. Miss Hoity-Toity. How had he forgotten? “You’re right,” he said. “Saturday didn’t waste any time getting here.” And now I’m going to have to search out Miss Hoity-Toity again. Oh, joy. “It’s darn good of you to remember.”

  The child just looked up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one.

  “Are ya comin’ along?”

  Hunter reached back and untied the apron around his middle. “Sure I am. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He tossed the semiwhite apron onto the closest chair and reached for his hat. “I’m with you all the way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  At the sound of the whistling teakettle, Tabitha rose from her desk and hurried to the floral drapes that sectioned off her small kit
chen area from the rest of the store, and swished between the split curtains. In a few minutes, she’d need to pull up the shades, turn the door sign, and lug out the billboard onto the boardwalk.

  Hopefully today she’d have a customer or two. It all depended on whether the Union Pacific had a train scheduled to stop. And if said train brought with it anyone interested in books. One could only hope . . .

  She’d not get discouraged. Rome wasn’t built in a day, she reminded herself. She needed to be patient—as well as cheerful. By nature, she was a happy person. Even if she were lonely, going into debt, and had mixed feelings about Hunter, she’d keep a stiff upper lip. Her birthday party had made her realize just how blessed she was to have so many friends.

  Yesterday she’d had three whole customers. One who wanted their own copy of Great Expectations, one who wanted a dime novel, and the last bought a large picture book for his wife’s Christmas present. That purchase had been the most expensive, and she’d made a whole two dollars profit.

  Tabitha drew the whistling teakettle to the side. She stirred the bubbling pot of mush, finding it not yet thick. Going to her eclectic teacup collection, she chose her favorite, a blue-and-white bone china teacup from England. She dropped in some loose tea she’d purchased the day Hunter had ridden into town, and set the cup aside.

  Footsteps sounded outside, drawing her attention, but that was nothing new. People walked by all the time. When hushed voices stayed outside her front door, her curiosity grew. She glanced at her clock. Ten minutes until ten. Hoping whoever it was might be a customer, she crossed the room and pulled open the door.

  Shock registered. Hunter stood there looking gruff and unshaven. Next to him was small Nate Preston, a wide smile splitting his face. “G-Good Saturday morning,” she stammered, excited and wary at the same time. “May I help you?” The sight of Hunter’s bloodshot eyes made her stomach clench. She’d never seen him so unkempt. A dark shadow of a beard darkened his square jaw. A dangerous spark glimmered in his eyes.

  “Nate, in his quest to make up for spooking Clementine, has volunteered his services. Being a saloon isn’t a fit place for a boy, I suggested he see what you needed doing. I had intended to tell you a few days ago, Wednesday to be exact, and forgot. Today’s the day Albert has let him off.”

  He winked for her to play along.

  “How did you spook Clementine?” she asked, glancing down at Nate. “I’d think that would be difficult to do.”

  “I shot her in the butt with my slingshot. Not on purpose,” he hurried to say. “I was in the hayloft, and she just sorta got in my line of fire. Then she stampeded through the gate Uncle Win had partially opened.”

  The scene played over in Tabitha’s mind. “I see.”

  “I already worked for Mrs. Hollyhock,” he said. “Cleaning out her chicken coop.” He wrinkled his nose and waved a hand in front of his face.

  “Oh. Well, I won’t have anything like that for you to do today. Nothing stinky, but I do have some things you could help with.” She eyed Hunter who waited quietly through the conversation. “Mr. Wade, are you sure you don’t have something Nate can do for you? In your apartment or caring for your animals?”

  “Nope. My animals are out at the Axelrose ranch, and my place is so small it’s easy to keep up with the chores. You’re the perfect person for him to help.”

  “Oh, why’s that?”

  A muscle clenched in his jaw. And he looked grumpy.

  “Being unmarried, you don’t have a man to do for you. Thought you would appreciate some support.”

  All right. She’d deserved that, she supposed. After their arguments, and then the slap. And him being thrown into the party against his will. She was resilient, and could easily handle whatever he dished out—especially since his revenge was well merited.

  “In that case . . .” Tabitha held the door wide and waved them both in. Did Hunter intend to stay and supervise? A flutter of excitement took her by surprise at the same moment a gust of wind sent a cold blast of air whistling into the shop and up her skirt. Her burst of laughter brought a wariness to Hunter’s eyes. “Hurry in, before all my warm air escapes.” She rubbed her hands up and down the sleeves of her dark-green dress, giddiness making her feel all of sixteen. “I have a kettle on for tea, if either of you’d like a cup.”

  Hunter and Nate both looked at each other and then back at her. They nodded.

  “Wonderful. I knew there must be a reason I heated so much water.” She placed a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “First Nate, would you please roll up all my window blinds, since it’s time to open? When that’s finished, turn the sign on my door.” She pointed behind him. “After that, please take my billboard out to the boardwalk and place it between my door and the creek. That way all my customers will know we’re open. But be careful, it’s heavy.”

  During her direction to Nate, Hunter had leaned a hip against her desk, an amused smile pulling his lips. Maybe he wasn’t in such a bad mood after all. His gaze meandered the length of her in a slightly suggestive way, causing fire to rush to her face. At the realization of what he must be thinking to have such a devilish look in his eyes, the air charged with an unusual energy she’d never experienced before. She tried to pull her gaze away, but was powerless to do so. She liked it! Him! Her racing heart and carnal thoughts. What his silent expression was promising.

  Amid his lack of decorum, she jerked her gaze away. She whisked behind her kitchen curtain and pressed her palms to her heart, willing herself to calm down. I’m twenty-nine years old. A man with a sensual smile should not be able to send me scampering for cover. When she reached for two additional cups and saucers, they rattled in her hands. “Mr. Wade, have you eaten your breakfast?” she called. “I know you get up early, but I have a pot of mush back here you’re welcome to. You too, Nate.”

  She glanced at the small pot. She could quickly add more. Opening the door to the oven’s fire compartment, she stirred the coals to life and added two more logs. “Mr. Wade,” she called louder this time.

  “That wouldn’t feed a fly.”

  She straightened, surprised to find him in her kitchen sanctuary. She spun so quickly she lost her balance.

  Hunter reached out and steadied her, his hand on hers producing a sizzle of tingles.

  “Oh! I didn’t hear you enter.”

  His fingers remained on hers.

  “You were working the fire.” He gazed around, slowly took his hand away. “You wouldn’t happen to have any eggs and bacon around here, would you?”

  Although he’d initially asked about the food, his gaze strayed to her lips.

  He came a step closer.

  She took a step back.

  “A-Actually, no, but I can run down to the mercantile for the eggs and the butcher for some bacon. They’ll both be open by now.”

  “I can go.”

  He stood so tall; it made her room shrink around them. “No, Mr. Wade, I want to do this for you.” To make up for the slap. “I can be back in ten minutes. Can you keep an eye on the place until I return? No one will come in.”

  He nodded, his eyes hooded. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

  “I’m done, Miss Canterbury,” Nate said from the other side of the curtains. It was then Tabitha realized how improper it was for her to be alone in here with Hunter. She grasped one panel, tied it back with its sash, and then did the same with the other.

  “My, you’re a fast worker,” she hastened to say, feeling fluttery and distracted. Carrying the empty teacups intended for Hunter and Nate, Tabitha hurried out and went to her desk. Setting the cups down, she reached for her feather duster and handed it to the boy. “Here you go, Mr. Preston. I’m running out for a few minutes. While I’m gone, I’d like you to go about dusting the bookshelves. Some books, the ones on the walls, you may need to take out and get behind. Can you do that for me?”

  He nodded.

  “Be careful. Treat them like good friends.” Feeling totally conspicuous with
Hunter watching her, she raced upstairs for her shawl. Descending, she wrapped the wool garment around her shoulders and tied the ends. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  She couldn’t stop a smile at Nate’s large eyes. He looked as if he’d been left in charge of a candy store. She knew the place was in capable hands. At that thought, she snuck a peek at Hunter’s large hands, his arms crossed in a nonchalant way over his wide chest. Yes, those were good hands if she’d ever seen any . . .

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Tabitha hadn’t been gone three minutes when the door opened and two women entered the bookstore. They stopped and looked around. Hunter groaned inwardly. Why now? One moment before their entry, his mind had been reliving the seconds in Tabitha’s small corner kitchen when he’d actually been contemplating kissing her again. Really! He must need his brain examined!

  She was like a sickness to him. He’d never run across a woman who’d so fully captured his attention.

  The thought brought a swift punch of anger. She’d looked beautiful, soft, and innocent. His heart had thumped forcefully against his ribs and the sensibilities of his mind had fuzzed. She’d drawn him like a field of catnip did a tom.

  The prettier of the two new arrivals smiled when she noticed Nate on his knees, dusting the bottom row of novels on the far side of the room. Looking like sisters, the older jerked back in surprise when she spotted Hunter lounging by the kitchen drape, watching. He supposed he did look rather disreputable.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said in a polite voice. He ran a hand over the stubble on his face, surely the reason they were eyeing him dubiously. Or perhaps it was his red, gritty eyes, or his rumpled clothes still reeking of smoke. “May I help you find something?”

  They turned to each other for a moment, then back to him. “Are you the proprietor?” the older slowly asked. “We’d heard this place was run by a woman—who was now holding public readings.”