Inn the Spirit of Legends (Spirits of Texas Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

by Becki Willis

  “Leroy.”

  The sharp ring in the lawyer’s voice quieted the dog immediately. He dropped to his haunches and awaited further command. In a more amiable tone, Walker suggested, “Go feed Henny Penny.”

  Impressed, Hannah watched as the dog stood and dutifully trotted ahead to lead the way. “Henny Penny?” she asked, falling in step beside the lawyer.

  “One of the laying hens.”

  Hannah surveyed the buildings clustered around the white-rocked road they traversed. They passed a weathered barn and set of corrals, situated closest to the inn. “The old livery stable, I presume?”

  “Absolutely. This is where they kept fresh horses for the stage. Next to it was the blacksmith shop. You know, for making horseshoes, that sort of thing.”

  “And all those buildings across the way?”

  “The far one on that side” —he indicated the structure closest to the gates— “is the old general store. You wouldn’t believe some of the antiques still on the shelves. Next to it is the saloon, which later became a dance hall. Next to that was once another business. It had a variety of reincarnations and owners, including a dressmaker, a barber, and, there at the end, a small machine shop. It’s probably in the worst shape of all the buildings, as you can see. The next two are cabins original to the town, and the last is the church.”

  She glimpsed the roof of another building through the trees. “And out there?”

  “Another of the original cabins, now the home of Sadie and Fred.”

  Ahead of them, Leroy deviated from the road, instead taking a well-traveled path through the grass. They topped a small hill and Hannah saw the sheds and pens below, situated near the creek.

  “And I guess that would be the farm,” she murmured. She already heard the bleat of the goats and the unmistakable sound of a cow calling for its calf. Feet stalling, she balled up her fists and muttered beneath her breath, “JoeJoe is so dead.”

  “You said something?”

  From the smirk on his face, the lawyer knew exactly what she said. He definitely understood the meaning behind the words, as well as the fervor in her tone.

  “I asked, how many head?” she lied.

  His blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Let’s go see,” he replied smoothly. He gallantly held out a hand. “After you.”

  Hannah marched down the hill, thankful she had changed into sensible athletic shoes. The muddy path would have ruined her expensive sandals.

  “These are the goats,” he pointed out needlessly.

  Two small goats with brown spots and curly coats munched on a bale of hay in the corner of the pen, while a solid-dark goat nibbled on a piece of wire wrapped around a fence post. From the looks of it, it once held a rubber feed bucket. Only half a bucket remained, and it sported a jagged, gnawed-off edge. A white goat stood along the opposite fence, crying to something only it could see among the trees, calling out with its soulful, begging bleat. A black and white billy with small horns edged toward them, locked in a staring contest with Leroy. The two remaining goats in the pen scrambled to their feet and stood behind the billy in silent support.

  “We keep the feed in this little shed. On the other side is the chicken coop.”

  Hannah gave him a suspicious eye. “You said ‘we.’ What, exactly, is it that you do here?”

  When he shrugged his shoulders, she refused to notice how his tight shirt strained with the effort. The man should have the decency to wear another shirt over the snug-fitting tee, rather than flaunting his sculpted abs. Why had his wife let him out of the house dressed like this? She scowled to herself.

  “I help out, here and there,” Walker explained with a nonchalant air. He opened the feed barrel and peered inside. Apparently finding it empty, the man had the audacity to pluck a fifty-pound bag of feed from a nearby stack and lift it over his shoulder, as if it weighed no more than a bath towel. Muscles bulged and biceps flexed as he ripped open the seam and emptied the bag’s contents into the barrel.

  It was a noisy process, pouring the pellets into the metal container. He spoke over the din. “Sadie and Fred don’t leave very often, but even when they’re here, I stop in when I can. They aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

  No, she didn’t know. She didn’t know a thing about the Tanner couple, or how to feed goats, or why her traitorous eyes followed his every move as he rolled up the empty sack, tied it with its own string, and stacked it neatly away for later disposal. For the life of her, she didn’t know why she found this irritating, pompous, married man so maddeningly attractive.

  “Now what?” she asked, her tone sharp with irritation aimed at herself.

  “Now we feed the goats.” He scooped an old coffee can into the barrel and filled it with pellets. Handing it to her, he showed Hannah where to pour the feed and told her how many cans were needed in each of the two troughs.

  “The water trough should fill automatically, but sometimes the float gets stuck. If it does, you’ll need to reach in and give it a little jiggle.”

  Hannah peered over his arm, to the slime-covered bottom he indicated. Bits of algae clung to the float and gave the water a faint greenish tint. “You expect me to put my hand in there?”

  “I expect you to care for the goats and make certain they have plenty of water to drink each day,” he countered in a firm voice. “The same can be said for the chickens.”

  Resisting the urge to crinkle her nose, Hannah moved forward. “You said the chickens were on this side? What keeps them… oh, I see. They have a fenced-in enclosure.”

  “More to keep prey out, than to keep them in,” Walker explained. “Make sure you always latch this gate behind you.”

  He lifted the latch and stepped over the threshold, but Hannah’s feet stalled. “I have to go inside? With them?”

  A smirk played on his lips. “How else do you plan to collect the eggs?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and gave a curt reply. “I don’t.”

  “You have to gather eggs every morning, Hannah. If you leave them too long, they’ll spoil.”

  “But… But…” She knew she sputtered, even as she reluctantly followed him inside the pen.

  “But what?”

  “What if they attack me?”

  Walker looked around at the docile birds, none of them giving the humans a second glance. Most scratched around in the dirt, two hunkered down to rest in the shade, and one fat, feathered fowl reigned supremely from a low perch atop an overturned bucket.

  “Do these look like attack chickens?” he asked.

  “Nnnooo,” she agreed dubiously. “But you never can tell…”

  “They won’t hurt you. They may try to beat you to the feed bucket, but they won’t hurt you.”

  He bent to retrieve the bucket from beneath the hen, shooing her away like a pesky fly. “Get off there, Goosey Loosey,” he said. “How did you get this down to begin with?” Over his shoulder, he told Hannah, “It should hang here on this nail, so you can scoop it into the feed barrel. Just about a half bucket will do.” He scooped it inside and came out with an offering of grains. “Here. Just scatter it around the yard.”

  “In the dirt?” she questioned.

  “Yep, right there in the dirt. All around, not just in one spot.”

  When the chickens saw she had feed, they clucked noisily and scurried her way. With a squeal, Hannah dropped the bucket and took refuge behind the lawyer’s back, tugging on his arm to shield her.

  “What are you doing!” he cried in exasperation. “You spilled all the feed!”

  “They’re after me! They’re going to attack me!”

  He whirled around to glare at her, but she rotated with his every move, careful to keep him between her and the mob of hungry chickens. When he would have made a full circle and brought her in closer to the fowl, she quickly changed positions and scooted around in front of him, still clinging to his arm. The result found her pressed against his chest, his arm draped across her waist.

/>   Walker looked down at her, his blue eyes dancing with wicked amusement. “If you wanted a hug,” he drawled, “you could have just asked for it.”

  “I don’t want a hug!” she snapped, even though she kept his arm tugged tightly around her. “I want protection!”

  “From the girls?” His voice was incredulous. Stepping back, he freed his arm and used it to scoop up one of the chickens. “This vicious beast right here is Foxy Loxy. See how she has a pretty black and white pattern all over? She’s a Dominicker. She’ll lay a nice, big, brown egg for you.” He thrust the large chicken toward her. “Here, pet her.”

  “I see how she has beady little eyes,” Hannah murmured. She tentatively reached out to hover her hand over the chicken’s head. The hen made a jerky movement, and Hannah snatched her hand away. “Did you see that? She tried to peck me!”

  “She was just saying hello,” Walker said, but he sat the hen down on the ground. She shook out her ruffled feathers and joined the scuffle around the spilled grain.

  Using his booted foot to even out the heap of feed, Walker worked to distribute it better. Two of the chickens got into a feathered argument, squawking loudly at one another. Hannah watched from a safe distance.

  Curiosity finally got the better of her. “So which one is Chicken Little?”

  “That big rooster there, with all the red, green, and black feathers.”

  “Isn’t that a misnomer?” Hannah asked with a bit of a smirk.

  “I guess Miss Wilhelmina didn’t know how big he would get.” Satisfied with his work, Walker stepped back and allowed the chickens to scatter out the rest. Hands on his hips, he looked at the large, majestic rooster strutting their way. “Then again,” he considered, “maybe she did it on purpose. Miss Wilhelmina had a sense of humor about her.”

  Hannah gave an unladylike snort. “She certainly did. This entire transaction is a joke!”

  “I didn’t see your uncle laughing,” Walker reminded her, “when he paid for his purchase.”

  “No, that’s because I’m the one paying the real price!”

  Walker made no comment as he hung the bucket in its place and showed her where she would collect the eggs each morning. They stepped from the pen and he carefully latched the gate, giving it a little push for good measure.

  “We’ll take the golf cart to check the cows,” he said, indicating the small utility vehicle she just noticed. “Hop in.”

  As he slid behind the steering wheel, he returned to their previous conversation. “So, this purchase was a birthday present, huh?”

  Hannah visibly cringed. “Yes. My uncle prides himself on giving… unique gifts. This is just one of a long list of doozies.”

  At her tone, Walker Jacoby actually chuckled. “What were some of the others?”

  “Well, let’s see… instead of the pony I asked for on my seventh birthday, he gave me a retired Kentucky Derby race horse. When I was ten and wanted a magic kit, he took me to Vegas to meet a magician. I was terrified when they called me up on the stage to participate in a magic trick. I thought the man was truly sawing me in half.” She laughed at the memory now, but at the time, it was traumatizing. “There was a full circus production in our backyard on my… fifth, I think it was, birthday… and a really cool private concert for me and five of my closest friends when I turned sixteen. And then there was the egg incident.”

  Walker sent her a sharp look, but the corners of his mouth lifted in amusement. “You say that with such drama. What, pray tell, was the egg incident?”

  “For my twelfth birthday, JoeJoe gave me a dozen eggs, each in their own incubator. He claimed it was educational, but it turned into a science project that quite literally ate itself.” The memory of it skittered over her skin, rippling her arms with gooseflesh. “In typical JoeJoe fashion, he had no idea what creatures would hatch forth out of those shells. Just my luck, I was living with my mother at the time, in a very swanky LA condo, where they had a strict no-crocodile/no-snake/no-duck policy.”

  She failed to mention that the fiasco offered her mother the perfect excuse to send young Hannah back to live with her father in Texas. Again.

  The golf cart bounced over the rough terrain, but Walker never seemed to notice how Hannah hung on for dear life. “Well, fortunately for you, at least where the ducks are concerned, there are no such restrictions here in Hannah. You have a nice little gaggle of geese and ducks, right there in that pond.”

  She had to admit, if only to herself, it was a beautiful pond. Green banks sloped gently downward, tumbling gracefully into the crystal-blue shimmer. A half dozen or more ducks drifted on the tiny ripples of current, content to bask in the fading light of afternoon sun. Along the far banks, several geese waddled their way down the sloping grasses to plunk themselves, one by one, into the water. As the geese splashed into the pool, the water pushed away in ever-widening rings, until it reached the ducks in the middle of the pond. They bobbed up and down, riding on the waves of the ripple effect.

  The scene exuded peace and calm. Hannah felt a bit of solitude slip into her soul.

  Perhaps, just perhaps, this endeavor wouldn’t be a colossal failure. Perhaps she wouldn’t be a failure.

  “There’s fish in the pond, and even a nice little sandy bank over on the far left, if you’re ever inclined to take a swim.”

  “I prefer swimming pools, thank you.”

  Walker just laughed, but for once, the sound wasn’t condescending. “You’re in the country now, Hannah. It may take a little getting used to, but once you let your guard down, I think you’ll love it.”

  Hannah looked around her. It was beautiful, yes. The fields were awash with color, where Indian paintbrushes and vibrant bluebonnets weaved among the green grasses. Not to be outdone, the sun set low against the horizon, throwing out its last efforts of magnificence for the day. Strokes of pink and orange painted themselves against a backdrop of blue, swirling and dancing, blending into wisps of gilded white and brilliant gold. Unnamed colors streaked across the sky, creating a masterpiece that was already changing, already fading.

  She would never say it aloud, not to this man, but she seldom saw a sky like this in Houston. It could have been the skyscrapers that stood between her and nature’s glorious paintings. Or it could have been her career.

  Either way, this was a treat to behold. Even the air felt different here. It felt lighter. More natural. It certainly smelled differently. Clean and fresh. Real. Hannah closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the silence around her, imagining that she didn’t have a care in the world.

  The nearby lowing of a cow jarred her from her dream world, reminding Hannah that her life wasn’t quite so carefree. An audible sigh escaped as she pulled herself back to reality. She may as well get it over with now, and hear the worst of it. “Tell me about this milk cow I own.”

  Chapter Five

  By the time they returned to the inn, twilight had fallen. Lit with electric lanterns along the front of the building, the old whitewashed limestone and lumber structure fairly glowed against the darkening sky, taking on an ethereal feel. Just for a moment, Hannah imagined she was stepping through a portal of time. Stepping up to the ancient dwelling was like stepping back into the past.

  “Were there ever any Old West outlaws around here?” she asked suddenly.

  The lawyer gave her a sharp look. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

  Once the words were out, she felt foolish having spoken them. She gave a lame shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Something about it just feels so… western. Like it’s straight out of a movie. Was the stage coach ever robbed en route to here?”

  His answering shrug was dismissive. “Times were rough back then.” He motioned toward her car. “Do you need a hand with your luggage, or have you already unloaded?”

  In truth, she hadn’t given a thought to her luggage, perhaps because she was avoiding the thought of spending the night here. “Not yet,” she said.

  “Need
help?”

  “Sure.” It was more that she wasn’t ready to be left alone yet, than actually needing his help.

  “Which room will be yours?”

  “I haven’t gone further than the kitchen,” she admitted.

  “If you’ll unlock the car, I’ll bring everything in,” he offered. “Why don’t you go on in and choose a room?”

  “Any room?”

  He gave her a charming smile. “They all belong to you now. You can have your pick.”

  With a smile like that, Hannah didn’t want him anywhere near while she selected a bed. She hastily gave him the code to her car’s keypad. While he headed to the car, she hurried inside the inn and up the stairs. She invited Leroy to come with her.

  The dog trotted ahead of her to lead the way, his sharp claws clicking against the wooden steps. Hannah wondered how many feet had taken this very path over the years, up the steep staircase to the rented rooms.

  The stairs led to a long corridor that stretched in either direction, bisecting the second floor in half. If not for the whitewashed walls and the electric lanterns at regular intervals, the hallway would have been dark and gloomy. No windows beckoned from either corridor to offer the promise of sunshine. Instead, Hannah saw exposed brick on either endcap.

  There weren’t many bedrooms in the old inn. Seven, to be exact. The largest was in the left front corner, with windows overlooking the town’s entrance and the front driveway. Given the room’s strategic location—she would see trouble the moment it rolled through the gates—this would be hers.

  “Hannah?” She heard Walker’s voice as he started up the stairs.

  “In the corner room!” she called.

  “There’s four corners,” he called back.

  She stuck her head out the door and saw him top the stairs, arms loaded with all her luggage. He made the effort look easy, even though she knew that her large suitcase weighed just slightly less than a full-grown elephant. Not knowing how long she would be gone and what she would be dressing for, she did the logical thing and brought most of her wardrobe with her.