by Becki Willis
“I realize I overstepped my boundaries just now.” Sadie’s eyes sunk to the floor, wallowing there with her spirits. “You have to understand, Sister and I have been here our whole lives. We grew up with Wilhelmina. The three of us were thick as thieves, and she always treated us like we were her little sisters. I reckon we sometimes forgot we didn’t own the place, just the same as her.”
A trace of defiance shone in her eyes as she raised them back to meet Hannah’s. Or perhaps it was just emotion. “She encouraged us, she did, letting us run roughshod over the place. It took the three of us to run it, but between us, we made it work. Willie let Sister and I make decisions, same as her, and do pretty much as we pleased.” Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch as she continued, “She offered the place to us, you know. Said we deserved it, after dedicating our whole lives to keeping her family’s legacy alive. But what would two old spinsters such as us need with a town of our own?” She made a spitting sound, as if casting the very thought from her mouth. “No, it’s yours now, fair and square. You can run it as you see fit, and Sister and I need to learn to keep our mouths shut. You’ll just have to excuse us, is all. It’s hard to break a seventy-year habit, you know.”
“Sadie, I want you and Fred to know you’ll always have a home here. Even if I hadn’t seen the deed, where Miss Wilhelmina gave you the house for as long as either of you were alive, I would never turn you away. I need you here. But we’re going to have to establish some ground rules.” She forced a note of authority into her voice. “You’re right, I own this place now, and I have to do what I feel is in the best interest of the inn.” Her eyes gravitated to the stairs. “And believe me, that man isn’t it. There’s something about him that makes me very uncomfortable. We should have turned him away.”
“Oh, dear,” Sadie said worriedly. “Did I do something terribly wrong?”
“I hope not,” Hannah said, her eyes still on the stairs. Fred hadn’t come down yet, apparently helping their guest settle in for the night. “But to be honest, I’m just not sure.”
Chapter Twenty
When Walker returned, the four of them gathered at the kitchen table for their evening meal.
“The food on the cruise was wonderful,” Sadie said dreamily, licking her fingers, “but not even the fanciest dishes compare to Matousek’s sausage.”
“You sound like that man upstairs,” Fred snorted. “To be so close to skinny, all that man talked about was food. Wanted to know if we were serving pork chops for breakfast!” she harrumphed.
Hannah shot Walker a nervous glance. “Pork chops?” Her voice hitched over the words.
“A lot of people have chops for breakfast,” Walker reasoned, his voice nice and steady. “Don’t make more out of it than it is, Hannah.”
“You didn’t see the look on his face when he didn’t know I was watching. He looked almost… greedy. Just like Everett Tinker.” Hannah shivered with the memory.
“Who’s Everett Tinker?” Sadie asked.
“That’s right, you don’t know.” Another shiver overtook her. “You tell them, Walker. I’m making coffee.”
Walker recapped the events of the past several days, including the missing pork chops and Hank Ruby’s unsolved murder. By the time he finished, a solemn silence fell over the table.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I didn’t know.” Sadie broke the quietness with her apology. She wrung her hands. “Maybe we should have sent the man away, just like you said.”
“Well, it’s done now,” Fred said in her matter-of-fact manner. “We can’t very well turn the man out now. We’ll just have to take turns at the desk.” Seeing Hannah’s confused frown, she explained, “Whenever we have occupants, Sadie and I stay here at the inn. We take turns manning the desk, in case a guest needs something. The other one naps on the couch in the office. We’ll do the same tonight, keeping an extra eye out in case our guest decides to wander.”
“Well, good luck with that. That couch is now covered in papers after last night’s visitor,” Hannah reminded them. “And besides, I couldn’t ask the two of you to do that.”
“You didn’t. We volunteered.”
Sensing an argument, Walker held up his hand. “I’ll settle this. I’ll be the one to keep watch. But I do think it’s a good idea for you two to stay here tonight.”
“You have to work tomorrow. I’ll work the desk,” Hannah offered.
“We’ll all take turns,” Sadie decided. “Two-hour shifts, ten to six. Walker can sleep on the couch, in case Mr. Hatfield gets a hankering for pork chops.”
With the schedule decided, the sisters cleaned the kitchen while Hannah cleared off the couch. Walker disappeared to take a shower and to prepare for first shift. Too nervous to sleep, Hannah lingered in the office and kept him company for the first hour.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted.
“Do what, take third shift? We can switch, if you’d like.”
“Seeing as it’s almost eleven, that would be cheating. No, I mean I don’t know if I can do this whole innkeeper thing. It never occurred to me that I’d be sleeping under the same roof as strangers. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You’ve been doing it for the past two weeks,” he pointed out, looking up from his laptop. “You don’t know me, not really.”
“I know you well enough to know you pose no danger.” She flashed a sheepish smile and admitted, “And besides, those first few nights I slept with a candlestick.”
He arched a dark brow. “A candlestick?”
“A really heavy candlestick.”
“So, go on up to bed and snuggle with your candlestick. Two o’clock comes early, you know.”
“I’m serious, Walker. Will it always feel like this?”
He put aside his laptop and focused on her worried face. “You stay at hotels, right? You’re essentially doing the same thing then, sleeping under the same roof as strangers.”
“But this feels different.” She could hear the whine in her own voice but couldn’t stop it. “There’s more people around at a hotel. Safety of the crowd, and all that.”
“I doubt you’ll often have a single man staying here, like tonight. More often than not, the inn caters to families.” He stood and walked toward her. Settling his hands upon her shoulders, he pushed away a lock of ebony but kept an acceptable distance between them. “After last night’s break-in, it’s only natural you feel unsettled. Not only that, but you discovered you have ghosts. That’s a lot to take on. It would spook anyone, no pun intended.”
“I suppose.”
“You go on up and try to get some sleep. Between the four of us, we’ve got this.”
“I should feel guilty, expecting two little old ladies to keep me safe.”
Walker’s eyes danced with merriment. “First of all,” he advised, “don’t ever let either one of them hear you call them a ‘little old lady.’ I don’t care who they’re up against, I’d put my money on either one of them, any day of the week.”
A smile played on Hannah’s lips. “Got it. And second of all?”
The light shifted in his eyes, darkening into something fluid and warm. Against his better judgment, Walker lifted a long finger to trace the curve of her cheek. “I’ll keep you safe, Hannah.” He spoke the words as an oath, low and solemn.
Time stuttered between them. Neither moved. Neither dared to breathe, lest they destroy the one perfect moment between them.
Walker broke the spell when he all but growled, “Go to bed, Hannah.”
With an overly vigorous nod, she jerked away from the hands resting lightly upon her shoulders. She backed her way out of the office. “Good night, Walker.”
The old inn was quiet as she made her way up the stairs. No lights spilled from beneath the bedroom doors. Everyone was in bed. Leroy roamed the perimeter of the property and would no doubt alert them to any danger.
Giving in to the fatigue that came with tension and worry, Hannah crawled into her bed and fell fast a
sleep.
A noise awoke her. Probably Fred, she thought groggily, taking the midnight shift. She turned over and ignored the sound of a door softly shutting.
A few moments later, she heard a thump. She stirred enough to consult her watch. One thirty-eight. Her own shift was coming up in twenty minutes, but that still left twenty more minutes of sleep. Hannah snuggled down deeper into the covers, adjusting the candlestick that shared her pillow.
Another distinct thump. She groaned in protest and tried to ignore the noises out in the hall.
The hall? Coming fully awake, Hannah sat up in bed. Why was someone moving around in the hallway? Fred would never leave her post, and each room had its own private bath, so that ruled out answering the call of nature. If anyone stirred this time of night, it would have to be Delroy Hatfield. Flinging off the covers, Hannah slipped on her shoes, grabbed the candlestick, and eased her door slowly open.
She saw a dark blob inching down the hallway. Every few steps, the blob stopped and tapped on the wall. She assumed the blob was their guest, and she assumed he was looking for a false wall. What? she smirked to herself. Does he think the fabled gold is hidden here at the inn?
It hit her with staggering force.
Of course! she gasped. That was it! The legend of the hidden treasure.
Judging by his methodical pace down the hall, Hatfield hadn’t heard her startled gasp of realization. Hannah shrank back inside her room and allowed the door to shut softly. She tried to recall the specifics of the legend.
An undetermined amount of gold, hidden somewhere nearby. A treasure map, given to the young woman at the stagecoach inn. Hidden, most likely, for safekeeping. Neither, presumably, ever seen again.
How—and why—had the legend suddenly surfaced again, after all these years? Surely that was what Everett Tinker was after, as well, asking about false walls and hidden spaces. It was unlikely that two men happened upon the same old story at the same time, so it stood to reason they were working together. Had it been the two of them in here last night, tearing her new home apart? Had the man in the hallway had a hand in poor Hank Ruby’s death, neatly getting the handyman out of the way so that Everett Tinker could come snooping? The very thought made her ill.
Hannah grabbed her phone and sent Walker a text, setting her ringer to silent.
Hatfield roaming hall.
Seconds later, her phone vibrated with a reply. Either the attorney was a very light sleeper, or he was already awake. Reading the text, she had her answer.
Checking out light in dance hall. Stay in room.
Hannah frowned. If Walker was outside, that meant Fred was downstairs by herself. And if Delroy Hatfield was who Hannah suspected he was, he could be a very dangerous man. Despite Walker’s earlier declaration, she doubted the seventy-something-year-old Fred was a match for the fortune hunter, some fifteen years her junior.
Hannah knew what she had to do. Sadie was safe, locked within her bedroom, but Hannah’s conscious wouldn’t allow her to leave Fred downstairs to fend for herself.
She eased her bedroom door open again. Hatfield was at the far end of the hall, his back to her. As quietly as possible, Hannah crept to the staircase and tiptoed onto the top step. It responded with a loud groan. Without stopping to think her actions through, Hannah threw one leg over the banister and pushed herself forward. Holy boomtown, she hoped this handrail was as smooth as it looked, or else she would be digging splinters from her back end for days!
The handrail, worn slick from a century worth of caressing hands, offered no protest to her fleece pajama pants. In the time it took for her life to flash before her eyes, Hannah had reached the bottom. It wasn’t until she came off the rail that she realized her plan had one major flaw: no landing gear. Airborne for just a moment, the wooden floor soon rushed up to meet her as she crashed upon it in an undignified heap.
“Hannah!” Fred gasped in surprise. “What on earth—!”
“Shh!” Lying flat on her back, not entirely certain that no bones were broken, Hannah hissed out the warning. She motioned upward, expecting to see Delroy Hatfield appear at any moment. Fred hurried over to help her up, half-dragging her along the floor. It was the quickest way to get her out of sight.
“What’s going on?” Fred whispered.
“Hatfield is in the hallway, snooping around.”
“No, somehow he slipped out of his room and made it over to the old saloon. Walker is out there now.”
“That’s his partner. Come to think of it, I should warn Walker.” She shot off a quick message while still sitting in the floor. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
“Hatfield has a partner? How do you know that? And what’s he doing in the hallway?”
“Help me to the kitchen, and I’ll tell you about it. I think I may need to put some ice on this ankle.” When Fred would have fussed over her ankle, now swollen and throbbing, Hannah motioned her away. “Just help me to the kitchen.”
Hopping was too noisy, hobbling too painful. In the end, Hannah scooted her way across the hall. Fred alternated between pushing and pulling, until they were both safely ensconced inside the kitchen.
“Now will you tell me what’s going on?” Fred huffed. She filled a zip-lock bag with ice, wrapped it inside a faded kitchen towel, and placed it on Hannah’s ankle, which was now propped upon the table.
Hannah winced when the cold sensation touched her skin. “I think I know what they’re after. I think they’re searching for the hidden treasure.”
“Hidden treasure! You mean the old legend?”
“Yes. For whatever reason, the two men going by the names of Delroy Hatfield and Everett Tinker think the old legend is true, and they’ve come here to search for it. That’s the only explanation. You should have seen Tinker, tapping on every surface and asking about false floors and fake walls. And upstairs right now, Hatfield is tapping himself silly, hoping to find a hidden panel of some kind. And you saw what they did to the office.”
“But that legend is more than a hundred years old!”
“Why else would those two men be here, trying to tear the place apart? Seriously, Tinker wanted to tear the inn down.”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Fred huffed. With her hands upon her hips and her green eyes flashing, she looked like five feet two inches of dynamite, ready to explode.
“We should call 9-1-1. Where’s my phone?” Hannah looked all around, but her cell was nowhere in sight. “I must have left it out there on the floor. Hand me the portable, will you?”
Fred picked up the cordless phone and pressed the ‘on’ button. When nothing happened, she gave it a shake. “Either the battery’s dead or the phone lines are down.”
“You’ll have to get my phone. I wonder what’s keeping Walker so long. I wish he’d hurry.”
“Leroy was barking up a storm, so Walker looked out to see what the fuss was about. He thought he saw a light moving through the saloon. He went to investigate.”
Worry snagged at Hannah’s heart. “I hope he’s careful,” she said.
“He took his gun. You stay here, and I’ll be back in a flash.”
While Fred slipped silently from the room, Hannah closed her eyes for a moment of respite. She hurt in a dozen places, her ankle being the worst. Good thing she didn’t think it was broken; terms of the stipulation wouldn’t allow her to go for x-rays.
She heard rustling in the doorway. Reluctant to open her eyes, she whispered, “Fred, is that you?”
The voice that answered was much too low to belong to Fred. So low, in fact, that it could only belong to a man. “No,” someone whispered back.
Hannah jerked her eyes open and stared into the leering grin of Everett Tinker. His large, overall-clad body filled the doorway. His booming voice filled the room. “Well, looks like you’ve done gone and got yourself hurt, don’t you know.”
“What are you doing here?” Hannah demanded. She would have lowered her leg, but it was like moving a log. Her limb, practicall
y numbed from poor circulation, felt heavy and stiff.
“I came to claim what rightfully belongs to my great-granddaddy, Maurice Hatfield.”
Hannah stared at the man in surprise. “Patch Hatfield was your grandfather?” she squeaked.
“Great-grandfather, don’t you know. All our lives, Big Daddy told us about him, and what a good man he was. Told us how that gold belonged to him, fair and square, until that medicine woman put a curse on him. Ran him out of the country, she did, and wouldn’t let him come back to claim the spoils of victory. But the curse died with the old woman, don’t you know. So now we’re here to claim it, and this time, we ain’t leaving until we find it.”
“That’s just some silly legend,” Hannah insisted. She couldn’t resist crinkling her nose and adding, “Don’t you know.”
“It ain’t legend, it’s fact! And I got the letter to prove it!” He pulled a dog-eared envelope from his pocket. The paper was spotted with age and frayed around the edges, with tiny holes and deep creases to mark the passage of time. “Here. Read it for yourself!” he challenged.
Hannah cringed when he came close enough to hand the letter to her, but he moved back to allow her room. Nerves made her hands unsteady as she pulled the crumbling letter from its holder.
“It’s so faded, I can hardly read it,” she murmured. She barely made out the greeting, written in flowing, curly script. She could detect the words ‘my dearest Maurice,’ but the first few sentences were almost illegible. After a moment of concentration, she caught the gist of the letter. Lina had the map and would keep it safe, until her beloved came back to claim it. And her. She made out the words ‘chest’ and ‘treasure,’ but they weren’t in the same sentence, and the words between them were blurred. The most legible part of the letter was the ending, with its profession of undying love and the signature ‘My heart is forever yours, Lina Hannah.’
“See?” Everett all but crowed. “That’s proof, right there. Proof there was a treasure, and it’s hidden somewhere on this property! I’ll tear the whole dang place apart if I have to, until I find that treasure chest!”
