High Plains Heartbreak (Love On The High Plains Book 3)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  “The nickname is the Accidental Hotel, because if you get anything to eat at the restaurant, it would be an accident.”

  Addie giggled. “Slow?”

  “Impossibly,” he agreed. “Now, my friend Kristina and I have stayed in touch all these years by letter. She wrote me ages ago that a lady came to town and opened a café. She says everyone goes there. The menu is limited, but the food is hot, fresh and fast. That sounds better to me. Kristina also says the lady makes cakes… you know, for our wedding. So we can save time by doing two things at once.”

  By the time he finished his speech, they were striding down the red brick street, heading north towards the edge of town. As they walked, they passed the church, with its oversized bell tower. Addie looked up in frank astonishment, and then jumped as loud music began bellowing from the interior.

  “That would be Kristina now.” Jesse smiled.

  “Do you want to say hello?” Addie offered as her stomach let out a tremendous growl. She colored.

  “It's okay,” he replied. “You need to eat. And Kristina lives here in town. We can see her any time.”

  He escorted Addie up the street, passing houses painted in vibrant reds and dusty greens. One white with black shutters. Another lavender with white curtains hanging in the window. Addie seemed to be taking it all in in silence.

  “We're here,” he said, indicating a wide, one-story square building. “When I was a kid, this was a livery stable. I wonder how the owner got rid of the horse smell.”

  And sure enough an enticing fragrance wafting temptingly into the street, redolent with cinnamon and fresh bread. Addie's stomach growled again.

  Jesse hurried her inside and regarded the room, disconcerted by the extreme changes that had been wrought in this place since he left. The barn stalls had been removed and the huge open space divided with a wall along which a counter housed a cast iron cash register and a board on which the menu of the day was posted.

  Cinnamon roll with coffee

  Eggs with toast or roll and coffee

  Those were the only options.

  “You want the eggs with the cinnamon roll, don't you?” Jesse asked, ushering his intended to a seat near the window, the better to take in the view of the street. The chair rocked a bit. So did the table. Both the furniture and the floor were intentionally uneven. Jesse supposed it added to the charm, but he did hope they wouldn't spill the coffee.

  Addie was nodding vigorously in response to the question. Jesse's stomach was also rumbling, so when a plumply pretty dark-haired woman arrived at the table with two brimming cups of coffee, he said, “two of the egg and cinnamon roll plates, please, ma'am.”

  “Right away,” she replied. “Are you two just passing through?”

  Jesse glanced at Addie, who was sucking down her coffee as fast as she could.

  “Tell ya what, ma'am. My girl is starving. Me too. Bring the food, and I'll tell you the whole story.”

  She raised her eyebrows, intrigued, and then bustled into the kitchen, returning with thick, brown plate in each hand. The cinnamon rolls stood tall, fluffy and enticing against the ceramic, and beside them two sunny side up eggs, shiny with butter and heavily sprinkled with salt and pepper. The mingled aromas of a delicious breakfast made Jesse's mouth water. Addie looked about ready to stick her head directly into the food like a wild animal.

  The second the plate landed in front of her, she pounced, tearing a generous bite off the roll and popping it in her mouth. Jesse punctured the yolk of his egg and took a bite. Once he'd swallowed it, he turned the proprietress and said, “We're not passing through, Miss…”

  “Carré. Lydia Carré.”

  Jesse nodded in acknowledgement. “Miss Carré. I'm from here. Growing up, I was close friends with Wesley Fulton, Allison Spencer…”

  “And Kristina Williams!” the woman exclaimed. “You must be Jesse West. I've heard so much about you!” It seemed Miss Carré was prone to enthusiasm.

  “Williams? I don't know any Kristina Williams,” Jesse replied.

  “Oh, I mean Kristina Heitschmidt, or she was. She got married back in January.”

  Jesse gaped. “Kristina got married? I'm shocked she didn't tell me!” Maybe the letter got lost, like her last one. I bet I get a ton of old mail in the next few weeks.

  “Yeah, the new pastor just sort of swept her off her feet. He came in November and they were married before Christmas. Soooo romantic.” Miss Carré sighed. Jesse noticed she moved her hands a lot when she talked.

  “Amazing,” Jesse mumbled. “I almost can't believe it.”

  “Why?” Addie asked. The cinnamon roll had disappeared from her plate and her eyes no longer looked quite so wild.

  “She's… listen, Addie, don't get me wrong. Kristina is a wonderful person. Kind and talented and strong. But she's… well she's not exactly pretty.”

  Addie made a face. “So what? I think, if anyone, a pastor would be able to see beyond such shallow concerns.”

  “That's exactly what happened, too,” Lydia confided. “Just a minute.” She hustled into the kitchen and returned with a mug of hot coffee. Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled a chair up to their table and plunked down. “I think it was love at first sight, for Pastor Cody, at least. He took one look at Kristina, and I swear his tongue was hanging out. She took a little longer to warm up to him, but before long, they were cooing like any lovers and getting caught sparking in the choir loft.” Miss Carré's eyes glowed with amusement. “Everyone's laying bets on when the first baby will arrive, but so far, nothing.”

  Jesse smiled. He noticed Addie was smiling too. “What put that happy look on your face, darlin'?”

  “The town accepted him, even though he's new. They accepted him marrying one of the local ladies, and it sounds like, if she's the church organist, she must be pretty well-respected.”

  “Oh, very much so,” the older woman agreed. “Everyone likes Kristina. Well, everyone except Ilse Jackson and her family.”

  “Ilse? Is that little cat still around?” Jesse exclaimed. “I would have thought she'd be married to a crown prince and living in Europe by now.”

  Lydia shook her head. “No such luck. She's still here and stirring up gossip as bad as ever. Her sweetheart finally broke things off with her. He'd had enough of her ugly ways.”

  “So, then, gossips are not popular here?” Addie's face had taken on a hopeful expression.

  “Yes and no,” Lydia replied thoughtfully. “There are some, of course, and they do spread rumors, but a lot of people just don't pay it any mind. I don't. I know the Williamses and the Fultons don't, and if they're Mr. West's closest friends, you should have no trouble.”

  Addie nodded.

  Jesse seized on another topic that had piqued his curiosity. “What about the Fultons? I assume you mean Wes Fulton. Did he marry Allison Spencer? For some reason, Kristina never wrote to me about them.”

  “Yeah, that's kind of a sad story. I'm not surprised Kristina kept mum about it. Wesley did marry Allison, but only a couple of days after the pastor and Kristina. He needed Allie's help after his first wife died. He couldn't care for their daughter alone.”

  “First wife?” That can't be right! Wes has been engaged to Allie since we figured out what the word meant. How could he have had a first wife? And why didn't he ever tell me any of this?

  “Yeah, her name was Samantha. She was…”

  “Crazy!” Jesse shouted. The other few patrons lingering over their coffee turned to stare. “Oh dear Lord, why on earth did Wesley marry Samantha Davis?”

  Miss Carré looked into her cup. “There was a lot of gossip, but I don't know the truth, so I won't say. I guess you'll have to ask him yourself.”

  “All this talk of weddings,” Addie interjected, “brings us to the other reason we came to see you today, Miss Carré. Jesse and I are here to get married, along with him maybe joining the sheriff as deputy. I've heard you might be able to make a cake?”

  Lydia smiled,
but a sadness in her eyes contradicted the curve of her lips. And no wonder. I can't imagine why a pretty, vivacious woman like her is still single. She must be over thirty.

  “Of course I can. When do you need it by?”

  “We don't have anything worked out yet,” Addie replied. “How soon can you make it?”

  “How much cake do you need?” Lydia pressed. “I can't really answer the question until I know that at least.”

  “Well, I think it's a small group,” Jesse said. “The Fultons. Kristina and her husband. The Spencers and Rebecca. James Heitschmidt.”

  “I'd like you to come too, Miss Carré,” Addie said. “You've given me a wonderful introduction to the town, and made me feel welcome. I appreciate that.”

  “So that makes eleven,” Lydia said, blushing and smiling. “I can make a cake that small easily any time. It would only take me one afternoon. I can even make it pretty with two layers, and some fondant flowers. I can probably have one as early as tomorrow, if you let me know before noon.”

  “I think tomorrow might well be perfect,” Addie said. “Think we can arrange it, Jesse?”

  “Let's find out,” he replied. “We need to talk to the pastor. Do you think you'll need something special to wear?”

  “It would be nice,” Addie said. “My clothes are a bit worn out. Not to mention, they're practical, not festive. But if the expense is too great, that's okay.”

  “Well, I'll need to talk to the sheriff, too,” Jesse said. “I don't mind spending some money on our wedding if I know I have more coming in.”

  “We'd better get started,” Addie said. “We have a lot to get done before noon.”

  “We sure do,” he agreed. “Thank you, Miss Carré.” He dropped a couple of coins on the table and led Addie back out into the street. The sun had fully risen while they ate, and the street was growing hotter.

  “Summer's a bit daunting on the prairie,” Addie commented, wiping her brow. “It's cooler in the mountains.”

  “You're right,” Jesse said. “But some time in September the leaves will start turning and the birds will fly south. You should see the Arkansas River in the autumn rainy season. What a mighty gush, not like little mountain streams. Good fishing too.”

  “I will see it,” she reminded him, “if all goes well.”

  “You're right,” he agreed. “Well, this is where we'll likely find the sheriff.” He gestured to the jail.

  Addie shuddered. “Can I wait in the street? I want to take in the town.”

  Jesse nodded slowly. “I don't think you can get into too much trouble on a public street in daylight,” he said in a serious voice.

  Addie hit him on the arm. “Don't be dumb, Jesse. I can get into trouble anywhere.”

  Laughing, he left her and stepped onto a porch of ragged boards, before pulling open the heavy door. Inside, the room consisted of an open space with a desk and three small cells. Jesse recalled sneaking into the jail on a dare when he was a kid. It had looked much bigger then. Scarier too. He could still remember how hard his heart had pounded as he crept into one of the musty, urine-smelling cells to touch the bed. Though nine at the time, part of him had been convinced some unshaven criminal was about to rise up from one of the dark corners and grab him. And now I'm talking about working in this place. How life keeps on changing.

  He scanned the room again. It looked so much smaller and less frightening than he recalled. In one of the cells, a young man with ragged, unkempt hair glared balefully at the sheriff, who sprawled in a chair, his feet up on the desk, reading the newspaper and ignoring the prisoner.

  At the sound of the door swinging shut, the lawman lifted his head. Jesse took in a face that seemed to be about 40 – a weathered 40. The skin on the man's stubbled cheeks was leathery and suntanned, and crow's feet adorned the shrewd dark eyes. His black hair had only the tiniest hint of gray at the temples, but stern grooves bracketed the heavily moustached mouth. His thin lips compressed into a harsh line. The man rose to a towering height, nearly as tall as Bear Mills had been. “Can I help you?”

  “I'm Jesse West,” Jesse replied. “I contacted you about the deputy position?”

  The harsh lines of the man's face sagged in relief. “Thank the Lord you're here, West. I thought I was going to have to deputize Billy Fulton.”

  “He'd do an enthusiastic job,” Jesse pointed out.

  “Yeah, but the poor kid is scared of guns. Anyway, West, your telegram and Fulton's endorsement have me intrigued. Tell me a bit about yourself.”

  “Well,” Jesse began, “I've been working the last five years as a bounty hunter…”

  Outside, Addie enjoyed the sun on her face. The air smelled sweetly of flowers and the unfamiliar tang of prairie grass. Summer. New scents. New life. New opportunities. She smiled. Jesse had been inside the building a long time, but the waiting didn't bore her. She'd found a seat on a wrought-iron bench and was engaged in watching the world go by. An older couple walked arm in arm, arguing. Something about their tone of voice and posture suggested their quarrel was a game. A middle-aged man with fading strawberry blond hair and freckles was walking arm in arm with a golden blond woman, whose belly curved outward in a tell-tale sign. She reminded Addie of herself; comfortable with silence. No chirping of conversation swirled around them. The source of communication seemed to be the slow stroking of her ungloved hand – adorned with a huge amethyst and a fat gold band – on his thin shirtsleeve.

  They're so happy. Isn't that sweet. Watching them, Addie understood something for the first time about the resiliency of the human heart. This couple appeared to be somewhere between their mid-thirties and forties surely. Aunt Beth was older still, nearly fifty. There's no wrong time to love. Young, middle-aged. I bet even elderly people sometimes fall in love. She smiled, her love resonating with the love people experienced all over the world, at any time. And the cycle begins again. She touched her belly with wonder, suddenly realizing a bit more deeply what her pregnancy meant. A new person to love. A new person to love someone.

  She was still smiling and daydreaming when Jesse joined her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

  “How did it go?” Addie asked.

  “I got the job,” he replied calmly.

  Addie squealed and turned around, squeezing him tight around the neck.

  “Oof,” Jesse wheezed. “Addie, don't strangle me.”

  “Sorry!” She loosened her grip. He kissed her forehead. “Jesse, are you sure this is what you want?”

  Jesse nodded. “I'm ready for it,” he replied. “I know your dad lived the bounty hunter life until he was too sick to continue, but it was paling on me. The constant wandering. The cold. I grew up in a settled little town, and that way of life has always been with me. I probably knew I'd settle somewhere eventually. Now is the right time. This is the right place, and you're the right woman. I have no regrets, Addie.”

  Ignoring propriety, she kissed his lips, right there on the street.

  “Come on. Let's see if we can find you something pretty to wear tomorrow.”

  Down the street from the jail, a mercantile bustled with activity. One window displayed the usual assortment of reins, canned goods, toys and the like. The other contained two dress forms on which skillfully assembled calico dresses with clever pleats tempted passersby.

  Jesse pushed open the door and walked Addie inside.

  The same woman Addie had seen walking down the street sat leaning over a work table, pinning a pattern to a piece of blue checkered fabric. Around her, more fabric hung on the walls, in lieu of wallpaper.

  The beautiful blond rose and approached the couple.

  “Hello,” Addie said, and then she couldn't think of what to say next.

  “Hello,” the woman replied in a soft, warm voice. “I'm Rebecca Heitschmidt. How can I help you?” She extended her hand.

  Jesse seemed to be startled by the name. He stared at the blond as though he had seen a ghost. Then his eyes shot to the mercan
tile counter, where the freckled man was polishing the shining wooden surface with a red rag.

  Addie grasped the woman's hand hesitantly, but the warmth of her welcome overcame Addie's momentary shyness. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I'm Addie. And of course you know Jesse.” The woman acknowledged her agreement with a nod and a pretty smile for Jesse. “We're planning a very quick wedding, and I don't have anything pretty and new to wear. Think you can help?”

  “Do you have any idea how quick?” Rebecca asked.

  “Tomorrow? Maybe the next day.”

  Rebecca's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in thought. “It's possible. But it will take some work, and probably alterations on an existing piece. It might take a while. Can we get started right away?”

  “We have so many plans to make,” Addie complained, then kicked herself for her whiny tone.

  “Tell you what,” Jesse interjected, “you stay and get something pretty. I'll go talk to the pastor and Kristina. And see if I can round up Wes and Allie. Is that okay, Addie? I'll check in soon.”

  “It's fine,” she replied. “Go ahead. That's a good idea. I think you'd get bored in a dress shop pretty quickly.”

  Jesse nodded. “You got that right. Take care of my girl, Miz Spencer… uh, Mrs. Heitschmidt. It's good to see you again.” He shook her hand warmly, kissed Addie on the cheek, and meandered out.

  Addie giggled, and then turned to see Rebecca also smiling. “It's been so long since I saw Jesse, I almost didn't recognize him.”

  It gave Addie a strange feeling, knowing all the people in this town knew her almost-husband better than she did.

  “There's a little something you should know,” Addie said, “and I hope you're not one of the gossips in this town.”

  “Heavens, no!” the woman exclaimed. “I hate gossip.”

  The vehement answer seemed out of place with Rebecca's calm demeanor, but it made Addie relax, made her willing to trust. “It's going to be hard to fit me for a skirt,” Addie said bluntly. “I'm expecting.”

  Rebecca didn't even raise an eyebrow, which made Addie like her even more. “That might be tricky. But I think I might have a solution. Stay here.”