Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

P
acked and ready to meet the twelve o’clock train, Jake entered the laundry house, his stomach twisted in a tense knot. The moist air, smelling of scorched cotton, clung to his face and hands, weighted his lungs.

The entry was empty. Stepping to the open dividing door between the reception area and the work place, he looked into the long, narrow building. With only the two small windows near the rear, and one along the alley, the place was dim, adding to the suffocating feel.

Mr. Ling worked at a large ironing board, his face dripping in sweat.

Marlene was bent over a washtub, vigorously scrubbing some article of clothing on a washboard. She extracted the garment, inspected the collar, and placed it in the large tub beside her.

Mr. Ling looked up. He set his iron on the stove and hurried over. “Mr. Jake,” he said courteously. “You speak with mother?”

Jake turned his hat in his fingers. “Yes, Mr. Ling. Can she spare a minute?”

He nodded, and then proceeded to guide him through tables with stacked laundry, clean, folded and ready for pickup. Piles of dirty garments lined the wall.

Marlene looked up. Her eyes widened.

“Please, you go out back,” Mr. Ling said, pushing open the back door to a rush of fresh air. “Speak in private.”

“Thanks.” Jake’s tight throat was almost painful. He should be angry, resentful when he looked at the woman, but all he felt was sadness.

She dried her hands on a small towel.

Jake couldn’t help noticing when she straightened her skirt, that her hands were red and painful looking from the hours spent in the soapy water. She swiped at several strands of straggly hair falling into her eyes, and then dried her face with the towel.

The air outside felt downright chilly in comparison with where he’d just emerged.

“Jake,” she said after several moments passed in strained, uncomfortable silence. “You’re going then? To meet your pa?”

He nodded. “Today. In a few minutes.” He gazed off to the small church on the hill. Reverend Wilbrand appeared on the porch and closed the open door. “Thanks for delivering his letter. You didn’t have to.”

She fiddled with the towel still clenched in her hands, her gaze trained on him. “You mean, you’re surprised that I did.”

He nodded again, noting the whiteness of her eyes. Seemed he couldn’t ever remember her sober. “It’s not an easy trip from Valley Springs.”

The sound of laughter caught her attention, and for one instant her eyes lowered to the ground at his feet and her lips wobbled.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I must’ve asked you over a hundred times.” He wouldn’t bring up all the instances when he’d been small and she’d thrown him outside unmindful of the weather. Once he grew tall and strong, she’d not handled him anymore. That almost seemed worse than the spankings and arm-twisting.

“I just didn’t. That’s all.”

“You don’t know why, or you won’t say?”

Her shoulders slumped, and for a minute, from the longing in her eyes, he thought she was actually going to do as he’d asked, and tell him why she’d kept such an important fact secret. One that could have changed the course of his life.

She must have realized from the hopeful look on his face that he thought she was going to comply. Her mouth pulled down into the expression he remembered all too well.

“I just said no, boy. That’s all you’re getting from me today. Now, get going. Go meet your pa. See what he wants.”

Her going out of her way to travel to Logan Meadows was a mystery, unless she thought his pa was going to give him something of value. Did she want a piece of the action? Most likely yes. She’d made the costly trip for herself, and not to see him. Or help him.

And that was fine with Jake.

The door to the shanty that sat in the back of the laundry house opened and a very expecting Mrs. Ling came out, her small daughter in tow. She pulled up when she saw them only a few feet away.

Jake nodded. “Mrs. Ling,” he said politely, then smiled at Lan.

“Mr. Jake.”

Her soft reply floated over him, reminding him there were good people in the world. Ones who weren’t just out for what they could get.

“You best get going, boy,” Marlene said, her voice curt. “You don’t want to miss your train.”

Thinking that was the smartest thing to do, Jake strode away, across the land, headed to the train station where Daisy waited to say goodbye. He steered clear of Main Street, not wanting to speak with anyone else. He’d said his goodbyes this morning to Chase, Jessie, and Gabe, as well as Sarah and Shane, insisting they needn’t come to the depot.

Jake Costner was off to meet his new destiny.

A bundle of nerves, Daisy paced back and forth on the wooden decking of the Logan Meadows train station, the wrapped copy of
The Last of the Mohicans
clutched in her arms. The cool breeze pulled the corner of her cape and she grasped at the ribbons of her bonnet to be sure it was securely tied. It was a bit out of season, but she’d worn it anyway for Jake. He’d given it to her last Christmas, after she’d exclaimed in June over a display in the window of the haberdashery, which had begun carrying a few items for women.

Hoot, hoot, hoooooooooooot.

She whirled.

A quarter mile away, the Union Pacific rounded the bend. The tall smokestack puffed black and gray plumes into the air, leaving a long trail of soot billowing in its wake.

Joker, Jake’s horse tied at the hitching rail, danced nervously in place, then pulled on his reins. Where was Jake? He should be here by now. If Jake was late, he’d instructed Daisy to have the conductor load his horse into the stock car. His bag, hardly large enough to hold more than a change of clothes, sat nearby. Had something happened? Would he miss his train?

Maybe he’s changed his mind
, she thought, then tamped down the selfish hope.

Mr. Hatfield hurried out the depot door, over to the tall water tower, and, hand over hand, began climbing toward the platform where he’d regulate the influx of water to fill the steam engine’s tank.

Still forty yards away, brake pads met metal wheels, and great clouds of steam whooshed out from below, followed by an ear-splitting screech. Gradually slowing, the huge silver-and-black train approached. In an onslaught of noise, it pulled up to the depot platform, and rolled to a stop.

“Darlin’.”

With all the noise the Union Pacific was making, she hadn’t heard Jake’s approach. Turning, she fell into his waiting arms, the book between them. “I thought you weren’t going to make it, Jake,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. His warm cheek on hers, heady. She longed to stay that way for all time.

“Shhh, no need to talk. I can hear the tears in your voice. Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll be back. Nothin’ could ever stop me.”

Hot prickles burned the back of Daisy’s eyes. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She wanted Jake to remember her with a smile on her face. So he’d want to come back, no matter what great things he discovered about his father.

“I know, Jake. I don’t think you understand how much I’ll miss you while you’re away. Nothing will feel the same.”

He cupped her face between his hands, so close now she could see the honey flecks in his expressive brown eyes. “Time will fly by, sweetheart. The Silky Hen will keep you busy.” He looked down at the package. “What’s this?”

“A surprise to make your trip go faster.”
And something to remind you of me.

His brows pulled down. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

“I don’t want anything, Jake.”
Just your return.
She placed the package into his hands and watched expectantly as he unwrapped the book. A swell of love lifted her chest when he read the title and smiled.

“Sweetheart, I love it. Thank you. I’ll start it on the train.” His earnest gaze held hers. “Don’t know how I got so lucky to win a girl like you.”

Enjoying his praise, she felt herself blush. “How long will you be gone?” It was the question she’d been wanting to ask since he’d told her the news.

“No way of knowin’. The letter said my pa was dying. I’ll send a telegram if I can. Promise you’ll wait for me, Daisy. That you won’t do something foolish if it takes me a while. Like run off with another man.”

She pulled back. “Jake! You know I love you.”

He chuckled. “I do. Now, I have somethin’ serious I want to ask.”

Daisy held her breath.

“You’ve known for a long time what’s been on my mind. My cabin on Shady Creek has been put to rights with Chase and Gabe’s help, and is ready to be lived in. My herd of horses is growing and—”

“Jake!”

“What I’m trying to say is, I love you, Daisy. Will you marry me the minute I get back? Make me the happiest man in the world?”

Unable to stop herself, she went up on tiptoe and kissed Jake’s lips. She’d worried this day would never come. “Yes, yes! You know I will.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I never had a name to give you, honey. Now I do. Daisy Costner. I don’t know what I’ll find in the next few weeks, but I know what I’ll be coming home to.”

She laid her palm against his cheek. “I love you, Jake. I can’t wait to be your wife.”

The train whistle blew again, and he stepped away. “Good. I was praying you’d say that. Now, I have to get my horse loaded. There’s not much time before we pull out. Remember, Chase and Jessie have promised to look after you. Gabe, too. If you need anything, anything at all, go to them.” He pulled her into his arms one last time, and she felt his love, and longing. “You have nothing to fear.”

With a new purpose, Jake strode away toward his horse, the animal still pawing at the hitching rail. Daisy worried her bottom lip. How she wished he didn’t have to make this trip. She wouldn’t sleep well until her beloved was back in Logan Meadows, safe and sound.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

W
ith
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
tucked under his arm, and a mission firm in his mind, Hunter opened the door of the Storybook Lodge and stepped inside to the heady aroma of cinnamon sticks cooking on the woodstove. Tabitha, the picture of proficiency, stood at the back shelf, speaking with a heavyset woman he’d never seen before, a volume in the customer’s hands, her head tipped thoughtfully to one side. A small blue traveling case sat at her feet.

Must have arrived on today’s train.

Miss Hoity-Toity glanced up. Her eyes widened. She looked mighty pretty in her formfitting yellow dress with a white ribbon tied around her small waist.

“Good day, Mr. Wade,” she said in a light, airy voice. “I’ll be with you in one moment.”

He gave his most congenial smile.
I’ll not be able to take care of business just yet.
Not until we’re alone.
“No rush at all, Miss Canterbury. I’m just here for”—he dropped his voice—“a reading lesson.” Back to normal voice, he went on. “Don’t rush. I have all the time in the world.” Which was true—unfortunately. The near-vacant saloon was easy for Kendall to handle on his own. He wondered if Dichelle would even take the time to answer his telegram. They needed her desperately, but he didn’t hold out much hope she’d actually come. She had a good gig going where she was. Why upset the apple cart?

He ambled over to the chair by the front window and sat, listening to the quiet conversation in the back. He smiled at the sales pitch Tabitha was laying on the woman. No one would know from her relaxed charm how desperate she was to make some sales.

“Wonderful,” he heard her say. “I’ll write this up. Your purchase will make the rest of your travel time fly by in the blink of an eye.”

As they came forward, he opened his book and flipped the pages to chapter two.

Albert appeared on the other side of the glass and stopped when he spotted Hunter. With a quizzical grin, the sheriff tapped on the glass and waggled his fingers. When their gazes met, the sheriff’s eyebrows rose in humor and Hunter shrugged. Albert shook his head and moved on.

“There you are, Mrs. Petrowich. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip. Thank you so much for stopping in today.” Tabitha handed the book to the portly woman, who exited the shop with a smile on her face.

“Now, how can I help you, Mr. Wade?” Tabitha asked, walking in his direction.

If only you knew. You’re going to help me banish your hoity-toity face, your hoity-toity voice, and your hoity-toity ways from my brain once and for all
. He stood as she approached.

She smiled. “Actually, I’m a bit surprised to see you. After our disagreement last night over the—”

“Soiled dov—”

“Don’t say it! I haven’t given up. Can’t you see how buying a woman for pleasure isn’t right? A woman isn’t an object that can be bought and sold. She’s flesh and blood, with feelings, hopes, and dreams. It’s demeaning. And wrong. My friend Daisy used to be a saloon girl, but has worked hard to change her life.”

Hoity-toityness at its best!
“Just settle down. You’re giving me a headache. Your friend didn’t have to go into that profession if she didn’t want to.”

“So typical of a man to say. You think a beautiful young woman—or
any
woman for that matter—wants to be pawed, and
everything else
, by some smelly ol’ man she doesn’t know! Daisy was young, running from an abusive home with nowhere else to turn. When she got hungry enough, some man looking to make a profit offered to give her shelter and food for something in return. Think about it. To me, that’s tantamount to blackmail!”

Irritation mounted at her use of inch-long words.

“The survival instinct is strong, Mr. Wade, especially in women. When there isn’t any other way to subsist, women do what they must. It’s our obligation as a society to try to help when we can.”

Hearing enough, he held up his hand, reining in his own agitation. “I don’t know what you’re going on about. Saloons, and
women of the night
,
have been around forever!” Darned if she didn’t make him angry.
I can’t let her derail me from the reason I’m here. This conversation proves it all the more. I best get to it.
“I didn’t think up the profession,
Miss Canterbury
. I came in for another reason, not to have my head bit off.”

She actually blushed.

“You’re very right. There’s a time and place for everything. I shouldn’t have attacked you as I did. I’m just very passionate about the subject.” She glanced at the chair behind him. “Please sit back down and get comfortable.”

He stood looking at her, thinking it best if he came back later. Now he was mad. No telling how his mission would turn out.

She raised her brows. “Sit,
please
.”

He did. Looked at the page. “Can you help with this word?” He pointed to the first long word that he saw. “Can’t figure it out. Soon as I do, I’ll take myself out of your company.”

She circled behind the chair and leaned over his shoulder. Her clean lavender scent, mixed with the cinnamon in the air, fogged his mind.

“Which word, Mr. Wade?” she asked stiffly.

There would be no first-name basis anymore, he was sure. “Right there.”

“Oh, yes. Fra-fra . . .” She sounded out the first part for him. When he didn’t respond, she turned her head to look into his face, only a few inches from hers.

My Lord! Can eyes be that green?
He swallowed.

“Any ideas?”

Her breath caressed his cheek.

“Read the last four words.”

He forced his gaze back to the sentence his finger still marked. “B-Blos
soms
filled the a-air,” he read haltingly.

“Does that give you a hint on what the difficult word might be? Blossoms in the air?”

“Nope.”

Her lashes fluttered at his ignorance, and her cheeks blossomed as well.
This is quite entertaining.

“Begin the sentence again, please, and read it through.”

“Sure thing, Miss Canterbury.” He forced his smile away. “The lo
cust
t-trees were in bloom . . . and . . . and the fra-fra—”

He shook his head. “I can’t get it.”

“Finish the sentence.”

“. . . the
something
of the blos
soms
filled the air.”

He looked over at her, distracted again by the proximity of her face and other womanly parts so close to his shoulder.

She took a deep breath, enhancing her other womanly parts, bringing them all the nearer.

She leaned closer, tracing the sentence with her finger. “The locust trees were in bloom and the
blank
of the blossoms filled the air,” she read, then gazed at him expectantly. “Fra? Fra?”

Maybe this wasn’t the smartest way to banish her . . .

“What could the word possibly be?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He might have found a way to pay her back after all. “I know!” he barked.

Her smile bloomed.

“Frustration! The locust trees were in bloom and the frustration of the blossoms filled the air.” He paused for a good long moment. “That’s awfully strange,” he added, keeping the laughter from his voice. “I don’t know what that means. This reading is more difficult than I’d wagered on.”

A small, agonized sound slipped from her throat.

Brenna Hutton, the seamstress, opened the door, making the tiny bells above ring out. Relief passed over Tabitha’s face.

“Keep at this, Mr. Wade,” Tabitha said to him softly. “Read forward, and I’ll be back to help in a moment.”

After watching her speed away, Hunter dropped his gaze to the word, thinking Miss Canterbury’s
fragrance
had filled his heart. No! That wasn’t true. She was just a challenge because she was holding back. She thought him below her. That’s what was troubling him, not her pretty smile, expressive green eyes, or her well-put-together womanly parts. It was most certainly not her quick mind. He had to stick with his plan if he ever wanted to be free of her.