Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) (22 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

A
rush of attraction jerked Hunter straighter when Tabitha came through her kitchen drapes, a heaping plate of vittles in each hand. Her flushed face looked more beautiful than ever before, proud of the breakfast she’d prepared. She seemed almost joyous today, and he wondered the reason. The feel of those soft lips were never far from his mind.

Their gazes met, held. His face warmed as a line he was becoming quite familiar with began just above the collar of her dress, and crept up her face. Desire and longing rose up within him.
Miss Hoity-Toity
, he reminded himself,
isn’t interested in more than friendship
—or at least that was what he’d thought. Now he wasn’t so sure. He took the plate she offered with a smile. He best keep this business. He was here to make sure Nate fulfilled his obligation, nothing more. The boy had been a good little worker so far, keeping to himself and completing each job efficiently.

“Please, sit here, Mr. Wade,” she said, pulling out the chair at her desk. She quickly cleared away her pen and paper and a few other things to make room for his plate, leaving down a pad of paper he could use as a mat.

She must take her food upstairs, because there wasn’t room for a table between her bookshelves. She must be used to eating alone. “Thank you kindly.”

“Nate, you come over here on this stool. Can you balance your plate in your lap?”

“Yes’m. This sure looks good. Thanks.” He took the plate as soon as he’d climbed up. The way he was gazing at his bacon almost made Hunter laugh.

“You’re welcome. After you eat, you can help me clean up the kitchen and then you’re free to go. I can’t thank you enough for all the help.”

“You sure?” Nate asked. “I like working here. It’s better than the livery where I have to clean stalls.”

This time Hunter couldn’t stop a bark of laughter, which drew a smile from Tabitha and Nate. As a boy, Hunter had cared for the animals. He’d been stepped on, bitten, and even kicked a few times. Although he’d never had to clean stalls, he could commiserate with Nate.

Hunter finished one strip of crispy, almost-black bacon and reached for one of the two fluffy, generously-given golden-brown biscuits. “This is mighty good, Miss Canterbury,” he said. “I was heading to the Silky Hen before Nate stopped by to remind me what day it was. I’m glad I got to taste your cooking. For some reason, I never pictured you as a cook.” He shrugged, scooping in a mouthful of eggs. “You know, because of all the books and all. Just thought . . .”

Albert stepped into the shop with a curious smile on his face. He approached Nate and stole a strip of bacon off his plate. Chewing, he said, “I thought you were here to work, son.” He winked at Hunter and Tabitha. “You’ve been gone a good hour. What have you accomplished?”

Nate’s spine snapped as stiff as a rod. “First, Pa, I came in and put up all Miss Canterbury’s shades. Then I turned her sign and put out the other big one on the boardwalk.” He swiveled and pointed out the window, as if waiting for his pa to say something.

“That’s all fine and good, but couldn’t have taken you more than five minutes.”

When Nate held up a hand, signaling he wasn’t yet finished with his explanation, Hunter almost choked on his laughter.

“I dusted this whole shop, Pa! All the books. Look how many there are. Then, when Miss Canterbury went out, me and Mr. Wade sold one of her teacups.”

“Teacups? Did I hear that correctly?”

“I’m afraid so, Albert,” Tabitha said, amusement still clearly in her eyes. “Two ladies came in and when Hunter—
and Nate
—couldn’t find a book the women wanted to buy, Hunter sold them a teacup right off my desk.”

“I hope it was clean,” Albert chortled, and then slapped his leg. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that next time I can’t mollify one of my outlaws. If they don’t want to be locked up, I’ll invite ’em out to supper. Sounds like a good plan.”

“One of the women took a fancy to it,” Hunter explained. “What was I supposed to do then? Tell her no? She got the impression Miss Canterbury was branching out into other items besides books, and was excited she might be starting a gift shop. I just played along. I didn’t think she’d mind too much,” he finished, looking directly at Tabitha. She hadn’t really said one way or the other. “They were speaking about attending your reading next week as well.”

“That’s wonderful! And I’ve never considered branching out into other areas. But I guess I could if I wanted.”

The Union Pacific gave a toot on its horn.

Hunter looked toward the window. “Here comes the train. I wonder if anybody will be getting off?”

“That’s anyone’s guess,” Albert replied, ruffling Nate’s hair. The boy hardly seemed to notice as he shoveled in his scrambled eggs.

Tabitha was only picking at the food on her plate. “I have a good view of the depot from my second floor,” she said. “I can see people coming and going. When I’m not busy, and hear the whistle, I go up and take a look.”

Nate’s face brightened. “Can I?”

Albert shook his head. “Miss Canterbury doesn’t want you upstairs, Nate. That’s private. You stay put.”

Tabitha waved away his statement. “I don’t mind, Albert. It might be fun. It’s all right with me if it’s all right with you. Let him go up and see.”

Albert took the plate from Nate’s lap and the boy hopped down. He was up the stairs in a blink of an eye.

A happy smile stretched all the way across Tabitha’s face. “Keep going through the room to the far window.”

“The train’s just sittin’ there on the tracks. Not much happenin’. Wait. Looks like Mr. Hatfield is starting this way with his buckboard.”

Albert nodded. “For a fee, he’ll transport anyone who’ll pay the quarter mile to town. Sometimes ladies have too much to carry,” he said to Hunter.

“There’s a lady sitting next to him.”

That got everybody’s attention.

Albert moved to the window.

Tabby went to the door, her attention on the bridge, and Hunter flanked her shoulder just as curious as to who might be arriving.

“She’s got a parasol over her head,” Nate called. “It’s white and lacy.”

Could it be? He’d not gotten any return telegrams from Dichelle, but then she always was one for surprises.

“Lots of trunks in the wagon, too. Whooeee, they’re piled high. The wagon’s almost to this side of the festival grounds.”

Albert stepped outside and they all filed out behind.

Hunter blinked in astonishment, wondering if he was seeing things.

CHAPTER FORTY

H
unter!”

Tabitha, who the moment before had been warm and fuzzy from the sensation of Hunter standing so close to her back, jerked her gaze away from the gorgeous young beauty sitting next to Mr. Hatfield to stare openmouthed at Hunter. He’d gone and done it. Sent away for more . . .

Nate bolted out the door, and skidded to a halt beside her. “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat,” he exclaimed loudly. “Who’s that!”

“Whoa there, Blacky,” the depot master called to his mule, who plodded along, his head down and eyes shrouded by blinkers.

Just then, the Union Pacific tooted its horn and began chugging away, the sound a death knell to Tabitha. Its important cargo sat in the wagon before her, looking like she should be on a fashion runway in New York. Hunter knew this girl? This
young, beautiful
girl? Had sent for her? She’d thought they were making headway. That he was coming to see her reasoning. Their discussion had only been a handful of days ago. He’d said things hadn’t been decided. He’d lied. Tabitha swallowed down her hurt, but the emotion clawed its way back up her throat as anger.

“Ciao, amore!”
the beauty called from the wagon, all but standing with excitement, before the buckboard had stopped completely. “I packed my things the moment I received your telegram and boarded the first train I could.” She glanced up the street, a wide smile displaying her perfect white teeth, all the while twirling her parasol above her head. Her tiny waist was no larger than Tabitha’s two hands touching finger to finger. Oh, that was an exaggeration of course, but if Tabitha didn’t make a joke, she just might burst into tears—or kill Hunter. Neither option viable at the moment.

Hunter hurried to the wagon’s side, took ahold of that impossibly small waist, and whisked her down with no effort at all. “Dichelle! You should have let me know of your arrival so I could meet your train.” He took her arm and brought her over to the boardwalk, having the decency to look embarrassed.

“Everyone, I’d like to introduce an old friend of mine, Miss Dichelle Bastianelli. Dichelle, this is Miss Canterbury, the proprietor of this bookstore, that’s Sheriff Albert Preston, and his son, Nate.”

Old friend?
Ha! The girl couldn’t be more than eighteen years old. Tabitha found herself nodding and smiling, although she felt completely betrayed. What had all those sultry looks been about this morning? And the lingering touch of his fingers? She was such a fool! Just like Aunt Roberta said.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bastianelli,” Albert said first, sounding out her last name slowly. He doffed his hat. “What kind of an accent do I hear?”

She gave a small smile. “Italian.”

Trying to look normal, Tabitha felt her chin dip, and was acutely aware of her eyelids blinking. She must look a fool. “Welcome to Logan Meadows, Miss Bastianelli.” There. She’d gotten the words out. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kendall rushing over from the saloon.

Albert nudged Nate.

“Hello, m-ma’am,” he sputtered.

“Oh,”
she exclaimed. “
Bel ragazzo—
he is so darling.” Her kid leather–gloved hand fluttered to her breast, and then she fanned it in front of her face.
“Penso di essere
innamorata
!”

Tabitha had to look away. Nate’s adoration was enough to make her cry. She wasn’t sure what she’d said, but was almost certain it had something to do with love—and hypnotizing the male species. Her accent wrapped around the men like warm chocolate.

Kendall arrived with a red, excited face. “Is this her, Hunter?”

“Uh huh.” Hunter kept his gaze away from Tabitha.

An approving whistle emanated from the bartender. “You weren’t kiddin’, were ya?” He was about to go on, but Hunter clapped a large hand on his partner’s shoulder.

“Meet Miss Bastianelli, Kendall. Dichelle, this is my partner in the Bright Nugget, Kendall Martin.”

“She’s the goose that’ll lay us the golden eggs,” Kendall chortled. “Just like you said.”

“Oh?” Miss Bastianelli lifted a softly penciled eyebrow at Hunter. “Is that right?”

Hunter shot Kendall a dirty look and the man clamped his mouth shut.

“Maybe. A few anyway. Best not to get ahead of ourselves, though. She’s come to help us revive the Bright Nugget. You can’t fault a man for wanting to do that.”

Mr. Hatfield loudly cleared his throat. “If we’re all finished, I’d like to get her trunks delivered and get back to the depot.”

“Of course. You can leave her things here and Kendall and I will take them to the saloon.”

Miss Bastianelli put out a questioning hand. “What is this, Hunter? You expect me to room in the saloon?”

Tabitha wanted to laugh when the smile fell off Hunter’s face. “Well, yes. I’ve spent all week fixing a room just for you. Right next to Philomena’s.”

“And mine,” Kendall added.

“Oh,
no, no
, that will not do. You must book me a room in the hotel. Your finest.” She looked over her shoulder and down the street. “Is there one nearby?”

“Right down the street,” Mr. Hatfield pointed to the El Dorado. They’ll have a room for you, Miss Bastianelli. If you’d like, I’ll take your things there straightaway.”

The woman looked to Hunter.

“Go on, Mr. Hatfield. Take her things to the El Dorado. I’ll walk her down after she sees the Bright Nugget.”

A crowd of onlookers had gathered on the other side of the street. Tabitha took a small step back, thinking how much she was going to enjoy slipping into her shop and closing the door. If she could sneak away unnoticed, she’d do it this very second. As it was, Mr. Hatfield had climbed back onto his buckboard and shook the reins over Blacky’s back. The wagon lurched forward, and then rolled away.

“Let’s go, Nate,” Albert said. He took a step and then stopped. “That is if you’re all finished with him, Miss Canterbury.”

Thank heavens! Something sane to speak about. “Yes I am, Albert. He did a fine job.” She looked down at the boy. “Thank you, Nate. I appreciate all your hard work.”

“Isn’t he supposed to help you clean up your kitchen?” Hunter asked, his gaze trying to catch hers. His warm voice tried to stir her heart, but she wouldn’t let it. “By now, those skillets will be tough to scour. Let him help you.”

She lifted her eyes to his, praying her hurt wouldn’t show. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Wade. Nate’s done enough for the day, and paid his debt to you.”

With a firm nod, Hunter’s gaze left hers, and he laid his hand on the small of Miss Bastianelli’s perfectly straight back. “Ready?”

“
Sì.
I wish to have a nice, hot meal with you, Hunter.” She smiled warmly into his face. “Catch up on old times.”

The bittersweet memory of the morning that had brought Tabitha so much joy only a few minutes ago made her sick. At this moment she thought she might never feel happy again. Taking a tiny step back, she watched as Albert and Nate started for the sheriff’s office. Mr. Hatfield was already alongside the El Dorado, and he was letting down the wagon’s tailgate. None of that mattered, though, not like the sight of Hunter and Kendall holding the saloon door open for Miss Bastianelli. Would he glance back? See if she were still standing where he’d left her?

Don’t wait to find out.
Be gone if he does.

Listening to her inner voice, Tabitha squared her shoulders and stepped inside Storybook Lodge, resigned to the fact that she was a businesswoman. A
happy
businesswoman. The scent of bacon still lingered in the air. Going to the kitchen, she grasped her pump handle, working it until water gushed into the sink.

Hunter Wade had hurt her for the last time. He was what her aunt had proclaimed. A saloon owner with no scruples at best, and a killer at worst. No, she corrected herself, a
lying
saloon owner with no scruples at best. She’d not forget that anytime soon.