Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) (8 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
abitha swallowed a scream, both hands pressed against the glass. Everything had happened so fast. At a loud crash, she’d bolted from her desk to the bookstore window. A second later, Clementine streaked by faster than Tabitha thought possible for such a large animal, heading directly for Violet.

She grasped her skirt and ran out the door.

Outside the saloon, Mr. Wade took two running steps and dived from the boardwalk just as the buffalo was about to run Violet down.

The two tumbled in a cloud of dust as the beast thundered past.

It took an eternity to get to their side. Entwined in each other’s arms, they lay still as the prairie grass at sunup, a mixture of dirt and egg yolk covering them both. Surely, Mr. Wade wasn’t dead, but Tabitha worried about Violet. She crouched down and touched Mr. Wade’s shoulder.

He opened his eyes. “Did I make it in time?” He tipped his head down to inspect Mrs. Hollyhock cradled in his arms.

“I’m not sure,” Tabitha replied, keeping her gaze on Mrs. Hollyhock. “You both took a bad fall.”

“Is this heaven?” Violet patted around Mr. Wade’s chest, her eyes closed. “Sure feels like heaven ta me.”

Tabitha squelched a thankful smile that the old woman was still alive and had retained her sense of humor. “Let’s get you up.” She helped Violet climb to her feet.

Mr. Harrell had run from his haberdashery to see what the commotion was all about. Kendall had arrived, as well as Dwight and another man she didn’t know.

Tabitha’s gaze traveled down to the large, shiny gun strapped to Mr. Wade’s thigh. This was the first time she’d seen him since the news had gotten around town about his dubious history in Soda Springs. Kendall had told Dwight, who’d in turn told her aunt, who in turn had told her, that Mr. Wade was a gunfighter
.
A killer. Kendall’s friend in Soda Springs had replied to Kendall’s telegram the same day. When Tabitha had heard the words, she’d found them difficult to believe.
Is a gunfighter determined to better his education?
She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be sure. Since he hadn’t returned to the shop after the encounter with Aunt Roberta, she hoped they hadn’t, in some way, discouraged him. She’d felt a friction between them. Still, concerning the information Kendall had discovered, she wouldn’t turn a blind eye.

Dwight shifted his weight.

Mr. Wade flicked several eggshells from his shirt and pants. “I didn’t think I was going to make it. That critter is fast.”

“Well, ya did,” Violet said, her voice filled with emotion. “Ya done robbed me of my heavenly reward.” She glanced up at him with a wobbly smile and her eyes softened. “Even though I don’t get to go see my mama and pappy today, I’m still grateful to ya. Yer faster on yer feet than the grim reaper himself.” She gave him a long look up and down and nodded her approval despite the egg and dirt. “You must be that handsome new fella come ta run the tavern.”

Kendall harrumphed.

Win galloped up on a horse, a rope in hand. He slid to a halt. Short leather blacksmith chinks covered his thighs, singed in places from work at his forge. He wasn’t wearing a hat. The panic on his face was impossible to miss. “Everyone all right?” he shouted.

“They’re both fine, except for needing a bath,” Kendall replied.

“’Cept fer my basket of broken eggs I was taking to the mercantile.” Mrs. Hollyhock’s eyes narrowed on the livery owner.

Mr. Wade bent, retrieved the wicker carrier, and handed it to her. Yellow yolks and white shells spotted the blue-and-white-checked cloth inside.

“You know I’ll make good on those, Violet,” Win said, a hurt expression darkening his eyes. “Pay for your dress as well, if it’s ruined.” His horse danced nervously. “Something spooked Clementine when I went in to fill the water barrel. There was a noise and then Clementine crashed right through the slightly ajar gate with her impressive set of horns.”

Violet straightened. “They ain’t so impressive ta me.”

“No, I guess not.” Win shook his head. “She’s never acted crazy like that before. Cantankerous, yes, but . . .” He straightened in the saddle. “I better go find her. Which way did she go?”

They all pointed down the street.

Win nodded and galloped off in a shower of dust.

The onlookers meandered away now that the excitement had passed and Violet was going to live. The usually stubborn woman actually let Tabitha and Mr. Wade help her over to the mercantile side of the street.

“I’d like ta thank ya. What’s yer name? Mr. Way?”

“It’s Wade,” he corrected. “And there’s no need for thanks, ma’am.”

Violet pulled back, affronted. “What? Yer gonna deny me the chance to thank ya, ta bless ya? After what you gone and done? That’s a disgrace!” Color suffused Violet’s blanched face. “Why not? Don’t ya think you’re good enough for a simple thank you?” She reached out with a claw-like hand and took ahold of the fringe of his leather shirt. “How many others have ya turned away, Mr. Wade? You’re a good actor, I’ll bet, but I can see the uncertainty in your eyes.”

Stunned, Tabitha watched Mr. Wade drop his gaze to the boardwalk. Was that true?

“Well, Mr. Wade, ya gonna let me bless ya?”

He nodded.

A smile blossomed on Violet’s face. “Thankee.” She reached across and took the hand that dangled at his side. “You saved my life, young man, and I’m indebted to ya. You risked yer own neck to help a crotchety old woman ya didn’t even know. In my way of thinkin’, that makes you the best kind of man. I thank ya, and bless ya, and hereby proclaim myself yer granny.”

A lump of emotion squeezed Tabitha’s throat. She wished she weren’t here to witness such a private moment. Chancing a glance at Mr. Wade’s face, she saw sentiment and pain lurking deep in his eyes. Was that regret over men he had killed?

He swallowed once. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m old enough—”

“Hush!”

“It’s just that I’ve never known a grandmother before, ma’am, and I can hardly remember my own ma and pa. Your sentiment has moved me deeply.”

Mrs. Hollyhock straightened. Now that she’d gotten her way with Mr. Wade, she seemed back to normal, except for the spots that marred her skirt and brown calico blouse, or the long gray strands of hair that had escaped her bun and straggled in front of her face. “Dandy. That makes two of us. I expect ta see my grandson at my place each week for supper—every Thursday night. I live at the Red Rooster. You know where that is?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

Tabitha took a small step back and they both looked at her. “Violet, would you like to go down to my shop and sit in my soft chair? You’re looking a little peaked.”

“No, missy. I have lots ta do today.” She looked down at the basket in her hands. “I need ta let Hannah and Maude know I won’t have any eggs fer ’em today. That might present a problem. Best take care of that right now.”

Mr. Wade kept ahold of her elbow. “I’ll escort you there.”

“As will I,” Tabitha added. “Just give me one moment to run down and lock my door.” As strongly as she’d felt drawn to Mr. Wade in their encounter in the bookstore, perhaps he was one of those types that could snap on a dime. Listening to Aunt Roberta, she’d believe anything was possible. Tabitha would feel better about Violet’s safety if she went along to keep an eye on things.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

S
crunched in with Mr. Wade and Tabitha at a small table in front of the window, Violet enjoyed the two young people’s company and conversation. It was a far cry from speaking with Beth Fairington, the woman who lived at Violet’s boardinghouse. Depending on which way that girl’s wind was blowing each day, one could never know if she’d ignore you, or bite your head off. Violet had to walk softly until she knew which side of the bed she’d crawled out on. That made company with these two all the sweeter.

Lifting her teacup with both hands, she took a sip. Funny how Tabitha colored up each time Mr. Wade addressed her. Her strong spirit was a good match for his insecurities. Violet might just have met her new grandson, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see through several layers of his character. One had to look past what was on top. Just like peeling an onion . . .

“What do you make of Clementine getting loose?” Tabitha asked.

“Critters have a way of gettin’ out,” Violet answered. The warm tea had settled her nerves considerably. She relaxed in the chair as she watched through the window. The Wells Fargo stage pulled to a halt in front of the hotel. “I’m sure some of the townsfolk will put up a squawk, worried it might happen again.”

Mr. Wade just listened, looking uncomfortable with the little china cup held in his large hands. He’d wanted to skedaddle once they’d arrived, but she’d kept him on, knowing Tabitha had taken a shine to him—not that the girl likely even realized it yet.

She hid a smile. Tabitha reminded her of herself when she was that age, feisty and headstrong. By then, Violet had been married ten years. This gal believed she was old, spent, when in reality, she was just a babe, with her whole life in front of her, and now here was a man interested in opening her eyes. As hard as Violet tried, she couldn’t keep her teacup from trembling as she raised it to her lips, recalling the short, but heady years she’d had with Bruce. Oh, how she missed that man. Her heart swelled, feeling again sixteen and bursting with hopes and dreams that would fill an ocean.

Outside, two men climbed out of the stagecoach and ambled away. Ralph, the driver, stepped to the conveyance’s door and put out his hand, helping a woman to the ground.

Violet gasped. Her teacup clattered to the table. Tabitha and Mr. Wade both leaned back, their eyes wide, and began blotting at the puddle on the tablecloth.

“I’m sorry ta leave ya with this mess, but I need ta go.”

Both youngsters responded with a
why
.

“Never you mind. I have someone I need ta talk to.”

Violet stood and hurried away, her energy back, and ready for a fight. Within seconds she was next to the stage. “What in blazes are ya doin’ in Logan Meadows?” she barked out.

The medium-sized woman she’d recognize from anywhere turned. Her hand went to her mouth in shock. “So, you’re still alive. Doesn’t surprise me, though. You’re too wicked to die. God doesn’t want you.”

Violet, still in disbelief, stared at Jake’s mother. Marlene had been a saloon girl in Valley Springs where Violet had owned a mercantile. Marlene’s once-thick black hair had thinned, and her rouge stood out on her powdered face. Time had not been kind. Her blue eyes, usually clouded with drink, were clear.

“Your hollow words don’t scare me,” Violet mumbled.

The woman’s lips pursed. “By now I thought you’d be long gone. A lump in some lonely graveyard.”

In no mood for games, Violet grasped Marlene’s arm. She came close so no one else would hear. “What do you want?”

“I only want to speak with my son. See how he is.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve never had a kind thought for Jake. You only had a use for him when you needed something. Was hungry or wanted him to find you a bottle. I won’t let you near him. He doesn’t want you in his life. When he was jist a tyke, I was the one to bathe him, feed him, and make sure he had somewhere to sleep. He grew up like a wild wolf pup. You never loved him then, and ya don’t love him now. Jist get back on that stage and keep going!”

Unfortunately, Ralph, the stage driver, was watching the exchange with a troubled brow. The last thing Violet wanted was for everyone to find out Jake’s no-good mother had shown up in Logan Meadows. With as much strength as she had, she dragged Marlene sideways into the alley between the hotel and the mercantile, where they’d have a little privacy.

Marlene jerked her arm free. “Stop it, you witch! That hurt.” She rubbed her arm when Violet’s hand fell away.

“You be quiet, or I’ll put a spell on ya.”

The woman had always believed the herbal remedies Violet made from plants she gathered were magic potions, instead of healing medications. Disliking her from the bottom of her core, Violet never took the energy to correct the floozy. Perhaps she just might be able to use the misconception to her advantage.

“I’ll put a spell on ya right now if ya don’t leave!” She curled her fingers and pointed them at Jake’s ma. “Jake’s built hisself a good life with the Logans. He don’t need ya and he don’t want ya. You will only make him miserable.” She’d dare not say anything about Daisy, and Jake’s intention to marry the girl, in case Marlene was here to make trouble.

Marlene stumbled back, holding out a hand as if she could ward off any spell Violet might conjure. When she gulped in fright, Violet wanted to laugh.

“Violet, stop! Please wait until you hear what I have to say. Jake will want to speak with me. I have good news.”

Nothing this woman could do or say would ever change Violet’s opinion of her. She didn’t have a decent mother’s bone anywhere. Violet remembered little Jake, knocking on the mercantile door after dark, grimy and dirty, asking if she had anything he could do to earn a piece of bread. Her heart ached, and then hardened. Seeing Marlene now brought back all those hard times.

“Spit it out afore this spell slips from my fingertips. They’s hard ta control when it comes ta people I don’t like.” With her other hand, Violet struggled to pull the outstretched hand back to her chest.

Marlene’s eyes grew wider.

“J-Jake’s pa sent me a l-letter.” She patted her reticule without taking her eyes off Violet. “It’s in here.”

Flummoxed, Violet just stared. All these years she’d known! Memories of a tiny Jake crying noiselessly into his pillow almost robbed her of breath. Marlene had claimed she didn’t know who Jake’s father was. Held true to the story for years. And now this!
How dare she!
Violet felt like clawing her black-lined eyes from her skull. Her lies had all but destroyed that poor child.

“You’re a liar!”

“I’m not lying about this.”

“You’re an evil, evil woman, Marlene. I wouldn’t want ta be standin’ in your shoes when ya go ta meet yer maker. Now, what’s this about Jake’s pa?”

Color had returned to her face. “I’ll tell Jake.”

Violet stretched out her arm again. “You’ll tell me, or I’ll turn ya into a salamander. Then throw ya in front of the stage coach. The team will crush ya into a gooey mess and no one will ever even know you were here.” Violet searched her brain for some curse-sounding words. “Eye of newt,” she whispered in a gravelly voice, “tail of pollywog—”

Marlene threw her body back against the brick side of the mercantile, her hands covering her face. “Wait!” she choked out. “Please! He’s dying. Jake’s pa is on his deathbed and wants to see Jake before he dies.”

Violet knew how much Jake longed for roots of some kind. To have a last name. But would meeting his pa only make things worse? She didn’t want to cause him more harm.

“Mrs. Hollyhock, is everything all right?”

She turned to see Mr. Wade and Tabitha watching. When they started her way, she held them off. “Jist fine. Just reminiscing with my long-lost friend who came in on the stage. Sorry for running out on ya like that.”

The two exchanged a glance.

“There’s a satchel over here,” Mr. Wade said. “Do you want me to bring it to you?”

Violet pushed her lips into a convincing smile. “It’ll be jist fine there for a few more minutes. But, thankee.” She waggled her fingers at them. “You two can go about yer day.”

Again, Mr. Wade and Tabitha glanced at each other. They waved and started off.

She had to come to a decision. Jake was a man now. Perhaps his pa would give him something of value besides his name. Maybe even some love.

“All right. I’ll let ya speak with Jake. But I’ll arrange it. Where ya gonna stay?”

Marlene shrugged. “I don’t know. I used everything I had just to get here. I hoped Jake would take me in.”

What nerve. Marlene had rarely let Jake stay with her in her room. He was either at the mercantile with Violet, or in the storeroom in the saloon—hearing and seeing who knew what. That poor boy had lived a lifetime already.

“He lives in a bunkhouse out at the Broken Horn with the Logans, where he works. Ya ain’t going ta stay there.”

Marlene had her over a barrel. Violet had rooms to let, but Marlene had no money to pay. She’d mooch off anyone who would let her. Violet wouldn’t stand for that. “Ya can stay with me,” she said distastefully. “I have an empty room. But yer gonna work for yer keep. There won’t be any freeloading here.”

“Doing what? I don’t know much except salooning.”

“Yer gonna learn ta do
laundry
. Anyone with two hands can do that.”

Marlene scrunched her fingers together. “Laundry? That’ll ruin my skin.”

“Yer skin’s ruined already, ya old biddy, so stop yer yammering.”

“I’m tired of you throwing insults at me, Violet! I’ve never done laundry and I don’t aim to start. Surely the saloon could use another girl.”

I’ll never let her shame Jake that way!

“You’ll learn, and you’ll keep yer mouth shut about who you are and about your past. You’ll smile and be nice. At least until ya talk with Jake and he either believes ya, or boots ya out of town. If ya do that, I’ll house ya and feed ya fer as long as yer here.”
That way I can keep my eye on you!
And little Bao will have some help as her time approaches. Maybe, jist maybe, this might work out for everyone concerned.

Marlene straightened and put both hands on her hips. When she opened her mouth to protest, Violet squinted, curling her fingers. “I guess ya like the idea of slimy green skin . . .”

Marlene snapped her mouth closed.

“So, from here on out, yer my dear friend from Valley Springs.” She pointed across Main Street to the narrow row building that sat between the telegraph office and Cottonwood Lane, which led to the Red Rooster Inn. If Marlene had to stay in town, the arrangements couldn’t be better. “There’s the laundry house.”

“Tap Ling’s Laundry,” Marlene gasped, her heavily made-up eyes blinking in quick succession. “You mean to put me to work! Real work?”

“That I do, my sweet dearie. And yer gonna start right now.” Violet took in her tightly corseted middle and almost smiled. “Let’s pick up yer satchel and head over.”