Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) Read online

  “What’s nothing?” A masculine voice tinged with humor brought Roberta around. Jake, Daisy’s beau, stood at the back door, his hat pushed back and a teasing gaze aimed at Daisy.

  Daisy shook her head impishly. “Only a handsome stranger in the dining room who’s caught Roberta’s attention.”

  Jake stepped in and went to Daisy’s side, kissing her cheek. “As long as he doesn’t turn your head. There’d be trouble if that happened.”

  “You’re a tease, Jake.” She gave him a little push that didn’t move him at all.

  “Maybe so, but I can’t help remembering how Dalton Babcock came to town and tried to steal Susanna away from Albert. That was a close call.”

  Susanna laughed merrily. “No one could steal me from Albert, Jake.”

  “That’s not how it looked to us.”

  Susanna wiped her hands on her apron, finished with the sheet of biscuits. “Is that so? Well, it just so happens that Albert received a letter from Dalton last week. Seems now that his assignment in San Francisco is coming to an end, he’s planning to return. Maybe even settle in Logan Meadows.”

  “Really?” Daisy’s eyes widened. “All the single girls will be excited to hear that news. When?”

  “I think almost immediately. He sounded happy that things had gone well, said he received a bonus for all he did to keep the bank’s money safe. I’m glad.”

  Still standing close to Daisy, Jake asked, “How does Albert feel about that?”

  Warmed by the lively banter, Roberta listened, feeling young and alive.

  “Albert likes Dalton. Says it never hurts to have an experienced gun he can count on if need be. And he says he’s going to start looking for a gal for Dalton right away.”

  Daisy laughed, then reached for a cloth-covered basket of golden-brown biscuits and added it to the large oval tray resting on a tray stand. “These two bowls of stew are ready to go out, Roberta.”

  “Let me deliver this coffee and I’ll be back directly.”

  Roberta breezed out the door, the tray held up with practiced skill and an inexplicable excitement making her steps light.

  CHAPTER SIX

  What in the world am I doing! Tabitha flipped the page of the horticulture book laid open on her desk. Sitting here with my window shade still rolled up as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Normally, by this time of the evening the store would be buttoned up and she’d be upstairs, bathed, and snuggled deep in her bedroom chair, reading a novel. Few things she liked better in life—as a matter of fact, she couldn’t think of one.

  Except, maybe, waiting for Mr. Wade to walk by after having supper at the Silky Hen.

  Her eyes wandered away from the sketch of a blooming larkspur to the flickering flame dancing in the lantern. She wasn’t really reading, but thinking. Thinking of her life, and her situation since moving to Logan Meadows. Sometimes seeing her friends in their marriages made her wonder if she’d chosen wisely. To remain single, so she could accomplish her heart’s desire of owning a bookstore. A bookstore couldn’t laugh or talk or keep her warm in its arms.

  Once she hit thirty, there would be no denying her spinsterhood, business owner or not. With each passing day, her odds of making a meaningful union, if she so chose to, diminished. The situation revolved around the word meaningful. In truth, she didn’t have to remain single another day if she accepted one of the men here. Bachelors had made their interest known soon after she’d arrived. Kendall Martin, the owner of the Bright Nugget, who crossed her path almost daily, had told her straight out he’d even let her be a part of his business, if she cared to pair up. How romantic. She shook her head at the distasteful thought. The man, somewhere in his midfifties, and to her knowledge never married, was coarse and uneducated. He wasn’t the worst in his cleanliness, but he certainly wasn’t the best. When his eyes landed on hers in that oh-so-meaningful way, she had to stay the automatic shiver that threatened to take over her limbs. She’d happily remain an old maid for the rest of her years before yoking herself to him, thank you very much.

  There was Winthrop Preston, or Win, as he liked to be called. The livery owner had become a good friend. And she liked him well enough. She was a few years older, but if she let him know she was interested, she felt sure the kindhearted fellow would ask for her hand immediately. He’d slipped into her church pew a few times, smiling shyly.

  Her best fit was Dr. John Thorn. In his early thirties, they were a good match in age, but she’d had minimal interaction with him since moving here, even though their businesses were both located on Main Street. She’d not chase someone who hadn’t shown any curiosity in her—there were limits to her boldness.

  If she were really desperate, there was always Dwight Hoskins. In her first days here, he’d come by on several occasions, testing the waters, so to speak. He was handsome enough, but everyone had steered her away from Hannah’s ex-brother-in-law with stories that had tinged her ear tops red. A country bumpkin was one thing; a shady, dishonest schemer, quite another.

  There were also some ranchers farther out, and others from New Meringue, but not one of them moved her in any way at all beyond friendship or repulsion.

  Shamefully, she banished the picture that popped into her head of Mr. Wade in his buckskin shirt. There was a man who could make a woman stand up and take notice. As appealing as he seemed now, he was a total stranger, she admitted to herself. One she knew nothing about. He could be an outlaw on the run. A bank robber. A totally unscrupulous man.

  Stop pouting. Things aren’t so bad the way they stand. She’d made a good name for herself in the community. She was respected. And a businesswoman. That had been her goal since she’d been a young girl. She’d get by. A bit on the lonely side, but that was better than in a bed of regret. The majority of men expected their mates to stay home. Do as they were told. They had power over their wives’ every move. Her father’s domineering ways were a very good reminder of reality when she began to imagine differently.

  The thought of her parents always brought a healthy serving of guilt. She was their only daughter, only child. As much as she hated to admit the fact, she’d let them down. If only they could understand her dreams. As the years marched on, their unhappiness at her refusal to court any man turned into anger. She took a job in the library, working when other young women were looking for a husband. In her free time she read, whisked away to some foreign romantic place. On her twenty-seventh birthday, they’d been dumbfounded when she announced her intention to travel west. To a place where she could afford to realize her dream with the dowry that she wouldn’t be sharing with a husband. Infuriated by her decision, her father, a rich man thanks to his speculative investments, had announced he’d put her money into a trust. One she couldn’t touch until her thirty-third birthday. If she insisted on the crazy idea of opening a bookstore, something far below their family’s standing, she’d do it on her own, without any help from them.

  Someone knocked on her door. Tabitha glanced up. Recognizing Bao, wife of Tap Ling, owner of the town’s laundry business, she hurried to the door and pulled it open.

  “Bao, what are you doing? It’s late. You should be home.” It’s not safe for you after dark.

  Sometimes horrible stories reached Logan Meadows. Lawless men murdered migrants, with little or no repercussions. Tabitha’s skin crawled at the thought. The shy woman, dressed in the same loose-fitting black pants and shirt that her husband wore daily, was unable to hide her growing stomach.

  Bao gave a small polite bow. “Miss Canterbury, I see light. Run back for skirt so you not have to pick up.”

  “Thank you. But you didn’t need to do that.” Tabitha took the garment from Bao’s hands, reddened from the harsh soapy water she used every day. “I don’t want you to ever do it again. Where is your daughter, Lan?”

  “Home with her father.”

  “Where you should be right now. I don’t mind walking down to your shop at all. As a matter of fact, I’m coming in tomorr
ow anyway to pay my bill.” On a tight budget, Tabitha usually washed her own clothes, but sometimes to help support Tap and Bao, she dropped off an item or two. It was a luxury she’d taken for granted back home. Maids, cooks—but no more. She was on her own. “You stay put from now on, all right?”

  Two cowboys walked by in the direction of the saloon, giving her and Bao a wide berth. Tabitha hoped there wouldn’t be a drunken brawl tonight, or guns shooting off to wake her in a panic.

  Bao gave another small bow and hurried away.

  Tabitha locked her door and returned to her desk, thinking how silly it was that she was still downstairs. When a shadow appeared in the corner of her eye, she thought it was the laundress returning. Seeing that it was Mr. Wade walking from the hotel, she buried her face in the pages of her book, all the while stealing secretive glances at his manly profile. Her heart thwacked against her ribs. She didn’t want to be caught looking, and yet . . .

  A soft tapping on her front window brought her head up.

  Mr. Wade smiled.

  Were her eyes too wide to be convincing? She hoped her astonishment didn’t look contrived. After a brief moment, she smiled back, picked up the lantern beside the book, and made her way to the door. Unlocking it once again, she pulled the door open. “Why, Mr. Wade, what a surprise.”

  “Indeed,” he replied. “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight, Miss Canterbury.”

  Her face warmed. “How was your supper at the Silky Hen?”

  The darkness of the night softened his features. He’d shaved, but wore the same clothes he’d arrived in. Now that the stubble was gone from his face, she had to work not to stare at his strong, manly chin or his chiseled lips. His eyes appeared to smile.

  “As good as Mrs. Donovan promised it would be,” he replied, rubbing his stomach. “I had chicken and dumplings with all the fixin’s—as well as two slices of chokecherry pie. I can’t remember a meal I’ve enjoyed more.”

  His words were casual, but his eyes seemed to be assessing every inch of her face. This one was bold. Perhaps it was because they were alone. She tried to stifle the unladylike gulp she felt coming at his scrutiny, but was unsuccessful.

  “So you didn’t forget to ask Susanna about the pie?”

  He patted his stomach. “I’d never do that.”

  He looked back the way he’d come, at the Bright Nugget two doors down, his mouth pulling into a small frown. “Seems pretty quiet tonight in the saloon. Only four men when I looked in.”

  “That’s because it’s only Thursday. Tomorrow Kendall’s business picks up, and it can get downright disorderly on Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Sunday, too?” Smiling now, a bit of wonder tinged his tone.

  “Oh, yes. The Lord’s day makes no difference to those types. Sometimes inebriated cowboys actually shoot off their pistols in the middle of the street! Then Sheriff Preston or Deputy Donovan has to arrest them and lock them up until they can sleep off their intoxication. I think the town should start fining anyone who participates in such irresponsible behavior. Lightening their pockets might make a difference.”

  He grunted. “Those types?”

  “Men who enjoy wasting their hard-earned pay on drinking and gambling.” She leaned a bit closer. “And on women,” she whispered.

  “I see.” He gazed off for a moment or two as if to ponder that fact, then glanced over her shoulder toward her desk. “Working late?”

  “This isn’t that late for me. I’m just attending to a few things I didn’t want to put off until tomorrow.” Well, that was true, to an extent. In reality, she liked to read into the wee hours of the night. Reading was work in a way. It helped her give honest recommendations.

  “If you say so. I best get moving so you can finish up and get some rest. I don’t mean to pester.”

  “Will you be stopping in soon for that reader you mentioned?”

  His lips curved into a boyish smile. “I plan to do that tomorrow. What time do you open?”

  She reached behind her for the small poster she had on the receiving table and held it out. “Ten to five. Monday through Saturday.”

  Mr. Wade touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “In that case, Miss Canterbury, I’ll see you at ten.”

  “I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Wade,” she found herself responding a bit too brightly, then watched as he turned and started for the small bridge that crossed over Shady Creek.

  What is wrong with me! I’m acting like a flirt. Besides, Mother and Father would never approve of someone like him. He’s the kind of man they loathe.

  Mr. Wade had long since crossed the creek and disappeared out of sight.

  Tabitha closed the door with a soft click, turned the lock, and then pulled down the blind. Still holding the lantern, she leaned back against the door. A handsome man tapping on my window. Imagine that. She went upstairs, but before going to her armoire to change into her nightclothes, she took a moment at the balcony door, pushing aside the blue flowered curtain. Mr. Wade was out there somewhere in the chilly October air, planning to sleep on the ground. Winter was coming on, and frost would soon be on the pumpkins. She sighed.

  Stop this nonsense! You have your lot, and it’s this store, in this town. You’re as happy as you can be. Don’t set yourself up for a heartache that may never heal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Feeling younger than she had in years, Roberta entered the home she shared with Hannah, Thom, and Markus, working the knotted ends of the scarf tied under her chin.

  Hannah looked up from the sofa and smiled.

  “Is Markus asleep?” It was well past nine o’clock.

  “He is. But he said to blow you a kiss when you came in.” Hannah kissed her palm, and blew the make-believe sentiment over to her mother. It was a ritual they had for whichever one of them came in last.

  Roberta pretended to catch it. “He’s such a sweet child. Thom home?”

  “No, he has the late shift tonight. Water for tea is already hot,” Hannah, already dressed in her nightclothes, said softly. “I’ll have a cup ready for you after you change.”

  Sometimes Roberta couldn’t believe her little girl was all grown up. Where had the years gone? Seven years she’d been a widow. Those first few months after Harvey’s passing had been a struggle, filled with worry at how she’d carry on, shouldering the responsibility of providing for herself and her daughter. But she had. Hannah had married Caleb soon after, only to lose him, too, both becoming widows in the same year. Roberta had done her best, but at times had been criticized by others for the staunch positions she took.

  “Bless you, Hannah. That sounds good.” She ascended the staircase and went to change.

  Feeling comfortable in her nightgown and wrapper, Roberta joined Hannah on the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions. “I’m glad to be home,” she said, inhaling the aromatic steam of the peppermint tea. “Sometimes my life back on the farm seems like a dream. You as a baby, working the fields. That was a long time ago.” She sighed. “The restaurant was a nonstop stream of hungry dinner customers almost from the time you left at six. We must have turned all the tables at least twice. I think you’ll be very pleased with the revenue.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Hannah blew on the hot liquid in her cup clenched between both hands. “Did everything go all right? Were there any problems?”

  “Not at all. Having Daisy as a third person at closing makes all the difference. She’s fast and efficient. That young girl has a heart of gold.” She took a sip of her tea. “I know I wasn’t happy with your decision to hire the ex–saloon girl last year, worrying that not everyone was as open-minded as you, Hannah. But I was wrong.”

  “She’s a big help,” Hannah agreed. “I’ve come to rely on her.”

  Roberta nodded. “She and Jake have been talking marriage for some time now. I wonder what’s stopping them?”

  Hannah rubbed a hand over her loose light-brown hair that reminded Roberta of a tall glass of sassafras. “I hate to c
ontemplate this, but I think it’s his lack of a last name.”

  “Did she say that?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, just a feeling I have. Not knowing his father seems to weigh heavily on Jake. Did Albert come in at closing time?”

  “Doesn’t he always when Susanna is on shift? He and that darling little Nate showed up a half hour before I turned the sign. It’s nice he lends a hand with the mopping and such. Just emptying that water bucket is a chore. Being a newlywed does have its advantages.”

  Hannah gave her a look. “Thom always shows up to help and walk me home. And we’ve been married awhile. I don’t think it’s the time involved, but the person.”

  Roberta reached out and rubbed Hannah’s arm. “Don’t be so prickly. I didn’t mean anything by that remark. Thom is the perfect husband, father, and son-in-law. It still shames me to remember what I thought of him all those years ago—and the shabby treatment he received at my hands.” She shook her head and relaxed back onto the cushion. Lifting one leg, she rotated her foot in a circle, then repeated the exercise with the other leg, working out the kinks. “I was wrong about your Irish champion, and about a lot of other things. I’ve admitted that before, many times.”

  “I don’t know what I would do if the two of you were still at each other’s throats. Well, not him at yours, but you at—”

  Her mother waved off the end of Hannah’s sentence. “You don’t have to remind me of my small-mindedness every chance you get, daughter. Isn’t it enough that I’ve changed and freely admit to my flaws, if not to others, to you?”

  “I’m sorry.” Hannah softly laughed. “Forgive me for bringing that up.”

  “Again,” Roberta said, smiling tolerantly. “And I’m sure this won’t be the last.”

  “I’ll work on that.”

  “Speaking of customers,” Roberta said, thinking of the newcomer’s intense eyes and wide shoulders, “we had someone quite interesting come in tonight.” He had me stammering like a schoolgirl. What would a romance with him be like? “Wore a fringed buckskin shirt. Nate sure took a shine to him, asking all kinds of questions about Indians in the mountains, and Indians on the range, outlaws, bears, elk, and moose.” She laughed. “Albert’s son is not shy, to say the least. The man looks about as untamed as Win’s buffalo. He couldn’t answer fast enough before Nate was onto another subject. Albert finally had to tell his son to let the poor man eat in peace.”