Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) (24 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

T
abitha, have you seen this?” Susanna pushed through the bookstore door late Monday afternoon, her face alight with excitement. She held up a paper. “The owners of the Bright Nugget are inviting
the women
of Logan Meadows to a showing of Miss Bastianelli—”

Without waiting for Susanna to finish, Tabitha slipped the announcement from her friend’s fingers, her insides quaking. “You mean Mr. Wade and Mr. Martin,” she said just for something to say as she scanned the notice. Hunter would steal her audience away from her Tuesday evening reading with his fancy Italian saloon girl! Her heart felt like a scorched desert as she tried to find the date on the quivering, hand-printed paper. For the last two days, she’d missed speaking with him. They hadn’t traded a single barb since that young woman had arrived to Logan Meadows. As angry at herself as it made her to admit the fact, her emotions were taking a toll. She should have been smarter, guarded her heart.

“Tabitha? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just so sure the woman’s show would be tomorrow evening, the night of my reading.” She pointed to the date on the bottom of the flyer. “It’s Friday, at three in the afternoon. And then Saturday night for the open show. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Mr. Wade wouldn’t do that to you.” Susanna’s brows drew down and her reprimanding tone matched her expression. “He seems like a nice fellow. We’d all thought you both were moving toward—you know—getting sweet.”

“Well, you’re all wrong. He was tricked into coming to my birthday party. When I think of that night, I couldn’t be more humiliated if I tried.”

“You’re mistaken. I spoke with him several times. You’re being silly.”

Her friend didn’t understand.
Tabitha would change the subject. She pointed to the paper. “I didn’t know she was a professional singer as well as a—well, you know—did you?”

“No. She must be really talented to say the least—as well as beautiful.”

That went without saying. “Where did you get this?” Tabitha asked.

“Mr. Wade brought it by the Silky Hen this morning and asked if he could tack it up on the news board by the door. Almost everyone that’s come in today read it. This was my first opportunity to bring it by.”

Kendall must have written the posters. Or, perhaps, Miss Bastianelli herself. . I should do a few of my own to place around town.

“What do you think?” Susanna asked.

“Think? About what?”

“The show!”

“In the saloon, Susanna? I wouldn’t dream of attending such an event. I already have enough troubles with Aunt Roberta as it is. Besides, if we went, we’d be encouraging the men in their salacious activities. Don’t you think?”

“That was my initial thought, but . . .” Susanna’s eyes brightened. “Roberta isn’t your mother. You shouldn’t give her so much power over you.” Her friend’s mouth scrunched to one side in contemplation. “I can’t decide how offensive it would actually be. How many chances like this will we get? To hear a professional singer, especially one who’s Italian. I’m sure she sings as beautifully as a bird. Albert said she arrived with a wagonload of trunks. Think of the dresses and gowns she must have. To tell you the truth, I’m intrigued.”

Jealousy clawed up Tabitha’s spine.

Susanna shrugged. “If we all went together in a group, it might be fun.” She stabbed the paper. “Says right here no men will be allowed in the saloon during the women’s show. The Bright Nugget is just a building. It’s what we do inside that would or wouldn’t be scandalous. Don’t you agree?”

Tabitha could easily see where this was going. “Have you talked to Albert yet? I can’t imagine he’d let you go.”

Her brow arched. “Let me go?”

“Yes! Let you go. He is your husband, remember?”

Susanna pulled up as tall as she could get. “No, I haven’t spoken with him yet. I came straight here.”

“I see. Would you like me to tag along to temper his outrage when you ask?” Already not herself over the invisible pitchfork of jealousy poking her backside, she struggled to push back her irritation.

Brenna burst through the front door, her face bright with excitement. She held a paper in her hand. “Have you seen—”

“Yes,” Tabitha and Susanna said in unison.

Brenna tipped her head. “I can’t imagine Gregory would be in favor of me attending an event in the Bright Nugget. What do you think?” She looked back and forth between them. “Susanna, what did Albert say?”

The excitement in Brenna’s voice was unmistakable. Her eyes shone with mischievousness. Susanna wasn’t the only one who wanted to go.

“I haven’t spoken with him yet.”

“He’s in his office. I saw him on my way here. Will he allow it? If he says yes first, I think that may influence Gregory. Everyone is talking about Miss Bastianelli, and I’m curious myself. As far as I know, besides church service on Sunday, she’s stayed holed up in her room.”

Tabitha glanced between her excited friends, a niggle of unease growing inside. Seemed Hunter Wade was a shrewder businessman than she’d given him credit for. He was looking for more than just the men in his saloon. He wanted everyone—even if it caused strife between the couples.

Albert smiled when Susanna stepped through the office door. She usually stopped by on her way home from the restaurant, and today was no different. He anticipated kissing her soft lips and spending a few minutes alone with his new bride. Nate was a gift from above, but private moments with Susanna weren’t bad either.

“Susanna, did you stop in for a kiss?” He stood to greet her, but pulled up the moment Brenna and Tabitha followed her through the door. The three looked between themselves before Susanna handed him a sheet of paper.

“What’s this?”

“Look and see,” Susanna responded sweetly.

Heat rose to Albert’s face. Did his wife actually want to go to a saloon show? Did the other women? Impossible!

“What do you think?” Susanna asked, expectantly looking into his face. “Would one show hurt?”

“I’d think a saloon show in the Bright Nugget would be the last place you’d ever want to go. You know what goes on inside a tavern. Actually, I’m flabbergasted you’re even asking.”

“She’s a professional singer, Albert,” Brenna said, standing beside Susanna, her voice low but steady.

Albert considered Brenna, then Susanna, all the while rubbing his chin in deep thought. Tabitha stood a step behind, her gaze unwavering. This could easily get out of hand if he put his foot down. He had to walk lightly. It was three against one. “I’ll admit, I don’t know much about the woman. What did Gregory say?”

“I haven’t spoken with him yet.”

“Are you planning to go on Saturday night?” Susanna asked, gazing expectantly into his face.

He dropped his attention back to the paper in his hands. The women-only show was at three o’clock on Friday afternoon with another showing the next evening at nine. It didn’t specifically say for the men, but that’s what everyone would think. “I’m the sheriff. I have to go and make sure no one gets too rowdy. You know, to keep the peace.”

Characteristically, one of Susanna’s eyebrows slowly arched.

Brenna crossed her arms.

Tabitha stared, unblinking.

“It’s my
job
to go, ladies. Not something I
want
, or
like
, to do.”

If he put up a fuss, Susanna was sure to dig in her heels. After the few months they’d been married, he knew her well enough to know what her reaction would be. He glanced between the faces, realizing they had safety in numbers. He wouldn’t mind a little backup himself before he made a stand. What if he said no, but the other men said yes. He didn’t favor his wife going by any means, but he also didn’t want to be in the doghouse for months either. They were practically still on their honeymoon.

Thom came through the office door. When he saw the three women, a wide smile drew across his face. He swept his hat from his head and gave a low bow. “Ladies. This is a nice surprise.”

Albert almost groaned. Thom didn’t know what was about to hit him.

Susanna tipped her head thoughtfully. “Afternoon, Thom,” she said in a pleasant tone. “I guess you’ve heard about the singer that arrived in Logan Meadows on Saturday . . .”

“Hasn’t everyone?” Thom’s gaze trailed over to Albert, but he didn’t leave it there long enough for Albert to warn him. Thom’s usual good instincts were overwhelmed by all the femininity in the office.

“I guess then you’ll be going to her show Saturday night?” Susanna went on, leading him easily down the path of no return.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. An opportunity like this doesn’t present itself every day. I hear Hunter has even built a stage. I’m looking forward to it.”

When he caught Albert’s frown, he blinked several times and snapped closed his mouth.

Brenna’s toe began to tap a fast rhythm on the wooden floor. “Yes, why wouldn’t you, Deputy?”

Thom’s smile was now nowhere to be seen. “I mean, I’m sure Albert will agree, there should be someone there to be sure the men stay nice and polite.” He shrugged. Turning, he marched over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee, running from the exchange like a frightened dog.

Albert put his hand on Susanna’s shoulder. “Today’s only Monday. We have time to figure this out.”
And I have time to speak with the other men.
It was obvious Thom didn’t know a thing yet about the women’s show. Hannah, being the forward thinker that she was, was sure to want to go—and would lead the way into the Bright Nugget with her head held high. He still couldn’t believe it. What was the world coming to? The saloon was the men’s sacred ground, so to speak. A place a fella could go and not worry about offending anyone’s sensibilities. And Jessie? What about her? Would she want to go? Nell, Maude, Julia, Violet . . . the list was endless. What Wade was up to with this, he couldn’t fathom. But he was sure going to find out.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

W
ith so much going on making sure Dichelle was settled and happy, Tabitha’s Tuesday evening reading caught Hunter off guard. The sound of laughter drew him from a sink full of dirty glassware to the saloon’s batwing doors. With a towel in his hands, he watched as townsfolk gathered, turning out in droves to support their local bookstore owner. Good. He was glad. She’d most likely sell some books and turn a profit. Would the residents do the same for him and Kendall on Saturday night?

He hadn’t seen or searched out Miss Hoity-Toity since Dichelle had arrived. The devastation in her eyes had rocked him to his socks. That was not a feeling he wanted to relive—not today or ever.

Still, at the sound of merriment coming from the quaint bookstore, Hunter was tempted to meander over, as he’d done last week, and join the festivities. The memory of his gaze first meeting Tabitha’s through the windowpane brought a pang of awareness. Then inside, the sugary scented air had warmed him inside and out. He’d felt included, accepted by everyone, even in his buckskin shirt. So different than being in the saloon. Her awareness of him had been heady, and he’d reveled in the feeling. At least until the end of their walk when she’d jerked her hand from his arm, embarrassed at being caught consorting with someone like him.

He’d not go over tonight. She didn’t want to see him. His presence might even upset her so much she might not be able to perform. She’d kept away, and hadn’t been on her nightly walks. He recalled the unseen stink kitty, and the tremor in her voice when she’d asked him not to kill the varmint. With a melancholy smile, he turned and headed back into the room.

“What’re you smiling at?” Kendall asked, pouring a whiskey for Dwight. Several other men stood at the bar talking. Buckskin Jack sat at a table alone, nursing the only whiskey Hunter was allowing, and two ranch hands played a game of poker that had gone on all day. He hoped they didn’t end up killing each other. Twice he’d had to break up their aggressive conduct with the threat of kicking them out.

I’d rather be at Storybook Lodge.
“Nothin’ in particular,” Hunter replied. “Just thinkin’ business is a little better than it was last Tuesday night. At least Farley’s at the piano, and not Buckskin Jack.”

Buckskin, catching his name, looked up.

“You know what your problem is, Wade?” Kendall said loud enough for everyone to hear. “You
think
too much. Business will never be the same one night to the next. Things were a hell of a lot simpler before you showed up.”

Truer words were probably never spoken. Hunter ignored Kendall’s gibe and ambled to the back of the room where the back door beckoned. He wished he hadn’t been so hasty to give Miss Hoity-Toity back her book. Getting lost in
Tom Sawyer
felt better than hanging out here with a bunch of men intent on getting drunk. He wished he could get the feel of her hand on his arm off his mind. Or how soft her lips had been during the kiss that was supposed to wipe her out of his head. And yes, even her know-it-all smile had a way of lightening his day. Damn!

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall, feeling antsy to get outside.

“When we gonna see that new gal—
the singer
?” one of the card players called, after throwing down his cards in a snit of anger. “Does she do more than sing?”

Hunter bristled at the slur to Dichelle. The cowboy winner collected his money from the center of the table with an outstretched arm, threw back what was left in his glass, then laughed in glee.

“Saturday night, nine o’clock. Told you that before,
Terry
,” Hunter bit out.

“I’m looking forward to the show,” Dwight said. “Nothing much ever goes on in New Meringue. That place is as dead as a doornail. Don’t know why I ever moved over there in the first place.”

“I do,” Buckskin slurred. “You was shamefaced after Sheriff Albert fired yer backside.”

Dwight scowled.

“Let’s not forget, you almost hanged Jake for rustling cattle he’d never seen,” Kendall said. “That might’ve played a part in your decision.”

Dwight tossed back his whiskey, then slammed his glass onto the bar. “Can’t a man drink in peace?”

Buckskin hiccuped, then wiped his arm across his lips. “Yer the one who brought it up, Dwight . . . I was just makin’ conversation.”

“Well, don’t!” Dwight pulled out a coin and flipped it onto the bar top. “Where’s Philomena, anyway? Haven’t seen her all day.”

“Has the night off,” Hunter said, walking forward. It had been years since he’d gotten into a fight—
a real fight
—but tonight the temptation to punch someone in the face was growing increasingly attractive. “No need for her to twiddle her thumbs when we can handle things around here.”

Dwight turned, looking Hunter up and down. His chin jutted out and his eyes narrowed to snake slits. “Isn’t it her
job
to entertain customers?”

Poker Winner snickered.

Hunter’s already-ruffled annoyance grew. “Sometimes it’s her job, and sometimes it’s not. Tonight, it’s
not
.”

“Wade!” Kendall barked in a warning tone. “You’re supposed to stop fights, not start any of your own.”

“I’m not fighting Dwight,” he said, sizing Dwight up and finding him lacking. He may have been younger, but Hunter could have taken him down in seconds. “I don’t like him asking about our saloon girl when she’s clearly not here. He should show a little respect.”

Dwight’s mouth dropped open. “For Philomena?” He let go a laugh, and the other men in the room, minus Kendall, joined in.

Before he knew what he was about to do, Hunter had Dwight by the shirtfront and yanked him up close to his face. “Yes, Hoskins, for Philomena. That’s exactly what I said.”

Hunter thrust Dwight away. Dwight slammed his back against the bar, grunting in pain.

With a laughable display of anger, Hoskins straightened the front of his shirt, avoiding Hunter’s hard gaze. “I won’t be back anytime soon, Kendall. I can promise you that.”

“Good,” Hunter retorted. “Go drink in your own saloon! The one in New Meringue. You’re here so much, I doubt that’s even true.”

As fast as Kendall could move, he hurried around the long bar to meet Hoskins just as he was about to exit. “He didn’t mean it, Dwight. He’s just riled tonight.”

Hoskins jammed on his hat, tromped through the door, and was gone.

Kendall’s furious expression didn’t faze Hunter. “We’re supposed to be making customers, not throwing ’em out!”

Kendall was right. He’d let his anger and frustration get the best of him. He pushed his hand through his disheveled hair, feeling prickly and out of sorts. Maybe it was time he made peace with Tabitha, talked with her to see what she was thinking. Even if they got into an argument, that was better than this deafening silence he felt coming from her shop.