Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) (23 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

W
ith shaky hands, Mrs. Hollyhock pulled the amber embroidery floss through the white linen in her needlepoint loop, then fingered the basket-weave stitch. Dissatisfied with her work, she silently harrumphed. Getting old wasn’t easy. Beside her, the fire popped, and the front door to the Red Rooster opened.

Marlene stepped inside. The woman, who’d been at the laundry house since early morning, gave her an uninterested look, then continued on into the kitchen.

Violet set her work aside and pushed herself out of the chair. Going to the kitchen, she halted to see what Marlene was doing.

“Yer home early.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ain’t even noon yet.”

“The Lings told me to take a break for an hour, get something to eat.”

All Marlene had on her plate were two slices of bread and a glob of butter. “That’s not much. Let me scramble ya a couple of eggs.” She noticed Marlene’s reddened hands. Not used to washing every day in the soap, they’d taken a beating and looked like they hurt more than she was letting on.

Before Marlene had a chance to answer about the eggs, Violet shuffled down her hall and came back with a jar of cream she’d made from beeswax, almond milk, and honey. She set the half-full jar beside Marlene’s plate. “Go on and rub some on.”

Marlene looked up at Violet from where she sat, slowly chewing. “What’s all this about? You don’t have to pretend you care.”

“I ain’t pretending nothin’! Just do as I say.” She shuffled to the back door and went onto the porch for her basket of eggs. She took up three and went inside, shivering from the chilly fall air.

Taking out a mixing bowl, Violet carefully cracked all three eggs and whipped them. Pulling out a skillet, she scooped in a large spoonful of butter and then stoked the stove. It wasn’t but a moment before the melting butter had spread across the pan. She poured in the eggs and salted and peppered. “These’ll be done in a minute more.”

“I never said I wanted any.”

“I say you do. So shush up.”

Marlene harrumphed.

A knock on the door preceded the sound of it opening. Violet turned from her cooking to see who had arrived.

“Violet?” Jessie called. “You home? I see a nice cozy fire burning.”

“Come in, darlin’ girl! I was jist thinkin’ about you.” She hurried to the door and enveloped Jessie in a hug. “What brings ya by?”

“I wanted to say hello. I’ve been feeling pretty low since Jake left and—” Seeing Jake’s mother, she snapped her mouth closed. Who could forget the awful way the woman had treated him in Valley Springs when he was just a boy? Her drunken rages and foul mouth.

“Hello, Marlene,” Jessie said, dipping her head.

Jake’s mother seemed to pull back in her chair as if she’d like to disappear. “Mrs. Logan,” she replied softly.

“I’m interrupting. I’ll come back another time.”

Violet caught Jessie’s arm as her friend tried to retreat. “Oh, pooh, yer doin’ nothin’ of the sort. Hungry? I’m scramblin’. No trouble a-tall to add a couple more.”

“Oh, no, I’ve eaten. I can’t stay but a minute.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Gabe and Sarah are watching Shane for me so I can run a few errands. Do you need anything at the mercantile?” Her gaze kept straying to Marlene sitting at the table with her plate of bread.

Violet went to the stove, scraped the cooked eggs onto another plate, took it to the woman, and set it alongside the other dish.

“Nothin’, dearie. I’m just sittin’ by the fire workin’ on some Christmas presents. But there is something I’ve made up fer you.” She waved Jessie past Marlene, who was very good at ignoring everything that went on around her, to the back of the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and took out her lacquered wooden box of herbal remedies. Opening the lid, she reached for a small sack made of red cloth tied up with a string, and handed it to Jessie.

Jessie’s brows drew down. “What’s this?” she asked softly.

“Jist make yerself a nice cup of brew each night. It don’t have ta be strong, just get into a habit that it’s the last thing you take before crawlin’ under the covers with that man of yours.”

Jessie’s eyes went wide. “Mrs. Hollyhock! What’re you talking about?”

“You know very well what I’m talkin’ about. You’ve been a wife fer a while now. Don’t tell me ya don’t know about the birds and the bees, cause Shane would prove ya wrong.”

With one hand on her hip, Jessie glanced behind, and lowered her voice even more before whispering, “I’m not sick. What is this? What’s it for?”

Violet searched her friend’s face, hoping Jessie wouldn’t be angry for her butting in. “Jist a mixture of yarrow, parsley, red clover, and dandelion.”

Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not drinking anything until I know what it’s for.”

“I’m thinkin’ Shane’s gettin’ pretty old now. Almost four.” She glanced down at Jessie’s trim midsection and wiggled her eyebrows. “This’ll speed things up.”

Jessie’s lips wobbled.

“See, I knowed ya been thinkin’ about it, too.” She picked up Jessie’s hand and held it between her own. “That’s why I’m still here. You ain’t got nothin’ ta worry over. Jist do as I say and all will be well.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

T
hree hours after Dichelle’s arrival, Hunter exited the saloon and headed to the Feed and Seed for more lumber. Dichelle had nearly swooned when she’d seen there wasn’t a performance stage anywhere in the Bright Nugget. She’d insisted there was no way she could perform in a room full of men standing by the piano. Someone of her stature must be lifted above, where pawing hands couldn’t touch. Kendall wasn’t happy about the mounting costs of the songbird, between a hotel room and a small stage at the end of the bar accessible by way of the staircase. Hunter hoped his idea to bring Dichelle here wouldn’t prove to be a bad one.

Charging several two-by-fours to the saloon’s account, Hunter carried the boards on his shoulder past Storybook Lodge, keeping his gaze trained straight ahead. Tabitha’s hurt expression haunted him. He’d felt something warm brewing last Saturday when they’d sat with Mrs. Hollyhock in the Silky Hen. They’d weathered two arguments, a kiss, a face slap, and then this morning, something more had changed. He’d seen it in her eyes, too. And then Dichelle had arrived. Seriously! It boiled his blood when he recalled Tabitha’s accusatory look. Did she really think so little of him? Could she actually believe he’d be involved with a woman young enough to be his daughter?

Almost past the sheriff’s office, Albert and Susanna stepped out. He stopped and wiped his moist brow.

“More carpentry work, Wade?” Albert asked. “Thought you were finished with the upstairs room.”

If he could believe his eyes, Susanna Preston was not happy to see him. The half-friendly smile on her lips didn’t reach her eyes. Surely, Nate and Albert had filled her in on Logan Meadows’s newest arrival. “I finished that room several days ago. And if I do say so myself, it turned out pretty nice.”
But not nice enough for Dichelle.
“This is for a small performance stage.”

Albert whistled. “A performance stage, you say? You sure are making some big changes. Between your Italian and Miss Canterbury doing a reading each week, I feel like we’re living in a metropolis. Keep up the good work.”

“Metropolis?”

“A large city,” Susanna explained, a tone of censure to her voice. That was all right, the women would adjust. For business’s sake, he hoped they would. The clerk at the El Dorado had been only too happy to check Dichelle in for an extended period of time. But fifty cents a day would add up fast.

Albert and Susanna were about to move on when Hunter remembered something. “Albert, I saw that fella I told you about that had been in the saloon with Dwight a while back. The one you asked me to keep an eye out for.”

Albert stopped, his face going serious. “When?”

“Last night. I stepped out of the saloon for some fresh air and to stretch my legs. He was standing in front of the telegraph office. When he saw me, he left at once as if he were up to no good.”

“Dwight with him?”

Hunter shook his head.

“Who, Albert?” Susanna asked.

“A stranger. Heard tell he may be a bounty hunter. I don’t like bounty hunters in
my
town. Most of ’em are ruthless. Shoot first and ask questions later. I won’t have that here in Logan Meadows.”

Hunter couldn’t help but notice how the color drained from Mrs. Preston’s face. Her gaze darted across the street and all the way down to Ling’s Laundry. It was almost as if she knew something they didn’t.

“Mrs. Preston?” Hunter asked. “Is something bothering you?”

Albert turned to his wife in question. He wasn’t in on it. Now Hunter’s curiosity was really piqued.

“Susanna?” Albert asked. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Her gaze went back and forth between him and Albert.

“Yes. I was sworn to secrecy, but in light of this news, I feel compelled to speak.”

Albert’s eyebrow peaked. “Go on.”

She paused, letting her gaze rest on Hunter.

“I best get back to my work.” Hunter hefted the boards onto his shoulder, being careful not to hit anyone.

“Stay,” Albert said. “You were good enough to keep an eye out, and then to let me know what you’d seen. I trust you.” He looked at his wife.

“I trust you as well,” Susanna said. “But if this has nothing to do with what the two of you think, you must promise to keep it to yourself. Never to speak of it. The fewer people who know of this law, the better.”

Albert looked puzzled. “Law?”

“Bao told me about it a few months ago, right after the train crash at Three Pines Turn. Any Chinese coming into the country after 1880, by law can be deported. Tap Ling came here a couple years before he sent for Bao and Lan. And now Bao is going to have another baby. She’s frightened that, because of the animosity growing in Rock Springs, someone will find out about her. Could someone be paying the bounty hunter to find Chinese to deport?”

“Susanna, I’d appreciate if you left the sheriffin’ to me, darlin’. I had no idea the Lings were worried. I need to be aware, to be able to keep people safe.”

“I heard about that from Miss Canterbury. More people know about it than just the Lings. That’s something to keep in mind.”

“I can’t believe how cruel men can be,” Susanna said.

Albert clenched a fist. “Money talks. Someone you might never suspect might be tempted. You’d be surprised.”

Kendall stepped out of the Bright Nugget, a broom in hand, and began sweeping the front boardwalk. When he saw Hunter, he called, “You gonna stand there all day, Wade? That performance stage ain’t going to build itself. Only have a few hours before the Saturday crowd rides in.”

“Kendall’s right. I need to get to work.” With no more distractions, his thoughts drifted back to Tabitha, and he wondered if perhaps Miss Hoity-Toity was watching them out her window. She was one aggravating woman, all right. One he’d let get under his skin. Best not to think about her at all, now that Dichelle had arrived. He had enough on his plate as it was.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

W
ith the conclusion of Sunday service, Tabitha gathered her reticule off the pew and followed Aunt Roberta, as well as Hannah and Thom, out into the sunshine. Circles formed, men in one group and woman nearby, as residents living farther out of town were hungry for interactions with their neighbors. The circles fairly buzzed with chatter. Reverend Wilbrand’s sermon on the evils of alcohol indulgence seemed apropos for all the attention the Bright Nugget had gotten over the past few days.

Hunter hadn’t shown up. She told herself she was glad, but she was having a difficult time convincing her heart. Even after how he’d hidden the fact that he’d already made the decision about bringing more saloon girls into town when they had their heated discussion, but led her to believe otherwise.

The congregation had been shocked when Miss Bastianelli had come in quietly, a few moments after the service had started, and sat in the last pew by the door, then exited a few minutes before its conclusion. She was already down the hill and out of sight by the time the worshippers had emptied the church and began their social hour.

“I’m surprised she had the nerve to enter a house of worship,” Maude said, her plentiful wrinkles coming alive with her surprise. “First time I known of a soiled dove coming to church or staying in a hotel.”

Tabitha felt compelled to respond, having put up such a case to Hunter about Daisy and Philomena. “She’s a child of God, too, Maude. She has nowhere else to worship. If Reverend Wilbrand doesn’t mind, neither should we.”

“If you say so,” the mercantile owner mumbled, raising her brows.

“I agree with Tabitha,” Jessie added. “Who am I to judge others? My beginning was somewhat colored.”

Hannah nodded, gazing around the group. “I feel the same.”

“You’re all being very charitable,” Roberta said, brushing a hand down the front of her skirt. “But don’t forget, the element of Logan Meadows is changing. One person at a time. That’s how it begins. Next week someone will open another saloon, and then a gambling hall the next. Shall we keep an open mind to that too? Then the train will arrive with a carload of fallen women to fill the rooms and help keep your men happy.” Roberta flicked a quick look at Tabitha, and then went on. “What if Chase and Thom decided they needed a little time out this weekend? Will you kiss their cheeks and send them off to the saloon now?”

Dichelle walked quickly, keeping her eyes trained forward and her hands securely inside her fox-fur muff. Sitting in the last pew of the small country church had reminded her of home, her parents, and the life she’d left behind five years ago. As she descended the slight incline, she passed the quiet school, then headed straight for the saloon where she’d heard the sounds of construction going on earlier this morning on her way to the service. She wouldn’t think of home today. This was a new town. A new chance. Perhaps here someone of importance would hear her sing, and offer her a way to get to New York, and the stages of the plays she dreamed of acting in.

Arriving at the boardwalk between a doctor’s office and a small bakery, she crossed the deserted road. Seemed everyone was at the church. Without a hint of shyness, she opened the saloon door and stepped inside. Scents of coffee, wood shavings, and smoke enveloped her. She spotted Hunter working on the newly constructed stage.

“
Ciao
,” she called out cheerfully. Back in Soda Springs she’d heard the stories around town of how Hunter had become part owner of the Bright Nugget. She hadn’t thought anything could make the trail boss settle down. For as long as they’d been friends, he’d regaled her with stories of the wide-open spaces he loved so much. The dim interior she gazed at now was a far cry from that.

Hunter rolled back from his hands and knees and stood, brushing off the shavings that clung to his legs and hands. “Morning, Dichelle. How’s the room at the El Dorado? Does it suit you?”

A small jab of guilt pricked her mind. She’d felt bad about insisting on that—a nice large room in the best hotel, especially making the request of Hunter, but it couldn’t be helped. If she began staying in boardinghouses and saloons, her reputation as a performer would be tarnished. She had to act the part. With her head high, she continued over to her old friend.

“The accommodations are very nice, thank you.” She glanced around, never fully comfortable standing in a saloon. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to see the progress you’ve made.” She put her hand on one of the new posts and tested its strength. Unable to move it even the smallest amount, she smiled at the tall man watching at her side. “It’s very strong,
amico mio
.”

A niggle of loneliness pulled at her. Later, to dispel her melancholy and pass the long hours in her hotel room, she’d unpack her painting easel, canvas, and paints from her trunks and begin a new project. Something Western that depicted this town. That always lifted her spirits.

The back door opened. The man who’d been introduced to her as Kendall Martin came through carrying a garbage can. When he saw her, his face lit with pleasure. “Why, Miss Bastianelli, what brings you by the Bright Nugget this fine Sunday morning?” His red eyes and slow step attested to the late night he’d had.

“I wanted to see Hunter’s progress on the performance stage,” she said, nodding at the eight-foot-square landing. They wouldn’t be booking in any large acts. “When will it be finished?”

“It’s almost finished now,” Hunter said, assessing his work.

“When will I first perform?”

The two men looked at each other.

A devious smile pulled the older bartender’s lips. “I say we unveil our secret weapon on Tuesday evening! During the spinster’s reading. That’s coming up, you know.”

Hunter scowled. “I thought you liked Miss Canterbury.”

That brought Kendall up short. “Whaddaya mean?” he stammered. “’Course I like her! When she’s not being bossy.”

“I’ve never seen her bossing you about the saloon.”

Kendall hurried away and rounded the end of the bar, coming up along the backside. “You ain’t been to any town meetings.”

Hunter took a deep, calming breath. “Kendall, we’re not competing with Tabitha. Period. Not now, not ever. She can have her Tuesday nights, and we’ll plan on having our first big show nine o’clock Saturday night. Make a big splash when the bar is full.” Hunter paused and stroked his chin.

“What if none of the women let their men out? We’ll only get the bachelors.”

“I had a few censoring glances from the women in church,” Dichelle said. “Kendall may be right.”

Hunter just stood there tapping his boot on the floor. “On second thought, why don’t we have a preopening show, the day before, on Friday afternoon?”

“Friday afternoon?”

“Yes. Mrs. Preston seemed none too pleased with me yesterday. I don’t want to set every female in Logan Meadows against us from the start. We’ll have a women-only show.”

“The women!” Kendall barked, his face squished up like a prune. “They wouldn’t be caught dead in here.”

“I’m not so sure. If they’re curious about Dichelle now, wait until they find out she’s really a famous singer. They’ll want to see her clothing and culture. If the women partake—even just a few—how can they forbid their men from coming? At least it’s a start. We’re into Dichelle for quite a few dollars.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “With the women happy, I’ll bet we’ll sell a lot more tickets and pour more whiskey for the men.” Grinning, he plopped his hands on his hips in satisfaction and looked around. “We’ll call it Ladies’ Day Out.” He looked to the door and then back at Dichelle with a big smile. “Miss Canterbury isn’t the only one who can start a new trend in town. We’ll need to get a few posters up. And a few in New Meringue and Rock Springs as well.”

“We’re going to charge for the show?”

“Of course we’re going to charge for such fine entertainment as Miss Bastianelli! But only the men. A dollar a ticket.”

Hunter’s devilishly handsome smile made Dichelle laugh. He was such fun to be around. She’d had a crush on him since they’d met three years ago. She’d missed him when he took the job to go east. He insisted they were only friends, and treated her like a daughter. That still didn’t keep her from wishing.

“The women’s show will be complimentary, and we’ll pour coffee and tea.”

Kendall made another face. “And serve petits fours?” He held up his fingers as if putting a small something into his mouth.

“Cookies,” Hunter countered. “It’ll work, you’ll see.”

“Don’t seem fair that we let the women in for free. The men are paying a whole dollar.”

“We want them to come, don’t we? If we charge, we’ll only get a couple. What’s a few pots of coffee to us when the bar is normally quiet? Trust me. This will work.”

A sly smile began on Kendall’s face as his gaze meandered up to the ceiling. “I think you’re on to something, Partner,” he said, scratching his whiskered cheek.

“Of course I am,
Partner
.” Hunter laughed, and then winked at Dichelle. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to realize that.”

“This is all good and fine,” she said. “Do you have a competent piano player? One that will practice with me at least a couple of days.”

“Of course,” Hunter said. “Leave that all up to me.”

If the piano player was anything like the saloon, Dichelle had her doubts. Perhaps it had been a mistake to make Ned mad by leaving Soda Springs. The midsized town wasn’t so bad, after all. At least the crowd she’d been attracting filled the room. Here in Logan Meadows, she didn’t know what to expect. As much as she wanted to trust Hunter, she knew he was working on hope and prayers. But hope and prayers wouldn’t get her to New York.