Winter Winds of Wyoming Read online

  Winter Winds

  of Wyoming

  Also by Caroline Fyffe

  Prairie Hearts Series

  Where the Wind Blows

  Before the Larkspur Blooms

  West Winds of Wyoming

  Under a Falling Star

  Whispers on the Wind

  Where Wind Meets Wave

  Winter Winds of Wyoming

  Colorado Hearts Series

  Heart of Eden

  True Hearts Desire

  Heart of Mine

  *An American Duchess

  McCutcheon Family Series

  Montana Dawn

  Texas Twilight

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Heather

  Moon Over Montana

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Kathryn

  Montana Snowfall

  Texas Lonesome

  Montana Courage

  Montana Promise

  Stand Alone Western Historical

  Sourdough Creek

  Stand Alone Contemporary Women’s Fiction

  Three And A Half Minutes

  Winter Winds

  of Wyoming

  A Prairie Hearts Novel

  Book Seven

  Caroline

  Fyffe

  Winter Winds of Wyoming

  Copyright © 2020 by Caroline Fyffe

  All rights reserved by the author.

  www.carolinefyffe.com

  Winter Winds of Wyoming is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, recording, by information storage and retrieval or photocopied, without permission in writing from Caroline Fyffe.

  Cover design by Kelli Ann Morgan

  Interior book design by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Proudly Published in the United States of America

  ISBN# 978-1-944617-11-0

  Table of Contents

  Also by Caroline Fyffe

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Other Books by Caroline Fyffe

  Excerpt of Montana Dawn

  Order your copy of Montana Dawn today!

  About The Author

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  Chapter One

  Logan Meadows, Wyoming Territory, December 1883

  “For a man who’s just cheated a life of slavery, and most likely death, I’m a sorry example of cheer and goodwill.” A cloud of frosty air engulfed Dalton Babcock’s face. “Ebenezer Scrooge has more Christmas spirit than me.”

  Christmas is only two and a half weeks away.

  The small apartment above the Logan Meadows sheriff’s office felt cramped. Dalton stared a hole through the sheet of paper laid out on the rickety desk where he sat. One side of the sheet was labeled Clients and on the other, Cases. The paper was otherwise blank. His plan to open a detective agency hadn’t thrived.

  Before being shanghaied by Hugh Hexim’s men, he’d been gainfully employed as a security guard for a construction site in San Francisco. To supplement his income, he’d helped a private investigator who rented the apartment next to his. Dalton enjoyed searching for clues, putting together pieces of a crime puzzle, and solving mysteries. But that occurred in San Francisco—a city vastly populated compared to Logan Meadows. In the coastal community, jealous spouses paid dearly to have their husband or wife followed, suspicious they kept someone else on the side. Employees embezzled from employers. Expensive jewelry disappeared from duly locked safes. Logan Meadows, on the other hand, had barely evolved from frontier days.

  Annoyed, Dalton slapped the pencil he held onto the desk with a thwack. Ignoring the sharp teeth of hunger gnawing his belly, he stood and stalked to the window. Below, near the hitching post across the street, Gabe Garrison strummed Christmas carols on his guitar with Seth Cotton accompanying on the fiddle. Happy townsfolk stopped to listen. Not lingering too long in the cold, they stayed a few minutes and then hurried away. So many new faces to meet and old friends to remember.

  Dalton shivered in his wool-lined coat that did little against the bitter cold. He shoved both hands into his armpits, glaring at the jolly scene transpiring on the street. As impossible as the fact seemed here in Wyoming, the small apartment above the jail didn’t have a woodstove. The upstairs living space had been an afterthought, converted from a storage room long after the building was constructed. Because of that, the stovepipe from below had been routed along the exterior wall. When Dalton could afford to, he’d install a woodstove of his own. Until then, he’d best throw his pride to the wind and join Albert and Thom downstairs before he turned into a block of ice. He’d huddle next to their heat and thaw his bones. “I’m not a polar bear,” he muttered wryly, still rooted to the spot. His belly, empty since the meager meal he’d consumed several hours earlier, grumbled another protest.

  Outside, snow began to fall. Across the street, the pitched roofs of Harrell’s Haberdashery, Lettie’s Bakery, Ling’s Laundry House, and Doctor Thorn’s medical office slowly turned white. Here and there, wreaths of varying sizes, decorated with red
and green bows, hung above windowsills and on doors. A twenty-foot-tall Douglas fir had been erected yesterday in the middle of the street between the haberdashery and the saloon. Tomorrow evening, the town would gather to add the decorations. Dalton spotted Nate Preston and Markus Donovan playing in the loft of the livery, trying to catch snowflakes in their hands as they hung from the upper door by one arm.

  Feeling grumpy and in need of some Christmas cheer, Dalton wrestled up the window to a blast of frigid air.

  “Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Stephen. When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even...”

  The rich voices deepened the ache in Dalton’s chest. Almost six weeks had passed since he’d stepped off the train to a welcoming crowd at the Logan Meadows depot. He’d been delivered from purgatory by Jake Costner and his sisters, Adaline and Courtney. In all reality, if Jake hadn’t shown up in Newport when he had and then acted on his good instincts that the ragged prisoner with the caramel-colored eyes being held in the trainyard resembled his friend, Dalton would now be in Alaska, slaving in Hexim’s gold mine. Or perhaps he’d be dead. In the drug-induced state he’d suffered, Dalton had been in no condition to save himself, even though he’d wanted to. God had sent deliverance in the name of Jake Costner.

  Then, after only a few days in Logan Meadows and to his utter dismay, Dalton learned his life savings had been absconded from the bank in San Francisco. The dishonest bank owner gambled away every cent entrusted. The man had been tried, convicted, and now served a life sentence, but his incarceration meant little to Dalton. If not for the generous ten dollars Albert loaned him upon arrival, he’d be hard-pressed to eat.

  Dalton shoved an icy hand into his pants pocket and fingered the money.

  I need work. Real work. And soon!

  Below, wrapped in a stylish, dark-burgundy winter coat with a fur-trimmed hood, Tabitha Wade walked beside Hunter Wade, her husband and part owner in the Bright Nugget saloon, a gloved hand tucked into the crook of his arm. At this time of day, the two were most likely headed to the Silky Hen for their noon meal. Marigold Canterbury, Tabitha’s mother, walked alongside, her flitting gaze taking in the sights.

  Dalton had heard the story of how the older woman and Tabitha fended off a killer bounty hunter, saving the Lings’ young daughter, Lan. A lot transpired in Logan Meadows in the months he’d been away.

  When he scanned the opposite direction, Dalton sucked in a breath, his heart thumping against his ribs. Susanna Robinson Preston approached with a wicker basket swinging on her arm. Some six months ago, he fancied himself in love with Susanna. Thought they might even make a life together. But she’d chosen Albert. Watching her, he pressed a hand on the sill, his throat tightening. Could he really live in the same town with her? See her every day?

  Tabitha and Susanna halted directly below Dalton’s window. Hunter stepped inside Albert’s office.

  As much as he enjoyed seeing Susanna’s and Tabitha’s smiles and hearing their laughter, their jovial moods made him feel worse and his plight all the more clear. He couldn’t remain in Logan Meadows on charity. As a man, he had to earn his way. Albert, kind fellow that he was, provided this apartment for free. Well, not exactly free, but a rent of one dollar a month was practically nothing. If a paying case didn’t present itself soon, he’d consider other options—one being returning to his hometown of Breckenridge, where his parents lived. Or go back to San Francisco. But starting over again would take some money—funds he didn’t have.

  About to turn away from the window and head downstairs, he halted.

  A buckboard came up the street, leaving tracks in the thin layer of new fallen snow. The wagon pulled up directly across the street. Maximus and Clementine, Win’s shaggy winter-coated buffalo, gazed at the arrivals from behind their corral fence.

  Jake, Daisy, and… Adaline.

  Since arriving in Logan Meadows, a day hadn’t passed when Adaline hadn’t searched him out in his office, the mercantile, or the Silky Hen Café to ask some question a local could easily have answered. She made him feel special. Memories of how she’d nursed him when he’d been so sick in Newport—first, the stormy night in the abandoned pig shed and then, high in Freddy Bennet’s treehouse—warmed his heart. Their conversations and the sound of her voice awakened something deep inside. He wasn’t sure what the stirrings meant, but he was too cold to think about the reasons just now.

  “I’m past due for coffee and a warmup downstairs by the woodstove.” Albert issued an open invitation along with the one-dollar rent. “I won’t consider the hospitality as charity just yet. Hopefully, I’ve already hit the bottom of my barrel, but one just never knows about fate.”

  Chapter Two

  “Come in, Dalton,” Albert called as Dalton stepped through the door. “Pull up a chair. You just missed Hunter.”

  As expected, Susanna and Albert sat side by side at his desk, eating from the basket Dalton previously saw draped over Susanna’s arm. At the sight of her, the heaviness of his heart returned. Her dark-blue woolen dress fit like a glove. A row of bright white buttons began at her neckline, marched down her chest, and disappeared below the desk. Dalton’s face warmed and he cut his gaze to her wavy black hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, not a strand out of place. His memory hadn’t done her justice.

  The sheriff held a golden-brown chicken leg—fried to perfection—and a wide smile split his face. A second untouched plate, Dalton assumed for Nate, sat on Albert’s desk as well.

  Not only beautiful, but she works at the restaurant! Who could ask for more?

  Albert used the drumstick to point toward the iron stove in the back of the room. “A fresh pot of coffee is on the stove brewed not five minutes ago. Help yourself!”

  Dalton steeled his senses against the aroma of the fried chicken, being careful to keep his gaze trained far away from their plates. He’d be humiliated if either knew how hungry he was. Especially after how he and Albert competed for Susanna’s hand only a few months back. Losing her stung. But no one could have won her away from Albert—at least, that’s what Dalton told his injured pride. He recalled with bemusement how they’d gone to fists under Shady Creek bridge, right in front of Violet Hollyhock. The granny took them both to task for acting like schoolboys. Dalton sported a black eye for his efforts and Albert a bruised face. With such demeaning history, he’d rather keep his lack of funds to himself. A man could only take so much.

  “Thanks, Albert.” He kept any hint of shiver out of his voice. “I don’t mind if I do. Much obliged.” He dipped his chin and smiled. “Good day, Suzie.”

  Albert chuckled and lifted a shoulder.

  Dalton wouldn’t get his goat today.

  “Good day to you, Dalton,” she replied.

  Her green eyes sparkled, totally unaware of the playful jab between the men.

  Reaching out with a napkin, she wiped a spot of something from Albert’s chin.

  Albert lifted a brow and smiled.

  Marriage agrees with her plenty. And Albert, too. Dalton headed to the back of the room, conceding to Albert’s non-verbal teasing, the cold of the day, and the burning of his empty stomach. As he poured, warmth seeped through the folded cloth from the metal handle. The heavy pot felt mighty good. Finished, he took a deep gulp and ignored the scalding heat, after which he set his ceramic cup on the small stand next to the stove. He held his hands out, standing as close as he could without looking silly.

  “You surviving upstairs?” Susanna asked.

  He glanced over his shoulder to find her staring.

  “Before we married, Albert used to complain about the cold all the time. You need to install a woodstove.”

  Albert straightened. “Complain? I was just making conversation.”

  “Sure, sure,” Dalton responded. “Living in the icy wonderland isn’t that bad. Especially since I can come down here to warm up.” Inching closer to the heat, he reached for his cup and took anot
her long draw. Coffee never tasted so good.

  Albert cleared his throat. “I have something I’d like to ask you, Dalton.”

  “Oh?” He turned in their direction and warmed his backside. Feeling almost human again, he smiled. “Go on. I’m all ears.”

  Albert set the cleaned drumstick bone onto his plate and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I have several projects in mind to build Nate for Christmas. Along with some other tasks for my wife.” He glanced at Susanna and smiled. “But with my job, I never find the time. The days keep passing.”

  “By the way”—Dalton glanced at the untouched lunch plate and lifted his brows—“I saw Nate not long ago. If you’re looking for him, he and Markus are in Win’s loft. At least, they were right before I came down.”

  Susanna went to the window and looked out.

  “You were saying, Albert?”

  “Since you’re looking for work, I believe I’d like to take some time off. But only because I know the town will be in good hands. I know and trust you—”

  Hope welled in Dalton’s chest. “You want me to fill in?”

  Albert rose and met him in the middle of the room, the two standing eye to eye. “Only for a short time. Most likely, you won’t have much to do and you can still continue to cultivate your own clientele. I’m not one to take time off, but in light of the son I never knew I had having so recently come into my life, I think time’s arrived that I do. I’d also like to take Susanna and Nate on a short trip. You know, before the real snow falls. Just over to New Meringue for a few days.”

  Susanna whirled from the window. By the look on her face, the trip was a surprise to her as well, and one she wholeheartedly approved. She’d never looked at Dalton with such an expression.

  Albert winked and nodded. “We’ll only be away a handful of days, but I’d keep you on, making the rounds, until after the New Year.”

  “A-Albert?” Susanna stammered.

  “What? Is wanting to spend some uninterrupted time with my new wife and son so unbelievable?” He closed the distance to Susanna and clasped her hands. “Sound good, sweetheart? Would you like to take a trip? And then have me around the house all day long—at least, for a time?” He gazed at Susanna’s wide eyes. “Susanna? Say something.”