Winter Winds of Wyoming Page 6
With her advanced age, her days were numbered. But everyone’s days were numbered. She’d been lucky to have lived so long. “Why? Why is knowing so important? A nice gesture was done. Shouldn’t you be grateful instead of curious? Pretty obvious they want to remain nameless, since they’ve stayed hidden throughout the years. Do you really want to spoil their fun?”
Violet’s eyes narrowed again. “I ain’t never seen no proprietor so set on turning away business.” With a frown, she tugged her coat snuggly around her throat and struggled to stand.
“Wait!” He placed a calming hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”
She pointed a gnarly finger in his face. “Just so happens, young man, I want ta know so I can say thankee, and return a favor or two. I’m always hearin’ this and that about the do-gooder. I want ta know so I can reciprocate. Seems I’m often the recipient of his or her generosity. Time ta turn the tables.”
“In that case, I’ll take the job.”
She tented a brow. “I got ta say upfront,” she went on. “I don’t have cash ta pay with. I do have pies, suppers, herbal remedies, and the like.” Her grin lit up the room. “You havin’ any trouble with yer bowels? Happens to a lot of folks around this time of year.”
He pushed back in the chair and held up both palms, warding off her last statement. “My bowels work just fine, thank you very much.”
“I have just the thing that’ll fix ya up good as new right quick. Don’t be shy.”
“No, no. But I will take you up on your offer.” Visions of roasted beef and gravy danced through his mind, so real he felt lightheaded. “Bachelors can’t get enough good home cookin’, in my estimation. You can pay me with a meal, and I’ll see what I might dig up. But I only agree if you give me your solemn word to keep what we find to yourself. The do-gooder wants to remain anonymous. Agreed?”
“Ya have my word, Deputy Babcock. Ya can take my oath to the bank. When will ya be out ta the Red Rooster ta look for clues? Ya better come quick. Don’t want the case to go cold…”
“No, absolutely not. I wouldn’t want that. I’ll stop out as soon as I can. Maybe tomorrow. Now, up with you.” Dalton took her hands and helped her to her feet. “I’m going to the livery for Win’s buggy and take you home. I won’t take no for an answer.”
How fast his circumstances had reversed. A grumbling sourpuss yesterday; the celebrated contest judge, as well as deputy, today. Life couldn’t get much better. At the coat rack, he layered on more outer clothing as Violet waited. He’d be delighted to help her, if he could. As silly as the task sounded, discovering the identity of the do-gooder wouldn’t be easy. But he was up to the challenge. Not much else would transpire from now until Christmas.
Chapter Ten
“Last night you asked me to stop by, Violet,” Dalton said, explaining his appearance at the Red Rooster the very next day. The wind swept across the porch of the old guesthouse, sending a chill up Dalton’s back. He hunched his shoulders against the December cold and glanced into the room where Marlene and Adaline both watched him from their seats next to the fire. He hadn’t realized the two might be home.
Violet’s brows drew together. “I did? I don’t recall saying nothin’ like that, Deputy. Ya sure you’re not makin’ up a tall tale?”
Surely, Violet’s request was meant to be a secret. Feeling silly, Dalton leaned forward and lowered his voice, “Yes, I’m sure. So I can hunt for clues regarding the do-gooder and your apple pies. Remember, somebody completed your baking the other day when you were napping?”
A quick smile pulled taut the sagging skin around Violet’s mouth. “That’s right, now I recall. Thank ya for ticklin’ my memory,” she whispered. “And it’s right kind of me to want to thank the caring heart, iffin saying so ain’t bad manners.” She cast a secretive glance at the others. “Marlene and Adaline are home for their noon meal. We’ll have ta be careful. I don’t want them ta know.” She opened the door wider. “Come right on in, Deputy. I have stew warming on the stove. I’ll dish ya up a bowl along with the others.”
A smiling Adaline had stood and come closer.
Mrs. Hollyhock walked off to the kitchen.
As he recalled from his last visit to Logan Meadows months ago, the varnished wooden logs of the inn were separated by a thick layer of white chink and covered by colorful quilts all stitched together lovingly by Violet herself. The window glass was washed sparkly clean, and not a speck of dust or mud marred the floorboards. Noticing a few pairs of boots sitting by the front door, he toed off his own, not wanting to be the one to tramp in slush. After yesterday’s snow, the ground outside was awfully wet.
The room was cozy. Lanterns flickered on the mantel, an end table, and golden light glowed into the room from the kitchen. Outside, the day was dreary, but inside, the atmosphere couldn’t be nicer with the fire crackling and Adaline looking at him the way she was.
“Adaline, Mrs.—er, Marlene,” he quickly corrected, removing his hat. He’d almost forgotten and called Jake’s mother Mrs. Costner, but that wasn’t her last name. He wondered if she had one she went by.
“Dalton, what a nice surprise.” Adaline moved even closer. She dipped her chin, and then looked up at him through her lashes, which fluttered several times.
The flirtatious move, most unlike her, reminded him of last night. “Something in your eye, Adaline? If you’d like, I can take a look.”
She pulled back and touched her face, her high-set cheeks suddenly ablaze with color.
Marlene bolted from her seat. “That’s kind of you, Deputy. She was complaining about the discomfort right before you arrived, but with Violet’s age and my poor eyesight, we haven’t been able to help her one little bit. Go on, Adaline, don’t be shy. Let Dalton examine your eye.” She took Adaline by the arm and towed her closer to the window. “Come here, Deputy, you can’t do anything to help from there.”
“It’s just dust, Marlene. I’m fine.” Adaline struggled to pull away.
With the peculiar way she’d been acting and the attraction he’d been feeling, he’d just as soon not take a look, but Marlene’s militant stance brooked no refusal. He swallowed nervously. “Which one?”
“The right eye,” Marlene exclaimed.
At the exact same time, Adaline said, “The left.” She slowly blinked a couple times and then touched the outside corner of her left eye. “This one. But whatever was there is now gone.”
“He’ll be the judge of that.” Marlene rested her fisted hands on her hips. “Now, just stay still.”
“B-but…”
“All right, Adaline,” he said. “You rose to the occasion when I needed help in Newport. I was sick, and you stayed with me, unmindful of putting yourself in danger. Only right I return a favor.”
He turned her head so the light gave him a good view. Up close, her blue eyes were striking. He took his time to make sure nothing was really there, which he wholeheartedly doubted. The slight scent of cinnamon and vanilla made him wonder if she’d eaten cinnamon toast for breakfast. Unbidden, he scanned his gaze to her velvety soft–looking lips. In all honesty, those lips had appeared in his dreams several times since the stormy night at the Oregon coast lighthouse.
With the moment stretching, Adaline smiled and inched away. “See, nothing there. But thank you for offering.” Now a good number of feet back, she relaxed and smiled. “Congratulations on being voted judge for the Christmas competition. The citizens of Logan Meadows like you.”
A sense of pride filled his chest. “I guess they do. I appreciate that fact and also the job Albert trusted me with. One month at a time, I say. For a few days in Newport, I thought I’d never see anyone in this town ever again. Guess I was wrong.”
“Guess you were,” Adaline softly replied, the craziness of a moment ago now gone.
“And I have you to thank for that.”
“Jake was the mastermind, I only followed orders.”
Beth Fairington picked that moment to come through the door. When she saw him standing with Adaline, she pulled up short and began working the buttons on her calf-length wool coat. Her nose was as red as a cherry from the brisk walk from town.
Wanting to avoid her, Dalton had purposely chosen this time to visit Violet. He’d noticed her yesterday eating her noon meal in the mercantile. Guess she didn’t have set hours. Why had she spoken up for him last evening, throwing his name into the competition? Dipping his chin politely, he glanced for help to the kitchen. “Violet,” he called.
She poked her head around the door. “Supper’s almost on the table! Hold yer pants on.”
Beth hung her coat on a peg next to his hat.
“That’s the thing. I won’t be staying to eat. Just remembered a chore back in town. I’ll stop by later today, if I can.”
“Nothing doin’, Deputy,” Violet said in her scratchy voice from the other room. “Come on in and get comfortable. Eatin’ don’t take long.” A moment later, she appeared and grasped his arm, tugging him into the kitchen and the table. “You jist got here. Besides, I promised ya a few meals to have a look around, and we’ll begin with this here banquet today, and be grateful to the Lord for small blessin’s. Beef stew, warm soda biscuits straight from the oven, and freshly churned sweet butter. No more backtalk.”
Capitulating, he pulled out a chair for Adaline, then Marlene, and then Beth. Three open places were set on the table. Was another boarder at the inn? Seeing Violet gesture for him to sit, he did and got comfortable.
Violet withdrew several coffee cups from a cupboard and set them on the table.
“Why, Violet?” Beth asked. “What’s our fine deputy doing in return for these promised meals? I can’t imagine.” She tapped her chin with a long, thin finger and smiled.
Dalton didn’t like the way Beth’s tone changed when she’d said the word ‘fine.’
“Are you selling the inn?”
“Never you mind,” Violet replied as she set a crock of whipped butter on the table between the large bowl of stew and a plate filled with golden-brown biscuits. “Yer curiosity will cook yer goose someday. Iffin I’d wanted my plans known all over town, I’d’a told ya yesterday. But I don’t, and I ain’t.”
“No need to bite off my head, grouchy granny,” Beth replied on a laugh. “My question was fair. I live here too and have a right to know.” She took a biscuit from the plate and passed them along. “I wonder, wonder, wonder what’s in the air?”
Violet finally took her seat. “Would you please do the honors of dishing our bowls, Deputy? And Beth, best keep yer nose out of other people’s affairs ’fore it gits bit off. If ya think I’m grouchy now, just keep pesterin’. That’s all I have ta say on the matter.”
Feeling uneasy with the quibbling, Dalton dished a portion of the thick, rich-smelling stew, causing his mouth to water. He passed the bowl to Adaline, who passed it around to Marlene. With everyone served except the vacant setting at the end of the table, he lifted a hand and gestured. “Are we expecting another visitor, Violet? Should I dish his serving now, or wait until whoever it is shows up?”
Beth cleared her throat. “You’ll be waiting till the cows come home if you do, Deputy Babcock. Violet sets a place for her long-lost son every single meal in the hopes today will be the day he comes home. Isn’t that right, Violet?” She sent Mrs. Hollyhock a knowing look. “But Tommy won’t be back, not now, not ever. I don’t know why she’s so stubborn. I think her pappy must have been a mule.”
Adaline’s and Marlene’s loud intakes of breath made Dalton blink.
“Beth! That’s enough,” Marlene snapped, her eyes blazing. “Have some respect.”
Violet’s face blanched. Her mouth flattened, and she dropped her gaze to her bowl. But then, color slowly seeped back into her cheeks, and she began to shake. Her scowling lips wobbled. “How dare ya be so mean-spirited to me! I took ya in when ya had nowhere else ta go! I fed ya and put up with yer sassy mouth for years—in Valley Springs and now here! If my dear Tommy run off back then after the two of ya were betrothed, he had good reason. And by God, I’m glad he did. Better I never see him again than for him to be yoked to the likes of you! Wherever he is, and whatever he’s doing, his life is better because of his good sense. Now, get yer backside off my chair and go pack yer belongin’s. When ya walk out the door of my house, ya won’t never be back. Ya hear me?” she shouted. “Ya’ve seen the last of the Red Rooster Inn—and Violet Hollyhock. I’m not takin’ any more lip. The Good Lord forgives me today and probably wonders what took me so long to come ta my senses, ta see the light, ta grow a backbone, to throw you out!” She slammed her curled fist onto the tabletop, making all the dishes rattle. “My Tommy will walk through my door before you do, Beth so-cranky-people-run-at-the-sight-of-ya Fairington! I make that pledge on my grave!”
Dalton, a large bite of stew still in his mouth, glanced at Adaline, who stared at her bowl so intently one would think the contents had begun to moo.
Marlene’s angry expression had turned to concern for Violet.
Beth blinked rapidly and her nostrils flared. Was she gearing up for a fight or startled speechless? He couldn’t tell.
Silence descended on the group.
“Well? What are ya waitin’ for?” Violet jabbed her crooked finger at the door several times. “Ya think I’m gonna change my mind and apologize? Or for me ta go pack for ya, like always? Go on, git, ya snake…” Violet’s voice began to wobble on her last sentence.
Without another word, Beth set her napkin beside her place and scooted back her chair, her chin high and tilted. A moment later, she’d disappeared down the hallway.
Dalton swallowed the stew stuck in his throat and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He hadn’t known the little grandmother type had such fire inside. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have a spell after such a display. Perhaps he should have intervened, saving Violet from the outburst that possessed her. And then again, perhaps such a dressing down was a long time overdue.
Chapter Eleven
Adaline didn’t know where to look. The bite of bread she’d taken right before Beth and Violet’s outburst wedged in her throat like an old shoe. The altercation brought to mind the frightful arguments her father and younger sister used to have over the scoundrel Wil Lemon, before their father had passed away. Glancing up, she reached out and covered Violet’s hand with her own.
“I never stop hopin’,” Violet whispered. “Someday, Tommy’s gonna come home.” A tear leaked from her eye, slid slowly down her crinkled cheek, and plopped onto the tablecloth beside their hands.
Mirroring the mood inside, the wind stirred the tall pines above the inn, creating a mournful wail beneath the eaves. A mixture of rain and snow splattered against the windowpanes.
“He will,” Adaline whispered, hoping her words were true. With her advanced age, not much time remained for Violet’s dream. She was a rock in the community. She’d done so much for so many others, and their lives were so much better because of her. Was seeing her son before she died asking too much?
Marlene wiped her own tears.
Dalton was silent.
Sounds of Beth’s packing came down the hall.
Adaline would like to go give her a piece of her mind but didn’t want to make matters worse. Best just to let the situation die down and then speak with Beth later. Where would she go? As soon as Adaline came to town, she’d been warned by Susanna, in a nice way, to be careful of what she said around Beth. Beth could twist a story in three hundred an
d sixty-five ways, one for each day of the year, if she felt the need. Most in Logan Meadows knew her temperament well and steered clear as much as possible. Even if the townsfolk put up with her at the mercantile, most wouldn’t want her living in their home. Maybe Beth would actually leave town.
“How old was your boy when he left?” Dalton asked.
His face softened, and clearly he was moved by the situation. The concern in his voice touched her.
Marlene’s head jerked up. “She doesn’t want to talk about him right now! Can’t you see she’s hurt? Speaking about Tommy will only make matters worse.” She sniffed loudly. “I can take her sharp jabs but can’t abide her tears.”
Violet withdrew her hanky from the pocket of her thick calico dress and loudly blew her nose. “Ain’t so, Marlene. Been so long since I spoke of Tommy, sometimes I think he’s a figment of my imagination. Everyone is fearful of hurtin’ my heart, so they steer clear of the subject. Only Jessie asks about him now and then. Always brings me a small bouquet of spring flowers on his birthday. He’d left before Jessie come ta Valley Springs, so they never met, but she understands that the not rememberin’ him hurts worse than pretendin’ he never was.” She glanced at Marlene. “Ya remember him, don’t you, Marlene? I didn’t conjure him out of nothin’, did I?”
Marlene sat back, drawing in a deep breath. “I remember Tommy. He was handsome and older than me by quite a bit. The fact he’d become betrothed to Miss Fairington seemed outlandishly strange because of the huge age difference. I didn’t know him well, mind you, not in a business sort of way.” She blushed. “When he was in the saloon drinkin’ he was always respectful—even to a saloon girl. He never got out of line, not like some men do.”
Adaline studied Violet, trying to imagine what her son might look like. Would he be slight like his mother? What shaped nose? What color hair? Adaline had no idea if Violet had been a blonde, brunette, or redhead as a young woman, because all she saw now was gray. She’d known Marlene had been a saloon girl but putting the fact into perspective now was eye-opening. It actually painted a picture of the woman that she could see in her mind’s eye.