Whispers (Argent Springs) (2 page)

The middle of October arrived before Erin had saved
up enough money to cover her bills so she could escape her job as a massage
therapist for a couple of weeks and go visit Aunt Annabelle. Unfortunately, in
Erin’s chosen occupation, if she didn’t work, she didn’t get paid. Vacation pay
didn’t exist in her world.

The drive between Salt Lake and the small mining
town in the lower part of Colorado took more than the few hours Aunt Annabelle
had claimed. Seven hours was more like it. But she couldn’t complain. The nice
weather was holding out, and the scenery was spectacular. She’d stopped several
times to pull out her camera to shoot Utah's amazing red rock country.

As she drew closer to Argent Springs, her
excitement increased. She wasn’t sure which thrilled her more, the idea of
spending time in the quaint little town she’d researched on the web or the
thought of enjoying her aunt’s company.

The steep grades and hairpin turns of the last
mountain pass before she reached Argent Springs left her hands sweaty. Majestic
aspens bearing frost-kissed yellow leaves and deep rock gorges begged her to
capture them with her camera, but she didn’t dare stop on the narrow road.

Then suddenly, the tall pines high in the San Juan
Mountains gave way to a view of the beautiful vista sprawled below her. Carpets
of yellow-green grass matted the hillside, traveling down to the small town nestled
at the base of the surrounding majestic, blue mountains.

The haven spoke to her soul.

A beautiful green river encouraged her to follow
its descent into town and discover the magic Argent Springs held for her. She
ached to press harder on her accelerator so she'd arrive sooner, but the steep
descent already had her little coupe traveling ten over the speed limit. She
wasn't too keen on taking the shortcut straight off the cliff.

No doubt she was romanticizing what she'd find in
the tiny town. But it didn't matter. She'd enjoy every minute of the short,
two-week reprieve from life. She hoped to emulate her aunt one day and knew she
could learn a lot from her.

The town had seemed small as she'd descended the
mountain, but once she reached the bottom, she realized she’d still overestimated
its size. It was no bigger than a shot glass. One main street dragged through
town, and the majority of businesses and a small hotel huddled together along
this short stretch. Many of the old brick buildings had been painted odd colors
like peach, blue or green, as though they were vying for any passing tourist’s
attention.

Erin glanced at the directions she’d printed that
would take her to her great aunt’s place and immediately made a right turn onto
Second Street which was one step up from being an unpaved alley between a few
short buildings. Then she made another quick left when she reached Black Street,
which also wasn’t paved.

What town in this day and age still boasted dirt
roads? In the backcountry, yes. But in an actual tourist and ski town? That was
crazy. Descending from the mountain seemed to have shaved a hundred years off
the earth’s life.

Argent Springs was a theatrical version of an old
western town, and she loved it immediately. She’d been excited to shoot photos
of the pristine mountain surroundings, but she couldn’t wait to capture the
charm of the town as well.

Half a block up Black Street, she stopped in front
of the sunny yellow two-story building. Time might have slowed in this sleepy
little town, but the ravages of its passing showed on her great aunt’s house.
The paint, which still held traces of the cheerful color it had once been, curled
and peeled from the wood beneath. Bright red and yellow chrysanthemums sprung from
flower boxes that hung off the edges of the railing surrounding the front porch.
Decorative wood work finished off the porch, adding to the already enchanting
allure of the place.

Erin parked her car in front and slid from the
driver’s seat. She hadn’t made it up the second step when a man near her age
appeared from the side of the house holding a large ax.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice a deep timbre
that caught her attention. Eyes the color of burnt caramel, fringed with
enviously long lashes, regarded her with a hefty dose of suspicion.

“I’m looking for Annabelle.” Her gaze slipped to
the well-sculpted, tattooed muscles peeking from beneath his t-shirt sleeves. Good
Lord, the man was built. The forest green color of his shirt set off his dark
looks and stretched nicely across the wide barrel of his chest. “She’s
expecting me,” she added as though she needed to clear herself of any doubt on
his behalf.

“You must be the niece.” He didn’t seem as pleased
to see her as she was to be there.

“I am.”

“She’s inside.” He tipped his head toward the
front door before he headed back around the side of the house.

She watched him go, admiring his sexy swagger,
before she released the breath she’d unconsciously held. If he wouldn’t
announce her or escort her inside, why had he wasted his time greeting her? He
hadn’t introduced himself
or
asked her name. The whole encounter had
been pointless.

Erin finished climbing the stairs and rang the
doorbell. When no one answered, she knocked and then tested the doorknob. It
was unlocked, so she let herself inside.

*        *       *

“Shit.” Rick Hartigan shook his head in disbelief
as he headed to the backyard. Annabelle had outdone herself this time. The
other women she’d brought around trying to tempt him away from his girlfriend
had been pretty, but this one was a knockout. Her thick auburn curls and nice
ass had caught his attention first, but when she’d turned those hazel eyes on
him, he knew the next few weeks would be complete and utter hell.

But he’d show Annabelle. Maybe once and for all.
He wasn’t interested in anyone but Melinda. He’d promised he’d wait for her to
return, and he had every intention of doing so.

He stopped in front of the wooden stump where he’d
been splitting logs and moved his next victim into place. Using all of his
frustration, he brought the axe straight down, making a clean cut.

He tossed the pieces to the side and grabbed
another log. Annabelle somehow knew his resistance had weakened. Knew he hadn’t
had more than brief conversations with Melinda in weeks. Knew redheads were his
weakness.

If she hadn’t been like a grandmother to him for
the past ten years, he’d put her in her place instead of allowing her to play
her games.

For the past couple of months, Annabelle had been
talking about her niece, the anticipation of her arrival spreading to him like
a virus. Now she was here, and she was more attractive than he’d imagined.

If Annabelle didn’t need his help so much, he’d
consider moving in with Kellan for a couple of weeks in order to save his
sanity and protect his integrity. But he couldn’t leave her on her own, and how
well did Annabelle know this girl before she’d invited her to stay?

No, he would have to man-up and suffer through
another round until Annabelle realized all her matchmaking attempts would fail.

*        *       *

Inside, Annabelle’s house was silent, and Erin
wondered if her aunt was home. The guy outside had said she was, but the house
appeared deserted at the moment.

“Hello?” she said in a hushed voice. It seemed
sacrilege to call out in such a quiet place.

An unexpected breeze caressed her cheek as the
scent of lavender perfume filled the old-fashioned red-papered entryway. A polished
wooden floor led to nearby rooms and a gleaming banister curved up the stairs
to the second level.

“Hello,” she called again as she glanced around,
sure someone had joined her.

Still, no answer.

She was half-tempted to go back outside and
question the sexy stranger, but she wasn’t certain she wanted to encounter his
unpleasant demeanor again.

Maybe unpleasant was too strong of a word. Curt?
No. More like unsettling. And that probably said more about her attraction to
him than his reaction to her.

Instead, she started down the hall toward the back
of the house.

A small parlor straight out of the 1870s sat
empty, waiting for someone to sneak a book from the tiny library or enjoy a cup
of tea.

Beyond that, a gleaming kitchen greeted her. Modern,
stainless steel appliances accompanied a massive hand-hewn table borrowed from
the past. Unfortunately, Aunt Annabelle wasn’t in there, either.

The last room appeared to be an addition to the
original home. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced south, framing the regal
mountains that rose in the distance. An old-fashioned stove huddled in the
corner, waiting for a chilly winter’s day. A comfortable-looking leather couch
had been placed to provide the greatest view of the outdoors, along with two
golden wing-back chairs that also faced away from the door.

Erin stepped into the room and a sheet of solace
fell over her. This was a room where a person could truly escape the hassles of
life. She inhaled deeply, the muscles in her shoulders and neck softening as
she exhaled.

Movement outside caught her attention, and she
focused on the very fit, very attractive man she’d just met as he lifted an axe
over his head and brought it swiftly down, splitting a large log into pieces.

Oh. My. Erin lifted a brow and stepped to the side
for a better view. The sunlight was bright enough outside that it should
provide some cover inside the house.

He placed another log on the chopping block and
lifted the axe again. His moves showcased each sinewy curve of his triceps, and
she melted with feminine appreciation. Too bad he didn’t possess a nicer
disposition.

Obviously, her great aunt had hired him. If she
wanted to know more, Erin would have to find a way to inquire about him without
being obvious.

She turned to leave and nearly jumped out of her
skin. Aunt Annabelle sat in the chair farthest from the door, facing the window,
her face relaxed as she slept.

Erin hissed in a breath. The good news was she’d
found Aunt Annabelle. The bad news was it had cost her several years of her
life.

The woman’s face seemed paler than when they’d
last met, and without her hazel eyes flashing with spitfire, she seemed much
older. Like she’d lost her spirit.

Like she was dead.

The thought hit Erin with a sharp panic, and she
crept closer, looking for signs of life. That would be horrible if her aunt
died the day she arrived.

Suddenly, Annabelle’s chest expanded, and she
opened her eyes, sending another fright through Erin.

Annabelle blinked a few times, and then her face
lit into a smile. “Hells bells. It’s about damn time you showed up.”

Erin’s anxiety shot from her mouth with a laugh.
“I know. I’m sorry. I really wanted to come weeks ago, but I had to get some
things in order. You received my phone message, right?”

Her aunt straightened, tossing the pink shawl from
her lap. “I did, and you’re here now. We need to celebrate. Have you brought in
your suitcases? I’m putting you upstairs in Madam Rosa’s room.”

That stopped her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out
of her room. I’m happy to sleep on the couch or wherever.” Despite her
upbringing, she was pretty low-maintenance.

A youthful giggle escaped Annabelle’s lined lips.
“Rosa was the madam of this house a hundred and thirty years ago, love. I’m
sure she wouldn’t mind if you slept in her room.”

“Wait. What?” A madam?

Annabelle delighted in her shocked expression. “Didn’t
I tell you, this house was once a brothel?”

“
Really
?” The thought fascinated her. Erin
glanced about the room again, trying to see the house in a new light. “Like
real old-fashioned prostitutes?”

“With corsets, garters and feather boas. But don’t
let that fool you none. Rosa was a shrewd business woman, and she’d just as
soon shoot a customer as let him walk out the door without paying.” Annabelle
shrugged. “Then again, her occupation did eventually kill her.”

“What happened?” Erin asked, already intrigued
with the history of the house and the woman who used to live there.

Annabelle held out an arm. “Help me up, will you?”

Erin walked forward and gripped her behind the
elbow, afraid if she pulled on her arm, she might break her. The older woman
had seemed so much stronger at the reunion the previous summer.

She gave a soft sigh as she rubbed a hand across
her lower back. “It takes a minute to get things circulating again when you’re
my age.”

“I brought my portable massage table so I can rub
your back if you’d like.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Sincere appreciation showed in
her eyes.

“First, I want to show you something.” Annabelle
headed out of the sunny room, back toward the front door. “Right here.”

Hanging on the red-papered wall near the front
door was an old photograph. Two younger women, their faces heavy with makeup,
flanked another, taller woman. None of them smiled, but the one on the left
side did have a devious look about her.

“This is Rosa with two of her girls, Adeline and
Hester.” Annabelle brushed some dust from the top of the wooden frame. “When I
found the picture in the attic, I insisted that Henderson hang it to honor the
women. After all, it was their house first.”

Erin studied the sepia-toned photo, trying to picture
the women walking these halls. The majority of the
business
would have
taken place upstairs, she supposed. Where she’d be sleeping that night. “You
were telling me what happened to Rosa.”

“Oh, well,” Annabelle said with a laugh. “She
pushed her man just a little too far.”

“Her man? I thought she was a prostitute.”

“She was. Then John Henry came through town, and
damned if he didn’t fall head over heels with the less-than-proper Miss Rosa.
He was a gold prospector, and he’d hit it big time. If Rosa accepted him, she’d
never have to work another day in her life.”