Читать книгу: «Bride Of Dreams»

Chapter One

He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was beautiful. The mist wrapped around her in the way a lover would protect her from outside forces. Even though her face was shrouded by the mist, he instinctively knew she was looking at him. Her slim figure was garbed in a cotton gown that clung to her form.

The mist swirled around her as she lifted her hand and reached out to him. She didn’t speak a word, but somehow he knew she was beckoning to him. Asking that he take her hand.

He didn’t move from his spot. Somehow he knew that taking her hand and allowing her to lead him into the mist would mean changes to himself and to his life. Changes he wasn’t ready to make. Instead, he stepped back. Once. Twice.

He still couldn’t fully see her face, but he knew she was disappointed.

Oddly enough, so was he.

But not enough to take her hand.

Cooper Night Hawk awoke a good two hours before his alarm was ready to blast him out of bed. Sleep was something he treasured because he knew there was always a chance it would be interrupted.

Tyler might not be the crime capital of the world, but mischief still happened. And some nights he was the one selected to settle it.

He left his bed and headed outside. He filled his lungs with the chilly, clean air in hopes it would clear his head. Cooper settled in one of the chairs by the back door. The wood creaked softly under him as he leaned his head back and looked up at the sky. He liked the idea of counting stars instead of counting sheep.

“You worked so many nights that your body cannot understand why it has to sleep now.”

Cooper cocked a dark eyebrow. “Look who’s talking, old man. You need your rest more than I do.” His voice was filled with gruff affection toward his visitor.

The silver-haired man shook his head, his braids swinging gently. “The time will come soon enough when all I will do is sleep. Until the time comes, I will enjoy what the night has to offer.” Cooper’s grandfather, Laughing Bear, walked slowly over to the chair next to Cooper’s and carefully lowered himself into the seat.

“You’ll still be around telling all the old stories when I’m in my grave,” Cooper argued good-naturedly. “What are you doing up this time of night?”

“The stars are only good when everyone else is asleep,” Laughing Bear informed him in a low, even voice.

Cooper stretched his legs out in front of him, bare feet crossed at the ankle. “How come you’re not sitting by your own house looking at the stars?”

“I do not see them as well up there. That is why I come down here to sit on your porch. The view is nicer down here,” he said calmly. “The Spirits like it better down here, too.”

Cooper shook his head. He knew enough not to voice his disbelief about the Spirits who allegedly accompanied his grandfather wherever he went. Any time he even hinted his doubt of invisible beings, his grandfather would give him that long silent look that spoke volumes. The elderly man never told him how disappointed he was in his grandson’s refusal to accept the legends he grew up with. The sorrow in his eyes was telling enough.

“She is here,” the man said.

Cooper stifled the sigh rising in his throat. Damn him! He wasn’t going to say another word.

No way. No how. This time he wasn’t going to ask. In all the years he and his grandfather had done this form of one-upmanship, the older man always won. Just for once, Cooper wanted to win.

He continued sitting back with his laced fingers resting on his bare abdomen, enjoying the chilly air on his skin. He didn’t have to turn his head to know his grandfather wasn’t looking at him. That was part of the battle of wills that grandfather and grandson had waged over the years.

“She will take a heart while she is here,” Laughing Bear said, breaking the silence once again.

Cooper bit the inside of his cheek. Anything to keep from asking.

He would have been better off talking to one of his grandfather’s spirit friends.

“I can’t imagine she’d want yours. It must be pretty leathery by now,” Cooper said.

Laughing Bear slowly turned to face his grandson. “The heart she takes will be a younger one. A strong heart and more succulent.”

Cooper cocked an eyebrow. “Succulent? Are you reading romance books again, old man?”

Laughing Bear showed no displeasure with Cooper’s irreverent manner of speech. They understood each other only too well. In the beginning, the grandfather had taken care of his orphaned grandson, dealing with his pain and anger at the death of his parents. Now the grandson took care of his grandfather, making sure he saw his doctor on a regular basis and had enough firewood during the winter. With Laughing Bear’s small cabin only a hundred yards away, he was close enough for Cooper to feel as if he could look after him and far enough away so that Laughing Bear could have his privacy and feel a measure of independence. It was a comfortable arrangement for both men.

Every day Cooper saw the stiffness increasing in his grandfather’s body, his eyes dimming with age and his steps growing slower. Cooper didn’t want to think about the day the older man would no longer be here.

“Mrs. Riley brought me one of her peach pies today,” Laughing Bear said.

Not at all what Cooper expected to hear. The faint smile on the older man’s lips told him he knew that.

“Funny. I thought her specialty was blackberry pies.”

“Her blackberry pies are very good, too, but she knows I like her peach pies best.”

Cooper tightened his lips. No sir. Not one word. A declaration that flew right out the window at the prospect of needling his grandfather.

“I heard Mrs. Riley used to put one of those sexual potency drugs in her pies for her husband up until he died,” Cooper said, in the same casual tone his grandfather used. “Some say she’s looking for another husband. I bet the man who shows the most appreciation for her ‘pies’ gets her in the bargain.”

“Mrs. Riley is a nice woman, but she continues to mourn for her husband. She had never allowed his spirit to rest.” Laughing Bear tilted his head back, looking upward. “Another man cannot share a life with her until she decides it is time to let him go.”

Cooper chuckled. “My grandfather, the philosopher.”

“No, a man wanting to stay free.” The older man slowly rose to his feet. “And now a man who is ready to seek his bed.” He shuffled off a few paces before he stopped and turned around. “She will capture your heart, Grandson. It will do you no good to fight the Spirits’ wishes.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been reading vampire stories?” Cooper asked.

Laughing Bear stared at him with dark eyes that may have dimmed over the years but had lost none of their power.

“I wonder what your grandson will say to you when you tell him about the Spirits and their wishes.” Having said his piece, he turned around and slowly walked up the well-worn pathway to his cabin.

“DEPUTY NIGHT HAWK, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently, pen racing across his pad. “You want whoever did this to be charged with vandalism and anything else we can think of.”

As owner of Gates Department store in Tyler, Nora Gates Forrester was used to people deferring to her. That Cooper wasn’t giving her the attention she felt due her left her irritated.

“I’m beginning to think it’s deliberate,” she said angrily. “I’ve even heard that people claim it was Margaret Ingalls. The woman is dead!’

“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently.

Cooper wished he hadn’t answered the phone this morning. He wasn’t even due to go on duty yet. Then Hedda, one of their dispatchers, had called and asked if he’d stop by Mrs. Forrester’s house on his way into work.

“Mrs. Forrester…” He paused, well aware that whatever he said wouldn’t be welcome. It hadn’t been appreciated the last four times he’d been out here. He stepped carefully through the verbal minefield. “So far we haven’t been able to come up with any tangible clues as to who is destroying your things.”

The scent of Shalimar invaded his nostrils as she leaned closer. “When personal property is deliberately vandalized, you call the police. That is what I have done, and I expect results.”

Cooper mentally vowed to never answer the phone first thing in the morning. At least not before he had his breakfast.

He looked around the neatly kept yard. He knew a neighbor’s teenage son mowed the lawns every other week, and Mrs. Forrester tended her flowers with the same care a mother gave to her child. As he looked around, his gaze swept across the clothesline that occupied a corner of the yard. Underneath, pieces of brightly colored silk and lace dotted the green lawn—victims of the heinous crime.

He took a deep breath. “There have been some complaints about a goat wandering around in this neighborhood. You’ve got that hole in the back part of your fence and maybe the goat got inside the yard. They’re known for eating anything.”

Mrs. Forrester flashed him a look that implied she thought his idea of an underwear-eating goat ranked right up there with idiocy.

“I cannot imagine a goat would wander in here to steal and destroy my clothing,” she insisted.

“I don’t know. My grandmother had a goat who liked to eat dish towels.”

Mrs. Forrester glared at him. “Just find out who did this.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He put away his pad and allowed her to escort him through the house and outside. He climbed into the Blazer and fingered the radio. “Dispatch, this is Cooper,” he announced. “Finished at the Forrester house and rolling out.”

“Is Nora’s complaint of vandalism the same as always?” Hedda, the dispatcher, asked.

“Got it in one.”

“I heard that Margaret Ingalls might have done it. What are you going to do if it does turn out to be Margaret?”

“What do you think? Call Ghostbusters.” He signed off before his laughter joined hers.

He’d driven barely halfway along the street before he was flagged down. He stopped and rolled down his window.

“’Mornin’, Mrs. Gray,” he greeted the woman who’d been his fourth-grade teacher and still kept nine-year-olds in line at the grade school.

“Good morning, Cooper. Tell me, does Nora think Margaret Ingalls is destroying her underwear?” she asked.

“I think she’s starting to think that, ma’am. Do you have anything new that might help the case?” Such as seeing a ghostly Margaret Ingalls slipping into the Forrester yard.

“Nora’s a sensible woman except when it comes to this,” she said bluntly. “If she truly wants to settle this, she should see about holding a séance. If someone can conjure Margaret up, Nora could then tell Margaret to her ghostly face to steal someone else’s underwear.”

Cooper coughed into his curved palm.

Mrs. Gray narrowed her eyes and gave him a look that still froze him down to his toes. “That tactic didn’t work back then, Cooper Night Hawk, and it doesn’t now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said soberly.

Her usually stern features relaxed in a smile. She rested her hand on the windowsill. “Did I ever tell you you grew up just fine?”

“Last week.” His dark eyes twinkled.

She slapped the windowsill with her hand. “Just so you remember. Of course, I knew once you and Freddie Martin stopped hanging around together, you’d do all right.” She stepped back, her own way of saying the conversation was over. “I understand Freddie is up for parole in two years.”

Cooper nodded goodbye and drove on.

He knew becoming a sheriff’s deputy in Tyler, Wisconsin, meant he would be dealing with people he’d known all his life. In a small town it was a given.

There were pluses and minuses in his job. Here, he knew everyone and they knew him. There’d been a time when all he thought about was getting out of Tyler for good. But that was when he was young and stupid. Now he knew this was where he belonged.

Life was predictable here but never boring. He knew many people wouldn’t like predictable, but there were many times when it was pretty nice. Such as now when he was heading for Marge’s Diner for his breakfast of blueberry pancakes with hash browns, sausage, orange juice and plenty of coffee.

No wonder he felt the town of Tyler gave him all the nurturing he needed.

“HEADS UP, DARLIN’.”

Caroline automatically ducked as a heavily laden tray swept over her head. Alice, the other waitress in Marge’s Diner that morning, flashed her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, sweetie. I had a head of steam going and didn’t want to conk you on the noggin like the last time,” she said over her shoulder as she sailed across the room.

“Thank you. Mashed potatoes weren’t exactly the best conditioner for my hair,” Caroline admitted, swapping the empty coffeepot for a full one.

Breakfast was a busy time in the bustling diner, and coffee was the all-important staple for the hungry diners. She’d barely finished refilling coffee cups before she had to return for another pot.

After almost ten months on the job, she was feeling more confident with her duties as one of the waitresses at Marge’s Diner in Tyler. Everything here was a far cry from her life in Santa Barbara, California.

In Tyler, she didn’t play tennis, laze by the pool or head for the beach with her friends. She wasn’t “Caroline Bennedict” any longer. Now she was Caroline Benning—a stranger who’d driven into town, liked its looks and, since the diner was advertising for a waitress, applied for the job. Luckily, her lack of experience didn’t seem to matter. Marge, the owner, warmly assured her she’d pick it up in no time.

Caroline had lost track of the number of broken dishes and incorrect orders she was responsible for—though she hadn’t forgotten that time she gave Ray Hickman crab cakes instead of the fish sticks he’d ordered. She’d had no idea he was allergic to shellfish.

Caroline knew that in any other restaurant she would be history by now. Luckily, Marge was a great deal more patient with her fledgling waitress than most bosses would be. It didn’t hurt that a majority of the men in town had asked that she be given a second chance. And a third. And a fourth. Caroline was learning that small towns were very much a world unto themselves.

When Caroline had decided to seek out her mother’s other family, she’d had no idea the trail would lead to Wisconsin.

She hadn’t found anything in her father’s papers about the Spencer family’s involvement with her mother. It was pure luck there was a small note with the words Tyler Quilting Circle, Tyler, Wisconsin on the bottom of the box holding the quilt. Caroline hadn’t stopped to think whether it was a good idea to just throw clothes in a few suitcases and take off for Tyler. She’d just done it. So far, she hadn’t regretted her decision.

While she was eager to know her half brothers, she knew she couldn’t just walk up to the Spencer front door and announce she was their half sister. It wasn’t long after her arrival that she learned the Spencer family was well regarded in Tyler. The father and three sons were known as men not to be toyed with. They were wealthy, and she guessed they would naturally be suspicious of anyone suddenly appearing with the claim of being related.

Having grown up in a moneyed community, Caroline understood the caution they would undoubtedly display. She didn’t need to watch the daytime dramas to which Alice was addicted to know she would have to get to know the Spencers first. Especially since she wasn’t sure if Elias Spencer, head of the family, would accept her as his sons’ half sister.

Her first thoughts were to stay in town for a while and see what she could find out about the Spencers. Then perhaps get to know them on a casual basis. She began by renting a room at the Kelsey Boarding House and looking around town for a job. In no time, she had a job where she was guaranteed to meet just about the entire population of Tyler at one time or another.

At first, she’d pretty much kept to herself. Then she’d stupidly tried to see into Elias Spencer’s house and had ended up in the rose bushes, much to her embarrassment. Not something that would happen to the quiet, almost mousy Caroline Benning she’d been portraying. No wonder, since as Caroline Bennedict she’d devoured mystery novels and convinced herself she could do anything those heroines could do. After picking the thorns out of her skin, she’d decided it was time to act more like herself. She’d even dug out her own clothing, and now wore it instead of the drab, nondescript things she’d been wearing.

It wasn’t long before people started to talk to her more. Marge took Caroline’s sudden transformation in stride and told her she was glad to see she was settling in.

“Caroline.” Marge’s voice interrupted her daydreaming, and the owner flashed her eyes in the direction of the booths that were Caroline’s responsibility.

Caroline felt the skin on her face turn warm. Not because of embarrassment that her boss had caught her daydreaming, but because a pair of dark brown eyes watched her with an intensity that unnerved her.

Deputy Cooper Night Hawk.

She was positive he’d looked at her and deemed her an imposter. She feared the time would come when he would reveal her lies to the town. And they would promptly run her out of town on a rail.

Until then, she would suffer while, every morning, he settled in one of her booths and ordered his usual blueberry pancakes, sausage and hash browns, coffee and orange juice.

She snagged a cup on her way over to him.

“Deputy.” She greeted him with a warm smile as she set the cup on the table and filled it with hot coffee.

She was a coward, but she wasn’t going to drop to her knees and beg him to understand the reasons for her lies about her name and why she was here. After all, what if she was wrong and he didn’t know who she was?

Caroline vowed to stop reading mysteries. They had her believing she could get away with anything the heroines in the books could. They were getting her into a lot of trouble.

“Good morning, Caroline.”

The way he said her name in his low, husky voice was enough to send shivers down her spine. Not to mention the way he looked at her, as if she was the blue plate special of the day. She managed an impersonal smile as she held her order pad in one hand and pencil in the other.

“Let me guess,” she said. “The usual?”

He nodded without returning her smile. “I’d say that sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll be back with your juice.” She whirled away and headed for the counter to drop off the order slip, although she knew Marge would have already started Cooper’s breakfast.

SHE WILL STEAL YOUR HEART and give you her own.

Cooper hated the thoughts provoked by his grandfather’s words that swirled inside his head. Especially when he was looking at a lovely young woman who was about as off-limits as a woman could get.

Caroline Benning was new in a town that boasted few newcomers. No one knew all that much about her other than she was twenty-two, had lost her father not long ago and had been traveling because she felt the need to get away. Cooper wondered if that need to get out of town had anything to do with a boyfriend.

His cop’s eye gauged her to be about five foot eight and too thin, at around one hundred twenty pounds. He was certain the blond highlights in her light brown hair weren’t real, but the dazzling green eyes were, since he didn’t see any hint of contact lenses. For work, she kept her just-past-chin-length hair back in a barrette. The pink-and-white-striped, short-sleeved shirt she wore with a short denim skirt made her look younger than her twenty-two years.

She seemed a little shy, uncertain about people, but around him she actually appeared wary. He couldn’t think of a reason why he’d cause that reaction in a young woman he barely knew.

Unless she had something to hide.

He didn’t want to think that was the case. He liked looking at her too much.

“Hey, Cooper, heard Margaret Ingalls stole more of Nora Gates Forrester’s underwear,” Henry Farris called out from his usual perch at the counter. His cronies, not one of them under the age of seventy, surrounded him. Leathery fingers, gnarled by time and arthritis, wrapped themselves around coffee mugs or held on to a rich breakfast pastry. “When ya goin’ to bring her in for questioning?”

“It hasn’t been easy to find Margaret. I thought I’d call on Psychics R Us for help,” Cooper called back.

The elderly men cackled their appreciation of his joke.

“Maybe Nora needs to put those special tags on them. You know the ones I’m talking about,” Barney Metzger interjected. “Like the ones she puts on clothes in the store.”

“I’ll let you make that suggestion, Barney.” Cooper lifted his coffee cup in a silent salute.

When Caroline set his glass of orange juice on the table, he inclined his head in a thank-you. The moment she was gone, he returned to reading the morning paper, until she returned with his food.

THE SCENT OF BLUEBERRIES and sausage, mixed with something light and floral, alerted him before she stood by his table.

“Have you ever ordered anything different for breakfast?” she asked curiously, setting the plate in front of him.

Cooper studied the stack of five pancakes, the golden surface dotted with blueberries he knew to be fresh. His mouth was watering in anticipation of that first bite.

“Not for the past sixteen years,” he replied. “When you find something good, you tend to stick with it.”

“Some day you ought to go wild and try them with bacon,” she whispered as she refilled his coffee cup. She moved away as Marge called an order for pickup.

Cooper settled back to savor his breakfast. And visually savor Caroline. Some would say his interest in the young woman was because she was pretty. No, there was more to it than that. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to further explore those thoughts.

“That’s what I like to see first thing in the morning. A member of our esteemed law enforcement team sitting here stuffing his face with blueberry pancakes instead of out there fighting crime. Makes me feel downright safe.”

Cooper looked up. “Up yours, Spencer. I do this to keep my energy level up, so I can catch all those bad guys you’re worried about.” He waved toward the empty seat across from him.

Brady Spencer slid into the seat across from Cooper. He made a face as he stared at Cooper’s plate. “One day a breakfast like that will catch up with you,” Brady pointed out.

“You’re just jealous because I have a better metabolism than you. Comes from being more active than your average sedentary surgeon.”