An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Freesia, whose gaze bounced between my bodyguard and me. “I don’t do anything besides sell houses. Harvey was just being a wiseacre.”
    “I get the feeling he does that often.”
    “Violet has a way of making me grin like a mule eatin’ thistles, especially with all her wild hairs.”
    “Wild hairs, huh?” Freesia’s gaze traveled up to the curly mess that was trying to escape from my combs and bobby pins thanks to the damp air. “Every woman should have at least a few. Where’s the fun in life without them?”
    I had a feeling that Freesia and I were going to be pals.
    “Were you born with all those curls?” she asked me.
    “Yep, but the color needs a touch up every six to eight weeks thanks to life with my two nine-year-olds.”
    “How can you have kids that old? I’d have guessed you’re in your mid-twenties.”
    Harvey’s guffaw turned into an “oomph” when I elbowed him in the breadbasket.
    “Thanks.” I think I love you. Move over, Natalie, I found a new best friend forever. “How long have you owned this place?”
    “I took it over about three years ago when my parents decided they wanted to enjoy the sun in Nevada year around.”
    “Did you grow up here?”
    “No. I’m from Ohio, near the Kentucky state line. This place belonged to my great great-uncle.” She squinted and held up her fingers, counting under her breath. “There may be another ‘great’ in there yet.”
    “Did he come out for the gold rush?”
    “No, he came in the late 1890s looking for work on a ranch. From what I’ve been told, his parents were freed slaves. As soon as he was old enough, they insisted he head out West where there was more opportunity and money for a man like him. My pop could fill your head with tales about him and how good he was on a horse.”
    Harvey leaned back on his heels. “From the stories I remember, your great-uncle wasn’t just good on a horse, he could do the job of three cowpokes and cook a mean chuckwagon stew to boot.”
    “You’ve heard of him?” Freesia asked, clutching her jacket collar tighter as the hail came down harder.
    “Of course. Big Jake Tender was a legend around these parts, tall as a mountain and strong as two oxen. I remember a story from back when I was still a seedling ‘bout how Big Jake took on a bull that had wandered into town and was causin’ a ruckus, chasin’ folks down the street, crashin’ in windows. Folks said he grabbed that mean old bull by the horns, did some fancy footwork, and dropped it to the ground so fast the beast had the wind knocked clear out of it. It took six men to load it up and haul it out of town.”
    “I remember hearing that one.” Freesia’s grin was proud.
    “Big Jake was also pretty popular with the ladies down in the Badlands,” Harvey winked at her. “But then he went and fell in love and broke their hearts.”
    Freesia’s laughter almost made me forget why I was standing on the porch of the Galena House. “My pop saved those tales until I hit my teens.”
    Harvey shook his head. “Too bad she never loved him back enough to wear his ring.”
    Big Jake’s great great-niece patted one of the columns; her smile grew wistful. “He built this place for her. Poured his heart and soul into it.”
    “It’s a beautiful house,” I said, feeling sad for Big Jake Tender and his unrequited love. All the Galena House needed was some TLC from a deep checkbook and it would be quite a knockout. “From the looks of the craftsmanship, Big Jake must have been quite a carpenter, too.”
    “Pop always called him a ‘Jake of all trades’ and aspired to be just like him … well, except for all of those painted ladies. My mom would’ve had his hide if he even thought about sowing a single wild oat.” She trailed her fingers down the column, a lover’s touch. “They fell head over heels for each other right out of college, and as soon as my brother and I were out of the house, they moved out here to take over the family