“What the hell’s holding you up, Silva?” Sam shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “We’ve got to get a move on.”
“Yes, siree, boss.” Silva led Lelandi down the stairs. “Didn’t want to leave our star guest behind.”
Sam motioned to a gray-bearded man, his eyes black and beady, but sharp as a wary wolf’s, taking in every inch of her, his mouth expressionless.
“Doc Mitchell,” Sam explained. “He’s riding shotgun.”
The vet patted the gun in the holster at his hip. Wearing a leather vest and denims, cowboy boots, and a weather-beaten Stetson, he just needed chaps and a horse—though the distinctive odor of horse clung to him—and he’d be right at home In the part of a grizzly old gunslinger.
He tipped his hat in greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Doctor Mitchell,” Lelandi said.
“Mitchell—no need to be formal, miss,” He motioned to the black Suburban parked in front of Darien’s house.
Lelandi smelled snow in the air and wished she’d managed to steal away with some of her warmer clothes.
Silva sat next to Lelandi in the backseat, then her mouth curved up In a wide smile. “Ohmigod, Darien and you...” She squeezed Lelandi’s hands and didn’t say anything more.
Sam pulled out of the driveway and headed back to town while Mitchell watched out the front windshield and mirrors for signs of trouble.
Silva said with a smirk. “Unofficially, I’d say you’re a bona fide official member of our pack.”
Sam glanced over the seat while Mitchell looked in the rearview mirror. “Why?” Mitchell asked. “Did Darien say something to you?”
“Nope,” Silva said. “It goes a little deeper.”
Mitchell glanced over the seat at Lelandi. She was sure her face was crimson as hot as it felt.
“Whoa, I take it the boss will officially announce this soon?” He shook his head and watched the road again. “Going to be some pissed-off bitches. Although we knew where this was headed.”
Yeah, and Lelandi was ready to deal with every one of them to keep her dream lover at her beck and call.
When they drove into town. Lelandi stared at the transformation. Colorful banners hung from every covered porch, and arts and crafts and food booths crowded all the wooden walkways down the main street. Even the shabby building across from the tavern was decorated in sliver and red banners, proclaiming it to be the first hotel in Silver Town, haunted since its inception. Souvenirs of Indian arrowheads and other old western artifacts were on display. The aroma of sausages and turkey legs grilling filled the air, and Victorian music wafted in the chilly breeze. But the costumes of the townspeople garnered Lelandi’s attention most. Dressed in Victorian era clothing, they wore sunshiny smiles and seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Lelandi took a deep breath. “I remember wearing the cage when I was a young girl. I can’t imagine dressing like that again.” And the awful corsets, too.
“Sure. It’s part of our heritage, our history. Even before we started the fair, we had a Victorian Era Day to celebrate the beginning of our town. A train ride winds up through the mountains, too, and anyone dressed in period costume gets on half price. Looks like a lot of the tourists came prepared this year. Hosstene, Darien’s accountant at the factory,” Silva said, pointing at a stall, “is renting costumes for the day for those who don’t have one and want to fit in.” Silva patted Lelandi’s arm. “But, you don’t need to rent one. I’ve got just the dress for you.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t pay any money to that woman.” Lelandi said, recalling their confrontation in the tavern’s restroom.
Mitchell snorted. “There’s already a welcoming crowd waiting for their free drinks at the tavern. Give anything away free and it’s a madhouse. Waste of money, I say.”
“Like when you spay and neuter cats and dogs for free once a month to avoid unwanted pets. right, Mitchell?” Sam asked, humor coating his words. “Got a ton of business last year by offering a few free sodas. Before we knew it, everyone was ordering the harder stuff and we made a bundle.” He turned to Leiandi. “Just a warning, this is the one day of the year that humans are allowed to enter. Otherwise, it’s a private club.”
“But you let me in that one day.”
Sam smiled. “Private as in only lupus garous are allowed. I didn’t know you were Larissa’s sister at first, but I recognized you were one of us.”
His brow furrowed. Deputy Trevor waved at them from the tavern as they pulled into a parking space.
“What’s he doing here?” Mitchell grumbled.
“Darien’s orders to ensure we get the little lady into the tavern safe and sound,” Sam said.
The crowd parted to make way for Sam to unlock the door, but he relocked it after he, Silva, Lelandi, and Mitchell entered the establishment.
A shudder ran down Lelandi’s entire body, remembering her apprehension when she’d first visited the tavern, and what transpired after she left.
Silva squeezed her hand and led her to a room off the bar. “Here’s where we store our costumes. We celebrate Blow Me Timber Pirate Day, Viking Day for those of us who were from the Norselands, and Celtic Day for the Scots-Irish among us. German Fest is filled with German foods, song, and drink. We never advertise the events, but the word is spreading and we’re getting more tourists every year. The guys will change in another room.”
Shelves filled the large room and two doors led into a walk-In closet where costumes hung on poles. Silva pulled out a drawer in a chest at one end of the closet. “Time to return to an earlier era when men wore the pants in the family.”
Lelandi shook her head. “They think they still do.” She slipped out of her sweater and unfastened her bra. She’d never thought she’d wear a corset again after she’d ditched hers in the Victorian Age.
Lelandi fingered the gowns and pulled out a brilliant blue satin one.
Silva dangled a pair of garters. “Remember these?”
“Nobody will know what I wear under the gown.”
Silva smiled. “Darien will.”
“I bet he doesn’t dress up for these occasions.”
“Ha!” Silva said. “He’s the one who insisted on it. And he was the one who started Pirate’s Day. I swear he was an ancient Viking, but he isn’t old enough. Here are your drawers.”
“Crotchless. Those were the days.” Lelandi laughed.
Silva slipped a sleeveless, knee-length cotton chemise over Lelandi’s head. She lifted a robin’s egg blue satin corset, heavily boned with whalebone out of the drawer.
Lelandi folded her arms. “Not the corset.”
“Got to have something to hold you up. You know what they say about women who don’t wear their corsets.”
“They’re loose women, but...”
Silva laced up the ties, but not too tightly. Then she pulled the crinoline cage out and opened it up. “Better than the five or six petticoats we used to wear to give our skirts shape.” She slipped a camisole over Lelandi’s head.
“I remember how long it took us to dress.”
Silva fitted a simple petticoat over the frame. “And how we needed help getting into all this. For most, It didn’t matter, but for us, trying to shed our clothes when the moon first made its appearance...” She shook her head. “What a chore. I ripped more petticoats trying to ditch them.” She layered an intricately embroidered petticoat over the plain one. “Now for the finale.” She helped Lelandi on with the gown.
The neckline dipped low, the mere strap of a sleeve rested off the shoulders, and Lelandi felt more exposed than usual. “Do you have anything that’s cut a little higher?”
“Nope,” Silva said with a knowing smirk. “Besides, for serving in the tavern, it seems appropriate.”