“Definitely.” Abby leaned closer to the display case and bumped against his shoulder. “How else am I supposed to make a lasting impression?”
Wes feared Abby had already made more than a lasting impression on him. “But will working on such a big event make you happy?”
Right now, she looked worried. Tension filled the creases around her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy.” Abby accepted a sample of a white chocolate truffle from the cheerful woman behind the counter and stared at it. “It’s about providing properly for my child. That only happens if I get this job.”
There was a reserve to her now as if she’d accepted some sort of trade-off where her feelings were inconsequential. As if she believed she couldn’t have everything.
And there he stood, wanting to give her everything.
And he wasn’t sure he was happy about that revelation.
Perhaps she was correct.
Happiness had nothing to do with anything, and as for giving her everything, he’d never believed in the impossible.
CHAPTER TEN
“DINNER WAS REALLY AMAZING.” Abby tugged on a pair of Boone’s blue silicone oven mitts and clapped her hands together. “But I’m ready for dessert.”
“You’re only interested in the fireside chat Boone promised would happen over dessert.” As for himself, Wes seemed to be only interested in Abby.
Boone’s signature smoked brisket was tender and delicious as usual, and one of Wes’s favorite meals. However, spending the evening with Abby was proving even better. He frowned as he considered the best way to proceed.
“Is it that obvious I want to hear the legend?” Abby grinned.
Wes only hoped his interest in her wasn’t that obvious. Sure, he liked Abby. She was kind, funny and considerate. It was easy to like her. But his feelings should stop there.
Surely, his fascination was a side effect of their spending so much time together. All he had to do was withdraw from Abby, retreat to his apartment, and then his feelings would vanish.
“Abby, you even pleaded with Boone to have dessert first.” Her cousin laughed. Tess was at the kitchen island and turned the mixer up to its highest speed to create Ilene’s deluxe whipping cream.
Ilene returned from the garage with her double vanilla ice cream that she’d stashed in Boone’s second freezer and nodded toward Wes. “How are they looking?”
Wes turned, cracked the oven door open and peered at the cherry cobblers inside. The thick cherry juice bubbled and oozed over the sides of the six individual-size cast-iron skillets. The desserts were ready.
Yet Wes wasn’t quite ready to return to the firepit and the padded bench he’d shared with Abby the entire night. They’d been seated close to each other, but it hadn’t felt close enough. He’d found himself smiling every time she’d smiled. And laughing with her, sharing her amusement.
He had to find an out before he returned to sit beside Abby and did the unthinkable, like wrap his arm around her waist and tug her to his side. Very dangerous thoughts.
Those thoughts should come with a warning label. And caution tape.
Abby bumped her hip against Wes’s and bumped that connection he felt back to the forefront.
“Hurry up and hand me those cobblers.” Abby laughed. “We’ve got a legend waiting to be told and a treasure waiting to be found.”
If he tended toward sentimental and starry-eyed, he might argue that the real treasure was Abby herself. Good thing he was too sensible for that. Wes adjusted his own oven mitts, scooped the first skillet from the oven and settled it on Abby’s waiting oven-mitt palms.
“Ilene, this smells divine.” Abby inhaled the cherry cobbler aroma and smacked her lips as if she already had a missing treasure.
Wes wanted to hold her. Right now. In Boone’s kitchen. He tapped the oven mitt against his forehead, wanting to realign his thoughts. He really needed to be sent home. Until he remembered that Abby was a friend only. And long embraces, hand-holding and deeper connections were not included in the friend clause.
“Is it too early to claim this as the best night ever?” Tess dropped the creamy beaters in the sink, then grabbed a wooden spoon from the holder near the stove.
This could not be the best night ever. Wes hadn’t located his brother. He was no closer to helping Boone. He remained at a standstill, unable to rebuild his life in Colorado like he’d always envisioned.
The entire day should’ve been a total loss.
But it wasn’t. And that, he supposed, was due to the Abby effect. Being around her seemed to make everything better.
He should’ve been running down other leads on his brother after he’d dropped Abby off at the general store. Instead, he’d gone straight to Boone’s to help him prepare for tonight. They’d repaired a fence in the pasture, worked with the horses and weeded the garden. Side by side in an easy rhythm with few words exchanged as was their long-standing preference.
Except in the quiet, Wes’s mind had wandered. Every time his thoughts had circled right back to Abby. The same way his gaze had settled on her tonight over and over. Again and again.
As if Abby had been what he’d been looking for all this time.
Abby spun toward the kitchen island while cradling the cobbler, drawing his gaze. Her black-and-white floral dress swirled around her bare knees. The crystals in the clips securing her braids around her head sparkled. Every part of her radiated joy.
And urged Wes closer.
Wes gripped the oven door and anchored himself in place.
Tomorrow, the charm of the evening would have faded. And with it, Abby’s allure. Then surely, everything would return to normal.
He only had to make it through the rest of the evening. Keep his attraction to Abby in check.
Ilene scooped a dollop of ice cream onto the cobbler Abby held. Tess plunked a heaping spoonful of whipping cream on top. Abby declared it ready to eat and slipped it onto a wooden trivet before turning to accept the next one from Wes. Once all the cobblers were cooling on the island, Wes turned the oven off.
Ilene returned the ice cream to the freezer, then picked up two trivets. Tess carried two more, and together, the women disappeared outside.
Abby picked up the last two cobblers. “Can you grab extra napkins and that bowl of whipping cream?”
“I’ll share the napkins.” Wes switched the main kitchen lights off and waved the napkins at her. “But not the whipping cream.”
“Be very careful what you say.” Abby nudged the door open with her sandaled foot. “I’m holding your cherry cobbler too.”
“Good point.” Wes followed her outside. “I’ll trade you a scoop of whipping cream for my cobbler.”
“Two scoops.” Abby peeked into the bowl of topping. “You can never have enough whipping cream.”
“There’s more whipping cream?” Sam called out from his rocking chair on the other side of the firepit. He angled his cobbler on his lap and waved Wes over. “Drop another scoop on mine, won’t you?”
“Mine too.” Boone sat beside Sam in his oversize, thick-cushioned chair and eased his boots off the matching footstool. He leaned toward Wes and held up his cobbler. “This side here was left out.”
Ilene and Tess added their own requests. Wes dolloped more whipped topping onto everyone’s cobblers and set the empty bowl on the table. He dropped onto the padded bench beside Abby. He shifted into the armrest as if he sat on an airplane beside a stranger and wanted to ensure they each had space.
“Now that we’re all settled in, let’s get started on the tale I promised you.” Boone stirred his spoon in his cobbler and peered at Abby. His grin quick and wide. His voice slow and wisdom-filled like a storyteller from centuries past.
Abby bounced on the seat, narrowing the gap between Wes and her.
Wes concentrated on his cobbl
er.
“The turn of the century was only two years away.” Boone’s words were soft and airy as if dust-coated and timeworn. “It was 1798, and the Wild West that we know from the movies and history books was still decades away. There was a town called Hollow Brook, some fifty miles northeast of here.”
“There’s nothing left of it now. Not even a ghost town.” Sam brushed his napkin along the length of his white beard. “Been fields of weeds and dirt for decades.”
“It’s not good land.” Ilene spooned up a bite of whipping cream and shook her head. “I’m not certain why they settled there in the first place.”
“Caravan broke down. Horses injured. Too tired to keep on going.” Boone scratched his cheek. “Wasn’t easy to traverse in those days, unlike today.”
Wes nudged his shoulder against Abby’s. “Our backcountry roads aren’t all that easy to traverse even now. Isn’t that right?”
Abby slanted him a sideways glance and pressed her finger against her lips to quiet him.
Sam set his rocking chair into motion. “The travelers had to make a go of it somewhere and decided the where was going to be Hollow Brook.”
“That was their first mistake among many.” Wes took a large bite of his cobbler and chewed.
He wasn’t certain what his first mistake was concerning Abby. Sitting next to her on this bench. Driving her to Belleridge. Or perhaps it was earlier than that. He never should’ve taken Dan on that morning ride along Old Copper Mill Road. He should’ve gone a different direction and changed things up. Then, he wouldn’t have run into Abby on that backcountry road. And she wouldn’t be changing things up inside him right now.
“You can’t judge them that easily,” Abby countered.
“Sure, I can.” Wes liked the spark of irritation growing in Abby’s gaze. “They should’ve known better.”
Boone eyed Wes as if Wes was in grade school and misbehaving in the back of the classroom.
“What if it was the middle of the night?” Abby argued. That spark ignited. “What if they were exhausted? You have no idea what they were leaving behind. Perhaps anything was better than the life they had, even Hollow Brook.”
Wes froze. Abby believed she’d have a better life than the one she’d left behind in Santa Cruz. That’s what he wanted for her. It’s what she deserved. But she’d have to get that for herself. He had his own life to secure, and it didn’t include Abby. A disquiet whispered through him. One he ignored.
Wes held up his spoon and waved it back and forth between Sam and Boone. “Neither of you can deny that that land in the Hollow Brook area is bad. It isn’t farmable. Wasn’t then, and it isn’t now. And do not get me started on the lack of accessible water. They should’ve kept moving until they found water.”
Boone finished off his cobbler as if wanting the sweetness to offset his exasperation at Wes’s interruption.
Sam picked up the story. “We can’t deny that Hollow Brook and its folks had made a hard go of it. Even harder when the Herring Gang crept in during the middle of a quiet summer’s night and stole everything they could.”
“The Herring Gang had been on a robbery spree, thieving from caravans, mail couriers and stagecoaches.” Boone waved his hands around. His voice lifted, sounding secretive and dire. “But they’d just taken their largest loot yet from a train robbery when they arrived in Hollow Brook.”
“Those poor people.” Abby touched her chest.
Wes marveled at how invested Abby was. Her face was pinched as if she felt the travelers’ pain and fear. Her depth of empathy awed him.
“How much did the robbers need?” Abby set her empty skillet on the table and peered into the bowl of whipping cream. “Surely, the goods from the train were enough.”
Surely, one day with Abby was enough too. Yet Wes wanted more. More of everything when it came to Abby. That made him greedy. “It was greed. Each successful robbery made them bolder. More confident. So, they escalated their sprees to try for bigger and bigger rewards.”
“Don’t forget. Robbing and stealing was how all outlaws and bandits made their living.” Tess stacked Ilene’s empty skillet on top of hers. “It was their lifestyle. How they supported themselves and their families.”
Wes’s own brother had stolen from him. To support himself, not a wife or children. Maybe then Wes would’ve understood Dylan’s actions. Excused his little brother’s behavior because the money was for a good cause. But Dylan wasn’t married. Had no children. And that left Wes to conclude that it was greed, and that Dylan wasn’t the brother Wes had believed he was.
“They probably thought they should take what they could when they could,” Ilene continued. “Because they didn’t know if it would be the last loot they’d ever see.”
Had that been Dylan’s motive too? Take it all while he could? It still didn’t make it right. And why hadn’t Dylan talked to Wes first? If he’d been too tired. Too exhausted. Too overwhelmed. Why hadn’t he trusted Wes to help? Instead, Dylan had disappeared in the middle of the night. No forwarding address. No goodbye letter. No explanation.
They were supposed to be family. They’d been raised to look out for each other. And that betrayal cut the deepest. Wes’s gaze fastened on Abby’s hand. The one resting on the cushions between them. The one he wanted to take in his own and hold onto. Would she take his side? Understand? Mute the loneliness that silenced him? But she wasn’t his. And he’d been leaning on himself too long to change now. “You can’t be justifying the robberies.”
“Not justifying.” Tess stared into the flames of the firepit. Her voice thoughtful. “Simply adding context and possible motivation.”
“Greed.” Wes crossed his arms over his chest. He could handle any loneliness he might feel. The same as he could handle his own affairs. “The Herring Gang could’ve just been greedy.” Same as his little brother.
Abby stood and grabbed the whipping cream bowl from the table and returned to their shared bench.
“Either way, there were three sisters, Victoria, Vera and Violet McKenzie, living in Hollow Brook at the time.” Boone set his cobbler dish on his footrest and stirred the wood in the firepit. “And the McKenzie sisters didn’t take kindly to being robbed.”
Neither did Wes.
“I don’t blame them.” Abby ran her finger around the rim of the stainless-steel bowl, collecting the last of the whipping cream.
Sam’s smile grew. “Well, the McKenzie sisters hatched quite the plan and stole back their loot from the Herring Gang the following night.”
“It’s said they snuck into the Herring Gang’s camp like ghosts at midnight.” Pride shifted through Boone’s words. “Turns out the sisters were miles away before any of the Herrings realized what had happened.”
“It’s like Robin Hood but with women.” Abby wiped her fingers on a napkin and set the now-cleaned bowl back on the table.
“This is definitely not that.” Same as it was not something more, something bigger and more meaningful between Wes and Abby. Robin Hood was folklore. Same as the legend Boone told now. It was all myth. Anything Wes thought he felt for Abby was just part of the evening’s illusion.
“The youngest sister, Violet, had left a note with her fiancé that they’d return with the goods.” Ilene sighed as if she revealed a fairy tale for the ages. “But only when it was safe.”
If Wes subscribed to the improbable, he’d have convinced himself of the same about Dylan. That his brother intended to return with Wes’s inheritance when it was safe. When Wes had gotten over his anger. Was Dylan facing some kind of a threat like the sisters had? Was that why he’d taken off without telling anyone?
“Well, the gang took off in pursuit of the three women,” Sam continued. His rocking chair slowly swaying back and forth. “Intent on recapturing their treasure, the gang also vowed revenge on the McKenzie sisters and their families.”
But unlike the McKenzie sisters, Wes’s brother had no enemies. No one other than Wes chasing him down. Wes wasn’t interested in revenge. He only wanted what was rightfully his.
“The siblings made it here.” Boone’s delight lit his face and infused his words. He opened his arms as if welcoming the McKenzie sisters into his backyard at that very moment. “They stopped at Eagle Run River less than ten miles from this very spot. There the women realized they needed to split up if they wanted to evade the bandits and survive.”
“They stood beside the river. There’s a spot where three different springs flow into the river. One from the east, two from the west.” Sam used his fingers to demonstrate. “It’s there that the sisters split up. Each one following a different spring.”
“That was a good move.” Abby nodded approvingly. “Staying together would’ve made them a larger target.”
“But this isn’t a fairy tale with a happy ending.” Just as Wes’s reunion with his little brother wouldn’t be tearful and joy-filled. Forgiveness was hard to come by. He glanced at Abby and knew she’d be able to forgive. But he wasn’t like her. And that definitely made him not right for her. He shifted into the armrest and paid attention to the story. “This is barren land in the late eighteenth century that we’re talking about. There’s nothing fairy-tale-like about any of it.”
That included Wes’s situation with his brother and, even more, his relationship with Abby. The facts had to be faced and accepted.
“What happened?” Tess rubbed her arms as if she was cold, despite the warmth from the fire and the comfortable sixty-five-degree night. “It’s not good, is it?”
“Depends on how you look at it.” Boone lifted one shoulder and shot a warning glance at Wes.
Wes preferred to look at things directly. He always took the straightforward, matter-of-fact approach.
“Let’s hear the rest and then decide.” Abby slipped off her sandals and tucked her bare feet up under her.
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