Abby climbed onto the bar top and released a shrill whistle. The kind her father had taught her when she’d been a little kid. The kind that would startle whatever roamed the forest and alert her father to come get her.
The crowd quieted. Carter appeared in the patio doorways, a proud smile on his face. The other Sloan brothers grinned from ear to ear.
“Okay, listen up, everyone. We’ve got a few rules for the evening.” Abby tugged on her puffy chiffon sleeves and secured her stance. “I’m not Ilene and definitely not Wes, but I’m who you have tonight. I can pour draft beers. Line up shot glasses. If you want a drink, you better know what it is when your turn to order comes. I’m serving ladies first. Not responding to shouts, rude comments or disrespectful behavior. If you have complaints, save them for Wes.”
A round of applause and hollers of approval filled the bar. Abby shouted again. “And please put your tips in the Boone Bradley Medical Fund jar. Now, let’s have fun like Boone wants us to.”
Abby climbed off the bar with Evan’s assistance.
Evan set a dry towel over her shoulder and gave her a high five. “Nice job. Now are you ready for this?”
“I bet it’s going to be fun after all.” Abby turned to fill her first drink order and work herself into that exhaustion.
The trivia contest turned into a highlight, followed closely by the mechanical-bull challenge won by Cassie Weaver, the town’s farrier. The back-and-forth was good-natured, the rivalries spirited and lively, and the laughter all-consuming. Abby surprised herself and Evan when she’d answered the music-and-pop-culture trivia questions correctly. Evan, for his part, held his own on the unusual-sports and strange-habits-of-wildlife categories. Evan and she agreed that next year they were teaming up to win the grand prize.
The only argument came after closing. Evan left early to pick up Riley from Tess’s place, and Carter insisted on walking Abby home after they’d cleaned up. Abby sighed. “Carter, I literally live across the street.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Carter crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “I’m walking you home.”
“I can make it by myself,” Abby insisted.
“I’m sure you can,” Carter said. “But I’m still coming with you.”
The man was as frustrating as Wes. No wonder the two were friends. And he was thoughtful and considerate just like Wes. And like Wes, Abby recognized when she wasn’t going to budge a cowboy. “Fine. I need to get something first.”
Abby visited the patio, pulled the blanket she and Wes had shared the evening before from the cabinet and returned to the bar. Lights turned off and doors locked, Abby stepped outside, Carter right beside her. Thankfully, he never commented on the blanket she hugged against her chest and silently escorted her all the way to the apartment door.
“Abby.” Carter’s voice was low and quiet as if he didn’t want to disturb nature’s nighttime chorus.
She offered a small smile and looked at him.
“Don’t let Wes push you away,” he said. “He needs you, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
With those parting words, Carter tipped his cowboy hat at Abby and started down the stairway.
Abby unlocked the door, went straight to her bedroom and crashed on the bed. She fell asleep wrapped in Wes’s blanket with Carter’s weighty words replaying in her mind: He needs you.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ABBY PULLED INTO a parking space at the Northwest Plains Medical Center and dropped Tess’s car keys in her purse. She’d left Tess, Sam and Riley at the general store. Riley had taken on the task of finding the missing silver coin. Ilene and Nolan were covering the Owl with bartending and staff relief from both Evan and Carter. Abby had filled in whenever she could. That had been the schedule for the past five days since Boone had been admitted to the hospital.
Boone had been moved from the intensive care unit to a private room yesterday. Today was the first day he could receive visitors other than Wes. Abby had been nominated as the first visitor. Sam would come down that evening and relieve Wes for the night.
Abby walked around to the passenger side and opened the car door. She hung the handles of a large cloth bag around her arm, then lifted the oversize care package Ilene and Tess had put together. She wrapped both arms around the gift basket and headed for the elevators. Inside the hospital, the cloth bag bounced against her hip. But every step closer to Boone’s room and Wes tangled her nerves.
Wes had slept at the hospital every night. He’d returned every other day to check on the bar and grab new clothes. Abby had seen him only in passing. Long enough to note the exhaustion rimming his eyes and the tousled bend to his hair from his stress as if he’d spent too many hours pulling on it. There hadn’t been time for lengthy conversations, cuddling on the outdoor couch or stolen kisses.
But they’d exchanged texts in the late-night hours. Some lighthearted and silly. Some simple updates on the staff and other happenings around Three Springs, like the town council’s upcoming vote for another movie night next month. And the great cow escape at Mayor Paul Molina’s farm.
Then there were other text threads that revealed more layers. Offered insight. And inevitably brought Abby and Wes even closer. She knew his favorite food: deep-dish pizza. His perfect-day activity: horseback riding. His hero: his mom. When he was little and got scared, he always sang to chase away the monsters. His mother often told him he had the voice of a talented singer. Abby had fallen asleep wondering what Wes sounded like when he sang. And if he’d ever trust her enough to sing for her.
Abby passed the nurses’ station and paused to adjust the basket. There was no reason for her nerves. Yet that hardly stalled the jitters skating through her. She’d only kissed Wes that one night. Now, outside Boone’s room, she felt more vulnerable and more exposed after sharing secrets over texts.
Abby rolled her shoulders back. She was there for Boone. She’d simply deal with all the rest later. She pushed the door open with her elbow and walked inside. Boone was in his bed, propped up with pillows, attached to monitors and IVs. He held the TV remote and flipped through the channels. Wes was sprawled in a recliner, his cowboy hat lowered over his eyes, his legs stretched out along the vinyl floor.
Boone pressed his finger against his lips and slanted his gaze toward Wes.
Abby carefully slid the care basket onto the cabinet between the bed and the recliner. Wes tapped his hat up and peered at her. “Tell me there’s deep-dish pizza in that basket.”
“No chance.” Abby swatted at the rim of his hat. “It’s not on Boone’s diet. You can’t eat pizza in front of him. That’d be rude.”
Wes covered his yawn with his fist. “I could eat out in the hall.”
We’ll get some later. Together. Like a couple on a date. Abby blinked and swatted that thought away. Texting was not dating. Now wasn’t the time to confuse things. Abby sorted through the items in the basket. “Boone, Tess and Ilene put this together. There’s a robe, flannel pajamas, shampoo, soap and other essentials.”
“That’s very kind.” Boone’s words were lined with a frailness she’d not noticed before his surgery. “Give them my thanks.”
Abby pointed to two tins tucked under the robe. “There are also a few nonessentials like your favorite fudge. And banana muffins.”
Boone’s grin removed the pallor from his face. “Now they’re just spoiling me something good.”
“Riley made you this blanket. There’s no sewing. It’s all hand-tied together.” Abby pulled a horseshoe-print fleece blanket from the cloth bag. “Riley was worried you might get cold in here.”
“Isn’t that something special.” Boone took the navy-and-brown blanket and spread it out over his legs. “I’m not cold so much as bored.”
“I offered to bring him books or crossword puzzles.” Wes rose from the recliner and stretched his arms over his head.
Abby took the opportunity to survey Wes. He was obviously tired. There was a weariness around his mouth, covered now in a beard that had grown in thicker over the last few days. But his shoulders weren’t stooped. And there was an inherent strength about him still. He was the kind of man she would want beside her. Steady. Solid. Reliable. He was the person she’d choose to be there at three in the morning or to help her on a back-country road. Her person. Abby touched her stomach, blamed the sudden flutters on the oatmeal she’d had for breakfast. She shouldn’t have added that extra spoonful of brown sugar.
“The print is too tiny in them books, and my eyes are too old.” Boone picked up the TV remote and shook it. “If you could find me a rodeo to watch on TV, I’d be more than satisfied.”
“Boone has the Cowboy Channel at home.” Wes ran his palm across his cheek, then pulled his arm away as if surprised to discover a beard covered his face.
That was nothing. Abby was still reeling from her surprise revelation. Wes could not be her person. She was supposed to be her baby’s person. She didn’t need said person. Or even want one. Still, she couldn’t quite shake the idea. Or the feeling that something had shifted inside her.
“I can watch a rodeo anytime I please on that channel.” Boone tugged Riley’s blanket up toward his chest and folded his arms lightly over his stomach. “It’s the next best thing if I can’t go to one in person.”
Wes was not her person. Because then Abby would’ve fallen in... No. Love wasn’t instant or quick. Chemistry wasn’t love. Neither was friendship. Abby straightened Boone’s blankets, but nothing rearranged the sudden hammering inside her chest. Or the warm reassurance she felt.
She focused on Boone. Anything to distract herself. Anything to deny the truth. “Did you compete in the rodeo?”
“Sure.” Boone traced a horseshoe stamped on the blanket. A whisper of nostalgia came through in his words. “Can’t think of anyone in town who didn’t give it a try at least once.”
That caught her attention. She sat on the end of Boone’s bed, giving in to the wobble in her knees. “Even my grandpa?”
“Of course Harlan too. Your grandpa loved to compete.” The wistfulness expanded into Boone’s distant gaze as if he was back inside that rodeo ring. “Harlan was one of the fastest calf-ropers in the surrounding counties. We won a time or two, team-roping together. Have the belt buckles to prove it.”
One more glimpse into her grandfather’s life. He hadn’t mentioned he’d been a rodeo cowboy in his letters. She’d never thought to ask. But she remembered the polished belt buckles he always wore. “Did you guys travel the rodeo circuit?”
“Nah, nothing like that. We stuck to the local ones.” Boone slipped his hand with the IV under the blanket. “Used to be a rodeo in town every year when we were young. Had it out at the arena just on the edge of the county line.”
An idea started to form. Abby forced herself to slow down and gather the details first. Jumping too far ahead had always gotten her in trouble in the past. The same as jumping ahead in her relationships. Like right now with Wes. She’d let her heart get away from her. Only a brief blip. She wasn’t in love. She was in like with him. The same as she liked Boone, Carter or Evan. That warmth flushed into her neck and face as if highlighting her lie. She just needed to concentrate on what mattered, then her heart would get in line. It’d be any minute now. “What happened to the property?”
“Can’t say.” Boone shrugged. “Shame too. That’s where our kids got their start. Where they learned the rodeo ropes.”
Wes dropped into the recliner and stacked one ankle over the other. “Now they come to the Owl when they turn twenty-one to ride our mechanical bull.”
“Doesn’t compare to riding a live one.” Boone chuckled. “But it’s still fun.”
Abby recalled the line for the bull challenge last Saturday night. Those were adults. She supposed they might’ve had the same size line of teenagers wanting a turn. “Where do the kids in town compete?”
“Have to travel all around now.” Boone frowned.
“Between the fees to enter the rodeos and the travel costs, how many young kids can afford to go these days?” Wes rested his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers under his chin.
“Not enough. That’s for sure.” Boone brought the blanket higher up his chest.
Abby’s idea gained traction. A vision began to materialize. She allowed herself a small frog leap. “Do you remember the name of the rodeo in town? Or the owner of the property with the arena?”
“My heart had a bit of a blip, not my mind.” Boone tapped his index finger against his forehead. “Besides, I got belt buckles to remind me if I forget. It was called Three Springs Reunion Rodeo Days. The Robles family had the arena. They hosted it every year.”
“Is that the property out on the end of Old Copper Mill Road?” Wes asked.
“That’s the back of the property. You have to enter it from the north on the interstate side,” Boone explained. “When the last of the Robles family passed, Arthur Jr. was his name, no heirs came to claim it. Been vacant for the past decade or so.”
Abby was glad she’d taken small steps and hadn’t shared anything further. Nothing could come of rebooting the rodeo without the right venue.
“The county must have auctioned the property off by now.” Wes sat up straight. “They wouldn’t have kept it. There has to be a record of the new owners.”
Her interest zoomed again. Sure, it wasn’t finding the missing Herring Gang loot like she’d pitched to Mayor Molina, but it was a solid, attainable idea. And if she was working on that, she wouldn’t be falling harder for Wes. “Who would buy the land and not do anything with it?”
Wes eyed her. “Are you thinking of doing something with that property?”
“Yes.” Abby leaped at the idea. Gave her idea a voice and shut down her heart. “I want to have a Labor Day weekend rodeo. Revive the Three Springs Reunion Rodeo Days.”
“That would be something special.” Boone pressed the button on his hospital remote control and raised the head of his bed. His gaze sharpened. His color improved. “The town would get behind it.”
Even Wes appeared intrigued. He dropped his elbows onto his knees and leaned forward.
“I’m thinking a junior rodeo with a scholarship for the winners. Boys and girls.” Abby’s arms fluttered in front of her as if working her vision free. She channeled those jitters and butterfly flutters into something productive. “A rodeo for the adults, with a king and queen, if they have those. Food vendors. Booths for our local restaurants to showcase their specialties. A dance Sunday night in the town square.”
“Gotta have belt buckles too.” Boone touched his waist.
“Definitely.” Abby slanted her gaze at Wes and tested the depth of his interest. “T-shirts with the Feisty Owl logo because the bar was a gold-level sponsor.”
“Of the scholarship.” Boone glanced at Wes. “Can we afford that?”
Wes nodded. He gripped the armrests and pushed himself out of the recliner. “But it needs to be the Jake Bradley Legacy Scholarship.”
A catch snagged in Abby’s throat. That was much more than she’d expected. But it was Wes. He’d been surprising her since she’d first met him. Her heart tumbled over, and she gave in to the inevitable fall. Accepted the truth. She’d fallen in love with Wes.
Still, she vowed nothing would change. Nothing would come of it. After all, she didn’t have to share her truth. It’d be her secret.
“A scholarship in Jake’s name would be real fine.” Boone brushed at his eye. “Real fine, indeed.”
“I can see it.” Frustration rolled over Abby. Love was supposed to be shouted from the rooftops, not silenced and smothered. Love was supposed to feel good. Not like a bout of morning sickness. She pressed her fingers against her forehead. “How am I supposed to make a rodeo happen? I don’t know anyth
ing about organizing one.”
“It’s good, then, that you live in a town that has some experience with all that,” Boone offered.
“You need Ryan Sloan for starters.” Wes pulled out his phone and tapped his screen. “He’s a stunt rider for the movies now. But he used to compete on the circuit. He’ll know people.”
Ryan Sloan had won the free nachos on Saturday night after his test ride on the mechanical bull. Then he’d proceeded to share the double-size order with his brother Grant. The Sloan brothers had played her. She glanced at Wes. Wanting to believe he’d played her too. Tricked her into falling in love with him. But she’d taken that trip all on her own. And the consequences were all hers to accept.
“Add Cassie Weaver too. Never seen anyone better at shoeing a horse than Cassie.” Boone scratched his cheek. “She’ll have solid connections.”
“I need to call Frieda or Gordon.” And get herself solidly working on securing her job. Get focused again on achieving her life goals like those podcasts had instructed her to do. “Maybe they can direct me to who owns the old Robles property. We can’t have a rodeo without a venue.”
“This is one event the Owl can’t host,” Wes said.
Boone brushed his hair into place with his fingers as if preparing for a meeting. “What else can I do?”
“Call Sam for me. Ask him if he can come by sooner than tonight.” Wes dialed Sam’s number on the hospital phone and handed it to Boone. He set the phone to his ear, and a new energy surrounded him. Wes added, “We can brainstorm here just as easily as anywhere else.”
“Sam will have suggestions too.” Abby sent a text message to Corine about her idea. Corine’s response was immediate: one giant heart emoji. Followed by an offer to help from her bedroom. Abby requested her assistance on permits and belt-buckle design. Corine directed Abby to Lynette Kinney for information on the Robles farm.
Abby stepped into the hallway to call Lynette. She had barely mentioned the Robles’ property when Lynette captured complete control of the conversation.
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