Chapter 1 #2
But then, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
She turned her focus on Jessie, who was heating the horseshoe, bringing it out of the forge when it was bright red, and hammering it forcefully, the sound of metal on metal filling the air.
Jessie went on until the shoe was the perfect shape, then doused it in water, cooling the metal. She gave it to a triumphant little girl in the front row.
“I didn’t know girls could do jobs like that,” the little girl said.
“Of course we can,” said Jessie. “And I’m also going to be the mayor of this town. We can do anything we put our minds to.”
Cassidy smiled. Because the exchange was adorable.
And honestly, it just made her proud to call Jessie part of the family.
Funny, because Jessie was a Hancock, and only two years ago, her older brother Austin would have had a heart attack if he’d been told that a Hancock was going to marry into his family.
Wilder family lore was deep and vast. Well, the lore of this entire town was like that.
Founded during the gold rush, Rustler Mountain had been filled with pioneers, both good and bad.
When Austin had started doing deep historical research into their family roots, it turned out that the ones who had been touted as heroic for years were somewhat more complex.
For years, town lore had celebrated the heroes and vilified the bad guys. The lawmen and the outlaws. And of course, the Wilder family had been among the outlaws.
Her brother was named after Austin Wilder, who had been a stagecoach and train robber, notorious throughout the state of Oregon for his crimes.
He had ridden with his two brothers and a fourth gang member named Butch Hancock.
Until Lee Talbot, sheriff of Rustler Mountain, had shot Austin Wilder dead in the street and had the other Wilders hanged on suspicion of murder.
But it turned out that Lee Talbot had colluded with Butch Hancock, agreeing to give him immunity if the sheriff could become famous for taking down Oregon’s most notorious gang. The Wilders had been criminals, but they had never committed murder.
Austin had set the record straight in his bestselling book, and Millie had started getting the truth out in town, which had led to a lot of historical inaccuracies and half-truths being corrected.
Now the true history of the town could be told, not just of the victors—white men who liked to claim ultimate authority—but the stories of Chinese immigrants, of Black settlers who had met with hostility and been kept out of the state because of virulently racist laws, and of course the native tribes whose land had been taken from them.
So maybe change was good. Sometimes, it definitely needed to happen.
She looked over at Dalton.
And then the atmosphere around the booth changed. Shifted. As if the air itself shivered.
She turned because she was compelled, like steel to a magnet. And not just her apparently, because every head turned.
West Hancock had just arrived. He wasn’t dressed seasonally.
He wore a tight black T-shirt, displaying his muscular arms for no reason. Black ink licked up his forearms, past his biceps, and disappeared beneath the sleeves of the shirt.
He also had on a black cowboy hat, black jeans, and black boots.
He was, without a doubt, the only man in town with a more dangerous reputation than her brothers.
If the Wilders were outlaws, the Hancocks were the outlaws the outlaws didn’t associate with.
Or hadn’t, anyway, until Jessie Jane and Flynn had hooked up.
Cassidy still felt uneasy around West. Jessie Jane might be fine, sure, but in general the women weren’t blamed for family wrongdoing. The men …
Well, West was giving bad-seed vibes without even trying.
He made her skin feel like it was too tight, and a feeling of alertness rolled over her, increasing the nearer he got.
“I’m here to relieve you.”
For a second, she thought he was talking to her, and everyone around them went a little blurry. But thankfully she was so busy trying to figure out what he meant, she didn’t say anything right away and therefore didn’t embarrass herself before his sister, Jessie Jane, answered, “You’re the best.”
“What a departure from your usual verbal abuse,” he said, moving into the booth, which was indeed very warm and explained his choice of T-shirt.
“Well, right now I need you, so I’m being nice.”
Jessie took her apron off and dashed out of the booth. Flynn followed behind her.
“What happened?” Cassidy asked her brother Carson.
“Oh, Danielle wanted to show her something about this event. And then some other things. The transition of power is … intense and more than a little rocky since Danielle kind of hates Jessie.”
Danielle LeFevre was the current mayor and also the very recent loser of the election. She was also Flynn’s half sister. But not Cassidy’s half sister. Thank God. She’d really rather not have any association whatsoever with Danielle, who was just a spiteful, terrible person.
“It’s nice that she’s trying to help Jessie Jane,” Millie said, which was more than generous of her considering that a few years ago Millie’s wedding had been called off because her fiancé was cheating, and Danielle had been the woman he was cheating with.
“I think Danielle is trying to run Jessie ragged,” West said, his voice grim and gritty over the sound of the forge. “Trying to burn her out before she’s even started, and with this holiday fair and rehearsals for the Christmas Wild West Show, she’s about laid out flat.”
Oh dear. Butch Hancock’s Wild West Show was always extra busy the week before Christmas—its special holiday-themed show brought in thousands of visitors. That and the summer season were the main sources of revenue for the show, Jessie had told them all recently.
The show was important, but so was the mayoral stuff, and Cassidy was worried about Jessie’s ability to do it all.
“I mean, sabotage would track with Danielle’s character,” Austin said.
“True,” Dalton agreed.
West turned to the forge with an iron rod trapped in tongs and heated the metal until it was glowing. Then he brought it out and started hammering away at it, each movement molding the hot iron in a way Jessie’s hammering simply hadn’t.
West also drew a different crowd from Jessie.
Suddenly, the booth was surrounded by a gaggle of women who had materialized out of the ether, all eyes glued to West’s movements.
Cassidy could admit his work was compelling.
But he was … well, he was West Hancock, and these ladies must not be from around here. Because women from Rustler Mountain knew the truth: West Hancock was as dangerous as his ancestor, Butch Hancock the Traitor, whose name sent waves of loathing around her family dinner table any time it came up.
Sure, West’s broad shoulders might be of interest. His muscles might be eye-catching.
But he wasn’t Dalton.
Dalton was safety and security, and he had plenty of muscles too, so why would she ever look at West?
With that thought uppermost in her mind, she turned to Dalton and smiled.
Oh yes, Cassidy Wilder knew exactly what she wanted.
And she was going to get it.