Chapter 21
Macey
The intervention goes smoother than expected. Daddy’s so happy to be alive after “that damn bull” as he says, over and over, that he agrees to pretty much everything we throw at him.
Mama makes him swear he won’t kiss any more women who aren’t her. Riley begs him to stop complaining about Wink and how Riley can do better. Ben asks if he can please help out with the bar’s bookkeeping. Freedom tells Daddy he can’t ride his bike anymore.
As for me, my request is simple.
“I’ve spoken to Mayor Huggins,” I say. “He’s agreed to let The Cowherd keep its liquor license.”
Amidst the cheers, I hold up my hand. “With a small caveat.”
I glance through the square pane of glass in the closed door. I can just make out Logan standing in the hallway.
“What’s the caveat?” Mama asks me.
Before I have to answer her, the knock on the door silences the room.
Mayor Huggins enters the room quietly with a quick nod at my parents.
“Macey and I can wrap all of this up ourselves later on,” he says to my father. “But I’ll need your signature first.”
As my father looks over the document the mayor presents him with, I try to calm my nerves by pulling the elastic out of my hair and playing with it in my hands. Mayor Huggins stands across from me quietly. Behind his dark-rimmed glasses, his eyes fill with sympathy, and I look away.
“Mayor Huggins,” my father finally says as he looks up. “With all due respect, what the hell is this?”
The mayor heaves a big sigh and rubs a large hand over his bald head.
“Benjamin, I’m sorry about your accident.
I really am. I will be praying you come out of this a stronger man.
However, my conscience won’t allow me to ever let things return to the way they were before at The Cowherd.
You could seriously hurt someone, and you could ruin the whole town’s economy with one bad story that gets state-wide press.
Besides, if it weren’t for the illusion of a ghost in your bar, The Cowherd would be long gone already.
I have to protect the people and the reputation of the town first and foremost.”
Daddy rolls his eyes. “So that’s it? We have to shut down? How can I support my family when I get out of rehab? I’ve used the legend of Darcy to keep The Cowherd going as best I can. But without alcohol, you’ve got no bar. Whether or not that curse is ever broken, we’re a great tourist attraction.”
“There is a way out of this,” Mayor Huggins says coaxingly. “A way for everyone to get what they want.” He looks at me with those sympathetic eyes again. “Well, almost everyone.”
“Then, let’s hear it,” Mama says with more than a tinge of impatience in her voice.
The mayor points at the contract in my father’s hands. “Let your daughter run things from now on.”
Daddy sighs. “Fine. I should be gone a month, maybe two? I’ll be back on my feet by then.”
“We’ve already amended this agreement once since Macey first signed it when she was eighteen,” Mayor Huggins says. “This is the last time, Benjamin. The contract now says ‘in perpetuity.’”
Even though I knew about the amendment due to my conversation with the mayor last night, hearing it out loud hurts all over again. I feel myself grow dizzy, and my head starts shaking no without my meaning it to.
“No,” I hear Daddy say. “Even if Macey said yes, that’s too much pressure on her. She’s put off everything so that she’s available to run this bar for our family whenever I check out. But it was never intended to be forever.”
“I’ve already adjusted the contract.” The mayor points at the amended words. “All you two have to do is sign.”
Before my father can say more, I take the pen out of the mayor’s hand and sign my signature onto the offered contract without hesitation. Okay, with a little bit of hesitation.
Daddy, knowing he’s backed into a corner, takes the pen from my hand and signs next.
And then, we’re done.
The mayor leaves with one copy of the contract, and I take the other.
I kiss Daddy goodbye and tell him I’ll be back tomorrow to drive him to Angels Work, the non-descript set of buildings in the middle of Hill Country.
This is the place Daddy feels safest whenever he needs help.
They treat alcoholism, addiction, and offer daily counseling.
“Do you think this time will do the trick?” he asks me as I go to leave.
Tears fill my eyes. “I’ll pray for you every day,” I promise him. “We all will.”
My siblings and Mama nod as I look over at them.
“You’re going to be okay, Daddy. And don’t worry at all about The Cowherd. I swear it’s in good hands.”
“I know it is.” My father pulls me into a hug. “You’re the strongest girl I know. Take care of your mama and the rest.”
“I will.”
I straighten up, wipe the tears off my face, and hug the rest of my family before stepping out into the hallway.
As soon as Logan sees me, he steps forward. “How did it go? And why was the mayor here?”
I take his arm. “I need to get out of here. Can you drop me at The Cowherd?”
I place a call to our three biggest vendors on the drive, and they assure me they’ll send shipments this afternoon.
When we reach the bar, Logan tells me he’ll be back to check on me shortly, and he leaves me be in the empty Cowherd.
The place has been shut down for the past twenty-four hours, and I spend the first few minutes dusting off the bartop and going through the books from last week.
The Derby was a success. We made up for a lot of the financial loss in our security fund.
When the liquor trucks arrive, I let them in and show the delivery men into the back room. After they’ve left, I sit at my desk and stare at the empty jail cell. I feel as trapped as a mythical ghost right now.
Frustrated and helpless, and with the contract still clutched in my hand, I do what I always do when I feel this way—I get my shotgun. Time to practice for the upcoming target contest.
I walk back into the saloon and hang up the amended contract back behind the bar where it’s been for years.
Then, I place twelve cans of beer into a box and open up the back serving door off the bar so I can step outside to the rarely-used picnic tables.
I walk fifty feet through the hard-packed dirt and burnt grass to my target box in front of the bullet-ridden wall that remained after the last jailbreak before the prison was retired.
It’s here that I set up my pyramid of beer cans.
I take aim, unlock the safety, and shoot three off-target shots in a row. I never miss. Not like this.
I’m pulling back to reload when Logan returns.
“Hey,” I say to him as he steps into the backyard. “You here to line up against me? ’Cause you know I always win.”
He chuckles. “True. And I saw the delivery trucks made it—must mean you’re back in business.”
I lock down the gun and walk inside to the bar so I can try the taps. “Thank goodness, yes. They’re connected.”
Logan follows behind. “Is that the latest one…hold up.” He glances at the contract on the wall. “This looks different…”
He leans over the bar.
And I wait for it.
It takes him about thirty seconds of reading before…
“Forever!” he says incredulously. “What the fuck is that, like eternal imprisonment?”
“Kind of like how Jane’s ghost must feel.”
I don’t look back at Logan because I’m scared if I look into his eyes, it will make me cry.
“Mace.” He reaches for my chin and lifts it up so I have to face him. “Seriously, that’s nuts. You know that’s nuts.”
“It is what it is,” I say. “The mayor did offer a loophole. He said that if Jane Austen’s ghost were ever freed—proven to be so—that he’d rethink the forever part of the contract.
He claims that maybe then my father’s stress levels would decrease and he’d be less drawn to the bottle because so many customers would flood the bar to see the place where a miracle happened. ”
Logan snorts. “He’s an ass to include that in the terms. The ghost is a fucking myth.”
“I know.” But I’m holding onto that myth like a lifeline right now.
“What if your daddy can prove he’s capable?”
“Without the ghost loophole, the mayor’s unlikely to bend.
If my father stays sober, then maybe. But that means he can’t slip at all.
And I don’t know how long he has to stay sober for the mayor to agree.
Probably a long time.” I exhale. “Honestly, today I can’t even hit a darn beer can. I’m a lousy shot on top of it all.”
“You’re the best shot in Hunt County, and you damn well know it.” Logan shakes his head. “How can I help?”
I bat my eyelashes at him flirtatiously. “You already did. Last night. And the night before that.”
“Mace.”
I exhale. “I think I just need time to process.”
He nods slowly. “I’ll give you space if that’s what you need. Maybe you should make some time for yourself so you can start writing that novel you’ve always dreamed about.”
Logan always told me he could never be a novelist—he wouldn’t know what to say. He said that he always knows what to paint, though.
“Maybe,” I say without much confidence. “I can at least write in my journal.”
“Hey.” His eyes turn serious. “You deserve to start writing. No matter what your family’s going through.”
“I’ll try,” I say, knowing I don’t have any extra energy to think about a book right now.
As he turns to leave, I call out to him.
“Logan.”
He looks back at me.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything.”
He nods. “Anytime. You know that.”
I twist my hands together as I fumble for the right words. “Our once-a-year thing this year felt extra…”
“Special.”
Yes.
I blink. “And also…”
“Macey.” Logan grabs my hands, forcing me to stop wringing them. “It was perfect. And next year, whenever that happens, will be amazing, too. Right?”
I exhale in relief. “Right. So. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He tips his cowboy hat. “Count on it.”