Chapter 9
I fought with him today, and it was the first time I’ve seen his mouth in anything other than that grim line.
Poor Sarah wants her father, and he will not hold her.
She’s lost her mother and her father, and my heart can’t take the tragedy of it.
I perhaps should not have screamed this at him.
But how else am I to reach him? I yelled, and so did he.
But in the end, there was a spark in his eyes I had not seen before.
C arson was plagued by dreams that night. The kind that left him sweat-slicked and shaking. The kind he couldn’t recall having since he was in his early twenties.
And once in his late twenties, right before he’d decided to go and find a wife before he returned to Rustler Mountain.
He woke up hard, and he woke up mad.
He let the ghost of the woman in his dreams fade away. So he couldn’t see her face.
By the time he had his coffee, the dream was well and truly gone, and he couldn’t have recalled the details of it if he tried.
But what he could recall was last night at the cabin.
When Perry had touched his hand.
She didn’t touch him that often. It was an unusual thing. He hadn’t realized how soft her skin was.
He didn’t let himself think about that again the whole time he did his ranch work. Or while he rode his horse up along the ridge above Outlaw Lake, just to clear his mind, and not for any particular useful purpose.
Then he went down to the barn to evaluate the Hancock wagon again. But abandoned that project in favor of Perry’s hope chest.
It wouldn’t take a lot of work. In fact, other than letting the stain dry, it would only be an afternoon’s worth of labor.
He replaced the cracked panel, sanded the rough edges. He found a stain match and went over the whole thing.
By the time he was done, sweat was dripping down his brow, and it was past time for him to head to dinner. He looked at his phone and saw four texts from his brother, two from his sister, one from Jessie Jane, and none from Perry.
He didn’t respond to his family, but he did look at Jessie’s text.
Wild West Show tomorrow?
Maybe. I’ll see if I can get the family on board.
You’re never going to get Flynn to set foot on Hancock land.
Probably not. I’ll let you know.
He shoved the phone in his pocket, shut the lights off in the barn, and left the hope chest to dry.
Then he drove over to Austin’s place. When he arrived, Perry’s car was in the driveway.
He walked straight into his brother’s house without knocking; he wasn’t worried about interrupting Austin and Millie in a private moment just now.
When he entered, Millie was opening a present while Perry stood by with an expectant look on her face.
There were pink socks in the bag, and a little dress, pink cowboy boots, and the cutest little Western fringe vest he had ever seen.
“Perry,” said Millie. “This is too nice. This night was supposed to be for you.”
“But I’m very excited about the baby,” said Perry. “And really happy for you.”
Perry picked up the little pink cowboy boots and Carson felt a strange shift in his brain. It was easy to picture Perry with a gently rounded belly, looking at boots that were meant for her baby.
Something gripped him. Something low and visceral. Something that felt like Neanderthal-level possessiveness.
It didn’t feel heroic. It felt dangerous.
He shoved the feeling back hard. “Hey,” he said, walking into the room.
“Where have you been?” Austin asked.
“Working,” Carson said. “I have some projects going.”
There was a funny look on Perry’s face when he said that. Well, she would find out soon enough what he had been working on.
She could buy herself little pink cowboy boots. They could go in that hope chest. That’s what it was for, after all. Perry was hoping for a new life. A life away from here. A life away from him.
He didn’t know where his irritation had come from. Yes, there had been a little bit of it here and there, but not quite like this.
His phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket. Jessie Jane again. He could see Perry’s gaze skim over his phone screen and something flared in her eyes then.
“Working on the wagon?” she asked.
Oh no.
“I …”
“Wagon?”
Flynn came into the room from the kitchen, holding a bowl of chips. Cassidy and Dalton were behind him, and just like that, he had a whole-ass audience for this moment.
“No,” he said. “I wasn’t working on the wagon.”
“What wagon?” Flynn asked.
“He’s restoring a wagon for Jessie Jane Hancock,” Perry said.
Perry had chosen violence. He had no idea why.
“Yeah. Well, I was going to mention that. At some point,” he said.
“You’re restoring a wagon for that … weasel?” Flynn asked.
“ Weasel ,” Carson said. “She’s never done a damn thing to you.”
“She’s … she’s a problem,” said Flynn.
He looked over at Austin, whom he expected to be annoyed. But his brother didn’t seem annoyed at all.
Flynn also noticed. “Aren’t you irritated by this?” he asked his older brother.
“No,” said Austin. “I am absolutely for the preservation and restoration of history. No matter whose it is.”
“Agreed,” said Millie.
“Yeah, no offense,” Flynn said, “but maybe the man who married a Talbot, and the Talbot herself, aren’t really the right ones to be weighing in on Carson’s fraternizing with the enemy.”
“I’m not fraternizing,” he said. “I’m fixing a wagon. I want to do it. It’s giving me something to care about.”
“I see,” said Perry.
He didn’t know what to make of that. “Anyway. I was going to say. It only came up yesterday, and I just finished figuring out what I could even do to fix the thing. It’s in way worse shape than ours was. But thankfully, I have the benefit of having fixed one before.”
“I’d love to take a look at it,” said Austin.
“You’re a bunch of nerds,” Flynn said.
“No one’s ever called me that before,” said Austin, looking awed. “I kind of like it.”
“Disgusting,” said Flynn.
“Honestly, what is your deal with Jessie Jane?” Dalton asked. “Because it feels like …”
“I don’t have a deal with her. Except, you’ve seen for yourself what a pain in the ass she is. She’s always busting my chops, I can’t go into the Watering Hole without her trying to embroil me in a betting scheme, or just generally harassing me. Also, she’s a Hancock.”
“I get all that,” said Carson. “I’m not helping her because she’s a Hancock. I’m helping me. Because I want to take the project on. That’s all.”
“Well, aren’t you glad you’re moving onto the ranch, Perry?” Cassidy asked. “It’s very peaceful.”
“She started it,” Carson said. “She threw me under the wagon.”
Perry shrugged. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t told everybody.”
She was lying. He could see that. Little pirate.
“Jessie Jane wants everyone to come to the Wild West Show.”
That earned an extremely loud and mixed response from the group.
“No way,” Austin said.
“ That’s your line in the sand?” Flynn asked, giving his brother side-eye.
“I don’t like junk history.”
“She said she wanted our family to see the show so that maybe we’d have a different point of view on her family.”
“Doubtful,” Cassidy said.
“She’s offering free tickets, and she said she’ll put us on the list up front.”
Flynn’s gaze went sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, looking appalled.
“I’m not kidding. Maybe we should go. We’re doing our best to put all this feud stuff to rest,” Carson said.
“Not ‘we,’” Flynn said. “I have no investment in any feuds ending.”
“I do,” said Austin, looking thoughtful. “I don’t want all of us to be defined by the way our ancestors were seen in the past. Why do we want the Hancocks to be defined by it?”
“Because I don’t care what people think about them,” said Flynn. “Hell, I’m not even bothered by what people think about us. That’s your all’s personal issue, not mine.”
“Maybe,” Carson said, deciding to appeal directly to his older brother, “if we actually involve ourselves in the Wild West Show we can convince them to start adding some actual history.”
“No,” said Flynn.
“You just have a beef with Jessie Jane,” Carson said.
“And you’re, what … trying to hook up with her?” Flynn asked. “No,” Carson snorted.
Perry, who was examining her nails, looked up at him out of the corner of her eye.
“You started this, you little brat,” he said to Perry. “You have to come to the Wild West Show with me.”
“Do I?” she asked, her eyes glittering.
“Yes. I think you should.”
“I think I want to go,” said Austin.
“Regrettably, I’m curious,” said Cassidy.
“Sorry,” said Dalton, looking at Flynn. “I want to know.”
“I love community events,” said Millie.
“Yes,” said Carson. “Let’s go to the Wild West Show.”
Perry looked hesitant. Flynn looked ready to start a mutiny.
Carson ignored his brother.
“Periwinkle Bramble,” Carson said, looking her directly in the eye. “Are you a pirate or a mouse?”
“I’m a pirate,” she said, squaring off with him. His heart kicked in his chest.
“Good then. Be piratical and come to the Wild West Show.”
She looked up at him and something about the challenge in her eyes made his heart lift in his chest.
“I’ll be there,” she said. “With spurs on.”