by Jenna Brandt
Bert nodded. “It wasn’t us as much as God. I told you He would help.”
“We prayed he would say yes to coming to church,” Jasmine added.
“And here I am,” Mason proclaimed with a chuckle. “I guess prayers do get answered.”
The other woman’s eyes grew round with shock, and for a moment, Mason wondered if he might have upset her. A moment later, the woman’s lips curved into a smile. “He’s funny too. Who knew.”
This time, all three women laughed and Mason joined in.
“Why I never thought I would see Mr. Stillwell in church,” an elderly woman with gray hair interrupted, coming up to the group. “Doesn’t it go against a bar owner’s notoriety to attend church?”
“Isn’t church meant for everyone?” Abigail kindly rebuked.
“Not for the likes of him,” the elderly woman stated snootily.
“Ma’am, I don’t even know you, but it seems you think you know me. I’ll have you know, I’m a God-fearing man who prays and reads his Bible every day, which means I know that the Bible says not to judge or you’ll be judged. You should take that to heart, and look to yourself rather than try to make me feel unwelcome.”
“Rightly said, Mr. Stillwell,” Pastor Bill said coming up to the group. “And I, for one, am glad you’re here. Why don’t you take a seat at the front of the church?”
Mason and Abigail made their way to where Pastor Bill escorted them. They took their seats and listened to the message about loving your neighbors. By the end of it, Mason was glad he came. Not only was the sermon refreshing, but everyone besides that one elderly woman made him feel like he belonged there.
After they spent a half-hour talking with several townspeople, Mason turned to Abigail and asked, “You ready to go to lunch?”
Abigail slipped her hand into the crook of Mason’s arm. “I sure am.”
They made their way over to the café where they were seated towards the back. They ordered their food, then discussed the sermon and what they both thought about it. Their fried chicken and mashed potatoes arrived in a timely fashion, and both were delicious.
“I think it’s time we finally set a date for the wedding,” Mason declared. “I’ve brought it up a couple of times now, but you keep putting me off. I don’t see a reason for us to delay any longer. What do you think?”
Abigail pressed her lips together, then twisted the edge of her hat in her hands. Mason knew her well enough by now to know that was a sign of her being worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just want to make sure you’re ready. I don’t want you rushing into anything you’ll regret.”
“Why would I regret marrying you?”
“It was just a couple of weeks ago that you thought I was a prickly shrew, not to mention, you’re still—”
Before Abigail could finish explaining her reservations, one of Mason’s regular customers came bursting into the café.
“Stillwell, you need to come quick. There’s a mighty big problem brewing outside the bar.”
Mason jumped to his feet. “What is it?”
“Several of the regulars from the saloon came down and were yelling at the men from the Westwind. It’s getting pretty heated, and I’m worried a fight’s going to break out on the street.”
Great, just what Mason needed, another fight. The sheriff would be sure to shut Mason’s bar down if that should happen. He needed to get over there and stop it before it got out of hand.
Mason leaned over and placed a peck on Abigail’s cheek. “I have to go.”
“Wait, I’m coming with you,” she said scrambling to her feet.
“No, it’s no place for a woman.” Mason reached out and gently pushed Abigail back into her seat. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Mason hurried from the café and made his way down the street. Sure enough, there were men yelling back and forth in front of his bar.
“You shut your mouth, Terrance Winston. The Hair of the Dog Saloon provides ten times the entertainment the Westwind does,” a blond-haired man Mason didn’t recognize yelled.
“Of course, an imbecile like you would think that. You didn’t even finish primary school,” Terrance retorted back. “You wouldn’t know good entertainment if it bit you squarely in the buttocks.”
“That’s why he goes there—to get bit in the buttocks by the rabid dogs they call women that work there,” Sam Finley shouted, causing all the men standing in front of the Westwind to snicker at the blond man.
“That’s it, we’ve had enough. It’s time to teach these Westwind troublemakers a lesson,” another man from the Hair of the Dog crowd growled.
Mason was about to step forward when he saw Evan Williams, the owner of the saloon, do it first.
“Whoa, now, boys, that’s about enough of this,” Evan said, moving in between them and placing his hands out in both directions.
“You can’t tell us what to do,” Terrance declared. “You’re not the boss of us, just like your flunkies aren’t.”
This time, Mason decided he better make it clear, he wouldn’t stand for it either. He joined Evan between the men.
“We don’t need this, Terrance, Sam. If you at all care about the Westwind, you’ll go on inside and have a drink on me.”
“That’s right, go on listen to your mommy, and go inside,” the blond man needled. “Tuck your tail between your legs and admit that the Hair of the Dog is better than Westwind.”
“Now wait a minute, mister, you don’t need to be going on like that. You’re only making it worse,” Mason said to the customer from the saloon. “You should head on out of here, too.”
“We’re not doing that,” another man yelled from the group of saloon men. “Get them, boys.”
From all sides, there was pushing and shoving, causing Mason to worry that at any moment the sheriff and his deputies would show up to take them all off to jail.
Suddenly, one of the men shouted out the most preposterous solution. “Rather than all of us fight, why don’t we just settle this between Stillwell and Williams. Let them fight it out, and the winner will be able to claim they have the best entertainment in town.”
Mason had no idea how this happened. He didn’t even start this ridiculous fight, but now he was being pushed towards Evan to fight him.
“No hard feelings, right?” Evan asked with raised eyebrows.
“We have to do, what we have to do,” Mason said with a shrug.
Evan threw the first punch, but Mason could tell he wasn’t putting his full weight behind it, nor trying to land it. Quickly, Mason realized the other man wanted to give the men a good show, then they could end it and hopefully disperse the growing crowd.
Mason raised his own hands, preparing to make it look convincing. He threw his own punch, letting it barely glide across Evan’s chest.
“Mason Stillwell, you better stop this right now! You can’t be fighting on the Lord’s Day!” he heard Abigail scream from the side of him. “What has gotten into you? You’ve barely healed from the last fight you got into.”
“As I recall, that wasn’t of my doing either. I’m not sure why, but it seems like everyone enjoys causing me to fight.”
“You can’t do this! I refuse to let my groom have a black eye on our wedding day.”
That statement caught his attention. He dropped his hands and turned to face Abigail. “Does that mean you’re finally willing to set a wedding date?”
She nodded. “We can get married at the end of the month, just as long as you promise to stop fighting.”
Evan must have not gotten the clue that Mason was done with the farce of a fight, because all of a sudden, Mason felt a large thump hit him square in the jaw. He let out a yelp, grabbing his face in the exact place he got hit the last time.
“I can’t believe you did that, Evan. You don’t hit a man when he’s not facing you,” Mason chastised, giving the other man a dirty look.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you weren’t pa
ying attention.”
Everyone started to laugh, several of the men unofficially calling Evan the winner.
Abigail rushed up to Mason’s side, and wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Mason. I don’t want to ever see you in another fight, you hear me?”
Let them declare Evan the winner, all he needed was Abigail’s admiration to make him the happiest man on earth.
“I can’t believe he hit you in exactly the same place as the last man. That bruise is never going to go away if you keep this up,” Abigail admonished.
“I swear, this is going to be the last time. After all, I’m going to be a settled, married man by the end of the month.”
Chapter Fifteen
Abigail spent the next couple of days preparing for her wedding to Mason. She never knew how much detail went into such an endeavor, but Mason insisted that she have every detail of her dream wedding. There was one thing she couldn’t have, which she kept to herself.
She’d always dreamed of a double wedding with Alice. Though the sisters were as different as night and day, they had talked about it as little girls. When they had come out here to marry grooms at the same time, Abigail secretly hoped the dream might come true. Now that Alice was already married, it would never happen.
At least Alice would be standing next to her as her Matron of Honor. Abigail had made the trip out to the farm to ask her, and was pleased when Alice had said yes. Along with Bert and Jasmine, she would have the people she cared about surrounding her. It wouldn’t be exactly how she imagined it, but it would have to do.
She was in the office above the bar, going over the last set of numbers she had Mason complete using the new techniques she had taught him. He was getting better with his reading and writing all the time.
A jiggling at the door drew her attention towards it. Was it Widow Briggs returning after getting them lunch down at the café? Or was it Mason, forgetting his keys again? With a roll of her eyes, she realized he probably didn’t bring them to begin with since he never locked the door, no matter how many times she tried to remind him.
“Let me guess, you don’t have your keys,” she reprimanded, unlocking the door and pulling it open. “When are you going to learn—”
The rest of the words caught in her throat when she saw that it was the stranger with the jagged scar on his cheek on the other side. He had a dark look on his face, as if he had a score to settle with whoever opened the door.
“I was looking for the owner, but you’ll do,” he snarled out, barging inside. “Someone’s going to pay for me ending up back in jail.”
“You…you did that to yourself,” she stammered out, backing up and away from the stranger.
“No, no, that was your fault, which makes me finding you here sweet revenge.” His hands snaked out and grabbed her roughly, yanking her hard against him. “Trollops like you need to be taught a lesson.”
Abigail could tell from the evil gleam in his eyes, he was going to hurt her, or worse, if she didn’t get away from him. Her eyes whizzed around the room, trying to find anything she could get to that could help her escape from him. When she couldn’t find anything, she started struggling against his grip, trying to get free from him.
“Stop struggling, or I’ll make you stop,” the stranger ordered, digging his fingers into her arms on each side. “You deserve this, don’t act like you don’t. They were going to haul me off to another county to face murder charges, at least until I escaped. Before I skipped out of town though, I thought I would come here and settle the score.”
He started shoving her backwards until she was pressed up against the desk. The stranger forced his body against hers, the invasion making her scream out in anger.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, raising his arm to hit her.
She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the punch to land against her face; however, the hit never came. Instead, she heard the door open and Mason yell, “Get away from her, right now!”
Her eyes flew open to find Mason charging at the stranger, then knocking him away from Abigail. The men were exchanging blows as Abigail tried to think of what she could do to keep Mason safe.
Her eyes settled on the desk and she remembered that there was a pistol in the top drawer. She rushed over to it, pulled it open, and lifted the gun. It was heavy in her hands, and cold against her skin. She tried to aim it at the stranger, since she’d never fired a gun before, she was afraid that she might hit Mason.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” she shrieked, trying to keep her hands from quivering. “I mean it.”
Both men froze, their attention turning towards her. The stranger’s eyes narrowed as he moved towards her. “I don’t think you do. I think, you don’t even know how to use that gun.”
“All you do is pull the trigger, Abigail,” Mason coached from behind the stranger. “Do it, Abigail, do it now.”
She wanted to follow Mason’s instructions, but her hands were trembling so much, she was still afraid she would hit Mason. She couldn’t risk that. As the stranger continued to stalk towards her, she stumbled backwards until her back was against the wall. Her hand fell to her side as the stranger pushed up against her. They were scuffling, both of them trying to keep the gun in their hands, when unexpectedly, a deafening blast rang out in the room. The stranger’s eyes went wide with shock as he slumped forward, and then fell to the side.
Abigail’s full body was shaking now, as tears started to pour down her cheeks. She dropped the gun beside the stranger. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean for the gun to go off.”
Mason dashed to her side, pulling her into his arms. “It’s all right; it’s not your fault.”
“Is he dead?” she squeaked out as she tried to look at the stranger’s body. “Did I kill him?”
“Shh, don’t look at him; just focus on me,” Mason coaxed, keeping her head pressed against his shoulder. She didn’t need to see whatever was happening with the stranger.
There were footsteps that rushed up the stairs. Andy, along with several of the regular customers, came bursting into the room.
“What happened?” Andy inquired, glancing from Mason to the stranger.
“Abigail was handling the bookkeeping while I was running errands. I came back to find him attacking her.”
“So you shot him?” Sam asked with shock.
“No, it was me, but it was an accident,” Abigail bewailed. “I didn’t mean to. I never wanted to kill anyone.”
Andy was bent over the body of the stranger, feeling his neck. “You didn’t kill him. He’s still alive. From what I can tell the bullet hit his shoulder. He must have passed out from the pain.”
“Terrance, can you go get the doctor and sheriff?” Mason requested.
The other man nodded, then took off down the back stairs.
Mason guided Abigail over to one of the chairs and helped her into it. “See, Abigail, it’s all going to be fine. You didn’t kill him. You just kept him from hurting us.”
She looked in shock, which Mason assumed was normal given the circumstances. He tried to comfort her until everything was settled with the doctor and sheriff, who assured them the stranger would be taken to a more secure jail where he couldn’t escape before his trial.
“He’ll see the end of a hangman’s noose, I guarantee you that,” the sheriff said before removing the attacker from the office.
Mason saw Abigail home, explained what happened to her and asked everyone at the house to keep an eye on her. He wished he could have stayed with her himself, but since they weren’t married yet, he left it to her friends.
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow.”
Though he didn’t like leaving her, he was glad that he at least knew she was safe. He nearly lost her today, and if that happened, he realized his own life would have been over. He couldn’t live without her because he was in love with Abigail Bowen.
> Chapter Sixteen
After everything settled down after the attack, Abigail was able to return to planning her wedding to Mason. She was grateful for Mason’s constant care and understanding during the first couple of days; however, with his support, she decided to focus on her future rather than what happened.
Today, Abigail was taking a break from the wedding planning in order to go set up and attend the town picnic. She had just finished helping Bert get ready for the occasion with Jasmine’s aid. All of them were excited to spend the night visiting and dancing under the stars, though Bert insisted she would make a fool of herself. It was only after Abigail promised to keep an eye out for her friend that the other woman relaxed and decided to take a chance on trying to make a match.
Once all of the tables were set up for food along with an area for dancing, the women fussed over each other, making sure they looked perfect for the picnic.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Bert fretted. “I’m not cut out for socializing like this. I’m not like you fine ladies.”
“Listen, Bert, I’ve told you a dozen times, you’re every bit as ready to attend this event as the rest of us. You just need to relax and let yourself enjoy the picnic.”
The other woman looked nervous, but Abigail reached out and gently squeezed her arm. She thought she had calmed Bert’s nerves, but apparently, she needed a little more reassurance. “You can do this, Bert.”
“Before everyone gets here, let’s put a couple of blankets together and save our spots,” Jasmine suggested.
“Yes, what a good idea,” Bert chimed in. She grabbed a blanket from the pile they brought from Mr. Redburn’s house picking a spot under a giant oak shade tree nearby.
Abigail was fluffing out one of the patchwork quilts when she heard Mason say behind her, “That looks mighty good.”
She straightened quickly, then swiveled around to face him. “I hope you mean the blanket and not something else.”