The Texas SEAL's Surprise--A Clean Romance

by Cari Lynn Webb

The fact was Wes wanted to hold her close, keep her warm and protect her. But he stood up instead. Determined to stretch his legs and simply walk off the restlessness inside him. Because there was nothing straightforward about his feelings. Whenever he looked at Abby, everything became a mess. Wes moved to the edge of the patio, remaining within earshot of the tale.

  “Violet, one of the decoys, was killed by Otto Herring, the oldest of the cousins in the Herring Gang.” Sam smoothed his fingers through his beard. But the rasp of regret in his voice remained. “Violet had barely made it a mile up the spring.”

  Abby gasped, once again drawing Wes’s attention and his concern.

  “Vera, the middle sister, was injured when she slipped on the rocks in a steep part of the stream.” Boone touched his own leg, then his forehead. “Broke her leg and cut her temple open.”

  “But Vera managed to make it to the meeting spot, despite her serious injuries.” Ilene clenched the armrests of her chair. “That’s guts right there.”

  Abby nodded, once again very intent and fully invested.

  Vera had pushed through her injuries to be with her sister. Wes had seen his SEAL teammates do the same over the years. Push through horrific situations and injuries to not let down the entire group. Wes had done the same—refusing to be the weakest link. Refusing to fail the others he’d served with. They weren’t bonded by blood, but they were bonded all the same. He’d always assumed his connection with his brother was that strong.

  Now he doubted he’d ever share a bond as intense with anyone ever again.

  He looked away from Abby, concentrated on Sam and the unfolding story.

  “The two eldest, Vera and Victoria, were given sanctuary with a group of neighboring Indigenous people.”

  Sam rested his head back against the rocking chair as if emotionally drained for the two sisters. “And the Herrings returned to Hollow Brook empty-handed and riled up something fierce.”

  “The Herring Gang took up residence in the town.” Boone shook his head. “They claimed they weren’t leaving until the sisters returned the loot.”

  “What about Vera and Victoria?” Tess asked. “What happened to them?”

  “Unfortunately, Vera developed an infection and fever from her injuries. She died not long after they’d found sanctuary.” Sadness spilled through Ilene’s words.

  “That left the oldest sister, Victoria, with all the money and no family,” Sam added. His voice was grim. “It wasn’t too long before she determined that the Herring gang’s loot was cursed.”

  “At the same time, Victoria fell in love with an Indigenous man,” Boone said. “They married, or made a union, and together buried the treasure in a cave. That cave is said to be located in Silent Rise Canyon. It’s miles of a dried-up riverbed. Yet that cave has never been found.”

  “Victoria chose love and her new family over money and riches.” Abby stretched her legs across the bench as if satisfied with the ending. As if love had conquered all.

  Wes frowned. Love was not the answer. Not the hero.

  Victoria had risked and lost so much. Wes felt he had done the same. It was why he had to buy back their family ranch. To honor his mother and her sacrifices.

  Boone added another log to the firepit. “There’s more to the story that deals with your very own Palmer ancestors.”

  Tess and Abby shared a look, then Abby shifted toward Boone. Her eyes wide and curious.

  “Your ancestor, Virgil Palmer, found a silver coin in the riverbank at the fork where the three springs flow into Eagle Run River.” Sam smiled. “Virgil claimed it was from the original treasure. A sign from the McKenzie sisters themselves.”

  Boone’s eyebrows rose. “Virgil opened the Silver Penny General Store here that same month.”

  Ilene pressed her clasped hands against her chest. “And that was the beginning of our town, Three Springs.”

  “It’s said that every other business started in Three Springs that year was by folks who’d originally been robbed by the Herring Gang,” Sam said.

  “The idea was that Victoria McKenzie could find her town easily when she was ready to come home,” Boone explained.

  “Wait.” Tess held up her hand. “What happened to the Herring Gang back in Hollow Brook? Surely, the outlaws followed the people to Three Springs.”

  “No one knows for sure, except that the town rallied together and took care of them.” Ilene grinned. “There are varying stories about whether they were chased from town with cattle prods or suffered entirely different fates at the hands of the miffed locals.”

  “Every family has a different telling of how their ancestors routed a member of the Herring Gang.” Boone laughed.

  “So it was more like love for family and neighbors conquered all.” Abby eyed Wes and lifted an eyebrow as if challenging him to argue.

  “Victoria McKenzie never returned the loot. How is that love for others?” Wes challenged. He stepped closer and braced his hand on the back of the bench. “The McKenzie sisters are as much thieves as the outlaws. They weren’t heroes, yet they are always spoken about with reverence and admiration.”

  “They did try, and they did care about one another. In that sense, they were heroes.” Abby’s hand landed on Wes’s arm.

  Her gentle, warm touch stilled his words as effectively as a shout.

  She quickly added, “Hear me out. My ancestor, Virgil, believed the silver coin he found was a sign. He believed so strongly it led to a community whose spirit has lasted and grown ever since. It all started with something so small. And that spirit of supporting each other, neighbors helping neighbors, continues even today.”

  There was nothing inconsequential about Abby’s grip on his arm. Or his reaction to her.

  “The McKenzies’ legacy wasn’t a treasure,” Abby rushed on. Her smile stretched from cheek to cheek. “Their legacy was the sense of community they shared.”

  Wes pulled himself back before he fell into her persuasive argument and under the spell of her appealing eyes. Would she fight for him like that? Would she see the positive in him? He had to go before Abby had him believing his brother had a just cause and deserved his forgiveness.

  “The McKenzies united folks, and those folks built a close-knit, caring community. One that still exists today.” Sam nodded and rocked his chair. “That’s powerful stuff.”

  “They’re still thieves in my book.” Wes tugged his arm free of Abby’s grip and gathered the dirty dishes and his common sense. “I’m going to wash these and then check on the horses.”

  “Give me those.” Ilene rose and intercepted him. “I can take care of them while you go see to the horses.”

  “You should take Abby and Tess to meet our new arrivals.” Boone pushed himself out of his chair and stood next to Ilene. “We still need to give the pair proper names.”

  “You go ahead, Abby.” Tess rose and held open the door to the kitchen for Ilene. “I’ll help Ilene and Boone get everything cleaned up.”

  “I’ll meet you there, Wes.” Abby slipped on her sandals, moved toward Sam’s chair and took her time gathering stray spoons and the whipping cream bowl. “I’ll help bring in the last of the dishes.”

  Wes watched Abby. Knew immediately the dishes weren’t her focus. She lingered while Sam stood. Her gaze shifting from Sam to Boone and back as she made sure both men were steady on their feet and not requiring assistance. Wes appreciated her consideration and subtlety. Neither of the proud men would ever ask for help. Or admit they weren’t as agile as they used to be.

  Wes waited until the trio had disappeared inside, discussing the whereabouts of that cursed Herring Gang loot.

  He shook his head and headed to the stables. The only thing he wanted to find was his inheritance. The only thing he wanted to start was his future.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ABBY WENT WITH SAM and Boone in
to the kitchen. Plenty of energy flowed through her, loosening her steps and encouraging her good mood. The legend had mesmerized her. Even more so since she had a personal connection to the people involved. Perhaps for the first time ever, Abby felt a real link to her parents. Her mother always described the electric charge she experienced every time she arrived on a historic dig site. Abby felt the same now.

  “That silver coin Virgil originally found used to be in the general store.” Boone sat at the rectangular farmhouse table and took a deck of cards from a small drawer in the table. “It was framed and hung on the wall behind the checkout counter ever since I can remember.”

  “I always snuck behind the counter to get a better view when we were kids.” Sam dropped onto the chair across from Boone. “Mrs. Palmer would tell me ‘Look, but don’t touch, Samuel.’ I was convinced it was magic. It practically glowed in that frame.”

  “Harlan kept it polished and looking newer than the day it was found.” Boone shuffled the cards.

  “You mean the silver coin really exists?” Abby dropped the last of the dessert dishes beside the kitchen sink and leaned against the counter. That charge sparked more excitement inside her.

  Of course she’d wanted to believe. But centuries-old tales were often more folklore and legend than fact. And she’d promised herself she’d stop getting swept up in the fantasy. She’d fallen for an illusion with her ex, fallen in love with the idea of what they could be. It hadn’t been genuine. When she’d collided with reality, the fallout had been splintering. Daydreams weren’t for the practical-minded woman she was determined to become.

  But the coin existed. And most likely the Herring loot too. A thrill rushed along her nerves, igniting her imagination and the possibilities. Discovering the missing antique treasure would be an extraordinary triumph. It would be a coup, really. An undeniable success.

  Her parents would finally see Abby as more than a drifter through life. Her ex would finally understand she would’ve been worth fighting for.

  “Obviously, there’s a silver coin.” Boone paused midshuffle and frowned at Abby as if she’d disappointed him. “Everything we told you is real. It all happened.”

  “Why didn’t Grandpa Harlan ever tell us about it?” Abby tapped her fingers on the counter. So many lives—generations of her family—had been influenced by the discovery of a single coin. She couldn’t help but be inspired. And very tempted. “Or the legend.”

  Boone dealt two cards to Sam. “Maybe Harlan thought if you weren’t interested in this town, you wouldn’t be interested in all that came with it.”

  Tess turned on the water, picked up the scrub brush and cleaned one of the skillets. “Maybe Grandpa thought it would all be here when we were ready to connect with our history.”

  Abby wanted to do more than connect. Finding the lost Herring Gang treasure would guarantee their future and the town’s. “What if the missing treasure map is inside the silver-coin frame?”

  Sam’s eyebrows ratcheted up his forehead. “Abby could be onto something.”

  Abby held her breath. With Boone and Sam beside her, no one would accuse her of chasing another one of her castles in the sky.

  This is a collections department, Abby. Getting to know customers personally and writing off their debt, however kind, cannot be a long-term strategy.

  Journalists must remain impartial, Abby. You report the facts only. You aren’t responsible for mending the feud.

  If the client wants flat beige walls, we paint the walls flat beige, Abby. We don’t add texture. Or murals. Or accent colors, even if it transforms the space.

  Abby, we welcome visionaries, but we appreciate those who produce results more. Perhaps you’d be better suited for...

  Abby still hadn’t found her fit. Or that place she was better suited for.

  Treasure hunter was perhaps not the most prudent career choice. But then again, her sensible job picks over the years had left her with a lengthy list of terminations on her work record. She shouldn’t even entertain the outrageous thought. Let alone consider it. The old Abby would’ve already been racing back to the general store to begin the hunt. The new Abby forced herself to remain in Boone’s kitchen and not get carried away.

  “We must find that silver coin.” Boone leaned back in his chair and tapped his cards against the table. “It’s the best place to start.”

  Abby exhaled and flexed her toes in her sandals. Her feet were still grounded. This was simply about locating a piece of Palmer-family history. That hardly stalled her enthusiasm or stopped her from imagining the next steps.

  “I’ve always liked a good mystery.” Tess scrubbed the last of the skillets, added the silverware to the dishwasher and turned off the faucet.

  Abby studied her cousin. Certainly, Tess was not getting swept up in the romance of the legend. She was a librarian, trained to rely on hard evidence and proof. Practical was part of her DNA. Pragmatic was her lifestyle. Tess would rein Abby in any minute now.

  “I’m with Boone. We must find the silver coin.” Tess dried her hands on a towel and glanced at Abby. “Right?”

  Abby agreed. “When was the last time anyone saw the frame?”

  “Now, that’s testing my memory bank.” Sam tapped his finger against his forehead.

  Boone nodded and rubbed his chin. “Mine too.”

  “Let’s play a few rounds and see if our memories return.” Ilene dropped into a chair beside Boone and picked up the deck of cards. “Tess, come be my partner.”

  Boone motioned toward the back door. “Abby, you should go meet the horses, then you and Wes can join us.”

  “We won’t make any real bets until you two get back.” Ilene laughed and dealt the cards. “Here are the rules...”

  Abby stepped outside and strolled the lit gravel pathway to the stables. Wes hadn’t considered the McKenzie sisters heroes for their actions. Would he consider Abby foolish for wanting to find the missing treasure and return it to the people of Three Springs?

  Abby opened the stable door and stepped inside. She found Wes in the last and largest stall in the barn. He held a brush and stood beside a beautiful but too-thin white-and-chestnut horse.

  The horse’s bones were pronounced, yet she stood still and proud as if, despite her struggles, her spirit remained strong and intact.

  Abby wanted to believe the same about herself. Sweet Abigail, if you’re on a road without obstacles, pick a new one. A well-lived life isn’t ever smooth. But joy can be found in every bump. Grandpa Harlan would tell Abby she’d chosen the right road. It hadn’t been smooth. Then he’d nudge her to find that joy. Her gaze tracked to Wes and stuck.

  Wes never glanced her way. “I figured you’d be devising your treasure hunt with Sam and Boone.”

  The gentle sweep of the brush across the mare’s slim chest matched Wes’s calm, quiet tone. Abby set her arms on the stall gate, followed his lead, and spoke softly. “We decided on the first lead.”

  “What’s that?” He swept the brush toward the mare’s belly. Slow and steady as if he had all the time in the world for the horse.

  “We’ve decided we need to find the original silver coin first.” Abby kept herself in the mare’s line of sight, not wanting to startle the new mom, and shifted slowly along the stall. Searching for a glimpse of the mare’s baby. “The silver coin is real.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  Abby stopped and switched her focus to Wes. “What do you doubt?”

  He seemed to be trying to hide a grin. “I doubt that anything I say will change your mind about the legend and the missing loot.”

  He was right. Abby smiled. Her shoulders relaxed. She’d been ready to stand her ground with Wes. To convince him to believe the same as her. But this was a start.

  A movement in the straw caught her attention. A tiny horse, her pink tongue darting in and out, tucked her lan
ky legs awkwardly under her, and flicked her tail back and forth. “The others want us to join them for a card game. But I’ve never been this close to a baby horse.”

  Wes continued to brush the mare. “This is our newest arrival and first-time mother and her filly, who at present do not have names.”

  “We need to fix that.” Abby folded her arms on the gate and rested her chin on them. The filly’s markings were as striking as her mother’s: a patchwork of pure white and deep brown. A perfectly straight strip of white ran from between the filly’s eyes all the way to her nose. The white as pristine and dazzling as untouched snow. “What about Snow Raven? Cinnamon. Snickerdoodle.”

  “It needs to be an easy name to call.” Wes worked his way to the head of the mare and leaned around her to look at the foal. “The longer names make training harder.”

  “Amber. Spirit. Poppy.” The filly shook her head. Abby grinned. “I think she likes Poppy.”

  “Maybe,” Wes hedged.

  “Now, what about this beauty?” Abby studied the mare.

  Wes took Abby’s hand and extended her arm over the stall door toward the mare. “Horses rely on their sense of smell to detect threats and friends.”

  “You’re stunning. And a fighter.” Abby spoke to the horse while the mare sniffed her hand. “Protective of your little one too.” She caught a sideways glimpse of Wes. “She keeps checking on Poppy.”

  “She’s a good mother.” Wes remained beside the mare and the gate, watching over both Abby and the horse.

  “We should call her Queen Vee. In honor of the McKenzie sisters, who were also fighters.” The sniff check concluded, the horse bowed her head, and Abby stroked her hand along the mare’s neck. “Besides, there’s something very regal about her. You don’t agree?”

  “I don’t think it fits her.” Doubt covered Wes’s dry words like dust.

  “Don’t listen to him.” Abby gave her full attention to the mare. “You are a queen.”

  Wes chuckled, stepped out of the stall, and latched the gate closed.

  “Will she sleep now?” Abby asked.