by A. M. Arthur
“You know,” Wes said, “I wouldn’t have been insulted if you’d decided to name the town after Geoff.”
“I know, but Shelton doesn’t have the same ring to it as Bentley. Mr. Wes Bentley, not the American Beauty actor.”
Wes goosed him. “Come on, let’s walk around before media swarms on you for interviews.”
“Absolutely. Also, I might have a hankering for a piece of Vinegar pie.”
“Ew, what kind of pie?” Sophie asked.
“Trust me.” Wes kissed his sister’s cheek. “You’ll love it.”
* * *
The moment Wes cut the ribbon, Miles had hightailed it back to the saloon as quickly as he could without actually running. Not only to get ready for any early orders that might come in, but also to protect himself from the onslaught of tourists and reporters. He absolutely did not want to do any on-air interviews. Hell, showing up for the ribbon cutting had made him nervous, but he had no reason to believe Dallas would see it on the news, even if it played all the way to San Francisco.
No, he just wanted the safety of his kitchen and the familiarity of cooking.
Shawn was buzzing with excitement as he put another batch of freshly baked pies onto a rack to cool. “How did it go?”
“Fine,” Miles replied. He grabbed his apron. “Mack got everyone revved up by telling the dude ranch myth about robbers and gold hiding out up here.”
“The guys who are robbing us at noon, right?” Shawn winked.
“Yeah, those guys. Did your family come for opening day?”
“Nah, don’t have much family in the area, and they don’t have the money to travel this far.”
Miles detected a hint of sadness. Shawn was about his age, and even though they could talk for hours about food, they rarely brought up anything personal. Miles was normally okay with that, but now he kind of felt douche-y for not being more aware of his coworker.
Not that his own chef at the dinner theater had ever given two shits about Miles’s life.
The saloon’s bar was readily stocked with coffee and the other available drinks, and Annabelle, the young woman hired as the saloon hostess, was out front waiting for customers. A second server was currently mingling, and she came on at eleven to help with the expected lunch crowd. The dining room only seated fifty people at one time, which would help them keep control of tickets on the easily prepared dishes.
Miles double-checked the hot line, but everything was ready. So was the cold line, right down to the garnishes. All they had to do was wait.
They had an electronic ticket reader hidden under the bar for the ladies to send orders to the kitchen, and at only ten minutes after ten, their first two tickets for pie and corn fritters came over. Shawn began slicing while Miles hit the deep fryer.
After those first tickets, the machine kept a steady pace, which increased around eleven thirty as more people came in for lunch. Miles seared buffalo burgers, scrambled up the Hangtown Fry, and scooped sides in a steady dance around Shawn, who handled all bread, pie, and a la carte orders.
Annabelle and Emily steadily came in and out the kitchen doors, alternately with trays of dirty dishes, and leaving with trays of fresh orders. It got kind of hectic as they neared noon, but Miles made sure he wouldn’t have to leave anything to burn when they inevitably got robbed.
Right at noon, the booming voice of one of the costumed robbers announced, “This is a stickup!” The formerly loud dining room went mostly silent as patrons were told to put their hands on the tables and not to move. Annabelle was ordered to empty the safe. They had a prop safe and fake cash to hand over. Another robber pulled Miles and Shawn out of the kitchen to stand in the corner while the three robbers walked around the tables, interacting with customers, pretending to be interested in jewelry or ladies’ purses.
Their guests watched it all with a mix of anticipation, though a few looked scared. Mostly the handful of kids in the room, but the robbers were careful to stay away from them. All part of Colin’s actor training as he assessed a room of startled people. The entire thing was scheduled to take ten minutes, their exit timed with the sheriff deputy’s entrance.
The deputy took in the scene and got “knocked out” by a robber before the threesome fled. Annabelle came out from behind the bar, perfectly upset. “Someone needs to find Sheriff Kirkman! He needs to know what happened! Anyone?”
“Sure, I’ll do it,” a teenage boy volunteered. “Uh, where?”
“Across the street. Please, hurry!”
Miles and Shawn returned to the kitchen to keep preparing orders while Annabelle and Emily handled the scene out front. Eventually, Hugo showed up and hung around, giving the impression he was questioning Miles and Shawn, while they diligently cooked and hand-delivered to a few tables until the girls could “calm down from their scare.”
The whole thing had gone off beautifully, and Miles grinned while he worked, delighted with the day so far.
Around two o’clock, business slowed to a pace where Shawn could take his lunch break and actually sit for a few minutes. When Shawn returned, Miles fired a buffalo burger for himself, then took it out back to sit on the step and eat. Two buildings down was the rebuilt blacksmith shop, and behind it was a small corral and a handful of horses from the rescue. All older, gentle mares that kids could ride in circles and adults could feed carrots and sugar cubes. And also horses that wouldn’t spook when the fake shooting happened.
As authentic as it would have been to have horses tied to posts up and down Main Street, they couldn’t do that for a whole host of safety reasons.
Miles watched a pair of kids ride in a circle while he ate his burger. The meat was juicy, and a bit ran down his chin. He didn’t have a napkin, so he used the back of his hand. Voices and sounds filtered from all around him. The buckboard team passed by once, and Miles waved at the driver. Six tourists were in the back of the buckboard, taking photos and admiring the scenery. Mack was borrowing it from the ranch for a few hours a day, so they could take tourists on a long trail around the ghost town property for a dollar a person.
Since there was no entry fee to the town, nickel-and-diming the extra attractions was how the ranch would make money.
Miles kind of wanted to wander a bit and see how everything was going, but he also knew how crowded the place was going to be, and he’d rather avoid people if he could. Especially reporters. They’d knocked on the kitchen door once, asking for interviews, and while Shawn had spoken to them briefly, “Art” turned them down.
In the end, Miles returned to the kitchen.
* * *
Reyes spent most of his morning and part of the afternoon with Wes and his family, touring the ghost town and enjoying the reactions from not only his companions, but also the tourists all around them. As the day waned, more and more people were carrying shopping bags from the general store and visitor’s center.
They had to wait thirty minutes for a table at lunch, post-robbery, but it was worth it for Miles’s beef stew and cornbread. He kind of wanted to thank the chef, but judging by the full dining room, Miles was busy. Reyes would compliment him later at home.
Home.
Even though they’d established a completely platonic friendship, the cabin still felt more like a real home with Miles in it than it ever had with Mack. Something about Miles’s inner strength spoke to Reyes on a personal level. He brought a warmth to the cabin and to Reyes’s life. And if all they ever were was friends, Reyes would happily accept that.
Reyes had to collect the buckboard at two, so it was ready at the ranch for their departing guests at three. He wandered to the west end of town, where those rides were offered near a wooden post. Nearly there, he spotted Mack, Arthur, and another man speaking out in the open area between the last building and the fenced-in office trailer. Reyes paused—not because that was an unusual sight, but because all three men look
ed highly emotional.
Reyes studied the stranger, who was middle-aged. Younger than Arthur, definitely older than Mack, and he seemed...familiar. With hints of both Arthur and Mack, and it struck Reyes like a freight train.
Mack’s father.
He didn’t know a lot about the man, other than he’d been a cop alongside his three law enforcement brothers and he’d expected Mack to become a cop, too. Which Mack had, and very successfully. Reyes did know part of their years-long estrangement was over Mack’s sexuality, but another huge part of it was that Ted Garrett had kept the fact that Mack had a living paternal grandfather—Arthur—from him until Mack was in his midtwenties. Mack hadn’t spoken to his father in years, and it surprised Reyes that he’d invited the man to opening day.
And yet, it didn’t. For all his growly bear gruffness, Mack had a big heart and generous spirit. He’d offered some sort of olive branch to his father, and the man had apparently accepted it.
Reyes didn’t mean to spy, and he meant to keep walking, but Ted’s entire demeanor changed. He snarled something, then shoved Arthur with both hands. Arthur stumbled, but Mack caught him before he fell. Reyes didn’t think; he charged and inserted himself between Ted and his family.
“This is not your business, whoever you are,” Ted snapped.
“My family, my business,” Reyes retorted.
“Your family?”
Mack came up beside Reyes, seething with anger. “Yeah, Reyes is family. You remember him, right? He’s been there for me when you couldn’t be damned. I don’t know why I expected anything to have changed.”
“What do you think should have changed, McAllister?” Ted asked. “He still up and left four sons behind to be raised by their grandparents, and he never looked back. Holed up here in the middle of nowhere, instead of taking responsibility for his kids.”
“I know I did wrong by you kids,” Arthur said in a soft, broken voice Reyes had never heard before. “I own that. I’m not asking forgiveness, only that you’ll stand by your own boy like I didn’t stand by you. Don’t make my mistake with Mack. He’s too good of a kid, with a goddamn great big heart.”
Reyes blinked hard, surprised to hear this particular bit of dirty laundry. It definitely explained the nonrelationship between Arthur and Ted, and why Mack wanting to know Arthur had strained his relationship with his dad.
“Coming here was a mistake,” Ted said. “McAllister, good luck with your new business and your...relationship.”
Mack visibly deflated. “Thank you. Can I walk you to your car, Dad?”
Ted hesitated. “I suppose.”
The pair walked toward the parking lot, Ted stiff-shouldered and Mack stooped.
“I’m sorry for interfering,” Reyes said.
“It’s fine,” Arthur replied. “Stubbornness is a Garrett family trait. I know I hurt my kids by leaving them behind all those years ago, and right after their mama died. But I was grieving my wife, and I thought joining the Army would butch me up. Make me a man’s man, so I’d stop admiring other men. Wanting them. But it didn’t. I was gay, and it was the sixties, and I didn’t want to put my boys through having a gay father, so I left them with my parents and moved here. I honestly thought it was for the best.”
“If you made the decision out of love for your sons, then it was for the best.” Reyes squeezed Arthur’s forearm, hating seeing the elderly man so upset. Arthur had been a father-figure for Reyes as much as he had been for Mack. He treated all his employees like family, and Reyes would always be ready to defend the man.
“Thank you, son,” Arthur said with watery eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit in the office for a while.”
“Of course.”
Reyes texted Mack where Arthur had gone to, then went to collect the buckboard. It was back from the final ride, so Reyes turned the horses toward the trail they’d worn through the woods between Clean Slate and here. It was easier to bring horses this way than down the gravel road and then back up the dirt path to the ranch. As the crow flies, and all that.
He hated leaving the festivities of the day and missing the second, more public storyline of a Main Street shootout, but he’d be back for the last two hours or so. Judson had agreed to accept this week’s grocery delivery so Reyes could return to the ghost town for the final hours and help close it down with his friends and family.
Today, he’d been surrounded by the family of his heart, but not the family of his blood. Mack had taken a chance on reaching out, and it hadn’t gone well. Colt had done the same two months ago, and his brothers had been here today. Maybe it really was Reyes’s turn to step out of his comfort zone. Contact his blood family again.
They’d tried visiting him a few times while he was in the burn unit at Cedars-Sinai, but he’d been too upset over that tragic fire to have any mental energy to deal with them. He’d since sent them one postcard, stamped in Alameda, telling them he was okay and living up north. And that had been over four years ago.
No, he wouldn’t make a grand gesture of going home like Colt did, and he wasn’t going to send an invitation to the ranch, like Mack had. He’d think on it some more, and then maybe a phone call. He did miss Mama a lot. A loving, boisterous woman who made the best venison chili in all of California. He missed his siblings and cousins and extended family.
He’d also shamed them, too, by joining a gang, stealing, beating people up, and being a thug, all for respect he never really got. And he’d paid to get out, like he paid every single day with memories of the life he’d helped them destroy.
Maybe finding Miles and then not being able to have him was the universe’s penance for the mistakes Reyes had made. Give him a taste of happiness and then snatch it away.
“I’m sorry, Miguel,” he said in the quiet of the forest. “I’m sorry, Luke.”
Two souls who’d died because of his choices. All Reyes could do now was lead a quiet, solitary life, entertain his weekly guests, and be the best friend possible to those he loved. His own happiness came in a distant second.
* * *
The saloon stopped taking new food orders at five thirty, giving the customers enough time to get served and eat before the town began shutting down and urging guests to leave by six. Miles fired the final ticket, with a side order of beans with ham hock, exhausted in the very best way. Emily came for the plate, and then he and Shawn high-fived.
“First day down,” Shawn said. “Damn, that was intense.”
“Intense and kind of fun,” Miles replied with a grin. “Thank God it’s a simple menu, because that lunch rush was nuts.”
“At least we’ll be mentally prepared for that from here on out.”
“So true.”
They’d cleaned as they went throughout the day, so the kitchen was in decent shape. Cold stuff had to be put away, leftovers stored, as well. While Shawn did that, Miles did an inventory of what they’d used, versus what they needed to restock for tomorrow. Daily ordering was a bit of a pain in the ass, but when you had no idea how many actual servings or meals you’d be cooking, you couldn’t order and sit on a week’s supply like the ranch did.
Despite hoping to locally source as much product as possible, supplying food to the saloon had been one of Mack’s only outside compromises, because Sysco could handle their needs better than a local supplier. They didn’t have Wi-Fi up here, so Miles would enter the order online once he got home.
Only two slices of the Mock Apple pie remained in the pan, so he and Shawn helped themselves, then sent Emily and Annabelle home with the remaining cornbread and biscuits. Miles wasn’t at all surprised when Mack and Wes showed up around six thirty. Mack seemed preoccupied, but still congratulated him on a successful first day. Wes gave him and Shawn both big hugs.
“You guys totally killed it,” Wes said. “We heard people complimenting the menu all day long. Especially the buffalo burgers. W
hatever that sauce is, folks love it.”
“Trade secret,” Miles replied. “It was crazy there for a while, but it’s also opening day. It won’t always be like this, right?”
“Hard to say,” Mack replied. “Businesses like this need word of mouth in the tourism trade, targeted social media campaigns, and good online reviews. So far, so good.”
Wes bounced on his toes. “Tango Saloon already has three five-star reviews on Yelp.”
“Seriously?” Miles felt briefly faint. “Dude.”
“I know, right? I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Miles blinked back a film of happy tears, because he’d done this. Yes, Mack and Avery had helped with the research, but Miles had cooked the food. “You know, I’m pretty damned proud of me, too.”
Wes shot him a goofy grin.
“Everyone else has left except for us,” Mack said. “Y’all ready to go?”
“For sure,” Shawn replied. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow.”
Shawn had driven in from town solo, but Miles had come up with Mack, Wes, Colt, Avery, and Reyes, and after Miles locked up the saloon, he wasn’t surprised to find the latter three waiting by a pickup. Miles accepted hugs, back-slaps, and congratulations from Colt and Avery, but Reyes offered only a shy handshake.
The handshake still left Miles feeling slightly drunk, and he soaked in the attention and his own achievement on the slow ride back to the ranch. For a city boy and former rich kid, he was really getting used to riding in the bed of a pickup truck. The open air and sky appealed to him. He loved being able to see the stars at night.
The ranch was quiet when they arrived, the hands who were off for the night already gone. But Patrice, Arthur, and Judson surprised them all in the yard with a sheet cake for Mack that said “Congratulations!” in bright blue icing. Judson led everyone singing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” to Mack.
Day one had truly been a success. Every day after would decide if Bentley Ghost Town continued to thrive and restore life to the sleepy little town of Garrett, California.