Hunter's Moon (Hunter Family Saga; Half-Moon Ranch 1) (11 page)

Jack didn't believe it for a moment. He said
sarcastically, "And that's why he's here working right
alongside you now."

"No, he's off chasing his dream, just like you
did," Brent threw back at him, the tension between
them returning. Then he added with certainty, "It
may take Matt a while, but he'll be back."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Brent heard the coldness in his tone and knew
there was no point in discussing Matt any further.
"Don't forget about Abby. She's been a lot of help
around the ranch."

"She should be doing women's work, not riding
with the hired hands."

It irritated Brent to realize he agreed with his
father about Abby, but there was no changing her.
He'd already tried. "We'd better be heading back.
Tonight's the night for the social in town, and Abby
won't be happy if we're late."

Brent wheeled his horse around, and Jack
followed. Together they rode for the house.

Brent had been surprised when Abby had
mentioned attending the social. She hadn't said why
she wanted to go, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Iona. Pa had surprised him, too, by saying
he wanted to go. This would be his first trip to town
since he'd returned from prison.

Brent wondered how his pa's old friends were going
to react to seeing him again. He knew Edmund and
Iona would be there, and Edmund would welcome Pa,
but Brent wasn't sure about the other folks. He didn't
know how they would treat him. He could only hope
that things would go smoothly.

"Since we're going into town," Jack began, "I'm
going to need some cash."

"What for?" Brent cast him a sharp glance. He
was very careful with the Half-Moon's money and
didn't believe in wasting a cent.

"It's none of your business what I want the money
for," his father answered, bristling. "I'm not going
into town with empty pockets."

Brent didn't say any more. There was no point.
When they got back to the ranch, he'd give Jack
some cash. Brent tried not to be irritated by his
request, but he had a feeling he knew where he was
going to spend it, and he didn't want to think about
his father buying liquor.

Abby came out on the porch to meet them when
she saw them riding up.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd be going into
Diablo by myself. You two will have to hurry and
change if we're going to get to town on time."
Abby's expression was worried. "I don't want Iona to
arrive at the social ahead of us."

"We're late because we've been working," Brent
explained.

"That's what you always say," she replied,
smiling. "Please hurry. I need to be there to meet
her."

"All right," Brent agreed as he dismounted and
tied up his horse. It wasn't often that he wanted to
attend any social functions in town. He had little
time for having fun. He had ranch work to do. But
Abby was determined to go, and now Pa was, too, so
he would go with them.

"How soon can you be ready?"

"Half hour."

"I'll be waiting for you."

"You planning on going to town looking like one
of the hired hands?" Jack demanded.

Abby had had this same argument so many times
with Brent that her father's criticism didn't trouble
her at all. She gave him a proud look. "It doesn't
matter what I wear. I'm not going to the social to be
social, Papa. I'm only going because Iona asked me
to." She turned her gaze to her brother. "Iona needs
a friend right now, and I seem to be the only one
who cares about her."

Brent and Jack hurried inside to pack what they
needed to spend the night in town. They would stay
at the hotel tonight and return home after church
services the following morning.

Jack turned to Brent and said sarcastically, "I can
see you raised her well."

"No," Brent said. "Abby raised herself. You saw to
that."

Jack flushed at his remark and didn't say anything
more.

"There were days when I thought I'd never see this
town again," Jack remarked to Abby as he drove the
buckboard down Main Street and Brent rode
alongside. "It's changed."

"Yes, it has changed some," she agreed.

"Is the church still on First Street?"

"Yes, and there's a new hotel on the corner of
First and Main," she pointed out, making small talk.
The truth was, she was nervous. There was no telling
what people would do when they saw her father.

As they passed the sheriffs office, Jack fell
silent. Of all that was different in town, the
sheriffs office had not changed-not one bit. He
remembered every detail of the place far too
clearly for his own peace of mind, and he
deliberately looked away.

"Sheriff Miller's moved on," Brent offered. He'd
noticed how uncomfortable his pa had looked and
thought the news might help ease his mood a little.

"Who's the new man?"

"Mitch Dawson. He's a good sheriff."

Jack only nodded in response. He found himself
wondering if the Lone Star Saloon was still in business.
He hoped it was. He needed a drink badly. He planned
to head over there the first chance he got, while Brent and Abby were at the social.

"So what kind of men have you got chasing after
you, Abby?" Jack asked. "Are Brent and I going to
have to fight them off tonight?"

"I never learned to dance," she admitted
truthfully. Her gaze met Brent's. They both knew
that it didn't matter if she knew how to dance or
not, for none of the men in town would think of
asking her.

Jack shook his head. "Your mother was a good
dancer. If she were alive, she would have taught..." He
fell silent when he realized what he'd been saying. He
could feel the anger radiating from Brent and Abby.

"Yes, if she had lived," Abby said softly. "If she
had lived."

"Well..." Jack wanted to change the subject.
"You're pretty enough to need protecting, even if
you can't dance."

Before Brent could say anything, Abby put in, "If
anybody is going to need protection tonight, it's going
to be Brent. I just bet Melinda is already counting the
minutes until she gets to see you again."

"I hope not," Brent stated.

"Who's Melinda?" Jack asked.

"Her name is Melinda Barton, and she's very fond
of Brent." Abby gave her brother a knowing look.

"Has her family been in town long?" Jack
wondered, not recognizing the name.

"About four or five years, I guess," Brent offered.
"Her father runs the stage office."

"And you're going to marry her?" he asked
bluntly.

"No," Brent answered quickly, startled by his
father's question. He hadn't even thought about
marriage. It had been only in the last few months
that he'd even allowed himself to pay attention to
any of the girls in town. He was too caught up in
taking care of things out at the Half-Moon to worry
about women.

"Well, if Melinda has her way..." Abby began,
then stopped when Brent glared at her.

They were silent until they reached the hotel and
checked in.

"I'm going over to the town hall to meet Iona.
Will you put my things in my room for me?" she
asked her father and brother.

"You really are going to the social in those
clothes?" Jack asked, frowning at her.

Abby did not reply as she headed for the door.

Edmund accompanied Iona to the town hall. She'd
started drinking her sherry early that morning. She
disgusted him. Her drinking was the talk of the
town, while his own reputation as a patient, longsuffering husband was growing almost as quickly.
Grateful to escape her, he went to supervise as the
other men got things ready for the festive evening
to come. Only the thought that Abby would be at
the social made the prospect of spending the evening
in his wife's company bearable. He knew he would have to be careful how he acted around Abby.
He didn't want anyone to guess what he was really
thinking about her, but at least setting eyes on her
again would offer him some satisfaction.

Edmund headed over to join the men, casting one
last glance back toward where the women were
gathered. It was then that he saw Abby coming up
the street. He stopped for a moment, just to watch
her approach.

Abby was young-she was ripe. Just the way he
liked them. Best of all, she was the image of her
mother-even dressed as a ranch hand.

At once it both annoyed Edmund to see her
wearing pants and excited him, too, for he could see
her long, shapely legs, and imagine more easily what
she would look like unclothed.

Edmund wanted her, but knew he couldn't have
her. Heat filled him, and with the heat came
frustration. Fighting it down, he turned away. He
couldn't be too obvious about paying attention to
Abby. He didn't want to cause any talk.

"I see little Abby's here," Cecil remarked as
Edmund joined him. "I wonder if Jack is going to
show up, too? I heard talk that he was out of prison
and back living at the ranch."

"Yes, Jack is back," Edmund told him.

"You've seen him?" He was surprised.

"I was out at the Half-Moon a few weeks ago,
right after he returned."

"I can't believe he's out already. Ten years behind bars doesn't seem nearly long enough for what he
did."

"Where's your Christian attitude, Cecil?"
Edmund's smile was benevolent. "What about
forgiveness?"

"Spoken like a true deacon of the church,
Edmund, but the man is a cold-blooded killer. He
isn't fit to be here at this social, mixing with good,
clean-living folks."

"Well, if Jack does attend tonight, at least be civil
to him." Edmund was playing his role perfectly, with
quiet dignity.

"I'll try, but I'm not promising anything."

Glancing Abby's way one last time, Edmund saw
that she was busy talking with Iona. He was glad
they were close. The more Abby wanted to see his
wife, the more chances he had to be around her. At
least, he thought in disgust, Iona was finally good for
something.

The ladies began serving the dinner at five o'clock.
They had coldly but politely refused Iona's offer of
help.

Abby remained with the older woman, knowing
she would be on the receiving end of even more
cruel barbs before the night was over. Abby was
accustomed to being treated like an outsider, but
Iona, as the banker's wife, had once been revered by
the ladies in town, and her friendship had been
cultivated. Abby saw the hurt and confusion in her eyes, and it wounded Abby deeply. Again Abby
thought of Iona's daughter, Juliana, and wished that
she had come home. Iona needed her help.

After they'd eaten, Brent went to talk with
friends from town, while Edmund went off to
work with the men, this time setting up for the
coming dance.

Jack was left alone, so he sought out Leroy
Jennings and some other men he'd considered
friends in the past.

"Evening, Leroy-boys," Jack said as he joined
them.

"I thought that was you sitting over there," Leroy
responded, sounding less than enthusiastic.

"I got back to the ranch a while ago."

"We'll see you later, Leroy," the other men said
abruptly, ignoring Jack. They started to walk away.

Jack had known it would be hard fitting in and
being accepted again, but he'd never expected to be
so completely ostracized.

"Where you boys going?" Jack challenged, anger
growing within him.

They looked at him, their expressions
condemning. "Away from here. We don't want to be
around your kind."

"My kind? Why, you-" Jack took a step toward
them, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Pa-back off."

Brent's order jarred Jack and he stopped.

The men all looked toward Brent, then glanced at each other and walked away. Even Leroy went
with them this time, glad to avoid trouble.

Jack stood there glaring after them.

"What was the problem?" Brent asked. He had
been watching what was going on, and had noticed
how his pa's old friends were treating him.

Jack turned on Brent, not willing to admit how
he'd been shunned. "There was no problem."

"That's not how it looked to me."

"Mind your own business," Jack said with a
snarl.

Brent hadn't heard everything the men had said,
but he could imagine the exchange. He started to say
more, but his father turned his back on him and
walked away. Brent didn't even consider going after
him. He was just glad that there hadn't been any real
trouble. Satisfied that things were quiet for now, he
went back to his friends.

Jack sat down at one of the empty tables away
from the dance floor. He realized how very
alone he was as he watched the activities going
on around him. Laughter and gaiety abounded
as the dancing began, but none of it included
him.

Jack's mood grew black.

He knew what he needed, and he knew where he
wanted to go-where he had to go. He waited a few
minutes longer, then got up and left the social. It did not surprise him that no one noticed him
leave, and he didn't care.

He was heading for the Lone Star Saloon.

He'd needed a drink for a long time now, and he
was going to get one.