An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Seven

Present Day – Winter 1867

Carefully, Weston laid another log on the fire and stared into the flames as he thought back to that summer's night in '48 when he'd given a stranger a helping hand. He sat on the floor in front of the fireplace with an elbow resting on one raised knee. He gripped his dangling wrist with his other hand and inhaled a deep breath. The oak wood burning within the flames crackled and flakes of ash drifted from it, yet quickly dispersed into the air like it had never been there to begin with.

He felt a lot like that spark that faded away...bright and noticed, yet within mere seconds gone forever. He never stayed in one place long enough to be remembered for anything good. He sighed as he wondered if perhaps Mary Beth did get her restaurant or if she still planned to tell of that evening when he was seventeen. It was the most spontaneous thing he'd ever done that he could remember...and she was the first girl he'd ever kissed. She didn't know that, of course, and no one else did for that matter. He'd decided if she wanted a story to tell, he might as well make it worthwhile...he partly regretted that kiss, however. His mother had often told him that a first kiss was one you'd never forget...she wasn't wrong. He definitely wouldn't forget it, but not because it stole his breath away or gave him butterflies, because it hadn't...but he would always remember it from the look in her eye and the smile she'd had.

He wished he'd known a kiss like the one his mother told him existed. The kind that made your knees go weak, your stomach flutter, and caused heat to creep up the back of your neck. He'd shared many kisses over the years, but he'd never experienced one like that. Suddenly the doctor's face popped into his mind, and he smirked.

That was a humorous notion at that.

She'd never let him kiss her even if he wanted to. She was far too opinionated and forward minded to ever let a man think of her as any other lady; she'd chosen to live in a man's field after all, so it seemed clear to him that she would probably just come straight out and tell a fellow if she wanted him to kiss her. He nodded to himself in agreement with his conclusion. Stoking the fire again sparks burst up as the log settled down into the burning timber beneath.

The floorboards creaked and he lifted his head to see Jack stepping out from one of the bedrooms. Weston nodded toward him in a gesture acknowledging his presence in the room. Jack smiled and said softly, "Couldn't sleep either?"

He shook his head and Jack sat in the rocker across from him, "I hope you don't mind some company."

Weston smiled, "Not if you don't."

Jack chuckled softly under his breath, "Lost in time?"

With a nod, Weston glanced into the flames again, "I seem to be doing that a lot lately."

Jack sighed, "I know what you mean. I wish I could tell you that it gets better, but it doesn't. The older I get the more I think about times gone by."

"What times are you thinking of?"

Jack smiled thoughtfully and began rocking softly. The rocker causing the floor to creak as the weight shifted back and forth. "I was thinking about my wife, Abby."

"Abby?"

"Abigail. Abby, I called her. She was the finest lady I've ever known. Much too good for me."

Weston's brow creased, "My mother's name was Abigail, too."

Jack smiled, "It seems we were both blessed with an angel."

Weston nodded in agreement as Jack asked, "Where is your mother now?"

Glancing at his boots as a muscle in his jaw tightened, "Tennessee. She's buried there."