Chapter 5
Ma thought life would be better out West. I never understood why. Or maybe she just thought the man who promised to protect us on the wagon train would be more trustworthy than the men she met in alleyways in Boston. I already knew we couldn’t trust anyone. She believed in a better world than I ever could. Her hope made a fool out of her.
—Belle Martin’s Diary, November 1865
After rehearsal, when everyone else had gone home, Jessie got her social media announcement space all set up. She had one American flag and one Oregon State flag flying behind her, and was standing atop a podium in the arena, with her phone mounted up. Her paperwork had been done and handed in, and her candidacy was now legal. All that was left to do was announce.
She hopped down from the pedestal, hit the live button on her phone, and then marched back to the podium. “Hi there. I’m Jessie Jane Hancock, one of the founding members of Butch Hancock’s Wild West Show. My family has always been deeply invested in the future of Rustler Mountain. Our show is a celebration not just of the history, but of the over-the-top legends of the Old West. We believe that the spirit of this place is what makes it so unique, and I believe that this spirit has been suppressed for far too long. Mayor Danielle LeFevre thinks that Rustler Mountain should shy away from its Wild West history, she thinks we should blend in with the trendy wine-country towns, cater to people with more money. ‘The right kind of people,’ she said. Well, if they’re the right kind of people that means we’re the wrong kind of people to her.”
She paused for effect after she said that, and she couldn’t hold back the small smile that tugged at her lips. She was grateful Flynn had told her that, because it was just the kind of thing to set folks’ teeth on edge.
“I think that Rustler Mountain is special. It has its own unique history, its own unique identity. We already know that the truth of this place was erased from the historical record until Austin Wilder corrected the facts and shed light on the true nature of our town division into outlaws and lawmen and the story behind this town’s foundation—good, bad, and ugly. I personally think we’re strong enough to face the truth of the past, not sand the edges off to make a fairy tale. This is the Wild West, not the Mild West. We have the guts to contend with that. It’s not a cookie-cutter tourist attraction, it’s not a place where we only welcome theright people. Danielle LeFevre is paying lip service to a fantasy version of the past while working to destroy what we love about this town. I won’t do that. I understand Rustler Mountain and all its unique glory. That’s why I’m declaring my candidacy for mayor.” There was suddenly a single person clapping, and she looked up and saw her brother walking toward her phone. He reached in and ended the live stream.
“Thank you, West,” she said. “For your very deserved applause, and for being tech support.”
“You’vegotto be kidding me,” he said.
“Really? Even you’re going to question me?”
“Even me? Is the other person who questioned you Flynn Wilder? Because that was actually why I was looking for you, and then I got a notification that you were live on the page. You’re not keeping me informed about your schemes.”
“Oh, dear brother, we are far, far past the scheming phase. This surpassed plot and has become a full-on quest.”
“I hate it, thank you.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re a skeptic, and I don’t need your skepticism. You’re raining on my parade, West.”
“Sometimes your parade needs to be rained on, Jessie. Because you’re irrepressible, and sometimes a little bit of repressing would be good for you.”
“Pick a lane to yell at me from.” She bunched her fingers together and waved her arm back and forth. “You’re swerving all over the place.”
“Flynn Wilder,” he said. “You really think it’s a good idea to hook up with a Wilder?”
“Youdid it.”
“What?” He looked scandalized. “I did no such thing.”
“You kissed Perry,” she pointed out, referring to Carson Wilder’s now wife.
“She wasn’t a Wilder then.”
“She’s always been a Wilder, come on. She and Carson have been attached at the hip since they were little children.”
“She wasn’t married to Carson at the time, and she wanted to go out with me. So we did. Very briefly. That isn’t the same. I heard that you were at breakfast with Flynn.”
She looked at her fingernails and considered just telling her brother outright that she wasn’t really sleeping with Flynn. But then, she found she didn’t want to. Because she was tired of his superior attitude. He was no saint, and he did plenty of things that were questionable at best, so interrogating her was completely unfair. “Well, then you should be satisfied that he’s somewhat of a gentleman. He paid and everything.”
“Why do I get the feeling that this is all related?”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted to run for mayor?”
“Swerve,” she said, waving her hand again.
“Valid swerve. What’s going on with you?”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew that you would try to stop me. Because I knew that you would be skeptical about my ability to do this.”
