Page 29 of Chasing Liberty

Cave was leading some workers at the barbecue, turning over burgers and hot dogs that were sizzling. People from the town had formed a line around the tent, eagerly anticipating their chance to load up their plates.

Liberty stopped to greet Cave who appeared composed while manning the grill. As he turned the burgers over, he patiently instructed an anxious Hershey to tend to the large pot of baked beans simmering away on another grill. “Don’t let those babies burn, my friend.”

“Got it, Cave.” Hershey stirred the large stock pot.

“You have everything you need?” Liberty asked Cave.

“At this rate, we might run out of meat.” The tall cowboy nodded at the growing line.

“We have five more cases in the refrigerated cooler. If you need them, have one of the men grab them.”

He gave her a thumbs up and she moved on to make her rounds.

More families arrived, their arms laden with their food contribution to the table and the volunteers from the ladies’ auxiliary scurried to find room to place the containers and casserole dishes.

Six-year-old Candace whirled by being chased by her mother, Martha. “Hello, Liberty. Everything just keeps getting better each year.”

“Thanks.” Liberty responded to her friend as she buzzed by in pursuit of her laughing daughter.

Kids played and giggled, their laughter mingling with the chords of the first song from the local band. In the far-off distance were the clucking of the chickens and mooing of cows that wanted to join in the festivities.

The elders took their places at the picnic tables and rocking chairs near the makeshift stage that the hands had built. The men clapped and bounced their knees, some even stood and gave a little dance at the beat of the country song.

Conversation flowed as easily as the bins of apple cider and barrels of mead donated by the Klondike family who owned a nearby winery. Several townsfolk stood close and soon they would also be dancing in a tipsy state.

During the afternoon, activities like horseshoes, baseball, sack races, and kids' tricycle races would take place. As evening arrived and the outside festivities wound down, a bonfire was ignited, and the band transitioned into the barn for dancing.

Once Liberty confirmed that the auction volunteers had arrived, she proceeded to the pie tent.

Tables were set up and most of them were already laden with pies. Liberty looked for Wyler, but to no avail. It was necessary that both bakers were there for the initial segment of the competition.

He was late.

The contest's presentation phase was set to begin in twenty minutes, yet there was no sign of Wyler. She craned her neck, scanning the crowds that were converging near the tent.

Where is he?

Liberty saw Kaitlynn taking her pie out of the box. She treated the lemon meringue like a hair stylist giving Queen Elizabeth a famous updo.

Liberty grimaced at the thought of losing to the woman.

At the sound of laughter, she saw Freedom in conversation with Jinx Weathersby. Freedom had a knack for talking to men in such a captivating way that they would be unsure if they were charmed or heartbroken afterward. At the moment, she was using her charm on the attractive cowboy who was more focused on another conversation while waiting to sign up for the roping contest.

Maybe she’d finally met her match.

Freedom’s expression was full of frustration and Liberty smiled, until Jinx shifted. Her stomach dropped into her dusty cowgirl boots. Wyler was no longer missing. He was standing in line waiting his turn to register. She had no clue he planned to participate in the contest.

“That man makes me livid,” Freedom said as she joined Liberty near the pie station. “Onion ring?”

“Okay.” She submerged a ring in the sauce and took a bite, her nose scrunching up. Onion rings were typically her go-to at any festival or picnic, but suddenly her stomach churnedunhappily. Discarding the leftover ring into the garbage, she cleaned her hands off on a napkin. “Hmm. A Jinx fan now, Freedom?” Liberty asked, chuckling.

“He’d be the last man I’d consider even if my life depended on it.” She pouted her lower lip, a gesture that consistently worked for her as a child and had become instinctive.

“I could tell by your flushed cheeks and subtle touches that you find him very deplorable. I mean, look at him. Yuck. Who wants a man with broad shoulders, lean hips, and eyes that can make a woman melt. Yeah, he’s down-right repulsive.”

“I didn’t say he’s repulsive.”

“I guess you didn’t, did you? You like him.”

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