COLLEEN: A Sweet Western Historical Romance by Ashley Merrick

early signs of dementia. There's nothing they can do for it." She looked like she was fighting back tears and Colleen's heart went out to her.
    "Maybe he's wrong," she said.
    "I hope he is, but I know he's not." She sighed. "He said we'll just have to manage it, to be patient with him."
    "Well, that's what we'll all do then," Julia assured her.
     
    When Julia put their order in, she let Mrs. Johnson know what she and Colleen wanted for lunch as well and when all the food came up, Colleen helped her to carry it to the table and she and Colleen sat down and joined them. Naomi's mood improved as they ate and she began to process all that the doctor had said. By the time they’d finished eating, she was almost back to her usual self. She glanced around the table. "We'll get through this. We'll manage. I'm more determined than ever now that we throw him the best party he's ever seen. It will be so special that he won't be able to forget it."
     

     
    Liam had given them the good news earlier that Billy was willing to cover for him and that they would be able to attend the art society benefit, so as soon as they finished their shift, they headed back to the mercantile to pick up their fabric. As they were about to walk in, the door opened and a familiar face walked out.
    "Well, fancy seeing you lovely ladies here," Ricky drawled. He was holding a folded newspaper and a small paper bag.
    "Did you buy something exciting?" Colleen asked, curious to know what he was up to.
    "It's black licorice. I just got off the train and haven't eaten since breakfast, needed something to tide me over. Would you like a piece?" he offered and held the bag out.
    "Oh, no, thank you," she said and Julia shook her head as well.
    "I'll meet you inside," Julia said and stepped through the door to give them a moment of privacy.
    "So, for Friday night, a friend is having a small dinner party and we've been invited. How does that sound to you?"
    "That sounds lovely. I look forward to meeting some of your friends."
    "You'll like them. Mary is a great cook, and her husband, Steven, is on the town council. He's one of the people who have encouraged me to run for mayor. I'll see you on Friday."
    "I won't see you at the pub before then?" Ricky usually stopped in at least once or twice during the week.
    "Not this week, regretfully. I'm back on the train tomorrow and out of town for the next few days working on a few deals."
    "Okay. I look forward to Friday night, then." Colleen smiled and Ricky tipped his hat. She watched as he walked away, wondering how he spent his days. She realized that for all his charm, she still didn't really feel like she knew Ricky all that well.

    Ricky made his way a block further down Main Street until he reached the saloon. He liked Donovan's pub, but he also liked to come here a few times a week, too. Ricky lived alone and wasn't much of a cook and it was just easier to stop into the saloon for a beer and something to eat. There was already a good crowd at the bar when he settled in to a chair at the far end and ordered a beer from Nick, the balding, pot-bellied bartender.
    "What's on the menu?" he asked as Nick set down his beer.
    "It's turkey sandwiches today." Every day there was one option, usually something simple like a sandwich and side of roasted potatoes.
    "I'll have that, then." He sipped his beer and glanced around the bar. It was a typical saloon—later in the evening, the gambling would start. Poker, mostly. Ricky rarely indulged, though he was a good player. He preferred to stay on the sidelines and take it all in. Because it was early, there were only a few saloon girls floating around and taking turns chatting and flirting with the men, and encouraging them to order another drink. Ricky had been flattered by the attention the first time he'd been to a saloon, until an older and wiser friend explained that the saloon girls earned both tips and commissions on each drink they were able to sell. A few men were playing