Shadow of Legends by Stephen A. Bly Page A

hardly know this woman and she’s judging my life? I certainly know how to have fun! She felt her shoulders slump. At least, I think I remember.
    â€œI talk too much. It’s the actress in me. I’m always trying to get in another line. I’m a little nervous and I ramble on when I’m nervous.”
    â€œYou’re nervous about your mother and daughter coming to visit you.”
    â€œYes, and I’ve got one more favor to ask you. I write to my mother twice a week and tell her about things in Deadwood. Well, sometimes there isn’t much I want to report on in my world, so I take some item out of the newspaper and tell her those things as if I had overheard it at the café. She has this idea that I know most of the folks up here on Forest Hill.”
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with reporting the news.”
    Abby puffed out her cheeks and released her breath slowly. “Would you have lunch with me, my mother, and my daughter at the Grand Central Hotel? I’ll pay of course, and could you, sort of, pretend that we’re friends? I don’t want to have to admit to them how lonely this kind of life really is.”
    â€œOnly if you’ll let me pay for my own meal,” Rebekah insisted. Lonely? This woman and I have a lot more in common than I ever imagined.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause when friends go out to eat they usually pay for their own meal.”
    â€œOh . . . yes! I don’t know which is more audacious . . . my demands . . . or your generosity. You are a very gracious lady.” Abby’s green eyes bounced in such a way that the makeup-covered creases next to them seemed to melt. “When I first came to town, a girl named Sawnah told me that not all the fortunes of Deadwood were hidden in the ground. Now I know what she meant.”
    â€œThis is a very small, isolated town. I believe we should all help each other out if we can.”
    â€œYes, I know what you mean, and if there’s anything I can ever do for you . . . ?”
    â€œI can think of one thing,” Rebekah replied.
    â€œYou can? What is it? I’ll do it.”
    â€œIt’s just as presumptuous as your requests.”
    â€œReally? How delightful. That way I won’t feel so guilty at my demands.”
    â€œYou haven’t heard the request.”
    â€œIt’s not illegal or unbiblical, is it?” Abby grinned.
    Rebekah joined in the laughter. “We’re beginning to sound like good friends. Abby, do you have a shawl or a wrap that goes with that beautiful dress?”
    â€œOh yes, and a hat, too.”
    â€œMay I . . . may I borrow them for the Raspberry Festival at the church?”
    The actress reached over and clutched both of Rebekah’s hands. “Yes, of course! Would you like the golden-heeled slippers, too?”
    â€œI think the dress, shawl, and hat will be wonderful.”
    â€œOh, this is so grand . . . I’ll just say, ‘Mother, my friend, Mrs. Fortune, needs to borrow my dress.’ That sounds like we’re good friends, doesn’t it?”
    â€œNot if you call me Mrs. Fortune. You’ll have to call me Rebekah. Shall I call you Abby?”
    The actress wrinkled her nose. “Could you call me Abigail? Until I came to Deadwood, I was always called Abigail. My mother is not too fond of Abby. She says it reminds her of a convent.”
    â€œYou’ll be Abigail. I’ll be Rebekah. What’s your daughter’s name?”
    â€œAmber. She’s a very bright girl. She can read and she’s only five.”
    â€œAbigail, I think I need to ask you a personal question. If we are to be old friends, I need to know something about Amber’s father.”
    The smile dropped from Abigail’s face. “What do you need to know?”
    â€œIs he alive? Where does he live? Those kinds of things.”
    â€œAs far as I know, he’s alive. I have no contact with him, but I imagine he still