The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air and even though it was not a new smell to me, I couldn't help but breathe in deeply as I moved towards the oven and removed the three identical bread tins which were releasing an even stronger scent of yeasty bread. Without thinking I began to hum as I carefully removed the bread loaves, turning them out of the tins and tapping the bottoms to feel the solid crust with a satisfied smile. Looking back on my childhood I could hardly believe that I was able to make a living doing the thing I loved most: Baking.

    During my childhood, my Mama was a member of a traveling roadside show. We traveled all through the different territories and states, stopping outside of any town whether it was recently being founded or had been around for decades. Mama was one of the stars of the show. She was an expert gunslinger who could flip a coin in the air and hit it dead center. But her TRUE talent was that she was an expert horsewoman.

Cowboys and just regular men would come for miles around to challenge my Mama to a race and they would actually pay for the chance to try and beat her. It was always one of the most exciting events of the roadside show. I could remember standing on the sidelines cheering for my Mama and her horse, Wind's Whisper (affectionately known as Wisp), as she charged around the makeshift track with dozens of men pushing their horses to overtake her.

Mama tried to teach me all about horseback riding and at every town we stopped outside of, she always took me to find the local horse breeder to try and find my perfect match, like Wind's Whisper was for her. But even though I enjoyed spending time with horses and I didn't mind riding, I hated racing. My interests leaned more to sewing and cooking but especially baking. It always made me happy when I could get my hands on some ingredients and I could have a nice treat waiting for Mama after a long day of practice.

To keep myself busy during shows and earn some extra coins, I decided to make a few dutch oven cobblers to portion out and sell to the viewers of the roadshow. To my surprise, my cobblers sold amazingly well! Mama seemed pleased that I had taken the initiative to help out in my own way with the roadshow and for a year or so I continued focusing on my treats to sell to the roadshow visitors.

One day when we traveled through the ridiculously hot Arizona deserts, we stopped outside of a quaint little settlement called Martins Town. The people seemed ecstatic to see a roadshow since they were a little off the normal travel route, and I had no trouble selling my cobblers.

Later in the evening a woman with plump cheeks and steel in her eyes came up and asked for a serving of cobbler. I was happy to comply and was surprised when she took the cobbler and didn't immediately move away to look at one of the many attractions of the roadshow. Instead, she eyed my cobbler, moving it around to seemingly inspect the ratio of cobbler crust to the gooey fruit concoction underneath. I felt myself swallow nervously when she finally scooped up a spoonful, brought it to her lips, and tasted it. A strange feeling of anticipation washed through me as she slowly chewed her bite of cobbler. I fidgeted nervously with the cuff of my sleeve as she swallowed her bite and looked down at the tin dish of cobbler and then looked straight into my eyes. I stiffened under her intense gaze but when her stern lips quirked up in a smile an almost euphoric feeling of accomplishment rushed through me.

"This is a very good cobbler, young lady. Where did you get the recipe?" the lady asked, her voice strong and firm but I could hear some gentleness in her tone as well.

"It's my own recipe, Ma'am. Whenever we visit a town with a bakery of some kind I like to buy one of their treats and then try to recreate it on the road," I said, flicking my eyes down shyly at the confession before looking back up at the older woman. She blinked in obvious surprise and looked down at the cobbler in her hands.

"How astonishing. Do you have family in this roadshow, young lady?" the gray-haired woman asked, glancing around as if trying to determine if there was an adult supervising me. I smiled brightly and nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. My mama is Galloping Grace," I said with pride. Mama was super famous in the west, but I wasn't sure if her reputation would have made it to a small town like this. The woman in front of me looked surprised by my declaration and then she frowned.

"Are you planning to follow in your mama's footsteps, then?" she asked gruffly. I blinked, surprised by how her tone had changed and then shook my head guiltily.

"No, ma'am. Mama taught me how to ride a horse, but I prefer baking," I responded, wondering how the woman would react to that. Surprisingly, the woman's entire face relaxed and she looked down at me tenderly.

"I see. Do you think you could introduce me to your Mama after her show is over?" I cocked my head to the side in confusion at the odd request but I shrugged and curtsied slightly..

"It would be a pleasure, Ma'am. She should be finished with her race sometime after two o'clock. I always go and watch her race, so I'll wait for you over by the finish line if that would be agreeable?"

"Very," the woman said with another gentle smile. "My name is Winona Langley, but folks call me Miss Winona."

"My name is Serena. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Winona," I had responded without ever realizing how much my life was about to change.

After Mama had once again beaten all the local challengers I had brought Miss Winona to meet her and had nearly fainted in shock when Miss Winona told my Mama she wanted to hire me as an apprentice. It turned out that she was Martins Town's resident baker and she had been so impressed with my humble cobbler that she wanted to help develop my talents. Mama had been hesitant to say the least. I was barely thirteen years old, after all, and she had still been holding out hope that I would come to love horseback racing as much as she did in the future. But when she asked me what I wanted to do, I only had to think for a few seconds before declaring my desire to become Miss Winona's apprentice.

It had been heartwrenching to say goodbye to Mama and all of the roadside show performers that had been my family since before I could remember, but Miss Winona didn't give me time to ever feel too homesick. Under her strict teaching, I began to expand my repertoire from baked goods that you could make in a dutch oven or over a campfire to amazing delicacies like flaky french croissants and loaves of the softest, fluffiest bread I had ever tasted.

As I continued to learn and help Miss Winona around her bakery, she would tell me stories of the time she had spent traveling through the eastern states as a young girl and sampling all of the different desserts in their patisserie shops. She had been just like me and with only the taste and basic direction on how to create the amazing treats she had taught herself how to bake almost all of her favorite things. When she had gotten married she had put her dreams of owning her own patisserie from her mind as she was a full-time housewife and helped her husband as his wanderlust brought them farther and farther away from her native New York and deeper into the untamed wild west.

He had been the Sheriff of Martins Town for several years before bandits came and tried to rob the local bank. Miss Winona's husband had bravely fought them back with his men, but he had gotten shot in the leg during the fight and had eventually died of blood poisoning, leaving MIss Winona a widow in the middle of nowhere. Instead of going back to New York and what was left of her family though, she had decided to stay in Martins Town and open up a western-style bakery.

I adored my time as Miss Winona's apprentice. She was a strict teacher and was quick to dock my 'pay' if I wasted ingredients, but she was also gentle and encouraged me to experiment and use my imagination to create new flavor combinations. Mama came and visited us at least once a year whenever the roadshow came close to Martins Town, and even though I missed Mama I was completely content with my life filled with bread, cookies, and pies during every waking moment.

When I was nearly seventeen though, tragedy struck. Miss Winona developed a terrible fever and couldn't get out of bed because of the pain. I nursed her for several weeks, doing everything that the local doctor instructed, but in the end, Miss Winona slipped into a deep sleep and never woke up. It had been devastating for me to lose my mentor and someone I had come to love like a grandmother, but the day after her funeral I rolled up my sleeves and swiped away my tears. I knew that if Miss Winona were watching me she would tell me that crying wouldn't help anything and that I should devote myself to the thing that she and I both loved. Creating delicious desserts to make other people smile.

I was too young to take over the bakery, and honestly, I had no business sense, so when Mr. Collins, who owned the local restaurant a few doors down, suggested I come and become the restaurant's exclusive baker. I immediately took him up on his offer.

Being a baker for a restaurant was different than working in a store dedicated to baked goods, but I quickly adjusted and began focusing on making and improving the heavily requested pies and bread of the restaurant patrons. I developed a love of creating new and fresh pie flavors which usually turned out amazingly well, but sometimes turned out so nauseating I had no choice but to throw it to the pigs.

The townspeople were all incredibly kind to me. Almost everyone treated me like I was their own daughter and I felt completely content to stay in Martins Town even after losing Miss Winona. As I continued working at Mr. Collins' restaurant I quickly began to look forward to a certain time of day. Most of the people who visited the restaurant were either older couples who didn't have the energy to cook all their meals or single young men who generally worked as cowboys for the large cattle ranches outside of the town.

I got along with most of the patrons and would double as a waitress at busy times if I was finished my baking duties, but there was one particular group of cowboys that I would always insist on serving if they came by. They were a friendly group of young men, although most of them were at least three years older than me, but one of the cowboys had completely stolen my heart. His name was Ash Ketchum. To be honest, his black hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin were nothing out of the ordinary, he wasn't the tallest or the strongest of the cowboys, but there was something even better that made Ash special. He was always smiling, no matter if it was in the middle of monsoon season or sweltering hot, his cheerfulness and optimism was unbreakable. When I had first begun to notice him I realized that even though his friends would order large meals after a hard day's work, he more often than not would only order something small and he never bought any desserts.

After a while, I began to hear snippets of his conversation with his friends and I put together that he had been saving up since he was small so that he could travel across the ocean and go on a trip across Europe to try all of their exotic foods. It seemed like an unreachable dream to me, but I couldn't help but admire him for being disciplined enough to save his money even though his friends would order massive amounts of food and eat happily in front of him.

I don't know when it began, but after some time whenever I was experimenting and creating a new kind of dessert or bread I would always bring it out to Ash's table and ask him and his friends to sample it for me. The other cowboys would always shower me with praise and thanks for the free food, but my eyes were only for Ash. The way his eyes widened and his whole face lit up whenever he tried my new treat made my heart flip over and warmth spread through my whole body.

One day I had been in a rotten mood because I had lost track of time earlier in the day and had allowed one of my prize walnut pies to burn. It was Ash that had picked up on my sour mood. He had asked what had happened and I had reluctantly admitted my mistake. To my surprise, he had laughed and held out one of his hands, asking if he could have a piece of the burned pie. I tried to refuse, saying that it would taste awful since it was so overcooked, but he insisted. So I had gone into the back and nervously cut him a piece, trying desperately to scrape off the worst of the burnt crust and blackened walnuts covering the sugary frangipane filling.

I had gloomily brought the pathetic piece of pie to Ash with my head downturned, but he had taken the plate from my hands, brushing his calloused fingers against my own work-hardened ones and caused butterflies to rush through my stomach. In disbelief, I watched as he took a fork and shoveled a generous piece of the burnt pie into his mouth. I winced, imagining the acrid taste of the burnt nuts in his mouth, but to my shock, his face lit up just like always and he flipped me a thumbs up.

"Your pies are always delicious, Serena!" he had declared with a wide smile. It was silly, but I remembered being close to tears as I watched him finish off the failed piece of pie and proceed to ask for another one.

No matter how much I wanted to hold onto the precious moments that I shared with Ash in Mr. Collins' restaurant, time continued to pass. December had snuck up on me and I found myself swamped with orders for my Christmas Cinnamon Pies. Last year in a townwide fair I had submitted my newest creation, a cinnamon pie, into a competition and the judges had raved about how delicious it was. The entire town had seemed to fall in love with it and every holiday I would get orders for dozens of cinnamon pies.

Usually, when I had a huge order like this it made me happy because it was inevitable that at least one of the pies would burn and I knew that Ash would eat it for me with a grateful and happy smile. But strangely, I hadn't seen Ash in almost two weeks. It wasn't uncommon for ranching cowboys to spend a week or so at a time moving the herd to the next grazing spot up in the foothills, so at first, I hadn't thought much of Ash's absence. But when his usual group of friends rode into town and came to the restaurant without Ash in tow I began to worry.

I had tried to seem casual when I asked the boys why Ash wasn't with them, and my heart had constricted slightly when one of them said that Ash had been picking up tons of odd jobs around the town lately.

"Maybe he's getting close to his savings goal and wants to hurry up and earn the last bit of it?" Dennis, the oldest of his cowboy friends, said casually as he absently traced a circle in the thick white gravy that was drenching his baking powder biscuits.

"Hah, could you imagine Ashy actually going over to Europe? What if he goes to Spain and tries to talk to them in English?" Caleb, a newer addition to the group, guffawed as he slapped his knee in amusement. The other guys joined in on the laughter but a lump was forming in my throat that was keeping me from speaking so I left them to their dinner and escaped back into the kitchen area.

The next few weeks I found myself peeking into the restaurant eating area every hour to see if Ash had stopped by and my heart grew heavier and heavier as time went by and he never made an appearance. The restaurant was busy with it being the holidays and I woke up early every day to get a few extra pies in the oven and baking to be in time for pick up. On the 23rd I was short three cinnamon pies so even after Mr. Collins closed the restaurant and left for the day I stayed behind to finish up the remaining pies that would need to be picked up or delivered tomorrow.

A bead of sweat dripped from my hairline down my cheek as I opened the oven to extract a perfectly cooked cinnamon pie and at the same time placed a waiting pie into the oven to replace it. Holding the steaming pie in my heavy-duty oven mitts, I carefully placed it to cool on the counter. As I stared down at the perfect golden brown pie crust and the darker brown filling that I would decorate with whipped cream in the shape of a Christmas tree once it was cooled, sadness threatened to overtake my thoughts.

Turning away from the pie, I found my hands reaching for some flour and the ingredients I would need to make a sturdy loaf of rye bread. After mixing the dough together I floured the counter generously and began to beat the dough mercilessly, kneading all of my frustration and fear into the tough dough.

So what if Ash hasn't come by in a few weeks? It's not like he would just up and leave without saying goodbye. I mean, we're friends, right? He would never leave without saying anything... I punched, slapped and massaged the dark dough as I tried to convince myself that I was being silly for doubting Ash. But the more I thought about him, the more I realized that Ash and I had never really talked about his future plans.

As I continued kneading the dough I found myself wondering why I had never brought up the topic. I had overheard him talking about going across the ocean on an adventure for years with his friends, but.... I guess I thought if I never mentioned it then it would never happen and he would always stay near me to eat my experiments and burned pies with his unfailing smile.

Just as my forearms were beginning to shake from my vigorous kneading a loud scraping sound caught my attention. I frowned, lifting my hands away from the most likely overworked lump of dough, and cautiously wiped them on my apron. That sounded like the front door of the restaurant... but Mr. Collins should have locked up a while ago.

Pushing down feelings of panic I slowly moved from my spot behind the counter and began making my way towards the door that separated the kitchen and the eating area. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves I reached out and hesitantly touched the door.

"Hey, Serena, are you in here?" Blinking quickly at the familiar voice, I swiftly pushed the door open and felt my mouth drop open in shock as Ash met my eyes and grinned widely. "I thought I smelled your cinnamon pie cooking!" he said with a twinkle in his brown eyes.

Relief and an overwhelming happiness rushed through me and I rushed through the door, running over and stopping just in front of where he was leaning against the bar counter.

"Ash! Where have you been? I missed you," I said in a rush before I could take a second to actually think of what I meant to say. My cheeks heated up in embarrassment from my overly honest comment but Ash laughed happily and shrugged apologetically.

"I missed you too, Serena. But I have great news!" Ash said with excitement as he leaned a little closer to me. His casual comment of saying he had missed me too played back several times in my head but I tried to push that aside and focus on the conversation.

"Oh? What happened?" I asked, trying to catch my breath as my feelings of admiration for this happy-go-lucky guy and relief that he hadn't left threatened to steal my voice.

"I've been helping old man Carter fix his barn roof the last few weeks and he traded me the mare I've been eyeing for forever, which was the last thing I needed to go on my adventure!" Ash said with obvious pride and satisfaction in his expression and voice. All of my relief disappeared instantly and I felt like a weight attached itself to my ankles, snapping me back to cruel reality.

"O-oh. Is that right?" I responded, trying to hide my disappointment. Ash was still smiling like crazy and I swallowed quickly and tried to force a smile of my own. "So you aren't going to take Dusty on your adventure?" I asked, referring to the dark brown stallion that he had ridden for as long as I had known him. The two had seemed inseparable and I was actually shocked to hear him talk about another horse. Ash's expression turned puzzled and he tilted his head to the side quizzically.

"What? Of course, I'm going to take Dusty with me. I got the mare for you, Serena," Ash said with a wide smile. I felt my mouth drop open even as my brain froze. I was so shocked that I couldn't even form a coherent thought and just stood mutely as Ash continued talking excitedly. "Her name is Silvia and she's a dapple gray with a charcoal mane and tail and a white star mark on her forehead. She's super gentle, but she's sturdy and she'll be able to keep up with me and Dusty no problem!"

I blinked, trying to get my mind to wrap around what exactly was happening right now. Feelings of confusion, disbelief, and a desperate smidgeon of hope raced through me as I tried to process what Ash was saying.

"But... I mean...." I babbled as my mind jerked around as much as a cowboy trying to stay on a bucking bronco. Ash laughed, seeming unconcerned with my lack of reaction.

"To be honest, I saved up enough for my trip last year," Ash admitted with an uncharacteristically sheepish expression on his face. "I was getting everything ready to leave and I kept feeling like I was missing something. That night I went with Dennis and the gang to Collins' restaurant and when you came in and let me try your new rosemary bread I realized that I had been forgetting you, Serena."

If my mind had been overwhelmed before it was a raging inferno now with Ash's blunt explanation that held absolutely no teasing or any kind of embarrassment. He sounded just so... matter of fact that I felt like I would die from embarrassment and joy for him vicariously!

"So I kept working and saving up so I could buy the things that you would need on the trip too! Now that we've got Silvia, do you want to leave tonight?" Ash asked, his eyes sparkling with excited expectancy. My knees were growing weak and I rested one arm on the bar counter and brought the other up to press against my forehead.

"Wait.... I... the pies. I have to deliver the pies..." I mumbled as my mind spun from the speed of this crazy development. Even as the words left my mouth I wanted to scream and call myself an idiot. Who cares about the stupid pies! Ash just asked me to go on an adventure to Europe with him!

"Oh yah, lots of people buy your pies for Christmas, huh?" Ash said, seeming to be completely oblivious to my inner struggles. He met my eyes and gave me his most adorable smile I had ever seen. "Well then, I'll come over tomorrow and help you deliver them and we can leave after we're done? How about that?"

"Th... that could work..." I squeaked out, my voice unusually high. Ash grinned and nodded emphatically before reaching out and patting my shoulder.

"Great! Then I'll go get everything packed. I'll help you pick out what you'll need for when we leave tomorrow, okay?" Ash said before turning and beginning to walk towards the door. My mind was still reeling from shock but as I watched him stride towards the door of Collins restaurant a desperate desire to make sure we were on the same page surged through me and I stumbled forward a few steps.

"Wait, Ash!" I cried out. Ash immediately paused and turned partially around, giving me a look filled with open curiosity. My mouth went dry at his expression but I quickly swallowed and plunged forward.

"Ash, I... I like you! As more than just a friend. Even if I have those kinds of feelings for you... is it still okay if I come with you?" I asked, feeling my entire face heat up and I was sure I was as red as a ripe strawberry. It took all of my courage to meet Ash's eyes and I desperately tried to keep myself calm as Ash blinked without any real emotion on his face. After a few seconds though I felt my shoulders sag in relief when he smiled and turned completely around to face me.

"I don't see why that would be a problem. I like you too, after all," Ash said without a shred of embarrassment.

My heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest and I placed a hand over my mouth to keep myself from crying out in jubilation. Suddenly he took a step closer to me and I flinched as he slowly began to walk over to stand within inches of me. I looked up into his eyes that were the same color as my cinnamon pies and felt my stomach flip over as his normal cheerfulness finally shifted into a somewhat sheepish expression and I saw a light tinge of pink enter his cheek.

"So... when two people like each other they're supposed to do things like hold hands and kiss, right?" Ash asked, lightly scratching a finger against his cheek as he looked down at me. I could feel my eyes widening like crazy and I licked my lips nervously behind my hand before lowering it and attempting to smile.

"Umm. I think that's right," I responded haltingly, trying to ignore the heat moving up my neck and into my cheeks.

Ash grinned, reaching down and taking my left hand in his. His skin was rough and heavily calloused from roping cattle and horses for long hours. But he didn't stop there. I felt my breath hitch as he bent down closer to me. I felt a gentle breath wash over my lips before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against mine.

I quickly closed my eyes as well and held still as I tried to think about what I should do. Ash's lips were dry and felt like they might have cracked recently, probably due to sun exposure. But even though his lips were rough, the kiss was gentle. Without thought, I squeezed his hand wrapped around my fingers and pushed a little more against his lips in response. After a moment Ash pulled away and I blinked my eyes open, looking into his somewhat childish but handsome face and feeling nothing but complete amazement.

"I think I'm going to have to practice that a little more," Ash said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck at the same time as his thumb swiped across the back of my hand. "But we'll have plenty of time on our adventure together."

I nodded mutely in agreement and felt a keen sense of disappointment when Ash let go of my hand and backed up a step.

"Well, I better get your saddlebags packed up. I'll meet you here tomorrow at 8 to help deliver the pies and I'll introduce you to Silvia, okay?" Ash asked backing up another step but never taking his eyes from mine. I again nodded mutely in agreement as I watched him move towards the door.

"Merry Christmas, Serena!" Ash called out with a wide smile, waving exuberantly with one hand as he reached behind him and opened the restaurant door.

"Merry Christmas..." I responded quietly, raising one hand limply in a semblance of a wave. Ash grinned broadly before ducking through the door and closing it behind him with a snap.

All of the strength in my legs suddenly dissolved and I sank to my knees, staring at the closed door in complete and utter shock.

"What just happened?" I muttered, replaying every single word that Ash had said and trying to piece together how I had gone from thinking that Ash had left without even saying goodbye, to finding out that our feelings were mutual.

As I sat on the floor, an acrid smell of overly toasty cinnamon drifted into my nostrils and I gasped, jumping to my feet and rushing back into the kitchen. Shoving my hands into my oven mitts I swiftly opened the oven and grabbed the pie, whose edges were beginning to turn a much darker color than I preferred, and swiftly laid it on the counter.

I blinked down at the burned pie and unexpectedly, I felt my lips twitch up at the corners. After a second I started to giggle, then it turned into a chuckle, and finally, I was laughing like a crazy woman, dancing around the kitchen with my hands in the air and my feet seemed to barely touch the floor.

Once I had finally calmed down, I placed the last pie in the oven and walking into the pantry to get several handfuls of dried cherries, roasted pumpkin seeds, and fennel seeds. I moved back to the dough I had beaten to a pulp earlier and added the nourishing ingredients into the dough, kneading it for just a few more minutes to disperse the additional ingredients. The perfect bread to bring on a long trip. With a smile, I put the dough off to the side to allow it to rise while I prepared ingredients for a replacement pie for the one I had burned.

"I'm sure Ash won't mind eating the burnt pie tomorrow," I said to myself, looking over at the cooling pie on the counter and I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

The End