FOR SAM, THE COLD DAYS of winter, shortened by the sun’s journey south, seemed to last forever. He wondered how late in the year it was and remembered it would surely soon be Christmas. He sent for Miguel, who had not been around that day.
“Miguel, when will it be Christmas?”
“In a week, Señor”
“Good Lord, man, take the pack horses and go to Phoenix. See your daughter and get some oranges and some pecans. Oh, and plenty of candy for the kids… and have your daughter pick out some bolts of material for dresses, thread and needles for the women.”
“Sí, Señor, anything else?”
“Yes, you buy that girl of yours some new dresses. I want the school marm of this hacienda to be proud of all the folks who are waiting for her.”
“You are a generous man.”
“Foolish, too. Now, get going, we don’t want to miss Christmas.” He pushed up and hobbled on the crutch beside his Segundo.
Less than an hour later, Miguel was mounted up and riding off with the pack horses and money.
Doe came in with a frown. “Where is Miguel going?”
“To get supplies.” Sam grinned foolishly from his chair by the fireplace.
“Supplies?”
“For Christmas.”
“What did you send him after?”
“Surprises.” Sam looked back at the fireplace.
She shook her head and left the room.
He studied the fire as burning oak cracked and sputtered. Lifting his still-sore leg, he stretched his aching back muscles, tense from the lack of activity. The place was taking shape, and the people were industrious and always smiled for him. Everyone appeared so anxious to restore the place that even the little children worked in between childish games. Little girls damp-mopped the tile floors under the stern eye of Margarita each day. She quieted them with a short shush if they became too loud to her ears. Doe and the girls in the kitchen always managed to turn out dishes that varied the frijoles diet. Miguel shot a deer once a week, and that provided venison.
Sam noted they had jerked a steer as well as the angry bull. If his Segundo found a dead cow, he always brought the hide back. Rawhide was a valuable part of the things they needed, from sandals to saddle repair.
A few winter vegetables were mixed in the fields that produced as the men established plots. They were constantly hauling the horse barn excrement and spreading it on the fields with carts they made. When they weren’t out chopping firewood on the mountain, they brought loads of sun-cured grass for hay on the burros that dwarfed the little shaggy fellows.
He hit is upper leg with his palm, angry over the slow healing process.
“What is wrong now?” Doe sat down beside him offering doughnuts.
“My stupid leg.” Then he smiled. “No, we haven’t got much time to get ready for Christmas, either.”
“I thought it was a white man’s deal.”
“I’m sorry.” He patted her arm, nodding with understanding as he took a doughnut.
“I never knew what Christmas was until I came to the mission. I guess Indians had no such thing, but we did have dances. I wish that I could go to those dances again.”
“If they still have dances, we will go if they will allow me.”
“I do not want to go if you could not come.”
“Miguel is getting all the things I remember having when we had Christmas at my house.”
“Oh, that will be nice.”
“Wait till you see all those little kid’s faces. They work like the devil around here.”
“I shall wait to see those little faces.” She gave him a wink and left to oversee her kitchen.
——————————
SAM HAD ORDERED THE BIG juniper that the men set up in the main room. Hopping around on his crutches, he had to be everywhere, swinging a crutch to point things out. Doe watched him from a distance shaking her head, amused.
Miguel arrived with the pack horses loaded, and Sam made it at breakneck speed on his crutches to meet the weary but pleased Segundo.
“Margarita, you and Lois are in charge of hiding all this for Christmas. Doe will help. Miguel, let’s sit by the fire. I must hear how our schoolteacher is. What news do you have from her?”
“Señor, oh, the dresses are lovely, and she sends her best. She wanted to come back here for Christmas, but the people where she stays needed her. There is plenty of candy and plenty of fruit. Oh, and she picked out the material. I did not forget one thing. I was afraid that I had too much on the horses, but they made it okay. How is your leg?”
“Fine, fine. Here, drink some good whiskey.” Sam was almost unable to sit still.
“It will be a fine Christmas, Patron. This will be greater than any this hacienda ever had.”
“Miguel, we will always have the merriest Christmases on the ranch.”
The house was astir. Youngsters were dashing about excited on Christmas Eve. Sam told Doe he could not wait.
The juniper was decorated with strings of popcorn and carved animals some of the men had made. Their homemade decorations were delightful.
The noise was almost ear-shattering, and Sam hobbled after Doe who was heading down the hall.
“Is everybody ready?” he yelled, out of breath on his crutches.
“Oh, Sam, it is going to be so exciting. You have so many nice things for everyone. You must have spent a fortune.”
“Doe, Christmas is special, and these people have done a special job for us.”
“It will be. Miguel is coming.” She looked troubled.
“Patron, excuse me. But there is a problem outside.” Miguel sounded very concerned. “A... big problem.”
“What is it?”
“There are several Apaches—men, women, and children—in the yard.”
“What do they want?”
“I think they are starving, Patron.”
“Doe, let’s go speak to them.”
“Yes.” She fell in beside him as he hobbled on his crutches.
The main room was very quiet, and he noticed the ranch men were all armed. They appeared to be waiting for his word about what to do.
Sam paused and made a stay inside sign, then he and Doe went out the front. Sam noticed first it was cold out there in the dark compared to inside the house. They stood there, the leader wrapped in his blanked, another short man stood beside him, behind them was an older gray-haired man. There were about six women and four small children.
“What do you want?” Doe asked them in her halting Apache.
“The winter is cold. It is a long way back to Camp McDowell. We are without food or ammunition.”
Sam caught the name of the army camp west on the Verde, but the rest was unintelligible to him.
Doe asked again. “What do you want here?”
“Once my father’s people came here for a treaty.”
“You were not here for that!” Her voice was full of anger.
The leader was displeased with her response. “How come the man does not talk?”
“I am his woman, and he does not speak the language.”
“What do they want?” Sam kept his voice quiet.
“They are beggars, not men! They plead for the old treaty the Apaches made with Mendoza.”
“What should we do?”
“Send them away! They are reservation dogs! They are without pride. They were not here when Natise made the treaty. They eat government meat. Let them walk back there and eat.”
“It’s four days to Camp McDowell or more, Doe.” He eyed the Indians as he spoke under his breath. “They might not make it.”
“These are not the same people who made the treaty.”
“Doe, what did the padre tell you about Christmas?”
“Christmas is for children.” Her silence was long. “These are just pitiful beggars out here in this cold.”
“Invite them inside, Doe.”
Raising to her full height, she spoke to them. “This is a time of big dance for these people when they feast and sing and give gifts because of a great God that was born. You must be polite, and if one thing is missing, my man would put to death the thief. You must eat slowly, even if they do not know how in the way of these people.”
A small child ran forward and hugged her legs. It was very quiet as the December wind swept off the distant snowy Four Peaks across the mountains. Reaching down, she took the child’s hand, and the others followed as the sound of Spanish Christmas carols began inside. The Apaches seemed blinded by the splendor but sat at attention on the far side of the great room like an island as Doe indicated.
“We are here to celebrate, and these people are without a place to celebrate. We are very fortunate to have so much, and we will share it with the less fortunate. They can do no harm to us. Doe has asked them to be here.”
Relief came over the people in the great room. Sam hobbled over to the great chair and spoke to Margarita. She nodded, and with some of the older children, went after some food for the Apaches. As the caroling continued, Sam smiled at the way they ate despite the fact they were very hungry.
“Are they too weak to eat?”
“No! I told them how to act or you would kill them.” She gave him a knowing wink.
“Miguel, bring a chair, and sit here. You know everybody’s name, and you will give out the presents.”
“But Patron, that is your job.” Miguel donned his gold-braided vest for the occasion.
“No way! These people you have gathered have resurrected this ranch, and Doe and I are very proud, but you told us this was a great ranch, and it is becoming one. It is our great present from you all.”
“You make me too proud for this vest. I think my heart will break.”
“It won’t, I promise! Get on before the children get too sleepy to enjoy their presents.”
“Si, patron.”
The gifts were in cotton sacks that made the children’s eyes bug at the size. Smiling, they thanked the Segundo and nodded at the smiling pair who sat back. Margarita whispered in Sam’s ear, and he nodded as Doe turned and looked at Sam with a frown.
“She has some things she held back for the Apache children.”
Doe nodded in agreement as the woman handed oranges and handfuls of candy to the visitors. Each nodded and looked at the others in bewilderment at the thing they least expected.
The man who led them rose and cleared his throat. Silence fell upon the room as the Apache spoke in English. “We have heard of this man Jesus and surely he must be a good god. We are grateful to you, even if we cannot repay you. We will leave now.”
“The rascal can speak English,” Sam said under his hand.
“I did not know that,” she whispered back.
“Tell them they are welcome to sleep on our floor and may leave whenever they choose.”
Doe looked at him in disgust. “He can understand English. You tell him!”
——————————
LATER IN THE NIGHT, SAM and Doe lay in their featherbed. Still elated with the spirit of the holiday, Sam found himself unable to sleep. Nestled half on top of him in her nightgown, she kept smiling in the yellow candlelight.
“Did you ever have a Christmas like this when you were a boy?”
“Not this big, but they were good times. The first Christmas I spent away from home was in an old leaky line shack with two old cowboys who gave each other their own pocketknives as presents. Guess the next year they did the same thing over again.”
“Did you see the children’s faces?”
“I saw one wide-eyed child hug your skirt on the porch.”
“Sam Brennen!” She pounded him on the chest with her fist. “I have day-dreamed of returning to my people to see the dances, the big celebrations. I can remember the days of Natise. They were proud people. We did not come here to beg from Mendoza.”
“Nothing is ever the same except the sun.” Sam hugged her to himself. Quietly, her warm tears fell on his bare chest.
With the morning, their visitors had left. It was still cold outside.
“Felize Navidad, Patron.” Miguel put wood in the fireplace.
“Merry Christmas, Miguel. Our friends left?”
“Sí, Señor. We sent food with them for their trip back to Camp McDowell.”
“Good.” Sam nodded in approval.
“It’s strange about them. Once we all would have feared the Apache. Last night, we were sorry for them—they were barefooted and so hungry.”
“Don’t mention it to Doe. She was very upset about it.”
The Segundo nodded in understanding and straightened up. Rubbing his sun-squinted eyes, the vaquero leaned against the fireplace and absorbed the radiant heat. “Is your leg better?”
“I think so.” Sam stared at the flames as they licked up in the air and consumed the dry wood.
“Is something wrong?”
“Miguel, I’m very pleased with the things I can do something about, but there are things that are left undone, not here, but in my life.”
“If I can be of service….”
“No, these are some thing I have to do… myself.”
“We all would help.”
“I know. Tomorrow I want the mare and the General saddled. We need to go to Globe for business and may need to be gone for a while.”
Sam and Doe left in the early light, riding the canyon, wrapped warm in blanket coats in the chill and deep shadowy darkness. Sam’s leg was still sore, but after a few hours in the saddle, it began to get worse. He shifted his weight occasionally, trying to find a more comfortable position.
Doe noticed him flopping around and shook her head in disapproval. “You want to go back?”
“No, I’ll be okay.” He raised up on his good leg in the stirrup.
She pushed the shotgun down in its boot under her right leg and frowned. There was no doubt that she couldn’t change his mind. No reason to feel sorry for anyone that stubborn, but she did.
The copper-colored mare was well enough broke that you could dismount her on the right as well as the left. They rested in a dry wash out of the cold wind, and Sam stood as they ate the lunch Margarita had sent.
Washing it down with water from the canteen, he shook his head. “I need some whiskey.”
“I think so, too.” She shook her head and looked through his saddlebags. Handing him the bottle, she watched him uncork it and drink from the neck.
With a shudder, he popped the cork in. “Let’s ride before I become a bigger baby.”
She helped him back up on the mare with him still carrying the whiskey bottle in his off hand. Slowly, he swung aboard with a false smile of gratitude as he settled in the saddle.
They had finally made it to the military road and had passed a freight wagon headed for Globe when shots rang out ahead.
With a nod of his head, Sam gave the mare her lead, pulling the Winchester out as he rode. He saw two men robbing a stage coach maybe a quarter-mile ahead.
He motioned for Doe to go left. She swept off on the mule into the greasewood and disappeared. Riding closer, Sam fired the Winchester once into the air over his head to announce his presence. “Hold it!”
Surprised by his sudden appearance, the robbers forgot their intended victims and bolted for their horses.
The mare was closing the gap. One of the outlaws, holding the reins of his wide-eyed horse, turned and fired his pistol at Sam.
The blast of the double-barrel startled Sam. Doe and The General appeared behind the bandit and she shot him in the back. His arms flew skyward, and the horse, no doubt hit by the pellets, left the country trying to buck his saddle to the sun. Seeing all this, the second masked man threw his hands up in surrender.
The stage driver and guard—now having recovered their weapons—came running to assist.
The guard shook his head. “We’re damn lucky you two rode up when you did. We thought we were done for.”
His partner nodded. “You can say that again, Jim.”
The dead outlaw had cut holes in a flour sack and used it to hide his face. The driver kneeled down in the dust beside the desperado and pulled the crude mask off, revealing an ugly, tow-headed brute...
... with a wicked-looking scar over one eye.
Breathing heavily, Sam reined the mare to a halt.
How in the name of holy hell...?
Wide-eyed, he slid off his mount and hobbled over to study the dead man’s face.
Could it really be...?
The driver whistled. “This guy was ugly enough as it is, but get a load of that scar over his eye. Must have been in a helluva fight somewhere.”
“By God, yes he was,” Sam whispered.
The dusty little man looked up at him. “You know this guy, mister?”
“You could say that.”
Doe booted her shotgun, dismounted from The General, and walked over beside him. “This is man who kill his family.”
“No foolin’?”
“No.”
Searching the dead man’s pockets, the driver produced a gold locket. Holding it up to the light, he checked both sides, then carefully opened it. “Strange thing for an outlaw to carry with him, huh?”
Leaning against the mare, Sam thought he was going to be sick. Clutching his stomach, he managed to hold out one gloved hand. “Let me have the locket. It belonged to some folks I once knew.”
“Golly! Sure, mister.” The driver stood up and handed over the shining gold oval and thin, matching chain. “How’d you come to know him?”
“Zane, clean the danged cotton out of your ears.” The guard, still covering the other robber with his own scattergun, snorted. “This here’s Sam Brennen, the bounty hunter. And that’s his partner, Doe Mockingbird. We read about them in the newspaper a few days back.”
“I’ll be damned.” The other would-be robber gave a mirthless little chuckle. “Cal was talking about you just yesterday. Said he was going to find you and kill you. And your new woman.”
The stage driver’s eyes got wide. “Well, my God! Excuse me, sir. I didn’t recognize you! Why, I read all about the Mulvain gang and all that stuff. We sure were lucky to have you all run onto us. Wow, if that isn’t a coincidence, I don’t know what is.”
Clutching the locket in his hand, Sam nodded weakly. “Like I said, we’re just glad we could help.”
“You okay, Mister Brennan?”
The throbbing in his leg was coming back. “My leg’s a little messed up, that’s all. My mare and I had a little disagreement with a bull a while back. You boys think you can deliver these two to the law in Globe?”
Jim—the guard—gave him a nod. “Be happy to. We’ll get you the reward on ‘em, too, Mister Brennan.”
“Thanks.” Sam turned back toward the horse and grasped the saddlehorn.
“You’re welcome to ride in the coach.”
“No, no. I’ll be okay. Thanks.” Painfully, he pulled himself up into the saddle. “We’ll meet you in town. Let’s go, Doe.”
They rode in silence side-by-side on the road toward town. Sam held the locket in his free hand, turning it over and over again. His eyes were wet, and he kept wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Doe said nothing, merely keeping the mule abreast of the mare so he knew she was here with him. It had taken her a while to learn, but she’d come to understand that Sam was a man who would speak in his own time and not before.
The problem was that Sam didn’t have the words to say anything just then. The evil men that had shattered his life and destroyed his dreams were no more—dead and sentenced to the flaming burning hell they surely deserved.
In spite of the evil done upon him, he’d somehow built a new life, conjured new dreams, without even realizing that’s what he was doing. And yet it all had been driven by the need to avenge himself upon these monsters.
So where did that leave him now?
The cold winds whipped past them. When at last he spoke, his voice was dry as the desert around them.
“So he’s dead.” He looked out to the horizon. “It’s over.”
“Do you not feel better?”
He shook his head but remained silent.
Doe did not bother him again.
The stage had long passed them on the road, so word of their heroic deed was out before they reached Globe, and a crowd had gathered. Miners, cowboys, town folk, all standing in the street cheering as Sam and Doe rode in. A reporter broke out of the throng and waved his notebook at them.
“Did you know the dead robber, Mister Brennen?”
“Calvin Denton. He was wanted in Colorado for murder and rape.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud. Until that moment, it hadn’t yet been fully real.
Breathing deeply, he reined in the mare and looked to Doe.
“Yes.” She nodded under her hat, looking grim. “It was him.”
“Do you want to go on ahead to Bill’s house? I know you dislike crowds.”
“Only if you do not need me.”
He gave her a wan smile. “Go ahead. I’ll be along. I think these people have some more questions.”
Tight-lipped, she gave him another quick nod, then spurred The General forward through the cheering, babbling crush of people. Sam watched her until she cleared the crowd and turned the far corner.
“Is it true that Miss Mockingbird really shot the bandit?” someone asked.
“Yes, it is. One hell of a shot, too, if I say so myself”
A large man in a brown suit pushed toward him. “Mister Brennen, I’m the town Marshal here. Blackwell Townsend. My friends call me Blacky. The Sheriff is gone right now, so I’ll be the one taking care of the particulars with the stage incident. I’d like to shake your hand.”
Sam took the offered hand. “Pleasure is mine.”
“We’d like to buy you a drink.”
“Well, boys, I’d consider that an honor, but someone will have to help me down. This left leg of mine is a little messed up.”
“You bet.” Several men rushed forward to assist. They literally carried him inside the warm bar. He described the entire incident to the eager audience crowded inside the cantina, the leg stretched across to another chair, as they drank beer with him. He told it straight, without any embellishments. After a while, Zane and Jim—the stagecoach driver and guard—arrived, so the story got told again, this time with their own spin placed upon it.
“By God we were lucky today!” Zane laughed and downed a shot of whiskey. “Sam and Doe rode in guns blazing, I tell you. Cut down that sumbitch Denton in a hail of lead.”
Sam hesitated as he started to sip another the beer. That sick feeling had hit him again. Why wasn’t he more excited? Denton’s death had proved to be little more than just another moment. The victory wasn’t hollow—not with all these people around—but it had delivered no great relief. There was nothing in this musty-smelling saloon to illuminate his insides. There was far more meaning to him in the Christmas tree standing in the great room back at the ranch.
Finally, as the crowd began to thin, Sam stood and said his goodbyes. Blacky helped him out to the mare. The leg was hurting him worse than ever, buckling when he barely put any weight on it.
Black shook his head again. “Sam Brennen, I’ve never liked bounty hunters, but this county owes you a debt of gratitude.”
“No, Blacky. We were just there, and we really like this country.”
“Well, we owe you and that Indian gal.”
Sam smiled politely and swung heavily, dragging the fringed chaps over the mare’s rump as he mounted from the off side. With one final wave, he rode off toward the Johnson house.
Bill met him at the gate. “Sam, you’ve been on that leg too much.”
“I’m okay.”
Doe appeared in the door and helped him up the steps. “Missus Madera has sent for the doctor. She’s worried we didn’t do the right thing for it to begin with.”
“I just need some rest.” Sam waved them away, but then the leg buckled and he fell, nearly taking Doe with him.
“Come on, Doe, let’s get him into bed.” Bill grabbed his arm and helped him up. He took one side and she took the other.
“He left his crutches at home,” Doe said. “But I think we will need some.”
“Now, gal.” Sam laughed as he pivoted on his good leg and swung into a large chair in the parlor.
Bill pulled a chair in from the kitchen and sat down in front of him.
“Sam, I think the little matter we spoke about earlier this month can be done now. You’ve become some kind of a folk hero now.”
“Great!” Sam laughed and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Here I am all crippled up, and you can arrange for me to hobble up the aisle.”
“Jose’s gone after some crutches, and I think Juanita can go get the padre later on. The clerk owes me a favor, so I can get a license.”
“Damn, Bill, where’s your shotgun? Do you know something I don’t?”
“I just know you’re anxious to get the deed done.”
“That I am.” He sighed. “I just wish I was in better shape. I feel a bit out of sorts at the moment.”
“You look like it now, too.” The banker grinned.
“Thanks.” This brought on another round of laughter. This one went on so long Doe and Juanita finally came in to see what was going on.
Finally, the doorbell rang. Bill rose to answer it, leaving Sam in the capable hands of Doe and Mrs. Madera. He appeared again a few minutes later with the doctor in tow.
Doc Watson was a frowning, eye-glassed, short, fat man who punched and tapped on the bad leg until Sam was sure he had to be re-breaking the damn thing.
“It’s will heal if you stay off the damn thing.” He cussed gruffly, pulling off gold-rimmed glasses and cleaning them with a white kerchief. Shaking his head, he took a bottle of laudanum out of his bag. “Pain gets bad, take a tablespoon of this.”
“Was it broke?”
“Bruised, cracked, broke. Can’t see inside that skin, but sometimes bruises heal slower than bones.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Two dollars. Can’t say I did do much for you.”
“Satisfied my mind.” Sam dug into his pocket and pulled out the money.
“If you just stay off the damn thing for a week more—it should be two or three, but you won’t!—it will feel better.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try.”
“Do more than try, young man. Or we’ll be seeing one another sooner than you’d like.” With that, the doctor grabbed his bag and left.
Bill saw him out, then returned.
“Well, that settles it. You two are staying here until the leg gets better.”
——————————
THE LEG IMPROVED SLOWLY. BY week’s end, Sam could walk on it again. The Sheriff, a balding, heavyset man of about fifty, came by to pay his respects after the stagecoach caper.
He seemed particularly curious about the other prisoner’s story.
“This Bobby Wilks character said he joined Denton over in New Mexico, and that Denton seemed to be trailing you. Did he have some kind of a grudge against you?”
Sam sighed and shook his head. “Denton murdered my wife and step-daughters last year up in Colorado. Other than that, I can’t tell you much of anything about him.”
“Wilks seems to think you’d busted his head up in Wichita....”
“You know how that goes. I don’t remember him. I’ve searched my mind. Maybe Wyatt or one of the others did it, but I’ve had a long time to think about it and haven’t come up with anything”
“Never you mind. He’s dead and you’re alive, and that’s all that matters now. The stage line is going to send you a hundred-dollar reward.”
“Fine. Maybe we can find some orphans that need it?”
“Your money.” The lawman shrugged.
“They don’t have to know.”
“I can handle that.”
Bill saw the lawman to the door. Finally alone again, Sam sagged back into his chair and searched his memories of Wichita once again. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall ever having an issue with the likes of Cal Denton. With a mug like that sumbitch had, he should easily remember if they’d ever gotten tangled up. Bur there was nothing there.
Frustrated, he gave up and turned his attention to other matters.
Bill had given him an update on the sawmill operation that morning. Things were going well, and the mill had just signed a contract to supply a mining company that would turn an almost immediate profit. He’d also heard from Thompson, his agent in Prescott. The gold mine deal had been signed, sealed, and delivered, and the first payment wired into Sam’s account here in Globe.
Combined with the improvements being made down on the ranch, business matters were all on the up and up.
And yet Sam still felt restless.
Maybe that was because he still had one old debt left to pay.
“Hey, Bill. What’s the word on getting me the location of the Peraltas?”
His friend frowned. “You’re in no condition to be going after those two bandits, Sam.”
“I know that, damn it. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Bill sighed. “I had word earlier this week that the Peraltas are moving some stolen cattle down to the border.”
“Why in the Sam Hill hadn’t you told me?”
“Like I said, you’re in no condition to ride at the moment, let alone track down a gang of ruthless thieves and murderers. I know you, and I know how you work. You’d be up and out that door two minutes after I’d told you. What kind of friend would I be to you—let alone Doe—if I you do that?”
“Damn it, still....” Sam hung his head. Infuriating as it was, there was no arguing Bill’s reasoning. “How come no one else rounds them up? There’s wanted posters out on them everywhere.”
The banker shrugged. “They’re mean and keep on the move. You ought to take some gunmen with you when you head out to tangle with them.”
“We’ll see when this leg gets better.”
The priest dropped by later that afternoon to explain that he would be pleased to marry Sam and Doe. Since Sam was not baptized in the church, though, they must be married in front of the rail.
Sam looked over at Doe, who simply shook her head. The message was clear—it didn’t matter. The marriage was the important thing.
“Then it’s all set, I guess.” He put out his hand and the priest shook it. “We will come to your church and be married next Tuesday evening.”
“Señor, it is very unusual, but I think it is what God would will.”
“Padre, we are pleased that you will marry us.”
“God be with you.” The priest made the sign of the cross and hurried out.
Standing beside his chair, Doe leaned down and hugged him. There was a spring in her step as she headed out of the room for some coffee. Sam thought she might be ready to do a dance in her boots. Then again, he decided, it was well past time to be getting this done.
“Doe Mockingbird will soon be just Doe Brennen,” she teased as she came back in with the coffee.
“In Missouri, most folks have two names like Frank John or Betty Jo. So, I guess you’ll be Doe Mockingbird Brennen.”
“Brennan part is the important one.” She smiled and left him to his coffee.
——————————
THE WEDDING WAS VERY FORMAL. Juanita had spared no expense planning it. She ordered Doe a custom-made white lace dress from a seamstress in Phoenix and a fancy new suit for Sam. She ordered flowers, too, apparently by the bushel. The church was decked out with so many floral arrangements, you could smell them all from the street.
Inside, the church was lit by candles and the last rays of the setting sun. All in white, Doe waited for him at the low rail separating the nave and the altar, a sheer veil pulled down over her face. Sweating in his suit, Sam limped slowly down the aisle toward her.
The priest spoke solemnly about the bonds of matrimony, of their vows to one another and the responsibilities. When it came time for them to repeat the vows and say their “I dos,” their voices were so soft, neither Juanita—standing beside Doe—nor Bill—standing beside Sam—could hear more than a whisper.
Finally, the priest raised his hands and made the sign of the cross.
“I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. Everything else had faded except for Doe. They were alone in the great church as surely as they had ever been on the plains, in the camp, or the great featherbed at the hacienda. As gently as he could, he grasped the edges of Doe’s veil and pulled it up and over her head. Her eyes were bright in the light of the candles, her smile radiant. It was the greatest joy of his life to bend his face to hers in that moment and kiss her on the lips.
Their union had finally been sealed.
Now officially married, they turned to their two friends and joined them in celebration.
Doe hugged Jaunita tightly. “I am so very happy. You are very good to an Apache girl.”
Juanita wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, Doe, that’s silly. You’re a woman, greater than most I’ve known.”
Bill gave Sam a hug, then gave him a friendly punch on the arm. “Where will you go on your honeymoon?”
“Out to the ranch. We need to check on Miguel. Sleep in our own bed.”
“Tonight, you’ll sleep in the same bed at my house.” Bill waggled his brows suggestively. “Tomorrow you can go back to the ranch.”
“By the time we’re done, I’ll owe you a hotel bill that’ll break the bank.”
“It’s a good thing I own that bank, huh?” They laughed. “Hey, we love the company. Besides, you’ll both need to come back in April when Juanita and I will get married.”
“Wonderful!” He pumped the banker’s hand with joy. Then he grabbed Juanita by the waist and swung her as best he could with his sore leg. Her eyes were as happy as Sam’s when he put her down.
“Calm down!” Doe slapped him on the shoulder. “We are still in the church, Sam Brennen.”
“Yes, Missus Brennen. Why don’t we go home and celebrate?”
They were all gathered at the Johnson’s table when the bell rang. Bill excused himself and put his napkin down to see who was there. He returned with a leather-dressed vaquero holding a huge sombrero in his hands.
“Sorry for the interruption, folks. Sam, this man has word of the Peralta brothers. You need to know that they’re in jail down in Sonora, and he expects them to be loose in a few days.”
The other man nodded. “Señor, they have friends in high places. They will be out very soon.”
“How soon?”
“I do not know, but it took me three days to ride here with the news so….” The vaquero shrugged. “My poor horse is nearly dead. I only hope I came in time.”
Bill shook his head. “You will be paid well, and the horse can be replaced. Get a room tonight and come to the bank tomorrow.”
“Señor, these men are the worst kind of outlaws.”
“We know.”
The man left, and the foursome sat quietly. It was almost time to send the newlyweds off to bed, but there was one last toast to be made.
Bill raised his glass. “To the bride and groom. May their first night together be happy... and fruitful.”
“Bill!” Doe nearly spit out her wine.
The banker laughed and winked at Juanita, who blushed.
“Here it is, for real this time.” He raised the glass one more time. “To long life and friendship.”
“To long life and friendship,” they all echoed.
“Thank you, Bill.” After finishing his own glass, Sam stood. “Well, I think it’s time for bed. Can you do me a favor in the morning, though, Bill?”
“Name it.”
“I want to send word to Miguel that I’ll be delayed a few days in getting out to the ranch.”
Doe eyed him from across the table. “Why?”
“You know why. You can stay here.”
“Sam Brennen, I will be going to Sonora, too.”
“Doe...”
“I am not just the horse tender now.”
This made him snort. “Like that ever stopped you.”
Doe stood and pushed her chair up to the table. “Come. Let us go argue in bedroom, so we do not embarrass our friends.”
In the room, Sam sat on the edge of the bed. He toed his boot off and looked at the floor.
For Doe’s part, she continued to pace the floor. “There are more important things for us than those bad men.”
He nodded and studied the boots.
“What if I am unable to have children?”
“Doe, my Lord! Why are we on that subject?”
“The woman you married may never have a baby!”
“Fine, whatever. That doesn’t worry me. Tomorrow, we ride to Sonora. I need someone to back me up.” He rocked her slender form in his arms.
“You are right.” She unhooked the white wedding dress and let it fall to the floor.
Sam shook his head at the sight of her and remembered their first night on the prairie in Colorado