Buchanan rode a borrowed horse up into the Big Horns. Nightshade was back in New Mexico on the Button Ranch. The tracks were plain but it was not the bull elk, he knew. He came down to the foothills and surveyed the scene. He swung his arm. There was no pain. There was a slight mark on his neck where Cobber had applied the steel chain, but it gave him no trouble.
Down below a herd of Cross Bar cattle grazed. To the north there were sheep. Barbed wire was not in evidence. All the land was fair and the inevitably blue bowl of the Wyoming sky showed traces of wispy clouds lazily changing patterns in high winds.
He had returned to testify against Fritz Wilder and Liz Bacon. The one was to be hanged, the other jailed as an accessory before and after the murder of Jake Robertson. It had not been a pleasant duty, but justice demanded it of him. It had been good to see the town of Sheridan again a peaceful community, with Dr. Abrams as mayor and Bascomb on the town council. In short months the community had grown, the farms had prospered, and all was serene.
He rode down to the sheep. Gowdy and Indian Joe greeted him. He shared a biscuit and black coffee with them. The dog named Sandy came to nuzzle him.
He said, “And the black sheep has turned into a damn ram. Little Tommy Button can scarcely handle him anymore.”
“God, it’s the way of things,” said Gowdy. “The country’s gettin’ full up. Everything changes.”
“Exceptin’ the Crow,” said Indian Joe.
“Well, now, they’re quiet,” Gowdy put in. “We send ’em a few woolies now and then. Crazy Bird, he still hunts, but he don’t steal nothin’.”
“Uh-huh,” said Buchanan. The coffee was black and rancid. “Peace. It’s wonderful.”
He said his good-byes and rode back to the Casey ranch. The barn was rebuilt; the house was intact except for a few bullet scars in the stone. Johnnybear came for the horse. He had grown two inches. Beth Bower was in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands folded in her apron. She was smiling.
Buchanan asked her, “Everything okay?”
“It is now that you’re here.”
“But not for long.” He was truly regretful.
She came close to him. “Just once in a time, Buchanan. Just so you don’t forget.”
“Not likely.” They went indoors. They kissed. “No way I could forget. You made the bad time go away.”
Susan was playing the piano. They went into the parlor. There was cold food and whiskey and wine, and happy faces abounded. A carriage pulled up and Claire Robertson descended. She was dressed for town, but her white skin was now tanned and her stride had lengthened. She embraced Buchanan, then the Caseys one by one.
She said, “Dave Dare sends regards. He turned out well. I’m glad to have him back. Cobber has a wooden leg. He did not send regards.”
Buchanan touched his neck. “And the same to him. It’s real good to be with you-all.”
Shawn Casey said, “There’s a new preacher in town. Too bad you can’t meet him. They’re building a church.”
“What does Buchanan care about such things?” Susan was blushing.
Mrs. Casey said, “They have one of those wheezy organs. Susan is learning to play it.”
“That’s enough,” said Susan.
“The preacher hasn’t proposed,” Claire confided. “Susan is worried.”
“I am not!” Susan sipped straight whiskey. “He either does or he don’t. And anyway, there’s a buyer that you haven’t met. He asked me to supper.”
“Looks like things are pickin’ up all over,” said Buchanan. He looked at Claire. “What about you?”
“I’m busy.” There was an undertone of sadness. “Too busy to think about men. Papa left a lot of business that must be taken care of.”
“You’ll be fine.” Buchanan went to her and put an arm around her. “You’ve got the good times comin’.”
He picked up his carpetbag. He went around to them all, embracing them. They were gentle people in the best sense of the word.
Claire said, “Shall we go? You just have time to make the stage.”
“Uh-huh.” He took one last look before getting into the carriage. It was a lovely scene. Mrs. Bower blew him a kiss. Claire clucked at the team. They drew slowly away. He was returning to New Mexico, where Coco was training for a fight at Billy Button’s spread. He would be happy there for the time allowed.
There would be only one thing missing. Beth Bower would be in Wyoming.