They had moved into the house on the knoll the previous week and were holding a barbecue celebration. Jackson, Carmen and Hector and most of the ranch hands were there, as well as Nellie and Bud, Doc Watkins and Lena, the sheriff, Parley Finn and his sister and a number of other folks from town. They even had convinced old-timer Woodley Bunch to bring his fiddle out of cobwebs, and he was playing up a storm.
The house was everything Libby could ever have wanted. It was warm and inviting, with a colorful tulip applique quilt made by Carmen, a store-bought quilt given by the ranch hands and a red and white tumbling-blocks quilt created by Nellie on the beds. Garrett had hand-crafted much of the furniture in his spare time, including the most beautiful pine dining set. Nellie had also made a charming pinwheel and blocks yellow crib quilt for the baby, which was due any day.
“Hey, you should not be lifting that,” Garrett bellowed, rushing over to grab a platter of chicken fixins from his stubborn wife.
“I am not helpless, Garrett,” she huffed but released the platter into his capable hands. He set it on the picnic table, where it joined the barbecued ham and beef and a variety of other dishes, from macaroni and dodgers to Carmen’s Mexican version of gumbo. The desserts included cheesecake, doughnuts and strawberry ice cream.
When he turned back to Libby, she was rubbing her back and scowling. “Are you all right?”
She smiled. “I will be when your son finally decides to make an appearance.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “When my daughter arrives, I’ll be even happier than I am now.”
And they truly were happy. The only disagreements they had experienced in the past six months were related to Libby’s “delicate” condition, which she, of course, did not consider delicate at all.
“You just want me to be able to join you in the creek again.”
He burst out laughing. “You are one of a kind, my dear.”
Nellie joined them, offering each a glass of ginger beer. “Speaking of Cindy Lou, I received a letter from my cousin, the earl, yesterday.”
As much as Libby disliked Cindy Lou, she could not in good conscience be responsible for sending her to prison. Garrett was adamantly opposed to letting her off the hook, and that was not Libby’s intention either. She did not want to be apprehensive of the next time the woman attacked her, although she did hold fond memories of pounding her in the creek. With Nellie, they had come up with a plan that they thought might satisfy everyone, with the possible exception of the earl. Cindy Lou had been banished to his custody in Scotland for a term of 10 years. She was outraged at first until Nellie explained the peerage system to her and how wealthy and handsome her cousin was. She failed to mention he was a little crazy or perhaps just overly exuberant, a man who seemed to find trouble wherever he went.
Nellie beamed.
“What?” Libby said, and Garrett was obviously interested too.
“Evander is making her act as his scullery maid. She didn’t cooperate at first, but he restricted her diet to porridge until she agreed. He said she is ‘a fair maid’ and less crass and obnoxious than when she arrived.”
“I wish I could be there to see that,” Libby laughed.
“Oh, heavens. He also said that, after a decent amount of training, she might make a good countess.”
“Lord,” Libby cringed. “God save the queen.”
“Well, she’s Scotland’s worry now. You are mine.” Garrett took her empty glass and set it on the picnic table, then led her into the shade, where he eased her into a rocking chair he had set up for her.”
She rubbed her back and tried not to show on her face that her labor was in progress. She knew she had time and did not want to throw the celebration into a panic. And God knew Garrett would go a little crazy. She smiled up at him. They had come so far. He was better than any dime novel hero, hands down, a true flesh-and-blood hero of the West.
“I wonder what Doc Watkins recommends to help me sleep at this stage of the game,” Libby said as innocently as she could. “Would you send him over here when you get a chance?”
“Sure. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything? Do you want to put your feet up?”
“No, I’m fine.” As long as the contractions didn’t get any stronger while he was standing there.
* * *
Just before midnight, Doc Watkins delivered Benjamin Jackson Winslow after his father nearly wore out the library floor pacing as Jackson, Carmen and Hector tried to support and comfort him. Lionhearted Libby came through with flying colors.
Benjy was later joined by two sisters and then another brother. One night, walking down the stairs from the loft, where she had just tucked in her daughters, Libby suddenly remembered again that long walk down the stairs in St. Louis to face Elias Parminter in his study. How far she had come. And how blessed she was.
“Garrett?”
He looked up from the book he was reading, his eyebrows raised.
“I think I’m going to see if the Cindy Lou dress still fits,” she smiled seductively.
He closed the book, got up and walked toward her with a grin.
Just before he turned 50, Jackson married for the third time, a widow he met in Bozeman. Mary Butterman became the love of his life. When he retired from ranching at age 66, Garrett and Libby inherited the ranch. They lived and loved there for 52 years. Over those years, Lionhearted Libby, when necessary, occasionally made an appearance. Garrett would recognize the transformation in his wife by the fierce look in her eyes. It only made him love her more.
* * *