Dreams of the Golden Aspen Ranch

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

I was seriously torn between staying for the celebration or forming our own posse and riding after the group who had attacked us. I took a deep breath and decided to celebrate with Ike and Sally.

 

Howling Wolf generously agreed to stay at the ranch for the time that Calico and I would be gone, and that put some wind back into my soul.

 

The wedding was pretty much of a blur, until the two kissed. Calico caught me staring at her which she returned with a wink and pursing her lips at me. Then I spent the rest of the timer hoping the celebration wouldn't last too long.

 

The women of the ranch had once again proved up to the task and the celebration was better than ever. There was plenty of food for even Howling Wolf and his band of braves. The young children scampered about freely and I stood back amazed. With the earlier attack driven from my mind by all of the things going on around me I could only say, "Life is Good."

 

I was caught of guard though when Calico came up behind me, kissed my on the cheek, took me by the hand, and with the twinkle in her eyes that I so dearly loved said, "I hear the water's ready." We quickly disappeared and were only distrubed by a whistle from one of the lookouts. We peeked out the door as the lookout pointed off towards the west.

 

"Oh great" I thought, "They're back!" That thought was set aside though when I heard a small voice almost scream "Woom Coffee!" Woom Coffee? What in the world did that mean? We waited, there were no shouts, no horses running, and no gunfire, All good things. We looked at each other, "Naw" we both said as we pushed the door shut, and locked it.

[Calico Mary]

After the day we'd had, I knew Cheyenne needed a little bit of relaxation, so I had the tub filled and fresh towels laid out. The party was in full swing, everyone was having a good time and I didn't figure we'd be missed all that much. The wedding had brought back some sweet memories of the day we'd exchanged vows, and I was feeling more than a little romantic. A bottle of white wine had been placed alongside the towels, that wouldn't hurt but this time I was determined to not overdo it.

 

Things were just getting interesting when we heard a whistle, then a shout, then a few excited voices. Peering out the door, there was no sign of anything terribly wrong, and since I knew Cheyenne hated to be interrupted we went back to what we'd been doing. Finally we got dried off and dressed, and went out to see what was going on.

 

As we approached the party, we noticed Karl, Eddie, and Biblepuncher talking to a stranger, he must have been the reason for the commotion earlier. I was a little confused, our visitor was a man, but why was he wearing a dress? He didn't appear to be armed, and the other men were speaking to him calmly, so I doubted he was in any way connected to the afternoon's attack. Cheyenne and I headed that way, and when we were close enough Karl made the introductions. "Cheyenne, Calico, this is Brother William. Brother William, Mr. and Mrs. Cheyenne Culpepper, owners of this ranch. Brother William was in the neighborhood and heard the shots earlier, and came to make sure everyone was ok."

 

"Brother?" Who's brother are you?" I asked, and the other men all laughed. I didn't have any idea what they thought was so funny, if the stranger was related to one of our hands, well of course he was welcome to stay, but nobody had mentioned expecting a visitor. "Brother is a religious title," Biblepuncher explained to me, still chuckling. "He's a monk...that's kind of like the male equivalent of the nuns you met in Denver...." I had no idea what a monk was, but if he was in the service of God then of course all courtesy of the ranch would be extended to him.

 

A look of vague recognition came over Cheyenne's face. "Haven't I met you before, Brother William? I think it's been awhile, but I seem to recall you visiting my father before..." The visitor nodded, saying, "Yes, I have passed this way before, young Culpepper, and was hoping to speak to your father again. Is he here?"

 

It only took seconds for Brother William to see the looks on the faces around him, and realize that we could not honor his request. "Beg pardon, I did not mean to cause you pain, but please, when did Frank pass?" "Last year," Cheyenne replied in a quiet voice, "He went peacefully, and has been reunited with my mother. My wife and I run the place now, is there something we can do for you?"

 

"So Mrs. Culpepper has gone on as well, please except my sincere condolences on the lose of both. I will explain my reason for being here, but first I would beg you a bit of food and some rest, I have come a long way," Brother William then bowed his head for a few seconds, in prayer was my guess.

 

"Of course, you are more than welcome to join our celebration, one of our adopted daughters just married one of our top hands, and we have plenty of food. Feel free to have as much as you want, and if there is anything special we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask," I told him, and Eddie volunteered to escort our newest guest over to the food tables. I couldn't help but wonder why the man was here, but it was only right to wait until he had eaten and rested before asking him any questions.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

I watched from a brush screen, studying the ranch.

Cheyenne, I thought, and a good number.

War party?

No warlike activity.

Agitation, watchfulness ... organization ... the ranch is active ... and alarmed.

Women folk and folks dressed up, but one ... two riflemen in the cupola.

Excellent overwatch position, I thought.

The excitement must've been here.

Why?

My belly tightened.

Frank and Mrs. Culpepper -- my thoughts paused as I smiled, and I realized why -- Frank and I knew combat together, but Mrs. Culpepper ... I had Mrs. Culpepper so far up on a pedestal it's a wonder she didn't get nosebleed.

A lady of the first water, a jewel among women ... I remembered her laugh and her eyes, and it would be good to see them both.

Frank always did like his coffee.

I reached down and felt the cloth-wrapped bundle weighting my traveling bag ... good Arab beans, roasted only this week, bagged warm only moments before I accepted the hospitality of a passing wagon.

Matter of fact every time I passed this way I made a point of bringing Frank a goodly batch.

He and I got so utterly sick of drinking ground chicory, ground peas, ground peanuts, ground whatever the cotton pickin' could be scrounged when the coffee ran out, I promised him I'd bring him some after that damned War.

I retreated several paces, came back out on the trail, looking around, listening, then I turned my face toward the ranch, squared my shoulders, paced off on the left and steered a course right into plain view.

Soon as I come in sight, every watchful eye came to bear upon me, four Cheyenne rode out to meet me and a little girl screamed "Woom Coffee!" and I laughed, and shortly I grunted hard, for I'd squatted to meet this enthusiastic young infantry charge: she near to knocked me over backwards and good Lord! she'd grown! -- but I stood with my arm around behind her thighs and I picked her up and laughed as she giggled and rubbed my bald tonsure.

"Princess," I said, "why are you all dressed up?"

We walked toward the approaching warriors and I paused to lean my staff against my shoulder and reach across my belly to the pouch.

I handed her fragrant, linen-and-string pouch, and she seized it eagerly and pressed her face into it and took a long, loud sniff.

"Coffee!" she crowed, then she hugged me around the ears and laid her cheek down on top of my head and said softly, "Woom Coffee!"

She hadn't spoken when first I saw her, the year before, and her three years old and more.

Hadn't said one word.

I'd come into the kitchen where Frank and I were feeding coffee into his grinder.

Frank looked at her and squatted and gave her a single roasted bean -- she dearly loved crunching one solitary bean -- and said "Princess, can you say William?"

She looked at me and crunched pruposefully on the bean and swallowed, and then she grabbed me and hugged and said her first words ever.

She tried to say William and it almost worked.

It came out Woom.

Woom Coffee.

I carried Frank's little princess toward the curious faces turned toward us, and the warriors rode in a semi-circle behind us.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

I set the Princess down and she scampered happily toward the ranch house, the package triumphantly borne over her head; I laughed to see her happy scamper, turned to the warriors, none of whom looked familiar.

There is an intertribal lingua franca, a sign language often used during war; each tribe has its unique accent -- sign language and spoken language both can have a discernible accent -- and when I signed to the warriors, Where, man-in-charge, who? -- a brief conference and one turned his pony, raised a hand.

"Well now there's a familiar face!" a voice declared and I turned with a grin, extending my hand to meet Karl's, and I was introduced quickly to several folks -- I made a mental note to talk to the Bible Puncher, there was some festivity going on and if a sky pilot was required, I wanted to let him know it was his show and not mine.

One of the women was looking at me rather closely -- suspiciously at first, then curiously, and finally with some welcome; then there was a suntanned face and a firm grip, a set of piercing eyes and all attached to the name of Cheyenne Culpepper.

I was plainly delighted.

Frank's oldest, I thought.

He does favor his father.

Then I looked around.

Frank's oldest ... but not Frank.

"Haven't I met you before, Brother William? I think it's been awhile, but I seem to recall you visiting my father before..."

I have passed this way before, young Culpepper," I replied formally.

"I was hoping to speak to your father again," I said slowly, fearing what I saw on their faces. "Is he here?"

Somehow ... somehow I knew he wasn't, and sadly I was right.

I don't recall what I said in reply to their sad news, I only remember my voice was gentle and I had to close my eyes and steady myself.

Cheyenne's voice seemed very far away.

I remember him saying "He went peacefully," and "He is with my mother now," and I nodded.

I had to jerk myself back to the here-and-now at his next words.

"Is there something we can do for you?"

Wedding today, I remembered; I shook my head slowly, and I'm afraid my smile wasn't terribly celebratory.

Both of them gone, I thought, and I haven't felt that lost in quite a long time.

I was given their hospitality, and the Princess was waiting for me at the food table, her hands on her waist, impatient for me to begin.

I stopped dead when this little girl -- who didn't generally rub two words together in a day's time -- signed flawlessly to me.

You. Eat. Hungry me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

After we had spent in the waterhole we made our way back out to the party, it was funny though, the women would wink at Calico and the men would give me this weird smile. I had no idea what in the world was going on.

 

The strange man in the white robe was familiar and Calico and I went over to him, it had been a while since I had last seen him. I had to break the news to him that my mother and father had passed over, which saddened him greatly as his brows edged closer together with that bad news. We talked a bit but I needed to visit with the rest of the party so i excused myself.

 

It didn't take long to see the pain that Ike and Sally were feeling, the agony in Ike's eyes were clearly apparent as he looked longingly at Sally. I got a new drink and as I approached Ike I "tripped" throwing the drink on him. "You need to go change" I told him, "Sally, maybe you ought to help him." Both of their faces lit up, Ike grabbed my hand and nearly shook it off and Sally planted a bug kiss on my cheek, and they thanked me in unison just before they took off running for their new cabin.

 

I smiled as I watched them go and felt a nibble on my ear. "That was so sweet" Calico whispered in my ear over the laughter of all of our guests at the sight of the two newly weds running for their cabin.

 

My mind started to wonder about the riders who had attacked the ranch earlier. Why did that have to happen now? The trip east coming up just after Biblepuncher and Cora's wedding. It did set me at ease somewhat, having Howling Wolf and his braves here, but it seemed that an ill wind was about to sweep through our lives, but what?

[Calico Mary]

All of our guests were eating and drinking their fill, including the newest one. I still didn't really understand what a monk was, but since he had been a visitor here before I was looking forward to getting to know him. Right now, I had other responsibilities to take care of. Cheyenne finally figured out how to give Ike and Sally a legitimate reason to leave the party, and I was sure they appreciated it. But with Sally gone, Little Flower and Laura talking to Two Birds, Cora enjoying the party with Biblepuncher, and Kate and Jenny dancing and talking with Walt and Sam, I was a little short of babysitters. Even Tommy was hanging around Junior again, ignoring Rose. I finally convinced her to go over to where Two Birds was and play with Little Bear, though that still left me the twins and the baby.

 

Mathew and Sarah were running around like crazy, trying to get into any kind of trouble they could find. I remembered back when they were taking their first steps, and how happy I was with the idea that they wouldn't need carried so much anymore. Now I realized how crazy I must have been, with two of them to chase after it was almost impossible to catch up. It didn't help that I had to hold Ruth almost constantly, she had a touch of colic and refused to calm down for anyone but me. I finally got a break when Sarah got tired, she found Buford lying next to one of the tables and soon was curled up next to him, her little head resting on his side. I was thankful Buford was so well behaved around the little ones, and had always shown nothing but patience towards them. This afternoon had proved the dog could be vicious if he felt his "pack" threatened, but as he had already accepted the twins as part of that pack I knew she was safe.

 

On the other hand, Mathew had an uncanny ability to escape being watched in the blink of an eye. Every time I thought I had him under control, something would happen to get my attention and he was off again. I was almost to the point of insisting on Laura or Little Flower watching him for me when I finally located where the scamp had got off to this time. To my surprise, I saw him sitting over on the back porch steps, with Finn of all people. As I got closer I saw that Finn had gotten a picture book out of the library, and he was slowly turning the pages and pointing at objects in the drawings, and letting Mathew name them. "Doggy!" Mathew exclaimed in delighted as I walked up, and I couldn't help but smile.

 

"So, you finally figured out a way to get him to sit still...I'm impressed," I told Finn. Finn just shook his head a little, a sad look on his face, and he muttered, "Well, at least your son will talk to me..." In an instant I felt sorry for the older man, he and Junior still weren't getting along and I could tell it bothered Finn far more than his son. Finn scooted Mathew up on his lap, still holding the book, and made room for me to sit down with Ruth next to them. "Your youngster here is a smart little fellow, and I'm enjoying his company, I hope that's ok," Finn said, and I assured him that I had no objection, that I had been looking for Mathew just to make sure he wasn't getting into anything he shouldn't be.

 

"I don't mind spending some time with him, I guess I'm just a little jealous," Finn admitted. "I never really begrudged my brother the ranch and everything that went with it, but I can't help but envy him that he got to spend at least a little time with his grandchildren before he passed. I'm getting to the age where things like that do have meaning, never thought I'd say that before, but this little man and his sister have got me thinking about those things lately. I tried to ask Junior if he had any plans of finding a woman and starting a family any time soon, he just told me to mind my own business."

 

I didn't know what to say to that, other than to tell Finn that he was welcome to read to or play with the twins whenever he wanted, it wasn't the same as having his own grandchildren but the kids seemed to enjoy it. Although I didn't say so, I agreed with him it was high time Junior started putting more thought into his future, and not just in regards to starting a family. I didn't know if he really wanted to remain on the ranch, but he needed to do something with his life, I would prefer that he do what would make him happy. Maybe there would be time on this trip to find out if he had any clue as to what he did want out of life, and give him some advice on how to achieve that. The main objective was still to get these two to patch up their differences, although I was beginning to think it would take a miracle for that to happen!

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

I've seen time and again the truth of the adage, "In the midst of life there is death, but in the midst of death there is life."

This was one of those times.

It's difficult for six foot and half a hand of robed Cistercian to be inconspicuous, but I did my best.

As a young man my best friend once complimented me on my ability to turn invisible in the company of others; it's a skill I practiced often, and though I knew I was about as inconspicuous as a lighthouse, I took pains not to attract undue attention.

Today was a celebration, and celebrate they did.

The fatted calf had been slaughtered, there was music and dance, laughter and merriment; the children, freed from chores and responsibilities, chased one another and laughed, and their laughter was good to hear; men ran foot races (which the Cheyenne won ... every time ...) -- a hawk butt was set up but nobody had a decent throwin' hatchet and they ended up using a hand ax and broke the handle on the third throw, so that didn't last long.

Monks of my order are generally subject to strict rules, but outside the cloister walls the rules were different; I generally followed St. Jerome's admonition, "In all things, moderation" -- a cup of sweet wine was sufficient, but not excessive; there was good back strap, and beans, fresh soft bread and pies, more food than could be eaten, and yet I knew none would go to waste.

I found a shady spot and parked myself on an upturned bucket and leaned back against the building.

Idly, almost mechanically, my left hand dipped into my traveling bag and came up with the black-beaded Rosary.

A little boy, curious, appeared like magic and eyed the beads.

"What's that?" he asked, and I held up the string of beads on their silver chain, the Cross flashing in the sunlight.

Curious souls drifted our way and I drew the beads slowly over one finger.

"This," I said, "is a wonderful invention. It helps us keep track of things."

"Oh," he said, then, "How?"

"First," I said, for there were some half dozen souls around us, and I felt mischief in my soul, "we have to know where this came from. Do you know what it does?"

The lad shook his head; I looked around, including the assembled in my question.

Bible Puncher was among them and I winked at him: a conspiracy between two sky pilots, and I saw a smile tighten the corners of his eyes, for a sky pilot is generally a better judge of character than most, and he knew I was going to engage in some happy leg pulling.

"Y'see," I said, "back a long time ago -- back when kings ruled the earth and me in tin suits rode around beatin' on one another with swords, before rifles were invented and a bow and arrow was the long range weapon of the battlefield -- times were hard and back in Europe, only rich men's sons learned to read."

I looked at the lad, pulled my book of Scripture out of my pouch.

"Was I to throw this open," I said, flipping quickly to Psalms, "and hand it to you ... I reckon I could point to ... this ... and you could read it."

" 'Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow,'" the lad read, and looked up at me.

I nodded. "Just so. But in those days books were all hand written and very expensive, nobody could read.

"Now." I raised a teaching finger, looked around, for the group had grown a little, and all were listening.

"In those days, men like myself, monks, lived in great stone buildings called monasteries. Just as we do today, they recited the Psalms several times a day. They recited in Latin, which nobody else understood, but the common folk outside the great stone walls could hear them.

"Every soul years for a closer connection to the Eternal, and these common people wanted to be as close to the Almighty as these holy men singing their Psalms.

"There was no way these common folk outside could learn them. No books to study, no Bibles to read, but everybody knew the Paternoster."

"The huh?" the lad asked, his face screwing up in curiosity; Bible Puncher nodded, and he murmured, "The Our Father."

"Exactly!" I grinned. "The common folk wanted to be closer to the Almighty, so every time the Brethren recited a Psalm, they would pray the Lord's Prayer."

Comprehension lighted the lad's eyes, and delighted I was to see it.

"Now if a man was working his fields, and far from the monastery, he wouldn't know how many times to recite that One Perfect Prayer, would he?"

The lad considered, then his head turned slowly left, then right.

"There was this Irishman."

I looked up again; a couple of the ladies smiled at this point for they too realized, as did the grinning Bible Puncher, that I'd baited the hook and was getting ready to set it deep, and they were right.

"This Irishman had a sack with him and he was educated, y'see, he'd been to third grade or so, and every time those monks recited a Latin Psalm, why, he picked up a pebble and dropped in that sack.

"When they were done he had a grin on his face and a sack full of rocks."

The lad frowned a little. I could see he had a mental picture of some fellow packing a gunny sack of gravels down the road.

"Now this-here Irishman, being a good husband, opened up the door of their humble cottage and yelled "Wife! I've found our salvation!" and his wife said "G'wan wid ye, Paddy, ye been drinkin' again," and that-there Irishman dumped that dirty old sack of rocks on their kitchen table.

"Once his wife was done addressin' his head with a fryin' pan he yelled, "No, no, no, here's how it works!" and explained about the monks and the chants, so she gives him another good clobberin' and snapped "You put those rocks back in that sack, one at a time now!" and she fetched out a length of string.

"Every time he dropped a pebble in his poke, she threw a knot in that string.

"When she was done," I said reaching into my traveler's bag and pulling out my own knotted string, "she had a string of one hundred fifty knots. Greek Orthodox still use this, and call it a komboligon."

I folded it into thirds.

"Now if we cut it here -- and here -- we have three pieces of string with fifty knots apiece, so we can use one short string three times.

"Or" -- I held up my beads -- "we can string beads and use them in the same way.

"This helps me count my prayers, and I can know how many times I've recited a particular one."

"Did a drunken Irishman make that?" the lad asked, and I could see Princess watching, bright-eyed, taking it all in.

"No, not this one, but" -- I winked at the lad -- "'twas his wife who cut the string into thirds and said use each one three times. Three times fifty is one hundred fifty, the number of the full string, y'see. She'd been to fourth grade so she was smarter than he was."

"I'm in fourth grade!" the lad protested.

"Now there you go!" I declared, clapping my hand on his shoulder and laughing. "This proves once again that you are younger, smarter and better lookin' than me!"

I got a good laugh from the assembled with my tale, and I could tell the Bible Puncher liked that one.

While I had my hand on the boy's shoulder, I whispered to him, "Say, who was the greatest baker in the Bible?"

He shook his head, big-eyed.

"Paul. He went to Phil-li-pi."

Bible Puncher groaned.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

Listening to Brother William gave me an idea, I hadn't pulled a prank for quite a while, it was time for someone to go snipe hunting.

 

Hmmm, I thought, who hadn't gone snipe hunting yet? Cali, Cora, Clara, Laura and Little Flower. It was getting dark and the trees around the house would make the perfect spot. We called them all around, explained who ever caught the most snipe wouldn't have to cook for a month. Then we gave them burlap bags and a lantern and sent them off. Cali was pretty exited over the idea of not cooking and almost knocked me over when I pulled her into the little cabin with the water hole.

 

She didn't want to hear about the snipe in there until I whispered that there was no such thing, and we would have at least an hour.....

 

ah yes, life was good.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

Brother William drifted through the different clusters of people, listening, a quiet smile on his face: his father taught him early and well the value of "Silence and Circumspection" and he practiced it now, following threads of conversation, observing alliances and connections, biding his time.

He had news, yes, but news could wait; he had more than news, but it too could wait.

Hurry up is brother to mess it up, he remembered, and smiled, for this too was one of his father's lessons.

Funny about that, he thought.

I've proven the Old Man right several times on that count!

It looks like Cheyenne will be the heir.

Brother William stifled a yawn, looked around.

Likely as an honored -- albeit unexpected -- guest, he would be offered a bed.

Best to find a bunk elsewhere.

Friends, kindred and brethren were come for the wedding and he would not deprive family of a comfortable bunk.

Straw would do just fine, and there happened to be a tight built barn not far from where he leaned on his staff.

The Princess -- active and curious she was, like the other children -- happened to spot the sleeping cleric when she came skipping into the barn to pet the cowies and the horsies.

She saw the man's hands twitch, his head turned and he groaned, quietly, the sound of a man deep in agony, and his face was beaded with sweat, carved with grief.

She was but a child, and a young child, but she had a definite sense of purpose when she saw a need.

She turned and scampered out of the shadowed coolness and across the bare dirt.

The musket was heavy and solid in his hand.

He'd just loaded it, just capped it, just thrust the bayonet over the muzzle and twisted it into place.

The enemy was ranked against them with the sun behind, and the enemy charged with a great cry that ran cold water down a man's spine.

Shoulder to shoulder, defenders rose in obedience to their commander's orders that morning -- "Never stand and receive a charge, boys, charge 'em right back!"

Two lines of men ran into one another, two rows of steel blades backed by wood and steel and lean young muscle.

He felt enemy steel rip along his rib cage and the fight was belt buckle to belt buckle now and he spun the musket, bringing its broad heavy wood stock into a man's belly, then slashed down with the muzzle: the bayonet was in the way and in these close quarters near useless and he barely parried the kniffe thrust at his belly: he twisted, kicked at the man's knee, felt more than heard the crunching fracture of cartilage and the fighter went down, screaming, silenced forever as William drove the steel-shod butt into his face, hard.

Something hit him in the chest and he roared defiance, slamming the fore-stock down across a thrusting sword: he fought like a tiger, a frenzied monster, clearing a space around him by the ferocity of his blows and the volume of his enraged screams.

Another blow, this to his head; blood ran hot and wet down his face and he slung his head like a wounded, enraged bear, watching red drops of his very life arc shining and crimson through the air as he spun the rifle, one end, then the other, thrusting, gutting, stabbing, crushing, mashing, blocking, deflecting.

He came into the clear and realized he'd fought through the enemy's entire depth, and he'd broken their will, and the men following him cheered as the attackers fled.

William watched them run, and swayed, and leaned on his musket before sagging to his knees.

He ached.

Something plucked at his elbow.

He looked down.

A man with half a face looked at him with his one remaining eye and tried to say something before coughing up blood and relaxing as only a dead man can.

The Princess came back into the barn and flipped the light blanket over the white-robed somnambulant.

He was a tall man and it was a short blanket but she did the best she could, and then she did one thing more, and she hesitated as she saw a tear run wetly from the corner of the sleeper's eye down his face, then she straightened and scampered back out into the gathering dusk.

She left her favorite rag doll tucked under the blanket, up against him, to keep him company against the dreams that so obviously plagued him.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

Cali had plum wore me out and as we joined the others you could hear the panic in their voices. Clara was missing!! It wasn't long before we realized that Brother William was absent as well. We spread out from the ranch in all directions with Calico and I heading towards the old water hole. We were nearing it when we started hearing giggles and laughter. Clara and Brother William? We crept the final few yards not really sure if we actually wanted to see what lay ahead.

 

We stopped behind the last large tree big enough to hide the two of us and on the count of three we peered from opposite sides of the tree, hoping not to see what was lurking in the water hole. There was Clara, but we could only see the head of whoever she was with, bald with white hair surrounding the smooth skin on top of someones head.

 

Then we heard, yes, yes I'll marry you!

 

It was Grizz!!! Not Brother William there with Clara, but Grizz agreeing to marry Clara! I wasn't the only one taken advantage of that evening!

[Calico Mary]

I don't know what Cheyenne was thinking, challenging me to a snipe hunt, like I didn't know any better. I had a feeling he had something else up his sleeve, and sure enough I was right. It didn't take long before he was dragging me into the little cabin again, as if he hadn't had enough earlier. Maybe he was just getting as much of it as he could before our trip, we wouldn't have a whole lot of privacy on the train, even with a private car.

 

He finally agreed to return to the party, which was winding down. Cora, Little Flower, and Laura were back, and not real happy about being tricked, but no one could find Clara. Cheyenne insisted that we check out the area around the outdoor water hole, and all I could think was not again! But it turned out that he actually had a good idea, we did find Clara there, and she wasn't alone. To our surprise we heard Grizz propose, and Clara saying yes. We had thought that they were both perfectly happy with their previous arrangement, but maybe the romance of today's wedding and the other ones coming up had inspired them. I just hoped they weren't in any hurry, or at the very least they wouldn't want a huge wedding. I'd have to talk to Clara about waiting until we got back from Virginia, so that Biblepuncher could perform the ceremony.

 

After we alerted everyone else to the fact Clara was safe and sound, we realized that Brother William was still missing. Someone had seen him heading for one of the barns, so we peeked in there and sure enough, he was fast asleep, laying on some hay bales. We would have offered him a room, since Ike and Sally were in their new cabin Ike's room in the big house was available. Oh well, I didn't think it a good idea to wake the man, he was probably very tired. Tomorrow we could see how long he wanted to stay, and make the offer of Ike's old room to him at that point.

 

We would have to point out that we were leaving in about a week for Virginia, and as we retired to the house I started thinking about the trip. I was a little anxious about having to make such a long trip by rail, but I knew it was way too far to even think about going by wagon. I'd never been farther east than Kansas, and I was curious about what the rest of the country was like. I knew from reading the papers that things weren't exactly going well for people in the South, Reconstruction had hit most people there pretty hard. Cheyenne hadn't had any contact with his father's family, so we had no idea how they might have been doing. Even Finn had no idea, although he was sure there were still plenty of Culpepper relatives in the area.

 

That got me to doing some thinking about the Civil War. I had the feeling that for many people it wasn't exactly over, but I didn't really understand why, or much about it at all. The war hadn't really seemed to affect most people in Colorado that much, it had happened too far to the east. Colorado had remained Union territory, but we had plenty of Southerners here as well. I had no idea how the Culpepper family felt about the whole thing, Frank had been too old to fight and Cheyenne too young. I did remember Frank at one point saying that he'd been glad to have not gotten involved in it, that he'd had enough of war after fighting in the Mexican-American war as a young man. That one I definitely didn't know much about, other than most of the southwest territory was now part of the USA because of it, and Frank had refused to discuss it any further.

 

We had a long trip ahead of us, and there was only so much staring out the windows I could do without going crazy. Maybe Schoolmarm had a history book or two she could loan me, so I could do a little reading on the subject. If not, maybe there were still some newspapers or magazines around here somewhere that would provide a little more information. Tomorrow I'd take a look around in the attic, maybe I'd get lucky. For now, thanks to Cheyenne, I was too tired to want to do anything but get some sleep!

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

I rose early, as was my habit: not wishing to be a drone, I headed for the wood pile, but found industry had reduced chunks to stovewood already; the kindling box was full, as were the two kindling buckets, the water tank was filled on the stove and I found myself gently pushed toward the dining room, which was filling with laughing, chattering humanity and the good smell of frying bacon and several other delectables.

There were, I reflected, definite advantages to having the Abbott's leave to depart the monastery as needed.

Bible Puncher stood and the assembled, looking through the kitchen door and knowing food was about to be brought in, waited for the sky pilot's blessing, but he looked at me with that ornery expression of his and said "If Brother William would do us the favor of the blessing," and I could cheerfully have kicked the man.

Instead I bowed my head and asked the Lord three things: a blessing on the food, to our bodies and His greater service; a blessing on the hands that prepared it; and I added a third request, one that took my fellow cleric by surprise, but merited his approval.

"And Lord," I said in a quet, gentle voice, "spare us the curse of the long winded preacher, Amen!"

 

'Twas after breakfast that I was able to catch up with Cheyenne.

He was a man with purpose on his mind and I wished to waste none of his time.

"Might I counsel with you, Cheyenne?" I asked quietly. "We have business to discuss."

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow and looked at Calico, who was on his arm: she blinked, released her grip and I raised a palm toward them.

"My Lady," I said deferentially, "I would be greatly obliged if you would join us. The matter will concern you as well."

It was Calico's turn to look a little surprised.

We went into his father's study, a room as masculine and comfortable as I remembered, a room of books and of planning, a room that held a thousand memories.

I closed my eyes and leaned on the back of a chair, remembering the fine man who'd poured brandy and offered cigars, a man whose soul was just as strong as his work-callused hands, a man of nobility and integrity and of unfailing honesty.

A man I would miss.

"Your father," I began, then cleared my throat and started again.

"Your father served with Sheriff Keller over in Firelands, and with myself."

I knew this was old history to Cheyenne; it served as a familiar, common starting point.

"I regret to inform that the Sheriff's wife, Esther, is now passed away."

I swallowed hard.

I'd been at her funeral, and shared its solemn duties with Parson Belden, and after, the Sheriff and I shared brandy and memories, and I sat long into the night with my old friend, neither of us saying much, but in a man's grief not much is generally said.

"She died in child birth and their daughter Dana is well and healthy." I cleared my throat again and passed the sleeve of my robe viciously across my eyes, for they stung despite my forbidding them to betray me.

"She was christened last week in a gown made from her Mama's wedding dress."

I had to stop and turn my face from them; my voice hoarsened as I spoke and I'm afraid the word "dress" came out more a raspy whisper than my usual voice.

I heard liquid gurgle into glass, Cheyenne's step on the varnished board floor; his hand was firm on my shoulder and he pressed a brandy into my hand.

I tilted it up and drained it, nodded my thanks and handed the snifter back to him.

"Your father," I said, then cleared my throat and started again.

"Your father and I served with the Sheriff when he was breveted to Colonel with the Third Ohio Volunteer Cavalry." I smiled sadly. "When they organized back in Ohio he was one of two men who knew how to ride a horse, and his was one of two horses who knew how to be ridden."

Calico's expression was curious; she was listening and I could see that quick mind of hers busy behind her bright, watchful eyes.

"Nobody rode in those days, back East: everybody drove -- drove carriages, drove wagons, drove buggies -- we had to teach ..."

I looked down, took a long breath.

"We three chased Morgan all over hell and breakfast in Kentucky. The man was a ghost -- General John Hunt Morgan was a fox, a will-o-the-wisp, he was one of the most tactically efficient officers we'd ever seen. After the War we ... made a pact, and that's why I'm here."

I reached into my traveler's bag and withdrew a thick envelope.

"Your father invested in the Z&W Railroad. It was the Colonel's gift -- the Sheriff's gift, I'm sorry -- to his new bride."

I handed the envelope to Cheyenne.

"You have a young fortune in your hands," I said. "It was to be your father's. You are heir so it is yours."

I withdrew another, slimmer envelope.

"The young couple who just got married ... please give that to them, but wait until noontime."

"Why noon?"

I took a long stride toward the man, shoved out my hand; automatically he took mine.

"I'm pulling my freight. My work is not yet done. I thank you for your kindness this day."

I turned to Calico.

She stood, raised her hand; I took it in my own, brought it to my lips, knuckle-kissed her: from the pull of her hand and the uncertain look she shot at Cheyenne she wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she went with it.

"My Lady," I said, "this is the man of your choice. You have chosen well and wisely. I tell you he is his father's son -- he even walks like him -- and I knew his father well enough to be satisfied without further investigation."

I looked around for what would probably be the last time I would stand in this welcoming respite from the world and its cares and troubles.

"A thousand memories," I whispered. "A thousand good memories."

An hour later I was well away from the ranch, and people, well meaning and welcoming that they were: though I knew, between my ears, that the dead suffer no more the pains of this earth, that those who precede us into the Valley are in the Presence, I still grieved, and I knew this was not a bad thing.

I stopped in a thicket and knelt, and sought the stillness I'd hoped to find in the monastery; I contemplated the grief that flooded my heart, and I remembered the Abbott when he spoke with a husband the year before, a man who'd lost his wife:

'We read in Scripture that we are not to grieve as do the heathen,' he'd quoted, 'we are not to mourn as those who have no hope.'

Then he took the man by the shoulders and looked directly at him, looked deep into the man's eyes.

'Nowhere does it say, "Don't Grieve."

'We grieve because we love and we grieve hard because we loved deeply."

The Abbott looked at the simple box being lowered into the hole.

He'd known the woman as well, and knew her to be a saint on earth.

"It rained last night," he said quietly, "and so did I."

I looked at this memory, and I looked at my grief.

"I am a child," I whispered.

"I am a child standing in the schoolyard.

"I am looking around.

"My friend is gone.

"There is still light. There is still time. We can still play!"

I took a long breath.

"But my friend is no longer with me.

"I know he was Called Home.

"He was Called Home by a Wise and Loving Parent.

"My friend is warm and fed and safe and loved, and I know this -- here" -- I touched my forehead -- "but here" -- I touched my breastbone -- "here, I am a child, and I miss my friend."

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

Calico and I didn't know what to think when Brother William told us about ownership in the railroad. Perhaps our upcoming trip to Virginia might be more comfortable and even include an indoor water hole. Sure would make the trip seem shorter for sure. We would have to get things checked into first, but that couldn't wipe the smile out of my mind.

 

Brother William bid us farewell and we watched as he slowly walked back towards the foothills, getting smaller as he went until we could no longer see him.

 

Cora's father James, our attorney would be here soon, but we were scheduled to leave soon as well. I sent Cross-fire Brown to town with two telegraph messages. One to James and the other to the railroad explaining this latest twist in our lives and asking the railroad for the coaches we would need for our upcoming trip. Asking now sure couldn't hurt, all they could say was no, so what did I have to lose?

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

We received the return telegram from our attorney and the railroad the next day. Calico and I were both dancing on clouds when were read the news. Mr. Winchester, our attorney was beside himself with the news as this opened a whole new world for all of us. We weren't majority shareholders but wasn't far from it. The railroad's main offices were in St Louis and the telegram let us know that they expected us to stop there for a lengthy visit on our trip east.

 

We read further and could hardly contain ourselves with the next paragraph. Not only would we have as many private cars as we would like, we'd have our own train, and with the understanding that we were expected to travel wherever the train could take us and for as long as we liked. We could also outfit our cars as we saw fit and would be kept at our disposal wherever we were, anytime.

 

The thoughts were racing through my mind, a whole new life, let the kids run the ranch, and turn it over to them as they earned it? I almost got dizzy as I let my mind wonder. How many cars would we need, who all would we ask to go along? So many questions!

[Calico Mary]

Brother William's news about the railroad was a surprise, and at first it was a pleasant one. Cheyenne was so excited, and it was hard not to let it be contagious. Having our own train for the trip east, as well as our own cars, would make the trip a lot more pleasant. Of course, once we calmed down a little my old fear of riding the trains started resurfacing. I hesitated to say anything, as I didn't want to ruin Cheyenne's good mood, and I certainly didn't want him thinking me a coward. Oh well, we still had several days before we were to leave, and I had other things to things to think about.

 

I was sorry to see Brother William go, I had been hoping to get to know him better. I think Biblepuncher felt the same, talking to the monk had gotten his mind off his upcoming wedding, at least for a little while. We'd arranged for one of the ministers from town to officiate, since Biblepuncher couldn't do it himself, but our preacher was still getting a good case of nerves going. It didn't help that we all noticed that Ike and Sally barely left their little house to eat, much less anything else. We all got a bit of a laugh out of that, but at least Cheyenne seemed to understand. He had Karl rearrange some of the hands' duties so that Ike's chores were getting done even if it wasn't him doing them. The other hands would have to cover for him while we were all gone anyway, it didn't hurt them to start a week early.

 

I was worried about leaving my Clydesdales, several of the mares were pregnant and getting close to delivering. Not that I didn't trust Doc, but I hoped at least some of the foals would arrive before I left, I wanted to be there. I did spend as much time as possible with them, not that the hands needed my help but I enjoyed currying the expectant mothers and giving them some extra attention, and I think the horses liked it too. Cheyenne wasn't so crazy about it, I think he was starting to get a little lonely. Karl tried to keep him occupied, discussing what Cheyenne wanted done while he was gone, but from what Karl told me in private later it wasn't working all that well. I ended up having to take at least one break a day so he wouldn't whine, but he wasn't the only one that was going to miss that outdoor water hole during the trip.

 

One thing was starting to concern me, and that was the telegram from St. Louis asking us to stop at the head offices. I wasn't sure that the Board of Directors and the company officers were aware that Cheyenne was half indian, and I had no idea what the attitudes back east were towards someone of mixed blood. I had no idea if this was going to cause any problems, but I sure hoped it wouldn't. Not that I wanted him to do it, but maybe it would help if I suggested he let Hop Sing cut his hair before we left....

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

Brother William thanked the teamster for his kindness, shook the man's hand before he took his staff and swung down from the freight wagon.

It was about half a day's walk from here.

 

Sarah hummed a little as she mixed her ingredients.

Her humming became coarser, less harmonious; the wooden spoon stirred at first, then as she labored, her movements were less smooth and more vigorous, until finally she was almost slashing at the bread dough.

She floured the smooth wood tabletop, dumped out the dough, scraped the last leavings from the glazed mixing bowl, then she fairly attacked the bread dough.

Her nostrils flared, her face and her eyes grew pale; she mixed the dough with claw-bent fingers, gouging into it, more attacking than kneading: finally she abandoned all pretense at control and with a snarl began to strike the lump of dough -- vicious and deadly blows, heel strikes, strikes with the edge of her hand, blows taught her in secret by an Oriental who knew how to kill with his hands.

Her maid was upstairs, wisely tending to bed-linens and other domestic chores that kept her away from the kitchen.

When Sarah mentioned that she wished to make bread, this was their private code-phrase that Sarah wished some time to herself.

Once, and only once, did the maid linger.

Once only.

She watched; she watched her mistress go from a pleasant, smiling, pregnant widow to a vicious, snarling animal -- a beast -- focused with a murderous single-mindedness on the bread dough she mixed with all the delicacy of a maniac murdering with a knife in a dirty London back alley.

Sarah snarled and delivered one final strike: exhausted, she seized it in her hands, as if to strangle it; she pinched it in two, picked up one half and set if aside, still on the floured work area, picked up the other half: teeth bared, pale eyes blazing, she strangled it as well, snarling from between clenched teeth, until finally she rested her hands on the edge of the table and dropped her head, shoulders heaving, jaw clenched against the grief that threatened to tear her apart.

Her husband had been one of the Irish Brigade, one of the red-shirted Irishmen who made up Fireland's fire department.

His name was Daffyd Llewellyn.

He was of Welsh stock, direct descendant of a Celtic warrior-princess, and he and their Irish Chieftain went into a burning structure together.

The Irishman came out alive.

Her husband, or what was left of him, fell three stories through the dry-wood inferno of a boarding-house fire and was hauled out in a box borne on the shoulders of his fellows.

He died not knowing Sarah carried his son.

Now Sarah wept, her reserve shattering; she'd kept up a brave front for so long, she'd kept her composure drawn about herself like a cloak on a cold morning, but now, now with morning's sun warm through the windows, with the stove radiating welcome and bread dough separated into discrete lumps, Sarah reshaped them, overed them with clean dishtowels, set them nearer the fire to rise.

She was composed enough to tend this detail; she sat down, lowered her face into her hands.

There was a knock --- two, then one.

Sarah sniffed, raised her head,

She wiped her eyes, stood, flipped the dishtowel over her shoulder, went to the door.

She took a long breath, composed herself, opened it.

"Hello, Brother William."

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

The week before Biblepuncher's and Cora's wedding flew by, I had thought that I would need to go over everything with Karl and Eddie but I soon found out that the two of them had things completely under control. One thing I was thankful for though was Calico's attentiveness. I even learned to play it some and would walk around with my head hung low when I knew she was watching, most of the time that earned a trip to the water hole.

 

We had the pastor coming out from town for the ceremony, so that was all set. The women were taking care of everything else so I began working on plans for our private car for the train. Of course it would have to come complete with the same type tub we had out in the cabin. I was getting used to the idea of traveling and seeing our country, especially Virginia. I had been as far east as Kansas, and was curious what the other parts of our land would look like.

 

I took time pulling clothes out and trying to decide which to take and while looking in the mirror my heritage was becoming more important to me. I would dress appropriately but my hair would remain long.

 

I had to decide who would be going along with us and was beginning to like the idea of rotating it among the families on the ranch.

[Calico Mary]

No matter how hard I tried to take Doc's advice of not pushing myself too much, our lives were just too busy at this point. Between taking care of the kids and the horses, getting through two weddings, getting ready for the trip, and keeping Cheyenne happy I was really starting to get tired again. At least the next wedding would be over soon, and hopefully the last one for a while. Grizz had proposed to Clara, but both of them were in full agreement, they did not want a big, fancy wedding. In fact, both of them were leaning towards a private ceremony with just Biblepuncher and maybe a couple of witnesses. If that's what they wanted, I was fine with that, but it didn't mean we couldn't still throw them a party of some sort afterward.

 

At least the plans for the trip were coming together. We pretty much had everything packed, though I was a little concerned that my clothes weren't fancy enough for where we were heading. I didn't really know anything about the East, except that it was located...well...to the east, but I had no idea how people back there dressed or acted or anything about them. It almost felt as if we were headed to a foreign country, and I was as nervous about that as I was the train ride. Cheyenne had been busy arranging for a few additions to a couple of private cars to make our trip more enjoyable, and I had to admit I did appreciate his efforts. The kids weren't too happy when they found out that they weren't going to be allowed to take their dogs, but I wasn't about to be stuck on a train for who knows how long with those mutts. It was starting to seem like every time I turned around there was a dog underfoot, and it was driving me crazy. Cheyenne felt the same about the kittens, but at least those didn't make him sneeze. Grumpy and Lizzy had volunteered to dog sit so we knew the animals would be well cared for, but the kids were going to miss their pets.

 

I was going to miss my Clydesdales, especially the newest ones. Two of the mares had in fact given birth, both times Karl came knocking on our bedroom door in the middle of the night, sent by Doc to fetch me to the barn just in time. I don't think Cheyenne was too thrilled with me jumping out of bed to go running down there, but to me it was worth it. A fine colt and a beautiful little filly, both strong and perfectly healthy, definitely good additions to my herd. At least I got to be there for the birth of those two, even if no more foals arrived before we left.

 

Finally the day came for Biblepuncher and Cora's wedding, it was a beautiful sunny day, but thankfully not too hot. Cora seemed to be handling it far better than most of the rest of us had, but Biblepuncher was a nervous wreck. Finn and Junior had been arguing again, so I sent Junior out to the porch to keep an eye on Rose and Tommy, and sent Finn along with Cheyenne and Karl to try and calm down Biblepuncher. I didn't think he'd be much help, but at least it gave him something to do besides annoy his son. I sure hoped that those two could behave themselves for at least an hour later, and I was praying that this time nothing would go wrong. It would be nice to have at least one wedding go as planned, with no uninvited guests showing up and nobody attacking us!

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

The tanned monk gave Sarah an appraising look.

"Motherhood suits you," he nodded, then raised a hand in blessing and murmured the ancient words as he ceremonially stepped across her threshold.

"I have bread rising, but there is meat, and coffee."

"My wants are simple," Brother William said quietly.

Sarah swung abruuptly, thrusting her finger at his nose. "I know that," she snapped, "if it was up to you, you'd live on locusts and honey!" -- then her flare of anger dissolved and she looked like a little girl about to cry.

Brother William leaned his staff against the wall and took her carefully by the elbows, his fingertips gentle; Sarah, on the other hand, was in no mood for halfway measures: she threw herself into him, seizing the lean monastic about the middle, her grip that of a drowning man seizing a life-ring at sea.

Brother William's arm was strong and reassuring around her shoulders, his other hand stroking her hair, his voice quiet, gentle, soothing.

Sarah forbade herself to cry -- she'd done too much of that here of late -- but tears, unbidden, scalded their way from between clenched eyelids.

They stood thus for several long minutes, in the stillness of Sarah's parlor; finally she wiggled a little and Brother William lifted his arm and Sarah sniffed and muttered, "I have to punch down the dough," and spun on her heel to march purposefully to the kitchen.

Brother William twisted a little, left, then right, his eyes closing as something popped dully in the man's back: he picked up his staff, leaned against it: as long as he was moving, his back didn't hurt too badly, but if he stood too long it gave him grief, and so his staff was not only a third leg on the trail, it was his means to keep his back from too much grief while standing still.

"Brother William?" Sarah called, and the monk walked silently toward the kitchen.

 

"It is perfectly fine for you to talk to Daffyd," Brother William said, his voice gentle as ever.

"We are surrounded by a great cloud of believers. These are our honored dead, who have preceded us from this life. They are closer to God than we, and we may speak with any of them as we would talk to a friend, whether to ask for help or for an intercession or simply to say hello or I miss you."

He looked Sarah squarely in the eye.

"There are few losses like losing a spouse," he whispered, "and only those of us who have lost our bestest friend and mate can ever understand that."

Sarah knew Brother William was in the War with her father, and she knew he had a life before the War, but this was the closest he'd ever come to speaking of it.

The maid was with them now, busy keeping coffee cups filled, making sure something was within the lean monk's reach at all times, whether a sandwich, or bread, butter pressed into little decorative molds, a slice of pie: he was a guest, and guests were well cared for.

Sarah's aproned, ruffled maid took pride in her work.

Sarah opened the portfolio, took out the first sheet: it was heavy rag paper, and the drawing was exqisitely lifelike: Sarah had one of the Daine boys draw it for her, at Brother William's request, for he often worked with the illiterate, and pictures, with his stories, often explained his messages, whether Scripture, or a sermon, or stories of the Saints.

"He had me dress like the Virgin Mary," Sarah said, "so he would know what a woman of that age looked like."

Brother William nodded.

"He took a good long look at me and had me turn around, slowly.

"I told him what you had in mind.

"He never said a word, just looked at me with those dark eyes of his, and I could see his mind was busy as a steam engine."

"The eyes are windows to the soul," Brother William murmured.

"Here are the three you asked for."

Brother William nodded.

"These are perfect," he whispered, laying a browned hand on hers and squeezing gently. "Thank you."

His gesture -- if done by any other man -- would have been presumptuous, forward, an affront: from the gentle Brother William, it was a friend's sincere thank-you.

Sarah put them carefully back into the portfolio.

"This is yours," she said.

Brother William nodded, accepting the gift.

"Thank you," he nodded. "There is a family I must visit, and this will help teach what I wish to tell them."

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

Cora looked beautiful the day of the wedding. I thought back to when I had first met her and was astonished at how much she had changed and it brought a huge smile to my face. It was one of those times when you had done something right and later you were handsomely rewarded for it, and I was enjoying the feeling.

 

Biblepuncher had been a basket case all week long but was finally settling down and at the sight of Cora at the rear of the church walking towards him he nearly broke his jaw his smile was so big. The pastor from town did a nice job with the ceremony and it was over before we knew it. The two lovebirds stayed around for a little while but with the look in both of their eyes I didn't know who was more anxious to leave.

 

Two days after the wedding we were heading into Fort Collins to board the train for our trip back east to Virginia with stops in Denver and St. Louis. Denver, to board our private train and then in St. Louis to meet with the railroad folks. The trip to Fort Collins couldn't have ended soon enough because of the arguing between Finn and Jr. I finally had enough of the bickering and told Finn that if he didn't want to act like a grownup he could go back to Deadwood and Jr. could go back to Kansas on foot. I think they only listened because of the fire in my eyes and especially because of Calico's dirty looks!

 

We got into Ft. Collins early and dropped our many bags at the depot and then walked down to the diner for lunch. Jr. started up again with Finn but stopped abruptly when Calico kicked his leg that had been broken. The look he got from her sealed his lips for the rest of the meal that was followed by the whine of the whistle from the train pulling in to the station.

 

The sight of the train nearly took our breath away. The last two cars looked to be brand new cars. There was a porter for each car and at the sight of us each one was doing his best to see that we got comfortable on the two cars reserved for us only. We were almost ready to pull out when a US Marshall entered the car and asked if he and his prisoner could ride with us instead of the car ahead of ours. He didn't like the crowdedness of the public car and was worried about some of the people in it. I looked down at Calico and I saw that look that said, "Oh no, not again."

 

I couldn't turn the man down and invited him to join us, prisoner and all.

[Calico Mary]

Finally, a wedding where nothing went wrong! I was so happy for our friends, they made such a good couple, and I wished them every happiness. The party afterward was a little calmer than the one the week before had been, but everyone still enjoyed themselves. I was kind of glad it was all over with though, and was looking forward to a relaxful trip. Well, relaxful except for having to get on a train again, that made me a little nervous.

 

I had plenty to do to keep my mind off of it for a while. Another mare went into labor the day after the wedding, and by dinnertime we had one more fine colt in our barn. I also went on a long rides on Rascal, I would miss him while I was gone but Lone Wolf promised to give him plenty of exercise. I was looking forward to a good night's rest after that, but it was not to be. A little after midnight Karl was knocking on the door again, this time it was my autumn pony. As the sun was rising, my mare gave birth to yet another fine healthy colt, this one as snow white as his sire. Cheyenne had come to the barn with me this time, and he was all smiles as he saw that tiny foal that was the spitting image of Cheyenne's stallion.

 

That day flew by with all the last minute preparations for the trip, and I was tired by the time dinner was over. Cheyenne insisted on one more trip to the indoor water hole before we left, at first I was a little annoyed but later I had to admit that it did help me relax and I dropped off right to sleep when we finally went to bed. I had strange dreams about the train stopping halfway to Denver, but there was almost no details, just my mind seeing the train come to a stop in the middle of nowhere. I tried not to let it bother me, but it didn't help my anxiety.

 

The next day was hectic, and Finn and Junior weren't helping much. Cheyenne finally got them to behave, but for how long was anyone's guess. I had the feeling it wouldn't last the entire trip, but when we got to the train at least we were able to split them up. We had two private cars for the first leg of the journey, and I sent Junior to the rear one with Tommy, Rose, Laura, Ike and Sally, and Eddie and Little Flower. Cheyenne and I headed for the other one with the babies, Kate, Biblepuncher and Cora, and Finn.

 

Right before we were pulling out, the front door opened and a scruffy looking man in handcuffs was pushed through the door. A US Marshall followed him in, and asked Cheyenne's permission for he and his prisoner to ride in our car. Something about that bothered me, but we had no real legitimate reason to refuse. The Marshall and his captive sat in the seats closest to the door, the rest of us were a bit farther back. I was holding Ruth, Kate had Sarah, and for some reason Finn asked if Mathew could sit on his lap for a while. I saw no harm in that, before the trip was through we would all need to take turns holding the babies so no one person had to do it the whole time.

 

We'd gone about halfway to Denver when the front door burst open again. Before any of us had a chance to react, the first man coming through the door raised a pistol and shot the Marshall in the shoulder, the wound wasn't fatal but it prevented the Marshall from going for his gun. Before either Cheyenne or Biblepuncher could reach for theirs, two more men had come in and they all had their guns pointed at us. There was nothing Cheyenne or Biblepuncher could do, but Cheyenne slowly raised his hands and started standing up. "Keep in mind there's ladies and children present, gents," he started to say, but the lead man just told him to sit down and shut up.

 

"Nobody try anything stupid and ya won't get hurt," the man growled, "Same goes for you, Marshall, unless you want a few more bullet holes in ya." I could feel the train starting to slow, and now my dream about the train stopping made more sense. It had been a warning, though not a very clear one, but what could we do about it now? I didn't want any of us getting shot, but I didn't like the idea of these outlaws escaping either. Would Cheyenne or Biblepuncher be able to do anything to stop them?

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

Jacob stood back as the tall, tanned monk stepped inside; he nodded pleasantly to Jacob, turned to close the door, firmly, latched it: he leaned his hand-carved staff against the door frame, thrust out a slender and surprisingly strong hand.

"Jacob," he said, his voice quiet, powerful: "you've improved."

Jacob took his hand, an eyebrow raising as he considered the phrase; he smiled slightly and replied, "Thank you, sir."

Brother William released the younger man's hand, reached for his staff and leaned on it a little.

"When I was young," he said by way of explanation, "I always hated it when someone would look at me and say" -- his manner changed: with a limp-wristed, utterly feminine gesture, with a decidedly feminine voice he exclaimed, "My, how you've grown!" -- then he changed again, and Jacob saw a dark anger in the man's face, saw his very frame change.

"I always hated it," he said again, "when they said that" -- he seized his own left wrist, brought a flat palm up, then slapped it hard, with his right, an obvious illustration of what he wanted to do to such folk -- "and I do not know why it angered me so, then and now."

He took the staff in both hands again, leaning on it as if to ease an old ache in his long tall frame: leaning his cheek bone against it, he closed his eyes.

"I chose never, ever to utter those words."

He opened his eyes and smiled sadly.

"Reckon I've got a gear loose or something. That's not worth gettin' mad over and I try not to think about it -- but that's why I say what i do."

He nodded, almost sadly, looking at Jacob with the eyes of a man who'd seen much, perhaps too much, change in his lifetime.

"That's why I will tell the young that they have improved."

"Yes, sir," Jacob replied quietly.

The Sheriff still sat, relaxed, sleepy-looking, which did not fool either of his two guests, not one little bit.

Brother William turned to face his old friend and former saddle partner.

"Out with it," the Sheriff said, his voice low.

"Frank is dead."

The silence that followed was magnified by muffled sounds from without; horses, several of them, at a walking cadence, a voice calling for a halt, followed by a musical, two-note "Hoo-oooo."

The Sheriff hadn't moved, not one muscle; he closed his eyes now, for a long moment, and he was still, utterly still, moreso than a living man might otherwise be: for the space of three breaths he sat thus, then he opened his eyes and leaned forward a little, drew open a drawer.

Jacob saw his father's good right hand, a hand that had been steady and nerveless in some pretty bad situtations, was shaking a little.

The Sheriff brought out a quart bottle, its contents water-clear and not over 30 days old; he sat out three squat, heavy glasses; working the cork free, he fumbled for a moment, the cork falling to the desk top and almost to the floor: he slapped his hand hard down on it, the noise loud in the little log fortress that was the Sheriff's office.

A heavy fist drove three times, hard, on the closed door, and a voice without, a familiar voice: "The US Cavalry demands entry! Open th' door before I kick th' damned thing open!"

The Sheriff reached into the drawer and withdrew another glass, set it carefully with the others, then he stood and paced slowly to the door.

"You may want to stand back," he said to the monk, who nodded and got some distance between the portal and himself.

Jacob appraised the white-robed monastic with a fighting man's eyes and he knew from the way the cleric took the runestaff in two hands that there was more to this long, tall fellow than met the eye.

The Sheriff opened the door, seized the dusty, suntanned Irishman by his bright-yellow neckerchief and yanked hard, his pale eyes afire with an expression that generally brought water to a man's knees.

The Sheriff slammed the door, shoved the surprised Sergeant of Cavalry hard against the heavy boards.

"Stand right there," he whispered, and his sibilants carried more weight than another man's full-voiced bellow.

He turned easily, lightly, paced over to his desk; distilled detonation gurgled into the several glasses, filling each just more than two-thirds full.

He handed one to each of the men present, taking the fourth for himself.

"Brother William," he said, "say again your message, for the Sergeant has need-to-know authorization."

Jacob's right ear twitched at the unfamiliar phrase: it was something he had heard before, but only with high-level communications involving military intelligence, or the US Secret Service, with whom he'd had some contact in his duties as a lawman.

Brother William looked down into the shimmering depths, seeing boots and floor boards through the flawlessly-clear liquid.

He smelled the Irishman, smelled horse sweat and leather and Indian tobacco, and remembered the days when he and his men all smelled the same.

"Frank," he said, "is dead."

"Where, how and who?" the Sheriff asked, his words quiet.

"Natural causes. As near as I can tell, he died in his own bed. He was happily married and you already know he'd done well for himself. His son ..."

Brother William's eyes searched for something in the bottom of the glass, blinked a few times before continuing.

"I gave him your package as son and heir, and I understand the man is to be married." He looked up at his old friend, the ghost of a sad smile on his face. "The poor lass looked like I'd handed him a cold dead fish when he found he owned that railroad."

The Sheriff nodded, raising his glass.

"To one of the best officers I ever served with," the Sheriff said firmly. "May he find his way to Fiddler's Green!"

"Fiddler's Green!" Brother William and the cavalry sergeant chorused: four glasses were raised, the toast was drunk, the dead saluted in ancient form.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

The door burst open and a shot hit the marshal in the shoulder. Before any of us could react two more men burst through the door and covered us. The man who had shot the marshal moved quickly and with the keys from the marshal unlocked the chains on the man travelling with the marshal.

 

I had made an attempt to reason with the men, to no avail. I didn't take my eyes off the men as they moved through the car and I know that Biblepuncher was doing the same, noting everything about the men that we could. One thing that stood out was that they all carried Schofield revolvers.

 

The prisoner and two of the other men quickly exited to there awaiting horses, but the last man paused and screamed at Cora to get up and come with him. I heard a guttural grunt come from deep inside Biblepuncher but the man still had the both of us covered as Cora stood. The man grabbed her arm and started walking backwards out of the car. We saw Finn, who the intruder had forgotten about move in behind the man and waited for the man to step within reach of him and as he did Finn slid his knife across the man's throat, opening it completely and letting the air release from the man's lungs.

 

We heard to horses leaving and pushing the already dead man out of the way we made our way through the door and with pistols already drawn began firing at the outlaws as their horses were trying to carry them to safety. Our bullets found one of the men but the prisoner and the man who had first burst into our car quickly were out of our range.

 

As we felt the train lunge forward again we went back into the car to find Calico and Cora working feverishly to stop the marshal's bleeding. "Marshal, who was that man, and what was he wanted for?" I asked him.

[Calico Mary]

The Marshall was gritting his teeth in pain, but he managed to tell us the story. "Well, this time they escaped from prison, I'd managed to catch the one feller but I should have known his partners would find us. They're all members of the Harper gang, they were serving time for a bank robbery a few years back. One of the tellers was killed, the posse that went after them managed to kill the man that shot the teller, and captured the rest. Unless I miss my guess, this young lady's uncle was the lawyer that helped put them all away," he finished, pointing at Cora.

 

"So that's why that man tried forcing you to go with them," Biblepuncher muttered, hugging Cora tightly to him. "Thank you, Finn, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you rescuing my lovely bride!" Finn just shrugged, saying "Just did what needed doing, couldn't let the lady get hurt. Now what are we gonna do about the two that got away?”

 

“I'm going after them!” Cheyenne declared. “Finn, go have the conductor ask the engineer to stop long enough for me, Eddie, and Ike to get our horses off the train. We'll meet the rest of you in Denver, wait for us there.” Finn disappeared out of the front door, and Cheyenne headed towards the other car to get Eddie and Ike. Biblepuncher tried to volunteer to go as well, but Cheyenne told him, “No, I need you and Finn to stay with the women and children, the Marshall's in no shape to do it all alone.”

 

Cheyenne went through the door, and Biblepuncher called out after him, “You need more help than just those two, they've never done anything like this before!” I wasn't sure Cheyenne had heard him, but I knew the preacher was right. Kate was sitting with the twins, but I quickly handed Ruth to her as well, and grabbed the carpetbag I had my buckskins in, and started changing my clothes. The Marshall was polite enough to avert his eyes, but Biblepuncher stood in the aisle staring at me, and demanded to know just what the heck did I think I was doing. “Eddie and Ike might not have any experience at chasing bad guys, but I do. Cheyenne is going to need more help, and I'm going with them. I'll have to borrow Finn's horse, I knew I should have brought Rascal! Cora, have the girls bring Tommy and Rose up here with the rest of you before the train gets going again, they can help with the babies and it will be easier for Biblepuncher and Finn to watch you all that way...”

 

Just as I got my buckskins on the rear door opened and Cheyenne came back with Eddie, Ike, and shockingly enough, Junior. The train was slowing to a stop, and I could tell Cheyenne was in a hurry to get going, but not so much that he didn't start trying to argue with me when he saw I had changed my clothes. “We don't have time for this! You're going to need all the help you can get, and at least I've done this before, unlike those youngsters! You can yell at me for it later,” I informed Cheyenne, buckling my gunbelt on and heading for the front of the car before he had a chance to say another word.

 

Just then Finn came back in, telling Cheyenne that the conductor had gotten a few men to help get our horses out of the special freight car that had been set aside for the animals. Cora headed to get the others out of the second car, and Biblepuncher silently handed me the Marshall's rifle. “When we get to Denver, I'm going to take everyone to the orphanage and ask the Mother Superior if we can stay there, it may be safer than trying to go to the Winchesters,” the preacher said. I nodded, it sounded like a good idea to me, then I looked over my shoulder at Cheyenne.

 

“Are you coming?” I asked him, then without waiting for an answer I headed out the door towards the waiting horses.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

I was surprised to see Calico in her buckskins, but not shocked, just hadn't thought about it with all the confusion. I felt a warmth go through me though when I saw her in those buckskins, just like when I'd first seen her.

 

We got saddled up and within minutes we were on the trail of the two outlaws that had managed to leave the train alive. I liked our odds, five to two and I knew our horses were fresh. Ike, Eddie and Jr. were wanting to take off like a bat out of hell, but I convinced them to hold their mounts in check and proceed at a nice steady pace. We spread out to keep from eating each other's dust and trotted our horses after the men.

 

I couldn't help but to keep glancing at Calico, each time I did different memories flashed through my mind. I had to fight to keep my mind on the matters at hand. Eddie and Ike had had a little experience in gunfights, Jr. had less, even though Calico was well versed in the matter at hand, I couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

 

We had ridden a short way when we spotted a hat, it was from the man that had been the marshal's prisoner. I smiled, the man would have the sun beating down on his now uncovered head. Any advantage that we were given I was happy to have. We continued on without stopping for the hat. We slowed for a while and Calico and I took turns giving advice to the young men, hoping to keep them alive through this. I got a laugh watching Calico take on the mother figure while giving gunfighting tips. When she got done, I summed it up for the young men, "If we tell you to do something, Just Do It!"

 

The next thing we spotted was an empty whiskey bottle. Ike almost hollered out, "Ha, they'll be drunk, this is going to be easy." Jr., having been around drunks as a child scolded Ike, "Drunks are the most dangerous, you don't know how they are going to react!"

 

Then a canteen along the trail caught our attention. I stopped and dismounted and stuck my finger into the mouth of the canteen, it was still wet inside. We weren't far behind them now. We took a minute to water our horses from our canteens, grabbed some jerky and pushed on, ever more vigilant.

 

We stopped at the crest of a small knoll and glassed in the direction the men were riding. The men were about a half mile in front of us, and were just stopping to water their horses. I dismounted quickly pulling my Sharps from it's scabbard, I knew I couldn't hit them from here, but I did want their attention. I quickly fired two rounds in their direction and then the five of us rode towards them at a quick gallop, raising as much dust as possible.

 

The men left the water hole without taking the time to water their mounts and made the second mistake of trying to outrun our fresher mounts. We matched our horses speed to theirs until one of their mounts collapsed almost pinning the rider under it. As we drew withing four hundred yard of the man and his fallen mount we stopped and watched as the man tried to pull his rifle from under his horse. The other rider had continued on leaving the man to fend for himself. I told Ike, Jr. and Eddie to stay there and to use Ike's Sharps to take care of the man as Calico and I would swing a wide arc around him and continue the chase for the other man.

 

Calico and I started the arc around the man listening to the gunfire being exchanged. Ike's Sharps had spoken four times before the gunfire quieted. Calico and I continued on, our eyes searching the land in front of us. I wanted so badly to glance over at her to admire the way she looked and how she sat on her mount but I knew I couldn't take the chance. We both saw the flash in the distance at the same time and both of us swung our horses wide several steps before stopping and dismounting.

 

I handed my Sharps to Calico and nodded for her to take it and finish what the men had started hours before.....

[Calico Mary]

To my surprise Cheyenne didn't try to stop me from going, in fact he seemed rather glad to have me along. I had a feeling though that if the other three young men had more experience at hunting down bad guys it may have been a different story. All the same, I wasn't about to worry about it, we had more important things to concentrate on. I wasn't exactly comfortable riding Finn's gelding, Swamp Rat, but at least I managed to get the horse to follow Cheyenne and his stallion without too much trouble. I couldn't help but think something wasn't quite right with Finn....I mean, who names their horse Swamp Rat? Strange name, but aside from that the horse was far more normal than Finn!

 

As we rode after the men, Cheyenne and I tried to offer advice to the other three of what to do if and when we caught them. I didn't know how much help they'd be, but I was more concerned with them not getting hurt. It wasn't long before we started coming across signs that we were getting closer. Finally we spotted them, they were still a ways in front of us but we were catching up. Cheyenne fired off a couple of rounds and got their attention, then the chase was on. One of the man's horse collapsed, and we pulled up as the man started trying to free his rifle from under the animal. Cheyenne told the others to take care of him, and that he and I would continue on after the other man.

 

It wasn't long before that one stopped to try and take a shot at us, but fortunately he missed. As we dismounted, Cheyenne handed me his precious Sharps, and told me to take the shot. I would have preferred to use my Winchester, as the Sharps had a tendency to almost knock me on my butt, but for this the Sharps was a better choice. Cheyenne grabbed the reins of both horses while I got ready to take the shot. “Breathe in....” I reminded myself, then held it as I slowly squeezed the trigger....and just about fell over backwards when I fired. A short scream that quickly faded told me that I had hit something, hopefully good enough to take care of the problem once and for all. Before we had a chance to find out though, more gunfire erupted from some trees off to one side of us, and this time I was knocked over, with a sharp and painful burning sensation in my side.

 

“Cali!!” I heard Cheyenne scream, and only a few seconds later he was grabbing me and trying to drag me behind a huge boulder a few feet away. That sure hurt like crazy, there was something wrong with my side right below my ribs, but I wasn't sure what. Our horses took off running as soon as Cheyenne dropped the reins to get to me, but I knew at least his stallion wouldn't go far, hopefully the gelding wouldn't either. I was worried that Finn wouldn't be real happy with me if I lost his horse.

 

The bullets kept coming, and several of them hit the boulder and sent slivers of sharp rock flying everywhere. Cheyenne was bending over me with tears in his eyes, trying to lift my shirt, as if now was any time for that! “Are you gonna fight back or do I have to do it all by myself?” I muttered, as I was trying to move into a better position to draw at least one of my pistols. “Would you just hold still and let me see how bad you're hurt?” he asked, but I shook my head. “Later...” I tried to tell him, but my voice was hardly more than a whisper, the pain was starting to get to me. My heart was pounding so hard I could almost hear it, but soon I heard another sound as well, the sound of horses galloping closer. Hopefully it was Eddie, Ike, and Junior...I had the feeling we could use a little help right about now....

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

I cursed under my breath as I realized the Calico had been hit, all sorts of emotions were running thru my head as I pulled Calico to safety. I was trying to findout how badly she was hit but she kept trying to return fire. We were safe, for now and I was happy to let whoever it was shooting at us expend as much ammo as possible.

 

Ike, Eddie and Jr. rode up at the right time taking cover behind the boulder as well. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, folded it and put it over Calico's wound and told Jr. to keep pressure on it, and with more than words I told Calico to stay put. I grabbed my Sharps and told Ike and Eddie to open up with a few rounds and then cease fire, as they opened up on whoever it was that was shooting at us I rolled out from cover and waited for a target. I let a shot go and quickly rolled back to cover as the ground was erupting where I had just laid. I had Ike and Eddie open up again and repeated what I had done before, this time hitting my target.

 

The next time I told Ike to get his Sharps and roll out from the other side the just after I fired, maybe we could catch them off guard with a quick second shot from the big guns. Eddie opened up, I rolled out took my shot successfully and as I rolled back Ike rolled out and took out another man as well.

 

Seconds after Eddie's shot we heard horses running and silence quickly followed interrupted by groans from Calico. I dropped to my knees beside her and pulled her buckskin up revealing enough that it made Jr. blush. I saw that the bullet had made two wounds, and entrance and an exit. I told Jr. to get a canteen and told him to pour it on the ground to make some mud. He had a bewildered look on his face but he knew better than to ask and made some mud as quickly as he could. I scooped some up and forced it into Calico's wounds.

 

The bleeding stopped and Calico started to clear up a bit, but now here we were out in the middle of nowhere, and with out a clue as to any help that may be near. Ike and Eddie had rounded up the horses and the three young men were standing there waiting for me to tell them what to do.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

I wonder how Cheyenne and his bride are faring, Brother William thought, and he remembered how happy the pair of them looked together.

Just a guess, but I would guess they are enjoying a quiet and uneventful honeymoon.

Brother William unrolled the drawings Sarah commissioned.

"Her name is Saint Lucy, Santa Lucia," Brother William explained, spreading the drawings out on the table: the family was illiterate, but pictures spoke a universal language, and they looked at the Marian figure, holding a tray: the woman's eyes were gentle, her image lovely, and on the tray, another pair of eyes.

"She was blinded when she was martyred," Brother William explained, "and so our beloved Santa Lucia is the patron saint of those who have trouble seeing.

"It is said that her eyes were lost when she herself plucked them out."

"Why?" one of the children blurted; the lad was quickly shushed by his mama, but Brother William smiled and reached out a hand to the lad, who came and leaned companionably against the lean monk.

"She was a beautiful young woman," Brother William explained, "and a suitor fell in love with her eyes." He smiled and looked down at the black-haired Mexican lad. "She plucked them out that she might not draw the young man into temptation, for she was already dedicated to the Lord."

"Like Sister Mercurius," the lad said quietly.

"Si, like La Pequena Sin Cara," Brother William agreed. "She too dedicated herself."

"What happened then, Brother William?"

"Mira," -- Brother William's browned finger hovered over the drawing -- "her eyes are on the tray, si?"

"Si!"

"Yet we see here -- she has eyes in her face?"

Puzzled, the lad looked at the tall, lean cleric.

"El Senor Dios was so pleased with her sacrifice that he made her ojos nuevos, lovelier than the ones she plucked out!"

"Ah," came the shared in-drawing of breath as understanding blossomed.

"Can Santa Lucia make Abuelo see again?"

"No." Brother William squatted, his hand gentle on the lad's shoulder. "Only El Senor Dios can heal. Nos Santa Lucia can ask him for us, and we ask her as we would ask any friend if she would pray for us."

"Will she pray for Abuelo's eyes?"

Brother William smiled and his own eyes crinkled with pleasure at the corners.

"I have already asked her to," he whispered, "and she wishes you to ask as well."

Brother William stood.

"I will leave these for three days," he said, resting his fingertips on the hand drawn papers,"and in three days I will return to collect them."

He turned and walked to the sickroom, the quiet, isolated room where the lad's grandfather, his Abuelo, lay abed.

Brother William drew aside the serape that served as a door and called, "Amigo viejo, permiso entrar?"

[Calico Mary]

Boy was I glad to see those three show up, Cheyenne made it clear he wasn't going to let me help fight back against however was shooting at us. He told Junior to keep an eye on me, then grabbed both my pistols out of their holsters and tossed them just far enough way so that I couldn't really reach them without moving. I was going to try anyway just as soon as Cheyenne's attention was elsewhere, but Junior pushed me back down and wouldn't let me move. I didn't appreciate not being allowed to help defend our position, but I was hurting pretty bad, and just wasn't up to arguing about it.

 

Finally the shooting stopped, and Cheyenne came back to check on me. This time I didn't try to stop him, but the look on Junior's face when Cheyenne lifted my shirt was priceless. “Dang, ain't no way I'm going to be able to fix my corset, is there?” I asked Cheyenne, but he just grunted. “Quit worrying about that, I'll buy ya a new one! Now hold still...” I was trying to, but he kept pushing on the spot that hurt the most, until I was almost ready to cry. Strangely enough, he already was, and that scared me more than anything.

 

“What are we gonna do, Cheyenne?” I heard Ike ask. “Yeah, Mother needs Doc Eells, how far are we from the ranch?” Eddie added. “Nowhere near it, we're far closer to Denver,” I managed to say, “We need to get going. Someone help me up, we don't know who that was or if they'll be back with reinforcements.”

 

Cheyenne tried to object, but I wasn't about to just lay there waiting for who knew what to happen, so I tried to get to my feet but it was a good thing Cheyenne did finally help me. Junior brought Finn's horse over to me, and with he and Cheyenne on one side and Eddie and Ike on the other to make sure I didn't fall off that side, they did manage to get me up on Swamp Rat. For a few seconds I was seeing stars, and I almost got sick to my stomach as well, but the feeling passed and it wasn't long before we were riding south. Cheyenne stuck real close to one side of me, and Eddie did the same on the other, to make sure I didn't fall. I couldn't go real fast, and I had to grit my teeth against the pain but at least we were moving.

 

I had no idea how long we rode, it seemed forever to me but the pain may have had a lot to do with that. Each step the horse took was agony for me, but I knew I had to keep going, there wasn't much more Cheyenne could do for me out in the middle of nowhere. The sun was getting low in the west and I had had just about all the pain I could endure when we saw smoke rising into the sky up ahead. “Ike, take Junior with you and ride on ahead, see where that smoke is coming from. Just don't go galloping in there, be very careful, we don't know who might be out there,” Cheyenne said, and the two young men did as he asked. The rest of us kept moving forward as well but much slower, which was fine with me because the dizziness and nausea were starting to come back full force this time.

 

I was starting to have trouble staying in the saddle by the time we saw Ike coming back, as soon as he was in sight he started waving at us to come on. It seemed like a long way to go and I wasn't sure if I could make it, but the horse kept moving and I just concentrated on trying to hold on as best I could. We were getting close to Ike when I thought I heard Eddie say something, but I couldn't make it out. Next thing I knew I felt myself going sideways, it was a good thing Eddie was paying attention, he leaned over and grabbed me and held me up in the saddle as best he could. Then I felt Cheyenne trying to pull me off the horse, he must have dismounted and came over to grab me. Another man rushed over to help, and between the two of them they managed to get me down and into Cheyenne's arms.

 

As he carried me forward, I heard the stranger say, “Take her straight to the house. My wife, Painted Filly, is getting a bed ready, she has some experience taking care of gunshots and will do what she can for her. The nearest doctor is down in Denver, I can send for him if we need to. These other fellas can take the horses to the barn. They might have to sleep there as well, we don't have room in the house for all of you. By the way, I'm Kiowa Kid.”

 

As I heard Cheyenne introduce himself, I thought about it for a minute. I'd heard that name before, there had been a gunslinger by that name a few years back. If I remembered correctly, he'd never been beaten until one day a man looking to make a name for himself had drawn on him and the Kid's pistol had jammed. The other shooter had managed to wound the Kid pretty badly, but then one of the Kid's friends had taken care of the other shooter, and a woman had rushed over to help. The rumor was that by the time the gunslinger's wound had healed, he and the woman had fallen in love, and they disappeared together to start a new life. I wondered for a few seconds if this was the same man, but not for too long. The dizziness was getting the better of me and as Cheyenne was carrying me through the doorway of the house I finally passed out.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

Jose watched, big-eyed, from the doorway.

He'd watched the tall monk in the white Cistercian robe kneel, and heard the quiet voices of his abuelo and el padre reciting la Rosaria together.

Jose's breath caught as his abuelo coughed, and began to turn dusky: the lad had seen such before, and he knew that his grandfather was near death, that he was holding on, holding on for something, for something, for something --

The old man, too weak to move an arm, suddenly sat up -- he sat up without difficulty, his milky-blind eyes were suddenly wide, wide with wonder, and his wrinkled face was split with something Jose had not seen for two years and more.

His Abuelo was smiling -- no -- grinning, grinning with absolute delight ...

Los ojos, Jose thought, his voice locked in his throat. Sus ojos, Abuelo, los claros, they are clear, you can see! --

And the old man's eyes were indeed wide, and clear, and full of wonder, and he was looking around, seeing something, seeing several somethings.

He reached his hands forward, a look of joy on his face, then he collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.

Jose's mouth fell open as his beloved abuelo, the old grandfather who'd understood him so well, the old man who'd whittled him whistles and arrows and shown him how to track and plant and who gave him an occasional forbidden drink of pulque -- Jose felt the strength leave him as his grandfather fell back, dead in his own bed.

Brother William signed the Cross over the old man, and folded his hands gently across his chest, then slowly, gently, smoothed his hand over the old man's face, closing his old friend's eyes.

The women swarmed into the room, wailing; Brother William was suddenly everywhere, his voice gentle, his touch firm but gentle; he withdrew, to let the women prepare the body, as women have done since the earliest of times, and he drew Jose with him; the two went into the outer room, and sat, and Jose leaned against the lean, hard-muscled monk, feeling utterly, absolutely, completely lost.

Brother William's arm was strong around the boy's shoudlers.

"I saw his eyes," Jose whispered.

He felt Brother William's nod.

"His eyes ... they were clear, Hermano Guillermo. They were clear."

"Yes," Brother William whispered, his own eyes stinging. "They were."

"He saw ..." Jose whispered, his voice husky; he looked up, curious. "Hermano Guillermo, what did he see?"

A gust of wind puffed through the window, one of the hand-drawn sheets lifted from the table and swayed for a moment before settling on Jose's thigh.

Jose held it up and looked at the image of a young woman, modestly robed like the pictures of the Madonna he'd seen.

"He saw Nos Santa Lucia," Jose breathed.

Brother William's reply was to hug the lad around the shoulders, and to turn his head a little, so his tears would not fall on the boy's head.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

I was soo glad to see the ranch off in the distance, I knew Calico wasn't good for much more distance. I was mad as a wet hornet, but I couldn't figure out who to be mad at!! Whoever shot her of course, but dang it, I shouldn't have let her talk me into coming along!

 

We got her into the house and laid her onto the bed that Painted Filly had quickly prepared for her. Kiowa Kid had the boys take our horses to the barn to take care of them and told them to make a place to spend the night there. We were most grateful for their gracious hospitality and I knew that some day I would have to find a way to repay them, but for the present my mind was on Calico and getting her better.

 

Painted Filly wasted no time getting to work on Calico, and Kiowa wasted no time in asked what had happened. His ears perked up when I mentioned the Harper gang, and I soon learned the he had had dealings with them in the past as well. "You going back after them?" he asked in a low tone. I hadn't really thought about that, I knew that we had put a serious hurt on them, but I was leaning towards letting the law handle it from here on out.

 

"They killed my brother during a bank robbery, he was just in the bank doing business and they killed him in cold blood for no reason. I put my guns away but I always swore that I would avenge his death." Kiowa told me as he wrung his callous hardened hands.

 

Kiowa had hardly finished when Painted Filly called for me, "It didn't hit anything important, but she's lost a lot of blood. She'll need several days rest before she can ride, even to just Denver. You going back out after the Harper Gang with my husband?" she asked as she cleaned her hands in the basin.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

Calico heard Painted Filly ask me if I was going after the Harper gang with her husband, Kiowa Kid, and those puppy dog eyes instantly drilled through my soul. Then she surprised me saying, "I know you've got to go, but please take care of the boys and try not to let them get hurt," and then she reached out her arms and with her finger told me to get over to her for a hug and a goodbye kiss. "You come back to me or I'll never forgive you" she told me holding my face in her hands.

 

Kiowa put his hand on my shoulder, "We've go to talk and make a plan" he told me as he buckled one of the prettiest gun belts I'd ever seen. "I've got my men preparing new horses for you and your men, if that's ok with you" he told me as we walked out the door.

 

"Change out the boy's horses, but leave the saddle on mine" I told the men at the barn. "BOYS"? Ike, Eddie and Jr. hollered in unison, "who you calling boys?" I laughed a bit, "You'll always be my boys, now don't give me any more lip or I'll sic Calico on you". The three looked at each other, raised their eyebrows, "Yes sir" was all I heard from the three of them for a while.

 

It didn't take long for us to get ready to leave, my heart longed to stay beside Calico, but I knew that this needed to be finished. Before we saddled up, I took Kiowa's hand, "I've heard of you, glad we've finally got to meet, hopefully we can help you find the peace you've been looking for."

[Calico Mary]

I didn't know how long it was until I came to, but I almost wished I hadn't. My side still hurt like crazy, and at first I didn't know where I was. A lady was bandaging my side, and she warned me to not move too much. She introduced herself, and told me where I was, and that I could stay there as long as I needed. Then she went to get Cheyenne for me, and I heard her ask him if he was going to go after the rest of the Harper gang.

 

At first I was terrified, how could he even think of leaving when I wasn't any shape to be going along? Then I realized I had no right to object, if Cheyenne chose to go after the men that had hurt me it was his choice to make. I knew he had to be furious that I had been injured, and there was no telling how many others may be hurt as well if the gang wasn't stopped. All I could do was ask that he watch out for Eddie, Ike, and Junior, I knew Little Flower and Sally would be devastated if anything happened to their husbands. Junior...well....it was time for him to grow up once and for all, but I still didn't want him hurt.

 

The men got ready to leave fairly quickly, and as they were riding off I got up and came out to the porch to wave goodbye. Painted Filly didn't like that at all, and she tried to insist that I go back to bed. “No ma'am, I appreciate what you've done for me, but I need to get going too. I need to make it to Denver, my baby needs me. When Cheyenne and the others are done, they can find me there,” I told her.

 

“Oh no you aren't! You're not in any shape to be going anywhere, not for a while! Now, back inside with you,” she started, but I ignored her and tried heading for the barn to find Finn's gelding. I didn't get far before she was trying to block my way, but I didn't want to listen. I'd been away from Ruth long enough, she needed nursing and I needed to hold her, and the other kids as well. It was probably a good thing that Filly was trying to stop me, because I only got a few steps when the dizziness returned, and if she hadn't caught me I would have fallen flat on my face. Filly called out one of their hands that hadn't gone with the others to come help, and he helped her get me back in the house.

 

I was almost in tears, I needed Ruth as much as she needed me, there had to be some way for me to get to Denver. Painted Filly sat in a chair next to the bed, at first watching me then for a while it seemed like she was praying. Finally she looked over at me, and asked, “What is so important in Denver that you'd risk your health to go there?”

 

I found myself telling her about Ruth and the twins, then all our other kids, and of course then I had to explain about Kate, and Finn, and Biblepuncher and Cora. She listened silently until I was done, then went to the door and called for that same hand that had helped before to come in. When he arrived, she turned to me and said, “He can go fetch your family for you, you did say they were staying at the orphanage, correct?” I nodded, then asked for pencil and paper. If a strange man was going to go convince Biblepuncher to bring everyone here, it would help if I sent a letter so that the preacher would know this man could be trusted.

 

After the hand left, Filly asked if I was hungry, then brought me a bowl of the best tasting soup I had ever had. When I was done, she told me to get some rest while I could, Denver wasn't that far away and my family would be there before long. I snuggled down under the comfortable quilt and closed my eyes....and dropped off to sleep praying that nothing bad would happen to Cheyenne and the others....

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

It wasn't hard to find the spot where Calico had been shot, buzzards gave the spot away long before we got there. I had been going over the events of the day and counted the men that had died at six, and by the blood left by one of them at least one seriously wounded.

 

We gathered firearms no longer being used by their lifeless owners, rounded up their mounts and then started out on the trail of what was left of the Harper gang. Kiowa hadn't said much, but you could easily read what was on his mind, the memory of holding his brother in his arms as he took his last breath was evident.

 

Ike, Eddie and Jr. were busy talking with the three hands from Kiowa's ranch and they were taking turns reliving the gunfight of just a few hours ago. Their enthusiasm finally got to me and I silenced them by reminding them of Calico's brush with death. We rode in silence for a few minutes before Ike and Eddie rode up along beside me and apologized for not being concerned about Calico. I almost laughed when I saw their faces, they looked like two scorned puppies. I was tempted to tell them that it was okay, but I wanted their minds on the unknown that lay ahead and the dangers that it would surely present.

[Cheyenne Culpepper 32827]

We had ridden about an hour from where we had found the two dead men when we spotted buzzards again. The buzzards had found what must have been the wounded man that had ridden off after Calico had been shot. The buzzards weren't working on him yet, but he was stone dead by the time we got to him. We stopped long enough to take his firearms and any ammunition that he no longer had use of, and tie his horse with the others.

 

After resting the horses for a short while and then pushed on, trailing what looked like for more riders heading south west. The riders were smart enough not to push their horses hard. We knew we had fresher horses and pushed them at a slightly faster past than what we figured the leftovers from the Harper gang was pushing their mounts.

 

Just before sunset we first saw smoke rising from a cabin on the edge of a large stand of trees. We glassed the cabin and it's surroundings and saw four horses in a small coral, but nary a soul was in sight. They had been smart enough not to run their horses into the ground, but apparently not smart enough to post a lookout.

 

The eight of us split into two groups, Kiowa Kid with his men and me with Ike, Eddie and Jr. Before we separated Kiowa pulled me aside, "if at all possible I want Jed Harper for myself, he was the one that killed my brother and I swore an oath that I would kill him." We made sure that everyone knew that Kiowa was calling the shots and then we pulled out. Kiowa and his men would move in from the front of the cabin after my group had circled around the rear of it.

 

We had gotten into postion maybe one hundred yards behing the cabin when I heard Kiowa call out, "Jed Harper, your time has come, your men can surrender if they want, but I'm calling you out."

 

I had my Sharps tried on the rear door of the cabin and as soon as Kiowa was done calling out to the cabin the door swung open and two men made a break for the corral and the horses. One man made it off the porch before the heavy bullet from the Sharps threw him back towards the porch. Ike's Sharps bellowed and the second man's leg looked like it had broken in two. The man fell but was drawing his pistol and firing in our direction as he went down. Eddie and Jr. opened up on him with their Winchesters drawing blood with nearly every one of the fours shots they had fired. The man lay motionless as Eddie and Jr. ducked down behind cover and reloaded.

 

It was quiet for a while before Kiowa called out again, "Jed, I'm still waiting, you are going to die here, it's your choice, die like a coward inside that cabin or come out and face me."

 

"Alright, I'll come out, but you've got to promise that my sister won't be harmed. Give me your word and I'll send her out." Jed hollered back to Kiowa.

 

" Send her out to the men in back of the cabin, and then after she reaches them you come out the front and then wait there for me." was Kiowa's answer to Jed.

 

The back door opened and a figure appeared with hands held high in the air. Boy, if that was a woman we couldn't tell by the clothes she wore. The figure slowly stepped out onto the porch and started walking towards us. When she got almost to us I told her to take her that off and then slowly open her coat so that we could see if she was armed or not. When she removed her hat a mess of red hair cascaded down past her shoulders and as she opened her coat it removed all doubt as to whether she were male or female.

 

We tied her hands as she reached us and then Jed called out to Kiowa, "I'm coming out." Jed stepped out of the cabin with only a six gun tied to his side, "Kiowa I'm waiting, might as well kill you like I did your little brother.

 

Kiowa took his coat off and began the fifty yard walk towards Jed.

 

Jed's sister almost whispered, "I hope Kiowa kills him where he stands, Jed killed Billy because we were in love and I didn't want any part of the gang. He made me ride along with him, I hope he dies."

 

I heard Kiowa tell Jed, "This is close enough, make your move." That was followed by six shots, all with the same tone, with screams in between some of the shots. As Velvet, Jed sister watched her brother crumble to the ground she spit in the dirt and said, "The devil and have him!"