Two years later

 

Samuel had been attempting to climb a fence rail for the better part of the morning.

“No,” Jesse warned, but the boy ignored him.

Jesse shifted him higher against his chest and caught the small hand reaching determinedly toward the weathered timber.

“I said no.”

Samuel looked up at him with Vera’s green eyes and smiled.

“That may work on your mother,” Jesse sighed, although he was very much aware that it worked on him too.

He kissed the top of his son’s head and turned back toward the buildings beyond the fence. The old Raines property scarcely resembled itself anymore. Two years earlier, Jesse could hardly look across those fields without remembering Calvin Raines standing beside Reck’s fire, smiling as though another man’s ruin were already his. After Calvin’s conviction, the ranch had eventually been put up for auction, and through an arrangement Jesse still suspected Sheriff Greer had worked harder to secure than he ever admitted, Jesse and Vera had managed to acquire it.

Vera had been the one to suggest what they ought to do with it. If the railroad was going to change their land, she had said, they might as well make certain some of that change worked in their favor. So the former Raines ranch had slowly become a railroad inn. The main house had been enlarged, and a new stable stood beside the old barn, large enough to shelter the horses of travelers passing through. Beyond it rose a second building with six modest rooms upstairs and a dining room below, its windows newly fitted and its roof still smelling of fresh-cut pine. Within a few months, if the work continued as planned, the inn would receive its first travelers. Jesse looked at it with quiet satisfaction. There was something fitting about Calvin’s old land becoming a place meant to welcome strangers rather than drive them away.

Just then, a hammer struck twice from the roof. One of the remaining laborers climbed down the ladder, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve.

“That ought to hold,” he called.

Jesse walked closer, Samuel balanced against one hip. “The flashing?” he asked.

“Finished. I’ll come back tomorrow for the guttering, then there’s nothing left but the shutters on the east side,” the laborer said as he collected his tools. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dutton.”

“Tomorrow.”

Jesse watched him cross toward the barn, when the boy reached for Jesse’s hat.

Jesse moved it beyond his reach. and Samuel made an impatient sound and reached again.

“You get that from your father, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “Let’s go, the others are waiting.”

The new orphanage wing stood bright beneath the afternoon sun. Jesse slowed Rowan before the gate and looked at it for a moment. For nearly two years, he had spent two or three days each week working there whenever the ranch permitted it. Other men from town had joined when they could, but Jesse had remained from the first foundation post to the final coat of paint.

Jesse dismounted with Samuel under one arm. The yard had been decorated for the opening celebration with ribbons, greenery, and several crooked paper banners that Jesse suspected had been made by children and corrected by no adult whatsoever.

A row of pies already occupied one table, and another held lemonade and coffee. Half a dozen children tore across the yard after a hoop while two Sisters, Sadie among them, tried to keep some order amid the preparations. Sadie spotted Jesse, lifted a hand in greeting, and gave him a quick smile before someone called her name from across the yard and she hurried off again.

Jesse started toward the schoolroom.

“No, you needn’t press so hard.” He heard Vera before he saw her. “Let the pencil move.”

He stopped at the doorway. Vera sat among perhaps fifteen children gathered around two long tables. Sheets of paper covered nearly every surface. Her hair was pinned loosely that afternoon, several dark strands already escaping around her face. She wore a pale blue dress with the sleeves pushed slightly above her wrists, and there was a faint streak of charcoal near one thumb.

“Ma-mah.” Samuel noticed her too. 

“Isn’t she something, son?” Jesse smiled proudly.

“There you are,” she called the moment she saw them, her face brightening at once.

Every child at the table turned. June was seated near the end. At five years old, she had somehow developed the solemn authority of someone twice her age whenever smaller children were present.

“No,” she was telling a little boy beside her. “Not like that… You hold it here.”

She adjusted the pencil between his fingers, then demonstrated on her own paper. “There… See?”

Jesse leaned against the doorway. “You’ve become very strict,” he said to her.

June’s head snapped up.

“Pa!” She abandoned the lesson immediately.

Jesse barely had time to brace before she collided with him, catching her with his free arm.

“You came!”

“I said I would,” he laughed.

“You took forever.”

Samuel leaned toward her, and June kissed his cheek. “There’s my little brother!”

“Give him here.” Vera crossed toward them, smiling. 

Jesse handed Samuel over. The boy went willingly, settling against Vera with an ease that still did strange things to Jesse’s heart.

They had spoken of names for weeks before Vera suggested Samuel. His father had been gone more than half his life, yet sometimes Jesse still remembered Samuel Dutton sitting near the stove, too sick to work but determined to mend Jesse’s coat because they couldn’t afford another. His father hadn’t lived to see the worst things Jesse became, nor the man he eventually tried to be, but his name lived among them now, in a round-cheeked little boy trying to steal Vera’s necklace.

“Pa.” June tugged Jesse’s hand.

“Yes, little bird?”

“Come see,” she demanded. “Me and Lily made something.”

“You can’t tell him what it is!” Lily appeared behind her.

“I wasn’t!”

“You always tell!”

Jesse looked between them. “I feel I should remain out of this…” he said carefully, but June tightened her grip.

“Come on,” she insisted, dragging him toward a small worktable beneath one of the windows.

“What am I looking at?” Jesse asked, tilting his head.

“It’s Biscuit!” June gasped in outrage.

Jesse looked again. The object had four short legs, one crooked tail, and two pointed ears that did not quite match. Someone had added wooden whiskers so thick they stuck stiffly from either side of its face, while the eyes had been carved at slightly different heights, giving poor Biscuit a strangely alarming expression.

“Of course…” Jesse managed as Vera laughed behind him.

“He’s big,” June explained. “Biscuit’s big now too.”

That was certainly true. The half-starved kitten that had once disappeared under beds and terrorized Mabel’s ankles had grown into a broad, healthy tomcat who behaved as though the Harmon-Dutton ranch existed primarily for his comfort.

June took the carving from him. “We’re taking it home so Biscuit can see.”

“I’m certain he’ll be honored,” Jesse agreed.

A shout went up outside, and Jesse glanced toward the window. Pete and Vernon rode into the yard together, both covered in enough trail dust to suggest a long day at work.

Pete had barely swung down before Sadie reached him.

“You were supposed to change,” she protested, brushing dust from his shoulder, though that only created a larger dusty patch.

“I was supposed to have time to change.”

Sadie ignored him, but Pete grinned. Two years of marriage had done nothing to diminish the way those two looked at one another. If anything, it had made matters worse.

By then, Vera had finished gathering the children from the schoolroom, and she and Jesse stepped outside with June and Lily racing ahead of them while Samuel rested on Vera’s hip. The yard had grown busier in the meantime, with preparations carrying on in every direction.

Vera glanced around as though searching for someone. “Where’s Mabel?” she asked.

Pete took a cup of water from the table and drank half of it in one long swallow. He lowered the cup with a deep, satisfied exhale. “In the herb garden,” he said. “With Abraham.”

Jesse groaned as Vera immediately looked toward the rear of the building.

“Oh dear.”

“They were arguing about chamomile when we passed,” Vernon said, removing his hat.

Jesse almost smiled. Abraham had come to Laramie for the summer, and he and Mabel had spent most of his visit disagreeing over nearly everything that crossed their path, from herbs and weather to scripture, cooking, and which road into town was the better one.

“Serious business.” Pete nodded gravely.

Before long, the celebration properly began. The yard filled with voices as families gathered beneath the ribbons and greenery, children rushing between the tables while the Sisters tried with varying degrees of success to keep them from sampling the pies too early. Someone produced a fiddle, and the first lively tune drew clapping from the older children and an immediate attempt at dancing from the younger ones. June and Lily disappeared into the middle of it within minutes.

Jesse stayed near Vera as Reverend Porter spoke about the new wing and what it would mean for the children who would sleep beneath its roof. Samuel shifted sleepily between their arms, growing heavier by the minute, while Vera listened with that quiet, satisfied look Jesse had come to recognize whenever something she cared about had finally been made real.

“Dutton.” Jesse turned at the sound of Greer’s voice and found the sheriff standing a few paces away, watching him with the familiar expression that usually meant he had something to say.

“Sheriff,” Jesse greeted.

“How’s the family?” 

“Good.” Jesse glanced toward Vera and the children. “Better than good.”

Greer followed his gaze, then nodded toward the fence. “Walk with me.”

Jesse went with him, and once they were beyond the nearest row of chairs, Greer got to the point.

“Your two years are up,” he said. “You reported when you were supposed to, helped when I asked, and gave this town more than anyone required of you. The orphanage, Reck’s old routes, and everything else.” He paused. “You’ve done what I hoped you would.”

Jesse looked at him carefully. “Meaning?”

Greer reached inside his coat and held out a deputy’s badge.

“I need another man,” Greer said. “Someone who knows this country, knows how men like Reck think, and knows when to draw a gun and when not to.” His gaze settled steadily on Jesse. “I trust you, Dutton.”

For a moment, Jesse could only look at the badge. “You’re serious,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I weren’t.”

Jesse looked across the yard once more. Vera was watching him now, Samuel in her arms and June beside her.

He took the badge. “When do I start?”

“The moment you put that on.” Greer’s expression softened into the faintest smile. 

Jesse looked down at the badge once more before fastening it to his coat without hesitation. Greer gave him an approving nod and clapped a hand against his shoulder. 

“Good to have you, partner,” he said, satisfied.

Something in Jesse’s chest tightened at the words. Before he could think better of it, he pulled the sheriff into a brief, hard embrace. Greer stiffened in surprise, then patted him once between the shoulders. 

“I’ll see you in town tomorrow, Deputy.”

Jesse smiled at the title. “Tomorrow, Sheriff.”

Greer headed back toward the celebration, and Jesse turned to rejoin Vera and the children. He had taken only a few steps when movement near the gate caught his eye. A lone rider had appeared on the road, and Jesse slowed. Burl Tanner was thinner than Jesse remembered. His shoulders looked narrower beneath his coat, and his face had lost some of its old hardness. For several moments Jesse forgot the badge on his chest. 

Burl handed his reins to one of the boys nearby and looked across the yard, and their eyes met. 

Burl began walking toward him, and Jesse met him halfway. Up close, the changes were clearer. Jesse’s oldest friend looked older, quieter somehow, as though the anger that had once kept every part of him tight had finally burned itself down. The faded red neckcloth was gone, and, for some reason, that nearly undid Jesse.

Burl looked him over, his gaze dropping to the badge. One eyebrow rose, and Jesse laughed, rougher than he intended.

“When did that happen?” Burl asked.

“You just missed the ceremony.”

Burl shook his head slowly. “Well, I be damned.”

Silence followed as they looked at one another. Jesse stepped forward, and Burl met him halfway. The embrace was hard enough to hurt, almost rough, each man gripping the other with the force of years spent angry, wounded, and apart. Jesse’s hand closed tightly against Burl’s back, and Burl caught a fistful of his coat in return. There was too much between them for words, too much that couldn’t be spoken here with people watching and the celebration carrying on around them. Regret, forgiveness, anger, brotherhood, all of it remained tangled between them.

Before Jesse could say anything, a familiar voice rose above the noise behind him.

“Pa!”

He turned toward the sound and caught sight of June across the yard, waving one hand high above her head. Jesse lifted his own in answer.

Beside him, Burl followed his gaze. “She’s grown,” he said quietly.

“She has,” Jesse smiled. 

June had already turned back toward Lily before she could notice the stranger standing beside him.

Burl looked at Jesse again. “I’ll be in Laramie for a couple of days,” he said. “We’ll talk.”

“We will,” Jesse assured him.

There was far too much between them for a few hurried words beside the gate, and Jesse was grateful Burl seemed to understand that too.

He clasped his friend once more by the shoulder. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.”

Jesse nodded, then turned back toward the yard, where Vera stood with Samuel in her arms and June was already calling for him again. By the time he reached them, June had taken hold of his hand and was tugging him toward the new wing.

“Come on, Pa,” she insisted. “I have to show you something.”

“Again?” Jesse asked, surprised. One wooden Biscuit seemed more than enough for a single day.

“You have to come see.”

Vera smiled and fell into step beside them, Samuel resting sleepily against her shoulder. Together they crossed the yard and followed June through the open doors.

Inside, the new schoolroom still smelled of pine and chalk. Most of the lamps had been extinguished, leaving only two burning near the front.

June climbed onto one of the benches and pulled her sketchbook from beneath a pile of paper. “I forgot to show you.”

“Show me what?” Jesse asked, taking a seat beside her.

“My drawing.”

June opened the book. The first drawing was a horse, possibly. The second was the new orphanage wing, and the third showed five figures standing in front of a house. Jesse recognized himself largely because June had drawn a hat on him.

“That’s you,” she explained.

“I gathered.”

“That’s Mama,” she went on, pointing at a tall figure with dark scribbles for hair. “That’s me… Samuel… and Biscuit.”

The cat was nearly the same size as Samuel.

June turned the page. There was another small round figure. 

Jesse stared. “What’s that?”

“A baby.” Her entire face lit as she turned toward Vera.

Jesse followed June’s gaze to where Vera’s hand rested gently over the small curve of her belly. Her eyes met his, warm with the secret they had been keeping.

“We’re having another one!” June announced, her shout echoing through the empty room.

Samuel stirred against Vera’s shoulder, and Jesse smiled as he rose from the bench.

“Well,” he said, looking from June to Samuel and then to Vera, “I reckon we’re one very lucky family to have one another.”

“We are,” Vera said softly.

“The luckiest.” June nodded with great seriousness.

Jesse laughed and gathered them all close, one arm around Vera and Samuel, the other drawing June against his side. For a moment, he simply held them there, listening to June’s laughter and feeling Vera lean into him and knowing, with a certainty deeper than anything he had ever believed before, that the little girl was right. He, indeed, was the luckiest man alive.