If Jesse Callahan plumped the goose-down pillow behind Vivienne’s lower back one more time, she was going to take her wooden darning egg out of her workbasket and rap him right across the knuckles with it.

Honestly, the man is worse than an old broody hen with only one chick in the straw, Vivi thought, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as her husband leaned over her wicker garden chair for the fourth time in ten minutes to tug the knitted wool shawl another half-inch higher over her collarbone.

“Jesse, it is the middle of June,” Vivi said, catching his large, calloused hand before he could tuck the fringe under her chin like she was an invalid. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky, the sun is warm enough to bake mud, and if you wrap me up any tighter, I am going to melt right out of this chair before Mrs. Gander brings the lemonade out.”

Jesse didn’t look the least bit repentant. He stood right beside her chair under the dappled shade of the big cottonwood tree, wearing a clean blue chambray work shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his scarred forearms, his tawny-blond hair catching the afternoon light. Even after four years of marriage, one look from those intense blue-green eyes still had the power to make Vivi’s stomach do a sudden, foolish little flip.

“Dr. Bertram said you weren’t supposed to catch a draft after losing that much blood, Vivi,” Jesse said, his voice dropping into that low, stubborn rumble he always used when he was trying to hide how badly something had scared him. He rested his hip against the wide arm of her chair, his fingers gently brushing a loose copper curl back from her temple. “You’ve only been out of bed since yesterday morning. Are you sure your back isn’t aching? I can carry you back inside to the settee in two seconds flat.”

“You will do no such thing,” Vivi replied firmly, though she turned her head to press a quick kiss against the inside of his wrist. “I spent the last six weeks of this pregnancy stared at by the bedroom wallpaper while my ankles swelled up like prize pumpkins, Jesse. I wanted to sit in the garden and smell the roses, and I am entirely fine right where I am.” 

Though I can’t really blame him for hovering, she admitted to herself, her gaze softening as she looked up at the faint exhaustion still etched around the corners of his eyes.

The pregnancy had been a rough one from the time the winter snows melted, and the delivery four days ago had been a twenty-hour ordeal that had tested every ounce of Vivi’s grit. At one point during the worst of the night, when the pains had come so fast she couldn’t catch her breath and Dr. Bertram’s face had gone grim over his medical bag, Jesse had knelt right by the iron bed holding her hand so tight his knuckles were white, looking more terrified than he had when Silas Kane pointed a cocked pistol at his heart.

Now, however, the storm was over, and the reward was sleeping peacefully in the willow bassinet set right on the soft grass in front of Vivi’s feet.

For the entire nine months, Vivi, Ruby, and Mrs. Gander had all been dead certain she was carrying a second daughter, until the tiny, squalling bundle had finally arrived and surprised them all.

Gathered around the sides of the bassinet, kneeling on a spread-out patchwork quilt in the clover, were six-year-old Ruby and their three-year-old firstborn son, James.

Ruby had grown tall and slender over the last four years, her dark curls tied back with a bright blue ribbon, looking so much like Florence around the chin and eyes that it sometimes made Vivi’s heart ache with pride just watching her walk through the kitchen. Right beside her, propped up on his elbows with grass stains already smeared across the knees of his clean brown breeches, little James was the spitting image of his father, right down to the thick dark-blond hair, the square jaw, and the solemn, protective scowl he wore whenever he was concentrating hard on something.

Both of them were staring down into the bassinet at their newborn brother, Jonathan, as if he were a box of gold coins somebody had dropped out of the sky.

“Look, James, he moved his thumb,” Ruby whispered, her dark eyes wide with excitement as she reached one careful finger over the rim of the basket to touch the soft linen blanket wrapped around the baby. “See? He’s waving at me. That means he likes me best.”

“Does not,” James whispered back fiercely, leaning his chin on the wicker edge so he could get closer to the baby’s round, pink cheek. “He’s looking at my boots. Papa said when Jonathan gets big enough to walk, I get to show him how to rope the fence posts and feed the colts.”

“Well, he can’t rope fence posts until he learns his letters, and Mama said I get to hold his slate pencil,” Ruby countered with all the bossy authority of an older sister who had Vivi’s exact turn of phrase. “Besides, he’s too little for horses right now. Look how tiny his ears are!”

Listen to the two of them, Vivi thought, a happy laugh catching in her throat as she leaned her head back against Jesse’s arm. If poor little Jonathan ever manages to get a word in edgewise in this house before he turns ten, it’ll be a miracle.

“Easy on the basket there, Jim,” Jesse called out mildly, keeping one hand resting protectively on Vivi’s shoulder. “You lean any harder on that wicker, you’re going to tip your brother right into the clover.”

“I’m being careful, Papa!” James piped up, immediately straightening his spine while Ruby beamed up at them both, utterly thrilled to have another baby in the family.

Before James could argue his case about the colts, the iron latch on the front yard gate rattled, followed by the familiar, cheerful sound of boots and smaller shoes coming up the gravel path around the corner of the log house.

“Hello the garden!” Sheriff Dale Baker’s voice rang out.

Dale came striding around the lilac bushes with his Stetson tipped back on his forehead, carrying a covered wicker picnic basket in one hand, while Stella walked right beside him in a crisp yellow gingham dress that brought out the rosy glow in her cheeks. Holding onto Stella’s free hand, right up until she spotted Ruby and James by the bassinet, was their three-year-old daughter, Annie, whose dark pigtails bounced wildly as she tugged her fingers loose and took off across the grass on her sturdy little legs.

“Ruby! Jamie!” Annie squealed, her button boots flying over the grass. “Mama said you gots a baby!”

“Shh, Annie, you have to use your church voice or you’ll wake him up!” Ruby instructed solemnly, putting a finger to her lips just like Mrs. Gander did, before waving the little girl over to kneel beside them on the quilt. “Come look! His name is Jonathan, and he doesn’t have any teeth yet!”

Annie dropped straight to her knees between Ruby and James, gasping in wonder as she peered over the side of the cradle at the sleeping newborn.

“Well, I see the welcoming committee has already taken charge of him,” Stella laughed, hurrying across the grass to drop a warm kiss onto Vivi’s cheek before peering down into the bassinet herself. “Oh, Vivi, look at him! Look at all that dark-blond fuzz on his head! He looks just like James did the day he was born, except his cheeks are even rounder.”

“He certainly has his father’s appetite,” Vivi said dryly, smiling up at her dearest friend. “He woke up three times last night demanding his supper right on the hour.”

“And how is his mother holding up?” Stella asked gently, her dark eyes softening with genuine concern as she gave Vivi’s hand a warm squeeze. “Dale and I were so worried when Dr. Bertram told us in town how long you labored with him. You look pale, Vivi.”

“I would have color in my cheeks if my husband would let me walk fifty paces without acting as though I’m made of spun sugar,” Vivi teased, casting a sidelong look up at Jesse.

“She tried to get up at dawn to braid Ruby’s hair and check the bread dough,” Jesse told Dale, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “Had to threaten to lock her clothes in the wardrobe just to keep her under the quilt until nine o’clock.”

Dale chuckled, setting the basket down on the long pine table under the shade and clapping Jesse on the good shoulder. “You ought to know better than to argue with her by now, Jess. Congratulations to you both. He’s a fine-looking boy.”

Right then, the wooden screen door at the back of the house banged wide open against the wall, and Mrs. Gander bustled out into the bright afternoon sunshine.

Four years hadn’t slowed the housekeeper down by half a step. She was wearing a calico dress with her gray hair pinned neatly beneath a white cap, and she was balancing a massive wooden serving tray loaded with sliced roast beef sandwiches, pickled peaches, buttered scones, and two tall stoneware pitchers of cold mint lemonade.

“Here we are! Out of the way before I drop the crockery!” Mrs. Gander announced briskly, marching down the steps to set the tray down on the garden table before turning around to wipe her hands on her apron.

Vivi took one look at the older woman’s flushed cheeks and the bright, eager gleam in her eyes, and knew immediately that Maria hadn’t just spent the morning baking scones.

“Alright, Maria,” Vivi said, raising an eyebrow as she leaned forward slightly in her chair. “You’ve been biting your tongue since you walked back from Henderson’s General Store an hour ago. What happened in town this morning?”

Mrs. Gander let out a delighted gasp, clasping both hands together over her bosom as she looked around at the four of them.

“You will never guess if I gave you till Christmas,” Mrs. Gander declared, her voice ringing with pure joy. “I was standing right by the flour barrels talking to Mrs. Henderson when Martha and Ted Robinson walked in with little four-year-old Tommy holding his father’s hand. And Martha pulled me aside by the gingham bolts to tell me the news before Pastor Adams even announced the thanksgiving prayer for Sunday!”

Vivi’s heart gave a sudden jump. “What news, Maria?”

“Martha is with child!” Mrs. Gander beamed, her weathered face crinkling into a huge smile. “Dr. Bertram saw her yesterday afternoon! After twelve years of barrenness, and four years after taking little Tommy in off that orphan train and loving him like a prince, the Good Lord went and blessed them with a baby of their own! She’s due right after the harvest in October!”

Oh, Martha!

Vivi pressed both hands over her mouth, a rush of tears stinging the backs of her gray eyes. She remembered how heartbroken Martha Robinson had been four years ago outside the mercantile, weeping into her hands because her arms were empty, and how wonderfully she and Ted had poured all that pent-up love into raising little Thomas. To think that Martha was finally going to feel her own baby kick, that Ted was going to pace the floor just like Jesse had four nights ago, filled Vivi’s chest with a happiness so bright it made her throat ache.

“Oh, that is the most wonderful news I have ever heard!” Stella exclaimed, clapping her hands together while Dale grinned and let out a low whistle.

“That’s a blessing and a half,” Jesse said warmly, a genuine, pleased smile spreading across his weathered face. “Ted’s going to be walking three feet off the dirt when he brings his hay in this week.”

“I am so terribly happy for them,” Vivi said softly, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye with her knuckle before looking up at Jesse with her mind already racing through the contents of her cedar trunk upstairs. “Jesse, when you go into the house for the extra teacups, will you bring my willow sewing basket down from the parlor? I still have four yards of that soft cream merino wool and a whole bolt of fine bleached cambric left over from making Jonathan’s gowns. Since Dr. Bertram says I have to sit still in this chair for another week anyway, I am going to stitch them a quilted cradle blanket and a full set of baby clothes.”

Jesse looked down at her, the fondness in his blue-green eyes so warm and open it felt like a physical touch as he reached down and squeezed her hand.

“That’s a lovely idea, honey,” Jesse said gently. “Martha will treasure that. Just don’t go straining your eyes once the sun starts to drop.”

While Stella helped Mrs. Gander pour cups of cold lemonade for the three children, who were now sitting in a neat row on the edge of the quilt arguing politely over who got to hold Jonathan’s rattle when he woke up, Dale poured two mugs of coffee from the tin pot Maria had brought out and handed one to Jesse.

The two men stepped over toward the whitewashed garden rail, leaning their forearms on the top board where they could watch the yard. Even though they kept their voices low so they wouldn’t disturb the baby, Vivi was sitting close enough by the rosebushes to hear every word.

“Got an official circular from the warden down at the territorial penitentiary in Laramie yesterday morning,” Dale remarked quietly, taking a slow sip from his mug. “Thought you ought to know so we can close the ledger on it for good.”

Jesse glanced sideways at his friend, his posture relaxed and steady. “Something happen with Silas?”

“He tried to break out three weeks ago,” Dale said, shaking his head with a dry, grim snort. “Apparently, even with a wooden peg below his knee, the old bastard spent two years sweet-talking a prison laundry driver with promises of hidden silver that didn’t exist anymore. Hid himself inside a crate of soiled canvas ticking going out through the south gate.”

Vivi’s fingers tightened slightly on the arm of her wicker chair, though when she looked at Jesse’s profile, her husband didn’t even tense up.

“Did he make it to the road?” Jesse asked calmly.

“Didn’t even make it fifty yards past the stone wall,” Dale replied. “One of the tower guards noticed the mule team straining too hard on the grade, poked a bayonet through the slats, and pulled Silas out by his collar before the wagon ever reached the creek. The warden slapped twenty more years onto his sentence and moved him down to the maximum-security iron cells in the basement. He won’t so much as see a wagon again while he’s breathing.”

“What about Buck?” Jesse asked.

“Warden down in Canon City sent a wire along with the circular,” Dale said quietly. “Buck caught the winter consumption in his chest back in February. Fever took him two weeks ago in the prison infirmary. They buried him in the state potter’s field outside the walls.”

A brief, solemn silence settled between the two men as the warm summer breeze rustled the pink petals of Florence’s prairie roses along the porch.

Gone, Vivi thought, looking down at baby Jonathan sleeping safely in the sunlight while Ruby gently fanned a stray buttercup away from his nose. The man who took Florrie and Amos is gone from this earth, and Silas is locked where he can never hurt another family again.

Jesse took a slow drink of his coffee, then nodded once toward the distant horizon. “Good,” he said simply. “Let the dead stay buried.”

“Amen to that,” Dale agreed, his expression brightening immediately as he turned back toward the garden table so Vivi and Stella could hear the rest. “And that actually brings me to the real news from Rawlins. Since the territory finished liquidating the last of Silas’s holdings to pay off his court fines, the Union Pacific Railroad Company stepped in last week and bought out the old Kane silver mine lock, stock, and barrel.”

Jesse’s eyebrows went up. “The railroad bought a silver mine?”

“Bought the mine for the timber and the right-of-way across the basin,” Dale explained with a broad grin. “The county commissioners just got the surveyor’s maps this morning. Because of that buyout, the company is officially laying a new spur line north from the main track and they’re expanding the railroad to run right around Blackridge Canyon by next autumn!”

Vivi gasped, sitting up straighter against her pillows despite the twinge in her back. “A train? Right here at the canyon?”

“Within three miles of the town line,” Dale confirmed proudly. “No more four-day stagecoach rides through Deliverance with broken axles, Vivi. And for you, Jess, you won’t have to trail your colts fifty miles through the dust to Red Creek or Cheyenne to find buyers anymore. You’ll be able to load your stock right onto the cattle cars at the junction.”

Goodness gracious, Vivi thought, her mind spinning at the thought of hearing a locomotive whistle echoing off the limestone bluffs where she had nearly tipped Clark Gibson’s carriage into a ditch four years ago.

“Wait until you hear what Pa and Dale and I have been talking about all morning!” Stella chimed in, setting her teacup down on the saucer with her dark eyes practically dancing. “With the railroad coming right around the canyon, Blackridge is going to double in size before Annie is old enough to start school. There will be surveyors, cattle buyers, railroad engineers, and families coming through every single week looking for rooms and hot meals.”

“So you’re raising the price of Ma’s venison stew?” Jesse teased with a slow smirk.

“Better than that!” Stella laughed, smoothing her yellow gingham apron. “We’re expanding the hotel! Pa already signed the lumber contract with the sawmill this morning. We’re building a whole new two-story wing onto the east garden, putting in twelve new guest rooms with real brass beds, and doubling the size of the dining parlor!”

“And Stella is going to be managing the books for the whole operation,” Dale added, looking at his wife with such open, unmistakable pride that Stella blushed pink right to the roots of her dark hair.

“Well, if you need someone to hem twenty-four pairs of new lace curtains and stitch the bolster covers before the first train pulls in, you know where to find me,” Vivi offered immediately, grinning at her friend. “Provided Mr. Callahan ever allows me out of this wicker chair again.”

“Only if you let Mrs. Gander bake the sourdough for the grand opening,” Stella shot back, laughing as Mrs. Gander puffed up like a prize pigeon behind the teapot. “Or actually, no, we can use your bread now, Vivi! Since you finally learned how to work a draft damper without making cobblestones!”

Everyone around the table burst out laughing, and even Vivi had to join in as she threw a linen napkin lightly at Jesse when he chuckled loudest of all.

Down on the quilt by her feet, baby Jonathan let out a tiny, squeaky yawn, stretching both his miniature fists up into the warm summer air. Ruby immediately leaned over and began humming the old Boston lullaby Vivi had taught her four years ago, while James and little Annie patted the edge of the basket in rhythm.

As Dale, Stella, and Mrs. Gander kept chattering happily around the table, making grand plans for the new railroad depot, arguing over where the town council should build the new schoolhouse for the children, and passing around plates of sweet buttered scones, Jesse stepped quietly back over to Vivi’s chair.

He sat down on the wide arm right beside her, slipping his warm, calloused hand around the back of her neck and drawing her gently against his side.

“You sure you’re doing alright out here, Mrs. Callahan?” Jesse murmured near her ear, his voice low and tender underneath the lively hum of their friends’ voices. “House isn’t getting too noisy for you?”

Vivi looked out across the sunlit garden. She looked at Florence’s pink prairie roses climbing high and thick up the porch trellis. She looked at their best friends laughing over the lemonade pitchers, at six-year-old Ruby and three-year-old James leaning their heads together over their baby brother’s cradle, and then up into the steady, loving eyes of the man who had rescued her on a dusty mountain road and given her the whole world.

Too noisy? Vivi thought, her heart so full she felt as if she could float right up over the canyon rim. After all the quiet, lonely times it took us to get here?

“Not a bit of it, Mr. Callahan,” Vivi whispered, turning her face up to meet his gaze with a bright, unshadowed smile as she laced her fingers tightly through his. “In fact, I think it sounds just about perfect.”

THE END