It was a sweltering hot summer night, and Marshal Teaspoon Hunter and his deputies were idly sitting on the porch of the jail when Simone Black, the proprietor of the new saloon tent that had been established in the center of the new tent city, came storming up the street. The men sat up uncomfortably as she mounted the steps and began haranguing them.
"So I see this is what y'all are getting paid to do, sit here on your backsides doin' nothing while that … that element comes in here takin' over and ruining this town," she stormed.
Teaspoon cleared his throat. "Mrs. Black, if you'll just calm down a touch, have a seat," he asked, as he jerked his head at Cody to vacate the chair next to him. The boy jumped up and gestured to the chair.
"I'll stand, thanks, and you ain't even asked why I'm here."
Teaspoon held his tongue. "All right, Mrs. Black, why don't you tell me why you're here. What's all this about a bad element coming into town?"
"They've just set up in the tent across from me, in the Finnegans' old tent. Right across from me, no less," she stormed furiously. "There oughtta be a law."
"Who, ma'am?" asked Kid patiently. She turned to him and shoved a flier in his face.
"These … these people, that's who. Can they do this? Can they set up right across from my business, stand outside, handing out this trash? Setting up water barrels with dippers outside my saloon, so folks won't be thirsty? Singing those God-awful hymns all day? Praying in public? Harassing my customers - -"
Teaspoon waved her to silence. He'd never known the normally taciturn woman to have so much to say all at once; she was clearly worked up over this. He looked over the Kid's shoulder to study the flier. One side had a large sketch of two small ragged children standing forlornly outside a saloon, with the caption, "Our daddy's in there", and a poem below it, entitled " Wanted: A FATHER".
"There's a dozen women with a lot of children, singing, looking like a lot of fools, wearing those Eastern "bloomers" no less, standing outside my saloon in the street trying to keep the men folk from wanting to go in, talking about women getting the vote and the evils of drink, and I don't know what all nonsense. And a man is always there too. He and his wife are the ringleaders. Their names are on that pamphlet. I want them arrested. It says he's running some sort of revival meeting there tonight. It's starting in ten minutes, you can arrest him there."
Kid turned over the pamphlet, where the announcement for the service was printed. He gasped in shock at the name of the officiants: "Reverend Jedidiah Patterson and his wife, Sister Amelia Jones".
"It can't be … it can't be the same," he whispered hoarsely. The others looked at him curiously. He shook his head abruptly and pocketed the flier.
Teaspoon began to reason with Simone. "Now, Mrs. Black, it's a free country, and these folks are entitled to their opinion. So long as they stay out of your property they're free to voice their opinions as much as they please. Nothing me and my boys can --"
Kid stood up. "Teaspoon," he interrupted suddenly. "Maybe I should check this one out, Mrs. Black seems concerned. I'll handle it." He hastily fled down the steps before Teaspoon could respond, leaving him and the other deputies astonished.
Kid stood in line to pay the fifty cent fee to enter the tent, but a young woman in loose fitting pants under a short skirt waved him to the front. "The law gets in free, Deputy," she smiled. "Go on in."
He nervously entered the tent, finding it already packed to the rafters, mostly with women. There were pictures and poems and articles pinned all around the tent, decrying the evils of the demon rum and touting the right of women to vote.
A young woman about fifteen years older than Kid brushed by with an armful of programs, handing one to each member of the audience. She was beautiful, though oddly attired. She too wore the bloomer-style pants under a short skirt; but she had sparkling blue eyes and long straight blonde hair pulled back in a heavy knot at the back of her neck. Speaking rapidly to each congregant, she introduced herself as "Sister Jones" to each in turn, explaining patiently to one of the few male audience members that she was married to Reverend Patterson, but had not assumed his name. She turned to Kid to hand him his program, and stopped suddenly, the color draining from her face suddenly at the sight of Kid standing nervously before her.
"You - you look like -", she stammered. "You - you must be Jed's son," she blurted. "Aren't you?"
At the same moment, the torches in the back of the tent were dimmed and new ones lit by the front of the tent. A blue-eyed man with sandy blonde hair streaked with gray strode confidently to the stage, and immediately shouted to the enthusiastic congregants: "And so it is written in Isaiah, 5:22-23. Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink: Which justify the wicked for reward, and take away the righteousness of the righteous from him!"
Kid sank numbly into a seat beside Sister Jones, stunned. This man, who stood before him preaching loudly against the evils of drink, was unmistakable. It was his own face, twenty years from now. Reverend Patterson, the temperance lecturer, was his own drunken father.
After a long, impassioned sermon about the demon drink, Reverend Patterson began leading the congregation in a rousing call and response prayer. Kid suddenly felt as if he were smothering; he needed to get out of here, get home to Lou and figure out what this meant. He rose, dropping the program on the floor of the tent and starting for the back exit. Sister Jones, seeing him about to leave, grasped at his arm, hissing insistently, "You are one of his sons, aren't you? Which one are you, Jed or Kid? Which one?"
Kid tried to detach himself from the determined woman's grasp. "Ma'am, I … I don't know what you're talking about, I need to get out of here."
"I don't think so. You're one of his sons all right and you're not leaving here until he sees you."
Annoyed, Kid whispered back, "He could have seen me any time he wanted to, ma'am, if he had bothered to come back home before my mother died and I left home," he said, quietly as possible. "Now isn't the time, I want to get out of here, understand?"
He pulled away. Desperate, Sister Jones stood and yelled out, "Reverend Patterson! Here's a poor sinner who wants to testify about the evils of drink!" pointing at Kid and starting to clap loudly. Kid froze, as the mostly female crowd began cheering loudly.
Reverend Patterson joined the applause, then waited as the young man stood with his back turned toward the stage. "Well, son?"
Kid flinched visibly at the word "son."
"Don't be shy now, what do you have to tell us about demon alcohol, and what it can do to a man?"
Kid turned slowly. The torches down the center of the aisle illuminated his face fully, causing the older man to gasp. "I could tell these folks a lot, sir. But I don't know if you really want me to." Kid sadly turned and walked out amid dead silence.
As he wove his way through the tents making his way home, he was surprised when his father, with Sister Jones hot on his heels, left the packed meeting and followed him down the street. "What are you doing?" he demanded, spinning to face them. "Go on back to your service. We got nothing to talk about."
"The meeting's over for me, son. Amelia, would you go back and run the meeting for both of us. This … this is more important."
Amelia nodded, leaning in to kiss her husband on the cheek and press his arm. She padded off toward the tent and disappeared inside. The two men stood facing one another in the dimly lit street.
"I don't blame you for being angry, son-"
Kid laughed, suddenly. "That's big of you, "Pa", but don't worry. I gave up being mad at you a long time ago. Didn't want to waste my energy hating a ghost." He turned and started walking, with his father following close behind.
"I'm no ghost, son."
"True enough. I see you've moved on, found a pretty new wife, got a nice little racket going here."
Reverend Patterson flushed. "Kid, it isn't a racket. I'm really a minister now, and this is my life's work, helping other people avoid my mistakes from the past."
"You've done a pretty good job avoiding your past, I have to say. Never bothered to keep in touch, or even come back to help out when Ma died?"
"By the time word got to me, you had left Virginia already. It was too late. And I did keep in touch. Your mother and I wrote to each other up until the end."
Kid stopped short. "That's a lie. Ma never heard from you after you left."
"She did, Kid, I wrote her and sent her all the money I could, every week."
Kid faced the older man, angry now. "Are you calling my mother a liar? If you sent her money, what happened to it? We never had anything, just enough to get by from her scratching and saving and us working like dogs to keep that farm going."
"If that's so, you know where the money went, as well as I do. She drank it up," Reverend Patterson blurted.
Kid shook his head in disgust. "So what if she drank some? You drove her to it, you low-down excuse for a man. You beat her, you treated her like dirt, then you left all of us. You know so much about her, about us, did you know Jed died two years ago?"
Reverend Patterson went white. "No. I … I didn't know." His face started to crumble.
"Don't act like you give a damn about him, either. You never wrote to her, never sent anything. You just went off and left us to fend for ourselves."
Reverend Patterson shook his head violently. "Kid, I swear it's true. Your mother and I had the same problem back then. We both drank, heavy, instead of facing our problems. When we got drunk enough, we fought and she got the worst of it, I admit. But she was as bad as I was, hitting, scratching, throwing things -"
"You think that's an excuse to hit a woman? Because she threw something at you? You make me sick. You drove her to drink, to fighting you just to defend herself, and then blame her for it?"
Reverend Patterson, desperate, pleaded with Kid. "I know it's no excuse, but we brought out the worst in each other. Once Abraham died, it killed everything we had between us. I know it was an accident, but I could never feel the same about your mother after that."
Kid winced. He hadn't heard his brother's name in so many years, it had been so long since anyone but him knew, that it had seemed in some ways that Abe had never really existed.
"I had to go before something even worse happened between us, before one of us killed the other. I left but I swear to you I kept in touch with Mary about you boys."
As Kid turned to leave, disgusted, Reverend Patterson called out after him, "I can prove it, if you come back to the tent with me." Kid froze in place. He's lying, he thought to himself. He has to be, Ma wouldn't lie about that. She wouldn't.
But unwillingly, his mind ran back … to the sight of his mother, drunk, passed out in the middle of the day; unable to get out of her bed. He'd never told a soul about that, not his childhood sweetheart Doritha, not even his adored wife. Not only had it happened; it happened more often than it didn't. He thought only he knew Ma's secret, all the times he'd had to clean up her messes, the broken dishes, the vomit on the floor, on her clothes. Nobody except Jed knew about that, and even Jed had left long before it reached its worst, long before that awful day when he finally couldn't wake her up at all.
Reluctantly, he turned toward his father with a sick feeling of betrayal of the weak-willed woman who had been his mother, yet who had been like an angel of kindness when she wasn't drunk or hung over. "Five minutes," Kid muttered, reluctantly. "That's all you'll get."
In the living quarters of the mission tent, while Sister Jones' angelic voice wafted back, singing "Amazing Grace," Kid stood impatiently as his father pulled out an old trunk and rifled through it. Finally, Reverend Patterson took out a sheaf of letters tied in string. He held them out to Kid, who recognized his mother's handwriting at a glance.
"Pick out any of them," his father said.
Kid's hands were shaking as he pulled one from the middle, written some time after Jed had run off. Ma had fallen apart completely when she lost Jed. He and Ma had come in the house from church early one Sunday, only to find a half-dressed Jed in bed with the teenaged daughter of an even poorer family.
"I won't have it, Jed. Not under my roof, with trash like that. It's not proper, and I forbid -"
Jed, nearly fifteen, had sneered at their mother. "You forbid? Your roof? The hell you say. I'm the man of this house, have been since Pa ran off. I'm the one breaking his back in the fields to keep this farm half-way running, and if I decide to have a little fun that's my look-out. You can't tell me what to do or who to do it with. And you calling anybody else trash is a joke. Take a look in the mirror, why don't you -"
His mother had slapped Jed full across the face at that. Jed, furious, shouted at his mother. "To hell with you, then. I'm through slaving like a field hand on this dump of a farm for no thanks," he spluttered, as he ran through the house, grabbing his gun and his coat. "You won't see me here again," he hurled over his shoulder.
As Jed passed eight-year-old Kid in the doorway, he paused a minute, his face troubled as he looked at his brother. But Jed had been aching to leave for years, and his adolescent fury was too strong to stay even for his worshipping little brother. With a nod and a brief farewell to Kid, he was gone.
Kid's mother ran and hurled herself on the bed in her room, crying, reaching under her bed for the brandy she hid there. "Ma, don't…" Kid started. "Jed didn't mean it. He'll be back."
"No, he won't. He's like his father, he's gone and won't look back. Just like you will someday. There's no one I can count on, no one," his mother sobbed, downing the last swallow in the bottle and getting up unsteadily to search for another bottle in the parlor.
"That ain't true, Ma, I ain't like that. I'll always take care of you. I'll never let you down, I promise."
Kid saw that the handwriting on the envelope and letter was his mother's, shaky as it often looked when she wrote after drinking all night. The letter was addressed to his father in Maine; Kid recalled vaguely having read that the temperance movement was popular there, and had succeeded in having spirits banned entirely from being sold or manufactured several years ago.
Here's your divorce papers. I expect now you'll send me the rest of my money, and keep up the monthly payments too. I can't afford to take care of Kid if you're ever late with your payment again, so I hope that was a one-time thing. I guess now you can go ahead and marry your wonderful Sister Jones, now that she's "saved" you from the gutter. If the two of you can spare a little of your money from all her worthy causes, send me a little extra this week, Kid needs new books for school.
Kid started at that. He quit school when Jed left, to take care of the farm as best he could for his mother. He never had any books, new or otherwise, after that. If his mother had lied to his father about that… but he shook off the thought. She must have needed the money badly. He remembered with shame how she sent him to the market for her to haggle over every last purchase, down to the penny, and to wait for the end of the day to get the last remnants of the food on the cheap. But the liquor cabinet was never empty.
He picked through the letters, noting they all had the same theme. She was angry, raging, bitter. Though she conceded his father was sending a respectable sum of money every month to an account at the bank in town, she kept demanding more.
By the time he was twelve, his mother had descended into total despair and was drunk nearly all the time. Her melancholy and drunkenness made her a different person. When he was little, she would never raise a hand to him. But then, when he was getting older, looking more like his father, that changed. When she was drunk, she would fly into rages at him that often turned physical. Kid refused to hit or even restrain her to defend himself, but only tried to ward off her blows the best he could. When she was sober enough to realize what she had done, to see the bruises she had left on him, it would send her back into self-loathing and depression and more drinking. He glanced at another letter, halfway down the page.
I know I can't blame you for leaving, finding someone better than me, after what I did, after Abraham died because of me. But you know you could never hate me as much as I hate myself for that. I punish myself every day…
Kid couldn't keep reading this letter, it hurt too much. Though he was only four when it happened, he remembered well that awful day, when his twin brother Abraham had died.
"Abe, if I've told you once I've told you a thousand times not to mess with your daddy's pipe!" his mother had scolded, pulling it from his brother's hands for the tenth time that morning. "Now I'm putting it up here, and don't you try to take it again, hear?" She placed the pipe on top of the fireplace mantel. Abraham had stood sulkily staring at it from the corner as Ma continued through the morning chores, sweeping and dusting busily. She pulled the grate from the fireplace to dust the hearth, and glanced up at the clock. "Mercy, it's that late?" She leapt up and grabbed the big stewpot. "I'll be back directly, boys, I need to get the stew on to boil," she said distractedly, rushing out with the pot.
Abraham perked up immediately at their mother's departure. He ran to the table and pulled a stool toward the large open hearth. "Abe, you know Ma said you can't have that pipe anymore. If she tells on you Pa'll give you a whipping," Kid had said, from the other side of the room, where he was playing with his favorite toys, a set of carved wooden horses his Pa had made and painted.
Abraham ignored him and stood on top of the wobbly stool to reach for the pipe on top of the hearth. As he reached it, the stool toppled, and Abraham fell, banging his head on the mantel and landing face first into the blazing fire on the open hearth. Kid ran to the fireside and pulled his twin from the fire, frantically swatting at the open flames on his clothes and hair. He'd been unable to make much progress, and in fact the rug and curtains had been set ablaze as well, before his mother came back with the water she'd fetched, and flung it over the writhing, screaming boy.
Abe hadn't lived much longer after that; Kid never knew if it was the burns and the infections that set in afterwards, or the head injury, that killed him. All he knew was that after that day, nothing was ever the same again in his house. That night was the first time he saw his father drunk, and then saw his Pa hit his mother and scream profanities at her, as she cowered in the corner of the kitchen stricken with grief and guilt.
As Kid sat staring at the letters, the prayer meeting concluded behind him in the tent. Sister Jones came in to the living quarters quietly. "If you two are still busy, I can leave. I just wanted to check on the children."
"You have children together?" Kid croaked.
"Three boys," answered Sister Jones, pulling back a curtain around the bed, where three little boys lay sleeping peacefully. "That's Ezekiel, he's five; Simon, he's two; and Michael, he's two months."
Kid froze. Two months. The same as our little Luke at home. My father has a son the same age as mine.
"So you've started over fresh with this Yankee, I see, got three new sons to replace the ones you threw away," Kid said softly but a little dangerously. "Congratulations. I'm glad you pulled yourself out of the gutter and had the chance to do it all over. It's just a little late for Jed and me, and our Ma, I reckon."
"My name is Amelia," his stepmother said quietly. "And Kid, your father never forgot the three of you, never. We sent what money we could, every month, until you were about fifteen. Then the letters started coming back unopened. We even went down to Virginia to try to find out what happened. They told us Mary had died and you were gone. We tried to find you, Kid, we really did."
Kid looked unwillingly into the big blue eyes of the woman who had replaced his mother in his father's life. He saw sincerity, courage and strength there; and found himself believing her. It was easy enough to figure how a woman like this could have had the strength to turn his father around; but why hadn't his own mother had some of that strength, at least enough to stop drinking, stop hurting herself and him? And if Pa had stopped drinking out of love for this new wife and family, why couldn't his mother have done the same? Was it because she didn't really love her own son enough to pull herself together?
Kid shook off the disloyal thought, angry at himself. His mother couldn't help it, he told himself. She just didn't have the strength, she couldn't stop. She'd lost too much, suffered too much, and needed to drink to numb her pain. Pa had run out on Ma and she had no one to help her, like Pa had found for himself. Kid thought guiltily that now here he was, the only person she ever could count on, and he was betraying her in his thoughts. He turned abruptly to go.
"Kid, please, don't go," his father started.
"There's nothing else to say." Kid started out of the tent and down the street. "Good bye, Amelia, I hope you have better luck than my Ma did."
As Kid left, his father pleaded with him. "Son, I hope we can work toward being a family again, please."
"No, Pa. You made your choice a long time ago. You left your old family, and now I'm the only one left. I have a family of my own now, a wife, a baby, and friends who are more family to me than you ever were. You have your new family and welcome to it."
"Kid, I am begging you for another chance. I know I don't deserve it. But Jesus Christ teaches that everyone can have a second chance, even sinners like me, if they are truly sorry for what they've done. And I am, son."
Kid stopped and turned his head toward his father. "I don't know how much of that you really believe, and how much of it is for Amelia's and your followers' benefit. But I ain't Jesus Christ, and I can't forgive that much. For what you did to me, even all the beatings you gave me when you were drunk, and for not being there all those years after, maybe I could. But I can't forget or forgive what you did to Ma, to Jed. I can't," he said, tears in his voice as he started back down the street away from his father.
"Promise me, you'll think on it, Kid. Your family and mine deserve the chance to know each other. Don't let bitterness stand in the way of that."
Kid nodded briefly but didn't slacken his pace as he walked away.
Kid unlocked the door to his new house and started up the stairs to where his Lou was probably sleeping soundly. As he trudged upstairs, he thought back to earlier this afternoon, before his father's unexpected reappearance.
He had come in from the fields to the sight of Lou in the corral, breaking Thunderbolt, one of the new mustangs. She was dressed in men's work clothes again, but now that she was nursing their son, there was no disguising her womanly figure.
Kid had to fight down the urge to call out to her to get down from the horse, she might hurt herself, it was too soon after having the baby. He had never quite gotten past his overprotectiveness where she was concerned; in fact, since she had given birth he felt more protective toward her than ever.
His heart wanted to protect Lou always, even though his head knew she didn't need it. She was everything the women in his life before her weren't: headstrong, capable, independent, confident. It was what attracted him to her in the first place, but at first he hadn't known how to relate to a woman like her. His mother, and even Doritha, had always needed so much help, and always wanted him to take care of them. As much as he admired and respected Lou, he was used to treating women like they couldn't make their own decisions, like they didn't know what was best for themselves. Growing up with a mother who never really took care of him, but rather always needed him to look out for her, had deeply ingrained that paternalistic attitude toward women in him. But he loved Lou enough to try to squelch his impulse to take over for her, and he had worked hard to learn to treat her like the equal he knew she was.
Kid became alarmed, though, when the mustang, who he'd thought was nearly broken, suddenly turned fractious and without warning started bucking wildly, trying desperately to unseat the small woman clinging to his back. As always, seeing her in action had a dual effect on him. He was frightened that she might get hurt, but at the same time the sight of her sweaty and intent, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed, her strong legs tightly clamped around the viciously bucking animal, had him completely aroused at the same time. The episode lasted only a few minutes before she had the horse under her control again, and she looked up, her hair loose around her face, sweating and panting, and grinned at his expression. She swung down, still breathing hard, and strode toward him, swinging her hips provocatively as she went.
"Looks like he gave you a little fight there," Kid mentioned.
"Nothin' I couldn't handle."
"So Doc Dixon musta said it's okay to ride, when you saw him today?"
"Uh huh. Said I can ride as much as I want," she said, slipping her arms around his neck.
Kid reflected that Doc Dixon might not have known Lou intended to bust broncos when he gave her the go ahead to ride again, but he decided not to bring that up right now and spoil the moment.
"And I think it's time I got back in the saddle again, don't you?" she whispered into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.
"If you mean the kind of riding I think you do, then I couldn't agree more. You know how much I enjoy watchin' you ride," he played along.
"Tonight," she had told him softly, glancing over at the crowded new tent city, its occupants milling about not far enough away. "When your shift with Teaspoon is over. Wake me if I'm asleep." He pulled her closer and kissed her in gratitude and anticipation, not caring one bit about the surrounding passersby.
He'd been pleasantly looking forward to tonight all evening as he'd sat with Teaspoon the boys at the jail, up until the moment he read his father's name on that flier.
But now, still shaken from what had happened, he silently changed into his bedclothes and checked on Luke in the cradle in the corner. His boy's dark eyes were buttoned shut firmly, and the wooden horse Kid had carved for him was clenched in his tiny fists. Kid smiled and inched around the bed, trying to slip in without waking his wife. He knew that she would read him instantly and know something was wrong. He would tell her everything in the morning, but tonight didn't think he had the strength to.
Lou had become a light sleeper ever since the baby was born, though, and sat up abruptly in bed the moment he touched the edge of the bed. Disoriented, she started up out of the bed. "Luke?" she yawned, as she staggered over toward the netting-shrouded cradle, automatically unbuttoning the top of her nightgown to nurse their baby. As she stood by the cradle, the moonlight from the window, wide open because of the sweltering heat, fell across her. He saw that she had put on her best linen nightgown to wait for him, and watched her as she stood gazing down at their son, one hand checking to see if he was breathing evenly, the other clutching the open edges of her nightgown together.
Lou suddenly started and slapped at her arms irritably. The residents of the ever-crowding tent city had some problems with getting rid of their waste water; the standing water nearby had started to cause additional problems with mosquitoes in this terrible heat. Lou had carefully draped the baby's crib and the windows with mosquito netting, but they could not be kept out of the house altogether.
Lou started back toward the bed, and stopped, smiling, when she saw Kid already lying there, propped against the headboard. "You never even saw me, just ran past me to another man," he teased. "I'm jealous."
She giggled, and let go of the open edges of her nightgown as she stood in the square of moonlight on the floor, deliberately giving him a good look. He knew how delighted she was to finally have a more womanly figure, and though he never thought anything was lacking before, her new self confidence and the sight of her body, so changed from carrying his child, had the desired effect. He swung out of bed and went to her, swinging her up in his arms and carrying her back to the bed. As he stripped her nightgown the rest of the way off, he kissed her hungrily, desperately, trying to block his troubles and stirred-up memories and lose himself in her. As he feared, something in his face or eyes or manner alerted her; she knew him too well.
Pulling away a little, she took his face in her hands. "Kid? What's the matter?"
"What makes you think something's the matter?"
She looked at him quizzically. "I don't know, it just doesn't feel right somehow."
"Feels all right to me," he whispered, but half-heartedly. He reached up and stroked her now shoulder-length hair. As she studied him with her clear-seeing, wide eyes, he cast his own eyes away. "No it don't," he admitted. "Something happened tonight."
Her eyes grew frightened. "Did someone get hurt? The boys - Teaspoon -"
Kid stopped her with a gentle kiss. "No, honey, they're okay. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I saw somebody from my past tonight." He paused, painfully. "My father."
Lou sat up against the headboard. "Oh Kid. What did you do when you saw him?" she murmured, pulling him to rest against her shoulder, like she would a baby. He nestled into her neck, savoring the clean sweet smell of her hair and relaxing a little. He couldn't help thinking how lucky they were; whenever one of them was in trouble, the other was always right there with support.
"We just talked."
Lou was stroking his hair. "Did he try to make some kind of excuse for everything he did?"
Kid sighed. "It's complicated, Lou. I… never told you this before but I had a twin brother who died in an accident when we were four."
Her hand stopped moving on his hair. She clutched him to her a little tighter with the other hand. "I didn't know that," she said, low. "How awful for you…"
He thought about that. No one had really paid much attention to how he felt about Abe's death before. Everyone had been so caught up in the little boy's illness and mercifully swift death, and their grief afterwards. He had been left to deal with his loss alone; he recalled how long it had taken him just to fall asleep alone in the bed he always shared with his brother. He could hardly believe it, but she was the first one to think of how much Abe's passing had hurt him in fifteen years.
"I never really stopped missing him, Lou. He's like a lost piece of myself. We were best friends, looked just alike. Sometimes I still dream about seeing him in that fire … only it's me burning up."
"You saw it?" she whispered, mournfully. He felt her tears slipping down her face onto his hair.
He nodded. "But my Ma and Pa took it really hard… both started drinking. They couldn't get through it, it tore them apart. They started fighting…" he trailed off.
He could feel Lou's head turning toward their baby's cradle. "I can't imagine how much it must have hurt them. But … wouldn't they turn to each other in their grief? I don't understand -"
Kid interrupted. "Pa blamed Ma for the accident. She blamed herself too… it was too much for them to take, I guess."
"I… I'm just surprised at your Ma, Kid. I always imagined her as a proper Southern belle. But … you say she drank, fought with your Pa?" Lou asked, confused.
Kid sat up and turned away from Lou ashamed. "Yes. Not so much at first, but over the years it got worse and worse. She was sick all the time from it, when she wasn't passed out or… or yelling or hitting. I tried to take care of her, tried to keep the neighbors from finding out, but in the end she drank herself to death. That's when I came out West."
Lou put her hand on Kid's arm and turned him gently toward her. "You don't have to be ashamed or pretend anything with me, Kid. It isn't your fault."
"Maybe if I'd done more for her, been a better son," he started, brokenly. "I tried as hard as I could, Lou, but it wasn't enough."
"I'm sure you were a good son, Kid. It wasn't anything you did. It's a sickness, honey, she and your dad were sick, and there's nothing you could have done to save them."
Kid laughed bitterly. "My Pa got saved, though."
"What do you mean?"
"He's a minister now. Got a new wife, a lady minister. She 'saved' him, picked him out of the gutter and married him, has three little boys with him now. Their youngest is Luke's age."
Lou looked stunned. "Did you meet them?"
"Just the wife, really. She's … she's all right, I guess. Probably saved my Pa's life. But … there was nobody around who could save my Ma. He just walked out and made a new life for himself. It's like we never happened."
"How did you leave things?" she asked slowly.
Kid shrugged, lying down next to her again and pulling her to him. "He wanted to get to know me again, and I said I'd think about it." Stroking her face absently, he looked troubled. "I just feel like if I forgive him, get to know him now, I'm betraying my mother somehow."
"No one can blame you for feeling like that, Kid. He abandoned you, never looked back. It's a lot to expect to just pick up where he left off."
Kid gazed at her. "That was another thing," he said slowly. "He showed me letters and things proving he did keep in touch with my mother, sent her money every month. I never knew that."
"Still, he left, Kid. He could have come back and seen you, made sure you were okay. Why didn't he?"
"I guess he was pretty sick himself for a few years… then met Amelia and got himself together, went North with her. Built a life for them up there, figured sending the letters and money was enough. I don't think he knew how sick Ma was."
Lou sighed. "It's hard to know what to do, Kid. Whatever you decide, I'm okay with it, you know that, don't you?" Lou murmured, looking up into his eyes. "If you want to give him a chance, I'll stand by you; if not, I understand that too."
Kid rolled over on top of her naked body gently, with a grateful kiss. "I know," he mumbled, as her hands traveled down to untie the drawstring at his waist, and she proceeded to comfort him the best way she knew.
Kid overslept the next morning and came down to find Buck and Colleen Cross at breakfast, along with Lou, Luke, Theresa and Jeremiah. At the sight of Kid, Lou jumped up and went to his side.
"Morning, honey," Lou said, worriedly. "You were so tired today I didn't want to wake you. You remember we invited Buck and Colleen to breakfast, and Colleen and I are supposed to be going shopping today, don't you? Is that still okay? Theresa will watch Luke for us."
Kid had forgotten about the outing Lou had planned with newlywed Colleen to shop for linens and housewares for Colleen and Buck' s new house. Lou could not leave Luke for more than two hours at a time while she was still nursing, and was longing for a trip to town. Kid had hired Buck for the day, to help break the two mustangs that Kid had bought along with Thunderbolt. Ten year old Theresa was eager to babysit her little nephew, and Kid would be just outside the house in the corral if anything was needed in the couple of hours Lou would be gone. He nodded, "Sure, there's no reason you couldn't head into town."
"Can I get you something to eat?" Lou asked, looking up at him. He smiled. "I know you're eager to get going, I can fix my own breakfast. Have a good time."
Turning to Theresa, Lou remarked brightly, "Well, we're ready to go, Sugarbear. Remember, Kid is right outside if you need anything or the baby gets too fussy. I just fed him so he shouldn't be hungry again before I get back. If you put him down and rock him, he may sleep until then. Thank you so much, sweetheart," Lou said to her sister. Theresa nodded brightly and picked up one of Luke's little hands to wave goodbye as the two girlfriends trotted off to town, chatting amiably.
Theresa smiled at her beloved little nephew after the others had left. "I never thought they'd leave!" she clucked to him. He reached out his little hands to her, and she laughed, picking him up to cuddle him.
Buck and Kid headed back from the corral, exhausted from wrangling Raincloud and Storm over the last two hours.
"Kid, I'd say I've already earned a full day's pay already. Where did you get two horses with that much fight in them?"
"They'll be fine horses when they get broken, Buck. But you're right, I think we've done all we can with them for now. Maybe after they've had a run in the paddock we can have another go this afternoon," Kid said tiredly. "So how's married life treating you?"
Buck grinned foolishly.
"That good, huh?"
"Better. Colleen's … well, she's been great. And it hasn't been that easy on her, either. Some of the folks in town haven't been that nice about her marrying a half-breed," Buck said, stopping at the pump for a drink. "But really, the hardest thing for her has been missing her parents. They are really great people, did a great job raising Colleen. I've been thinking about following them West, in fact."
Kid looked surprised. "Really? But your family is here, Buck."
Buck looked down. "I know. But Cody, Jimmy and Teaspoon are probably going to sign up for duty soon. Ike and Noah are gone. Asking Colleen to give up her parents and brothers, the family she's known all her life, to stay here is a lot. And when our children start coming along, I'd like them to get to know their grandparents. Once I got to know them, I really admired them, Kid. The way they raised their children, the marriage they have. Colleen and I could learn a lot from them, even if we are grown up and married ourselves."
Kid shrugged. "I've done without any parents so long, I guess I wouldn't know what she's giving up."
Buck looked curiously at Kid. "Something bothering you, Kid? Your mind's been on something else all morning."
Kid hesitated, then plunged ahead. "My father … showed up in town yesterday. I haven't seen him in over ten years. Now he says he wants to try to be a father to me. I reckon it's a little late for that. Time I needed a pa is long gone."
"Your pa didn't treat your mother very well, did he Kid?"
"Well, there may have been room for blame on both sides, Buck, that really ain't the point. I just don't see what point there is in trying to make up for all that lost time now. I'm a grown man, a father myself, what do I need a father for now?"
Buck answered slowly, "I don't know, Kid, I never had a father myself. But I see what Colleen's parents are to her, even now that she's a grown married woman. Being father and son doesn't stop when you get married or turn of age, Kid. You're a father to your children all their lives. Way I see it, if you have a halfway decent man willing to be a father to you, a grandfather to your son, you shouldn't turn down a chance like that out of spite."
Kid turned his eyes toward the house. He had to think of Luke and what was best for him, first and foremost. But what was best in this case? Could his father really have changed, or would he only disappoint him and Luke, and his new family, someday in the future? But his thoughts were interrupted when Theresa ran to him, frightened, with a red-faced, screeching Luke writhing in her arms.
Passing her old tent laden down with packages, Colleen looked a little wistful. Lou noticed the look, and they paused a minute.
"You miss your folks, don't you, Colleen?" Lou asked sympathetically, placing a hand on the other girl's arm. Colleen nodded, tears starting suddenly.
"I've… I've never been away from them before, Lou. It's so strange, because I'm happier than I've ever been, married to Buck." Colleen blushed. "He's… he's really made me happy these last couple of weeks."
"But?" Lou prompted.
"But at the same time I miss my parents so much. Except for you and Mrs. Dunne, and Jimmy and Cody, we don't have any family here. I know I'm grown up but I still need my mother and father."
Lou said softly, "I don't blame you for that, Colleen. You're never too old to need your parents. I wish… I wish Kid and I had parents like yours." She looked up at the tent, where Kid had told her his father was living with his three brothers. She glanced next at a group of women blocking the walkway in front of the saloon tent, including a beautiful woman of about thirty-five, who was standing on a wooden box singing a hymn in a clear, angelic voice and holding a large sign emblazoned with sayings:
"We serve the tyrant Alcohol no longer."
"Prevention is better than cure."
"To the cause of temperance, all we possess, to king alcohol, not one cent."
Lou wondered if this impassioned woman was Kid's new stepmother. Her curiosity was overwhelming, but she couldn't betray Kid by approaching the woman. She shook her head a little, suddenly feeling a wave of intense weakness wash over her.
"Louise? Is something wrong?" Colleen asked.
Lou started to shake her head no, but then, trembling and leaning against a tent post, she admitted it. "I've been feeling a little bad, woke up with a backache in the middle of the night. I thought it was from breaking Thunderbolt yesterday, but I'm not sure now." She winced, clutching at her back. "It's been getting worse for the last half hour," she said, her voice quavering. "My back and my head," she indicated.
Colleen quickly felt Louise's face and wrists. "You feel warm to me, Louise. And your pulse is slow - - Louise?" Colleen blurted as her friend grimaced in agony, clutching her head before suddenly fainting in the street.
Kid was walking back and forth trying to soothe his crying son, beginning to get worried. Luke was wailing with hunger; never having taken a bottle he was refusing one now. Lou should have been back over an hour before. He was unsure what he should do. It was unlike Lou to be so irresponsible. He paced back and forth in front of the house, debating whether to join Buck in looking for her. He decided against it; there were too many places she could be and he might miss her when she came back if he left. He tenderly jiggled his son trying to soothe him, but was rewarded only with higher-pitched screaming.
Colleen came running up to the ranch from between the two nearest tents. Reaching him, she panted out, "Kid, Louise is … she's sick. There's yellow jack in town, and Dr. Dixon says Lou has it. They're bringing the sick ones to a tent at the edge of town, and Louise is there."
Close on Colleen's heels came his stepmother and father. Kid was frantic to get to his wife, but didn't know what to do with the screaming baby. "Colleen, what am I going to do? He won't take a bottle, I've tried that. Can I take him to Lou - -"
Amelia spoke up quickly. "No, Kid, don't do that. Dr. Dixon said specifically not to bring the baby to the tent, it's not safe for him, hopefully he hasn't caught it yet, but he needs to be away from Lou and the sick tent."
Luke was nearly choking now with sobs. "What am I supposed to do with him then?" Kid said desperately.
Colleen, the daughter of a midwife, shook her head worriedly. "I can watch him for you Kid, but what you need is a wet nurse until Lou gets well again. He may not take a bottle for quite a while, he doesn't know what to do with it because he's never had one. And when he takes a bottle, cow's milk may not agree with him at his age."
Amelia hesitated a moment, and then spoke up. "Kid. I know you don't know me that well, but I'd be willing to express some milk for him, or if he won't take it from a bottle, nurse him until Lou gets better. He's… he's Jed's grandson, if you need my help I'd be willing."
Kid looked from his father to his stepmother, torn. He was not very comfortable with asking them for a favor like this, and with leaving his son with what were little more than strangers, even if they were his grandparents. He also wasn't sure what Lou would feel about it, but on reflection figured she would want Luke to be taken care of. He nodded, slowly, and thanked Amelia, handing the baby to her. Amelia and Colleen walked up to the house to take care of Luke, as Kid and his father headed toward the quarantine tent.
On entering the tent, Kid reached Dr. Dixon, asking worriedly, "How's Lou, Doc? Where is she?"
Dr. Dixon looked grave. "She and the others with more severe cases are in the back, Kid, behind that curtain." He indicated with a free hand. "I'm getting overwhelmed already, I'm going to need a lot of help in here. Can you stay and help with your wife's care?"
Kid nodded, heading toward the back of the tent. His father stepped forward. "I'd be glad to help any way I can too, Doctor."
"Thanks Reverend. It would be best if you stayed out here, away from the lost causes. There's still some hope for these folks out here."
Though Dr. Dixon spoke softly, Kid caught the words on his way in to the tent and felt his heart shatter.
(One week later)
Kid sat in the quarantine tent, arms crossed over his chest, in the chair next to her bed, watching Lou intently. She was unaware of his presence, but somehow Kid could not leave her side. He had not seen his son since he had handed him to Amelia, afraid of carrying Lou's illness home to him. The only thing keeping him halfway sane was the mere possibility that Lou might survive. As that hope waned, he found himself desperate with suffering.
During the last week, his father had become a rock for him; his Express family was not permitted to enter the tent for fear of infection and he had no one else to turn to for support. Kid became deeply impressed with the way Reverence Patterson ministered to the sick, and slowly the two of them managed to forge a tenuous bond. Amelia sent word daily about Luke, who had learned to take her breast milk from a bottle, and Kid was grateful that his son had escaped the disease and was being cared for along with Amelia's other children.
As the week wore on, Kid became more and more despondent. While most of the patients became better within a few days, Lou and some of the other severe cases worsened. He watched in dismay as the other severely afflicted patients began to die, one by one, and were removed to have their corpses burned outside town.
Lou had the most acute form of yellow fever, the doctor had said, when her skin and the whites of her eyes grew jaundiced and she started seeping blood from her eyes and mouth. She vomited frequently, with blood in her vomit the last day or two. The doctors were not hopeful now that she would survive. Her kidneys were affected, they knew, because she had stopped passing urine.
She was delirious with high fever, but Kid could not even take comfort in the thought that she was not suffering. Her face was taut with pain and her dreams filled with agony and nightmares. She screamed out in her sleep about her darkest memories, sobbing and calling for him, but never able to understand that he was there, tearing his soul apart.
"Kid, you've been in here all week taking care of Lou. You haven't slept more than a couple hours a night, haven't been eating right. If you want to be any good for anything, you're going to have to take better care of yourself. I need you to get some rest, all right?" Doctor Dixon said, as Lou tossed and turned on her sickbed, calling out Kid's name aimlessly.
Kid shook his head. "I need to be here. I need to be with her for whatever time she has left," he said stubbornly. "I can't let her die alone," he choked.
Dr. Dixon looked down. "Kid, she could still pull through," he said unconvincingly. Kid looked bitterly at the doctor.
"But she probably won't, isn't that true? Everybody else you put back here with the 'lost causes' has died."
"I'm sorry you heard that, Kid," Dr. Dixon said softly. "It's true, she has a very bad case, but she's hanging in there. And even if she doesn't make it, you need to pull yourself together and go on."
"What for?" Kid asked piteously, his hands nervously stroking Lou's emaciated arm. "There's nothing to look forward to if she's not here to share in it."
"That's nonsense, Kid. You have your whole life ahead of you. A son to take care of."
"Where's Kid?" Lou started wailing again. "Why won't he come? Where is he? Why won't he come?" Kid's nerves were frayed to the breaking point by the incessant pleading sound of her voice. For the thousandth time, he told her, "I'm here, Lou. I've been here all the time. I love you," as she continued to plead for him, unhearing and unseeing. Lou suddenly became sick to her stomach again, for the third time in an hour, again vomiting up blood. Dr. Dixon turned his attention to the desperately ill young woman, and Kid stared at her numbly. His whole life ahead of him. But she was his life, and she was dying.
Lou's retching was becoming more violent, her hollow, yellowed eyes empty of anything except for pain as Dr. Dixon held her head over a basin.
Suddenly unable to watch her in this state any longer, Kid stood and finally burst from the sickroom, walking restlessly and blindly into the tangle of tents beyond. He found himself standing in the street between the mission tent and the saloon tent. His broken heart, knowing that Lou was dying, told him to go into the saloon tent, even though he always swore he would never follow his father and mother in that path.
His sense of duty to his son told him to go to his father's tent and take care of his and Lou's little boy. Yesterday Dr. Dixon had decided that Kid would not carry the disease to his son, since he had remained healthy himself despite the close contact with his wife. But Kid could not bear to see Luke, so much like Lou with his big brown eyes and dark hair, when he was convinced now that Lou would never see her adored little baby again.
When Lou died, Kid knew he would never be the same, never would be able to care about anything in this world. The pain in his heart, the images of his suffering wife, were so intense that he decided he couldn't bear it. He pushed his way into the saloon tent.
Simone Black looked up and saw Kid standing helplessly by the entrance to the tent. She had heard that Kid's wife was near death from the fever, and knew they had a small son. Pitying him, she approached. "Come sit down, Deputy," she said kindly. "Have one on the house."
Kid looked at the bottle she brought and left on a small table next to him with a glass. He knew it was a mistake to come here. With his parents' history with drinking, he knew well that this was no answer to his problems; it was only adding to them. But it's just this once, just to get through tonight. I can't keep thinking, hurting like this, I can't. He sat down and poured a double and downed it rapidly, without giving himself a chance to reconsider.
As Kid felt the whiskey burn through his veins, numbing him a little, he reached for the bottle to pour another shot. He wanted to be drunk, to be dead to the pain and heartache if only for a little while. As he reached for the glass, a hand came down over it and stopped him. He realized that his father was standing next to him. Reverend Patterson spoke softly. "Kid."
Kid looked up helplessly at his father.
"I know how you must be feeling, Kid, but this isn't the answer."
"I don't want to hear it Pa. You can't exactly preach to me about this," Kid said defensively. "You can save your father act, too, I don't need a father now, you're a little late."
"Kid, I know I threw away my right to be a father to you. But as long as we're both alive I'll try to make that up to you and be a father to you now. And as your pa, I can tell you, from experience, that bottle won't take away the pain."
Kid downed another shot. "Seems like it's doing a pretty good imitation," he said, reaching to pour another.
"That's all it is, Kid, an imitation. The pain will be there when you sober up, just as bad as before. You have to find a way to accept God's will. You could look to Job for an example. The Lord gives, the Lord takes, blessed be the name of - - - "
"Shut up, Pa. I don't want to be preached to. I told you I ain't Jesus Christ and I ain't Job either. I've had enough losses in my life to give Job a run for his money, damn it. I've tried to do the right thing, tried to live my life the way I was taught. I haven't been perfect, but is that a reason for God to punish me like He has? What have I done to deserve losing everybody I ever cared about? Abe, Ma, Jed, you, now Lou. What's the point of getting close to people, you just get hurt when you lose them. This time it's more than I can take, I just want to drown it out," Kid said, brokenly, taking another shot, this time directly from the bottle.
Reverend Patterson firmly pried the bottle from his son's hands. "Don't make the mistake I did. You only have one shot at being a father to Luke. I know you're hurting, but your son needs a father, and you're it. Louise would want you to go on living, and to take care of her son. Don't let your family down. Please don't start down this path."
Reverend Patterson took his son's arm and gently guided him from the saloon and toward his own tent. Kid, knowing that his father was right, allowed himself to be led to his baby son. Opening the tent and entering, he saw Amelia giving his son a bottle.
Amelia smiled encouragingly at him and transferred his son to his arms. Kid gave him the bottle, thinking dimly that when Lou died, he would need to know how to do this, how to take care of a baby. He looked down into Luke's trusting eyes, just like Lou's. He decided then and there that he would answer their unspoken plea and be the father Luke would need all the more once his mother was lost. Reverend Patterson looked on, eyes wet with tears, thinking of all he'd missed with his first son, and grateful that God had given him the second chance to be here for his son now, when he needed him most.
Unused to drinking, Kid fell asleep sitting up in a rocking chair in his father's tent, holding little Luke. Amelia took the boy from his father's arms and laid him beside her own little Michael.
Reverend Patterson and Amelia allowed him to sleep through the night, knowing he needed it. When he awoke the next morning with a start, he was disoriented. "What time is it? I … I need to get back to Lou," he said. "What if something's happened."
Reverend Patterson smiled. "Something has happened, Kid. I was there this morning. She's turned the corner, the fever broke last night, and she's doing better. Dr. Dixon thinks she will be all right."
Kid jumped up in excitement and started toward the tent's door, but was called back by his father. "Just a minute, son. This little fellow would like his pa's attention first. Lou is probably still sleeping anyway."
Weak with relief, Kid took his son again with trembling hands and fed him his breakfast, looking down at him in relief and happiness. "Your mama is going to be okay, little guy. We won't be on our own after all."
Once Luke was safely sleeping, he rushed back to his wife's side. She was one of only a few patients left in the tent, and Kid saw with relief that the curtain separating her from the others had been taken down.
He sat down next to her, watching her. Her skin was pinker and she looked more like herself, breathing evenly and softly in her sleep. As Kid sat watching, she suddenly started awake.
"What's happened? Where am I?" she mumbled weakly. "I'm so thirsty," she whispered hoarsely.
Kid quickly got her some water.
"You've been very sick, sweetheart. You had the yellow fever. But they think you'll be okay now."
She looked dimly at him, then sat up frightened. "Where's Luke?" she said, frantic, trying to get out of the bed.
Kid shushed her and guided her back onto the bed. "He's fine, Lou. My stepmother has been taking care of him the last week."
"I've been asleep for a week?" she exclaimed. "But who's been feeding Luke?"
"My stepmother. I'm sorry, Lou, there was no other way."
"That's okay, I guess I can take over once I'm …" she stopped, suddenly, and wailed aloud.
Kid, alarmed, stuttered, "What is it? What's the matter, does it hurt somewhere?"
Lou was outraged. "Where are they?"
Kid was dumbfounded. "Where are who?"
She gestured toward her emaciated frame. "My breasts, that's who!" she said, despondently.
He laughed in spite of himself. "Well, honey, you've lost some weight, but the important thing is you're okay. Luke can take a bottle now and we can-- -"
"But I just got them! I waited 18 years for them and now after having them just a couple of weeks they're gone! It's not fair!" she stormed. Her hands went to her head, where her hair had been cut short due to the fever. "And my hair! What did you let them do to my hair! It took me a year to grow it out to my shoulders, now it's even shorter than when I was riding for the Express!" She flopped back against the pillows and covered her eyes with her hands in disgust.
Kid leaned in and pulled her hands from her eyes, looking into them fondly. "Lou, you're ridiculous," he said, laughing a little at her foolishness. His eyes turning sad and serious, he added, "They said you were dying, you know. I thought I was going to lose you. I'm so grateful to have you here I couldn't care less about your breasts or your hair."
She looked embarrassed. "I guess I should be grateful just to be here, huh?" He nodded. "Were you worried about me?" she asked softly, her eyes huge in her gaunt face as she looked at him.
Kid shook his head in disbelief. "Yes, you crazy - - -" He stopped, resting his forehead against hers and placing his hands on either side of her head. "I love you so much, honey, I worried more and missed you more than you can ever know," he murmured, tilting her face up for a thankful kiss.
Luke Patterson and his Uncle Mike Patterson sat writing furiously, side by side in the desk they shared at the Rock Creek Schoolhouse. Their schoolteacher, Mrs. Dunne, looked at them indulgently from her desk, as they each silently grinned and put down their slate pencils at the same time, just a minute before she announced that the final examination was over. The eleven year old best friends looked at each other, relieved and jubilant that school was done and summer was here at last. They both had done very well in school this term, and as a reward, Luke's father, Mike's brother Kid, had promised them both new colts this summer to train themselves. They would be at Luke's house after school today.
The two boys raced out of the schoolhouse at a dead run after they were dismissed, racing all the way home at full tilt. Luke, a small but wiry boy with dark hair and eyes, outran his taller uncle and reached the corral first. Several relatives were gathered for the event.
"Pa! Grandpa Jed!" Luke screamed. "Which one's mine?"
Mike reached the corral seconds later, breathless. His bright blue eyes were sparkling with anticipation over his new colt. "Yeah Kid, which one belongs to which?" Mike's older brothers looked on, interested as the family tradition of getting a colt at eleven was carried on. Lou and Kid's younger children, eight year old Abe, six year old twins Ike and Noah, and three year old Mary Amelia, stood by expectantly as well.
The two colts, both black, but one with a white star on its forehead, stood shyly together. Standing between them was a pregnant woman, with a hand on each of their necks. She smiled at the two boys. "This one's Star and this one's Night," she said softly. "Why not let them pick you?"
Sure enough, Star held his nose out tentatively to Luke, and Night turned toward Mike. The two boys soon forgot the adults in the happiness of meeting their new colts.
Louise, her hands pressed to her back, walked with difficulty to her husband's side, looking up at him proudly. He put his arms around her from behind, rubbing her belly absently as they watched the boys with their new colts.
Kid looked over Louise's head at his father, smiling. "Looks like we're all going to be pretty busy this summer, Pa, training those young 'uns," Kid said proudly. "I'm lucky I have you around to help with that."
Reverend Patterson smiled back. "It's my pleasure, son," he answered as they followed their sons to the paddock to start training right away.