William couldn't say nothing for the lump in his throat. Instead he thought about the house he'd build her. The bed he'd put together. With strong rope springs and a mattress filled with sweet grass and clean straw. Hattie had already started piecing a comfort for them, made from the wool scraps of old coats and britches.
Maybe someday he'd build another bed, too. A small one, for his son or daughter. She'd had her courses again on the way home, and he hoped that meant her body had repaired whatever damage them renegades had done it.
But if there never was children of their bodies, he'd still believe he was the most lucky man ever born.
Holding Flower close, he looked across the river, where he would build their home. Then back towards Cherry Vale, where their family was.
This was his kingdom. He had truly found it.
For a long time there he had dreamt of a future where he could be free. Where he could look any man in the eye and call him equal. Maybe that day wouldn't ever come, not in his lifetime. But here, in his kingdom, he could live like a man ought. Proud and independent.
And free.
"You think too much," he told her again. "All that time you worried yourself sick about finding a safe place, it was here waitin' for you."
"I know," she murmured. "But I was so frightened, for so long."
"Well, you needn't be no longer. You got no call to worry about what tomorrow's gonna bring. None atall."
He turned her in his arms and cupped her face between his palms. Looking down into her beloved face, he said, "I loves you. Nothing's gonna change that. But I can't promise you'll always be safe, and I can't promise life's gonna be easy."
"I know," she whispered. "Oh, William, I love you so!"
"There's one thing I can promise, though. This time we're livin', whenever it is--even if we lives a hundred years--this time right now is the best we got. There ain't never gonna be better."
And just to be sure she believed him, he kissed her.
Flower felt the last shard of ice melt from her heart.
THE END
About the Author
Among her varied careers are a couple Judith B. Glad actually chose, rather than falling into. With her children in school, she decided it was time for her to follow her own dreams, so she went back to school and studied botany. After completing her M.S., she became a botanical consultant, and spent the next twenty-odd years picking flowers for a living. Well, it was a little more complicated than that, but she picked enough flowers to keep her happy.
Consulting is not always steady work, so one slow winter Judith decided to spend a little time at her second career choice. Now she'd done a lot of writing as a consultant, but somehow describing proposed mine sites and interpreting statistical data wasn't the kind of writing she wanted to do. So she wrote a book. And another, and... Before she knew it, she was spending more time writing than picking flowers.
Judith lives in Portland, Oregon, where her garden blooms all year 'round and the long, rainy winters give her lots of time for writing. Visit her website (www.judithbglad.com) for samples of her stories.
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