by Ana Morgan
“Stormy.”
She shut her eyelids tighter. Every bone in her body ached, and the insistent voice sounded too much like Blade’s.
“It’s me, sweetheart. God damn it, wake up. It hurts to breathe.”
Blade? She risked a peek.
He sat in a wheelchair by her bed. Above his stubbled jaw, his cheeks were pale, his eyes half-closed. A huge white bandage bound his left arm against his chest. An orderly and a nurse hovered behind the chair, both frowning.
She blinked twice to make sure he was not a mirage, and then let her heart soar with joy. Leaning out, she impulsively embraced him.
He grimaced with pain.
She looked up at the orderly. “What happened?”
“A miracle, miss. The bullet missed both heart and lung. He’s supposed to rest flat on his back, but he insisted on seeing you first.”
Blade’s head drooped.
Alarmed, she yanked back the top sheet on her bed. “Put him in here.”
“Miss?”
“He just passed out. Lift him into my bed now. I’ll rest in the chair. No, wait. Bring his bed in here. We’ll recuperate together.”
The orderly shot a dubious glance at the nurse.
Stormy remembered how Blade had said there were advantages to being a rich man’s son. “Sam Masters will make sure it’s approved.”
The nurse nodded, went out, and returned with a second orderly. Together, they positioned Blade in her bed.
Stormy sat in the wheelchair, holding his hand, content to watch his chest rise and fall as he slept.
Blade’s parents rushed in. Olivia sat with Blade while Stormy pulled Sam out into the hall to explain what she’d done and why.
Sam went downstairs to talk to the hospital administrator. Before he returned, the two orderlies wheeled in a second, fully made bed and pushed it against hers.
Soon, propped against pillows in the second bed, Stormy recounted how Vance had taken her and shot Blade.
Olivia gasped and stroked her son’s hair. “First you, and now Blade. I hope this is the end.”
Sam nodded. “Vance’s arm bones were shattered beyond repair. The doctors had to amputate. As soon as he’s stable, he’s headed for prison.” Sam held out her engagement ring. “They found it in his vest pocket.”
She slipped the ring back onto her finger and reached for Blade’s hand.
He squeezed her fingers.
~ ~ ~
Three months later, Blade faced Stormy under the big black-walnut tree.
She wore her favorite shit-kicking boots under Madame Zarov’s beautiful lace and satin wedding dress. He wore a rancher’s Sunday garb—snow-white collarless shirt, black suit, and string tie.
Kile was his best man. Mary, the maid of honor. Natalie held a basket of rose petals. Patrick solemnly clutched the rings.
On Stormy’s side, Zed sat with Miss Ginny, Brownie and Vi, Running Bear, and most everyone who lived in and around Prosperity.
On his side were his parents, Jared, Corinda, Jackson, and Mouse. And, a dozen or so intrepid Society members dressed as if on an exciting African safari.
“If anyone objects to this marriage,” the traveling preacher intoned, “speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Blade held his breath and prayed that a steer wouldn’t choose that moment to moo.
“Now that you have exchanged rings,” the preacher said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
He eased Stormy into a one-armed embrace and kissed her. Then, holding hands, they turned to welcome the applause of family and friends.
Vi and Corinda rushed off to finish arranging platters on the picnic tables in the ranch yard. His mother hugged Brownie and asked if the local musicians could play ‘I Love You Truly.’ Zed pumped his father’s hand and resumed their debate about the best route for a telephone line.
As planned, he and Stormy lingered until they were alone on the hill.
She plucked the white carnation from his left lapel, walked the short distance to her mother’s gravesite, and placed the boutonniere in the small vase in front of her mother’s heart-shaped headstone.
When she returned, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Before they’d left St. Louis a month ago, the doctors assured them that she could bear more children. Her kiss assured him they’d not get much sleep tonight.
