It's not very late -- almost 11:30 -- certainly not late by my standards, and I am sitting quietly in my elegant but comfortable sitting room in San Francisco. The fire is burning down -- soon it will burn out, and I will retire to my bed. A half full snifter of brandy sits on the table beside me, and a slim leather volume rests beside it. I am holding a small silver picture frame, and my thumb brushes caressingly across it.A traveling photographer visited Four Corners during my last visit before Ezra and Vin were killed, and I convinced their friends to have their pictures taken as a ruse so I could get a picture of my son with his lover. In the picture, Ezra sits in a throne-like chair with his hat resting on his knees, and Vin, also hatless, stands behind him and slightly to the side with his left hand resting on Ezra's right shoulder. Both have smiles on their faces that practically shout how happy they are, and I know their eyes were sparkling because I was there when the picture was taken. The pictures of the others taken that day are long gone -- I destroyed them -- but I will never be parted from this one.
I received a letter today from Gloria Potter. We still correspond, and I'm always glad to hear from her. She did start a new store in Eagle Bend and has been very successful. At first, Nettie and Casey Wells got their own place help in Eagle Bend, but Nettie took Vin's death so very hard that, when she got sick last winter, they thought she would die. Gloria helped care for her, and I think she finally convinced Nettie that Vin wouldn't want her to give up. She recovered and began to help out in the store, and all three now live in the rooms upstairs. Casey won't be there much longer, though -- she's engaged to a fine young man who works in the bank, and they will marry just before Christmas. I'm going to be there for the wedding -- probably the last time I'll travel to that part of the country -- and I've invited the couple to spend their honeymoon here in my hotel as my wedding present to them.
Nettie and Gloria worried that Casey was getting married too soon after she rejected JD -- was marrying on the rebound. They changed their minds, though, when they saw her new maturity, her new steadiness, as the months went by. She wants children -- a large family -- and deserves to be happy after the heartache she experienced.
Mr. Rowlandson -- "Tiny" -- also moved to Eagle Bend, but he didn't go into business for himself. He got a job in a hotel there, and Gloria says he sometimes helps out at the livery stable because he loves horses too much to give them up entirely. His back is much better, and I understand he's been keeping company with a widow for the last couple of months.
Clarissa Hillman and Eliza Nichols are in Eagle Bend, too, and they've established a clothing emporium, which features their own fashion creations. I told them I'd help them start in San Francisco because their work is so good, but they turned me down. They prefer the quiet of a small town, but they've visited me here in the city, and I'm expecting to see them at Casey's wedding. They're doing her bridal outfit and trousseau.
According to Nettie, there was a happy ending for that poor Mrs. Iverson who spoke so despairingly at the meeting. The rancher who also spoke that day -- Mr. Frye, I think -- approached her afterwards and asked if she was interested in being his housekeeper -- she jumped at the chance. I'm happy things have worked out for her.
The Watsons also went to Eagle Bend. They're doing well, and Tommy is getting better. He's having fewer nightmares, but Gloria says he still occasionally asks why Vin doesn't come to take him fishing. Then he remembers and says Vin is probably too busy fishing in Heaven with Ezra.
I've exchanged a few letters with Orrin Travis. He's doing well, still traveling the judicial circuit. He reports that young Billy is flourishing. He knows Vin and Ezra are dead, and he talks fondly of his friend Vin and how they went fishing and did other things together. When he's older, the judge will tell him the truth, and I hope he won't change his mind about them.
The judge didn't hold an inquest after all. As he said at the meeting, JD could have been charged with murder, but Orrin didn't think he would have been convicted. He was the sheriff, but everyone knew that it was Chris Larabee who called the tune. And Chris had taken himself out of harm's way. Some men were sent to check Chris's cabin, but they reported that it didn't look like he'd stopped there at all. There seemed little point in charging Buck or Josiah or Nathan if Chris couldn't be charged. I admit I was angry at first, but it didn't take long for me to come to terms with the situation. Justice might well be better served if they remained free and were forced to remember what they had done every day for the rest of their lives.
I don't know where Mary Travis is -- Orrin probably knows, but I've never asked, and he hasn't said. She tried to keep the town going, but it was a lost cause. She sent notices out to various city newspapers looking for people who wanted to move West and open businesses, but with people moving away, it became obvious the town had nothing to offer anyone who might have otherwise been interested. Within a few months, the newspaper failed because there was no revenue coming in for advertisements or anything like that, and she left town.
I don't know where Buck Wilmington is either or even if he's still alive. He didn't follow Chris Larabee -- not this time, not after realizing what his blind loyalty to his old friend led him to do. He had devoted so much of his life to saving his best friend only to have it thrown back in his face, leaving him to spend the rest of his life with the deaths of two friends on his conscience. He might not have approved of the love Ezra and Vin shared, but I'm fairly sure that, without Chris, he would have let them live or at least waited for the judge. JD and Nathan probably would have also. Even Josiah -- without Chris there to spur on his newly found religious fervor -- might have been willing to spare their lives.
Nathan Jackson lives in the Seminole village, married to Rain, and probably doing good work as a healer. Josiah Sanchez is there as well, and I understand his health has suffered due to his frequent fasts which I assume are self-inflicted penance for what he did. I've heard that he sometimes goes to town to the church and preaches a sermon, but hardly anyone attends.
There was one major change in my plans last year, and that occurred when Mr. Rowlandson, Inez, and I arrived in Tascosa. The men I'd hired to transport my son's remains were already there waiting for me. At the hotel, I was directed to a man named Cole who was the caretaker and gravedigger at the cemetery. As I said at the meeting in Four Corners, it was my intention to bury them together somewhere where they could rest in peace. Mr. Cole took me to the cemetery, and I was immediately struck by its location. Not even the gloom of that overcast day could disguise its beauty and serenity.
Peace filled me as I stood there, and I could see that Inez and Mr. Rowlandson felt the same way. I remembered how much Vin loved Texas, the land of his birth, and I knew I could not move him from the quiet spot where he had been buried beneath a young tree. Instead, I decided then and there to bury my Ezra beside his beloved Vin in Tascosa.
The mound of dirt covering Vin's grave looked raw and fresh, so I asked Mr. Cole about it because I thought after a month, it would somehow look different. He pointed to a distant corner of the cemetery and said Vin had originally been buried there, 'away from decent folks,' as he put it, but a week earlier, he'd been told to move him to a better place. I asked why, and he just shook his head and said I'd have to see the sheriff.
When everything was done, Mr. Rowlandson said a few words, and I was pleasantly surprised by his homespun eloquence. We returned to town, and Inez and Mr. Rowlandson went to the hotel while I sought out the sheriff. Sheriff Adams, a large, easygoing man, welcomed me to his office and readily answered my questions. He explained that some men from New Mexico had brought in Vin's body, collected the bounty, and left. Vin was buried in the Boot Hill section of the cemetery, and that was that -- until the end of the previous week when he received a telegram from the sheriff in Red Bluff.
According to the telegram, the Barton gang tried to rob the Red Bluff bank. The attempt failed and left two gang members, a bank teller, and a bank customer dead. Barton and two others were captured and put on trial almost immediately. Needless to say, they were found guilty and sentenced to hang. One of them was a man named Yates, and before he was hanged, he talked to the sheriff. He said he had something he had to get off his conscience. He said he'd been acquainted with a farmer named Jess Kincaid, and a man named Vin Tanner was wanted in Tascosa for killing him. He went on to say that several years ago, he'd been riding with someone called Eli Joe, and he'd heard him confess to killing Kincaid in order to frame Vin. He was afraid of Eli Joe, so he never said anything. He said he didn't know why he kept quiet even after Eli Joe was dead, but it had been preying on his mind for some time, and now that he was going to hang, he just had to get it off his chest.
The sheriff said he felt bad because he knew what life must have been like for Vin -- knowing he was innocent but always having to be on the run from bounty hunters out to collect the money on his head. So, he ordered Mr. Cole to move Vin to the section of the cemetery where 'decent' townspeople are buried -- said it was the least he could do.
I understood how he felt. Ezra had written to me about how much it hurt him to see the fear in Vin's eyes when strangers came to town -- how he hated being separated from Vin because he had to get out of town when a stranger turned out to be a bounty hunter. They could have gone away, gotten farther away from Texas, but by the time they got together, both were committed to their five friends and to the town itself.
If only they'd left Four Corners . . . if only Ezra had left the key in the door . . . if only Mary Travis had slipped and fallen down the stairs and broken her miserable neck . . . if only those telegraph wires hadn't been down . . . if only . . . if only . . .
I wish Vin's name had been cleared before his death. Oh, not so much for him and Ezra -- Vin knew he was innocent, although he wanted the stain removed from the Tanner name, and my son believed in his innocence absolutely. Can you imagine, though, the looks on Chris, Buck, and Josiah's faces if the sheriff in Tascosa had been able to tell them they couldn't collect that bounty? Now that would've really been having the last laugh!
I returned to Tascosa this past June to make sure the gravestones I'd ordered had been set up properly. It was a beautiful day when I went to the cemetery -- sunny and warm, blue skies and a gentle breeze blowing, lush green grass, bluebells, and other wildflowers covering the graves like a blanket. The gravestones were in place, and I was well pleased with them. They were identical stones, made of white marble, with Ezra's and Vin's names, the phrase 'Faithful Unto Death,' and the date of death engraved on each one. I'd thought about putting Ezra's birth date on his gravestone, but I didn't because I couldn't do the same thing on Vin's, and I wanted to keep the stones the same. As I stood there that lovely day, I wondered what generations to come would think when they saw those twin stones -- what stories they might tell about them.
I spent some time in the cemetery telling the boys what had been happening and then returned to town to await the stage. As I was walking along the boardwalk on my way to the stage depot, a man backed out of one of the stores and bumped into me. He turned to apologize to me, and we both froze, each astonished to see the other. It was JD Dunne, wearing a Texas Ranger badge, and seeing him so unexpectedly rendered me momentarily speechless. He swept off his hat and stammered his apology. I nodded my acceptance and started to walk on when he spoke again. He said he didn't have the right to ask, but he wanted to know how Casey was.
JD looked me in the eye, and I could see a new maturity reflected in the strands of silver in his hair, the seriousness in his eyes, and the grooves between them -- he'd always looked younger than he actually was, but now he looked older. I told him about Casey's new life, and it was easy to see he was glad to hear she was all right. It was also obvious he still loves her and probably always will. I said the stage would be leaving soon and again turned to leave, but something made me turn back and tell him that Ezra and Vin were buried there in Tascosa. I didn't really expect any reaction from him, but he nodded and quietly thanked me. We looked at each other for a few moments, and then I turned and walked away.
The road the stage took on the first leg of my trip back to San Francisco went past the cemetery, and as I took a last look at that sad yet beautiful sight, I saw a man kneeling between the graves. It was JD, of course, head bowed, that ridiculous hat pressed against his chest -- and I was reminded of what I'd thought on that fateful day in Four Corners -- that I could find it in my heart to feel sorry for him, and I hoped he could find at least a measure of peace.
I probably won't be returning to Tascosa again. It is an arduous journey, and I'm not getting younger, as they say. But there's more to it than that. I've seen the site of Ezra and Vin's repose at its absolute best, and I don't need to visit his grave in order to remember and honor Ezra, or Vin, for that matter. No, they reside in my heart, and I prefer to think of their lives rather than spend my time in constant contemplation of their deaths. As I've said, I am not a sentimental woman.
Four Corners is virtually a ghost town now, or so Gloria tells me. She and Nettie went there a month or so ago for the anniversary of our boys' deaths. People got tired of going all the way to Eagle Bend for supplies or to send telegrams. When the railroad bypassed the town, it was the last straw. As people left, the town couldn't afford to pay for things like the school, so when it closed, even more people deserted the town. The bank closed, store after store went out of business, and the stage company pulled out -- bit by bit the town died.
Chris Larabee is dead -- killed in Taos about four months after he ran from the church. I heard he drifted from town to town, sinking deeper and deeper in a whiskey bottle with every stop. According to the newspaper, he was in a saloon when this longhaired kid walked in, and Chris started picking on him. The kid didn't want to fight, tried to walk away, but Larabee wouldn't let him and goaded him into a gunfight. The kid wasn't faster with his gun, but he didn't have to be. Witnesses said Chris's hand was shaking so bad his gun barely cleared the holster before the kid shot him.
The writer of the article wondered why such a well-known gunfighter would pick a fight given the condition he was in, but I know why. Chris Larabee wanted to die, as simple as that, but he was too much of a coward to take his own life. An obsessed woman killed his wife and son so she could be with him, and he killed the man he loved so he couldn't be with anyone else. Add the fact he also killed his best friend, and he just couldn't stand to go on living, knowing what he had done. The newspaper sketch of the young shooter bears a passing resemblance to Vin Tanner, and I'd bet that's why he picked him.
Did he have any regrets, feel any remorse at the end, or was he just feeling sorry for himself? It doesn't really matter -- I still hate the man, and I always will. He died too soon and too easy!
One of the saddest things about this whole affair is that if the situation had been reversed, the conclusion would have been so very different. If Vin was the one who loved Ezra from afar, and Chris and Ezra were the ones found together, I know Vin would have risked his life to ensure their safety. For him, the important thing would have been Ezra's happiness even if it meant knowing he was with someone else. I think Ezra might have acted in the same way, but Chris Larabee turned out to be a different kind of man entirely.
I am more settled now. My investments are doing exceptionally well, and much of my time is spent in supervising them. I have a good life here -- the hotel, with this spacious suite of rooms, provides for my every need, so I shouldn't complain. My skill with a deck of cards has not diminished, and I spend a few evenings downstairs every week just to keep my hand in, although the money I win is always welcome, too. I have to admit that I am content.
The small carriage clock on the table beside me says it's a quarter hour past midnight. I'm tired and would like to seek my bed, but there are some things I must do now that this new day -- a very important day -- is here. This will be a difficult day for me, but I will get through it. Inez will probably hover nearby for much of the day, suggesting shopping or card games or some other diversion in an attempt to distract me. She's planned a special dinner and will share it with me here in my suite while we reminisce.
Yes, Inez is still with me. When we finished in Tascosa, Mr. Rowlandson asked if she wanted to go back to Eagle Bend with him, but she said no, and he took his leave. I told her I was prepared to pay her way whatever she wanted to do and asked her where she wanted to go. Like Ruth with Naomi, she quietly said that wherever I was going was good enough for her. Her simple words touched me deeply, and I remember having tears in my eyes when I reached out and embraced her.
Six days later, we were in San Francisco. I thoroughly enjoyed her reaction as the train slowly entered the city -- her eyes were like saucers, and she couldn't sit still, trying to look out both sides of the parlor car at the same time. We took a hansom cab to my hotel, and that was another new experience for Inez. I knew I was going to enjoy showing her the 'big city' and all it had to offer.
Oh, I should mention that she's Mrs. St. Clair now. Her husband is David St. Clair, and he's the bookkeeper here at the hotel, a most capable, efficient, and ambitious young man -- a description that fits everyone who works for me. When Inez and I arrived at the hotel, she was looking around at the fine furnishings as we crossed the lobby to the registration desk when I suddenly realized she'd stopped dead in her tracks. I looked back and saw she was staring intently at the desk where David was standing and staring just as intently at her.
I was astonished at the look they both had on their faces. It was as if both had been struck by the same bolt of lightning -- or in this case, the same Cupid's arrow. There was an immediate connection -- heart to heart and soul-to-soul. I imagine it was much like the instant connection I'd heard about between Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee. At any rate, Inez became assistant manager, and they were married three months later.
Ezra once asked me if I would regret not having grandchildren, and I laughed. Me -- a grandmother? No, I couldn't see myself in that role. As I've said, I'm not a sentimental woman, but I am looking forward to the arrival of Inez and David's first child in about six months. He or she will be the grandchild I never thought I wanted, and someday, his or her parents will own this hotel.
I set the picture I've been holding on the table and pick up the book laying there. The title page announces that it is A Hero's Heart by Vin Tanner. Between Vin's wagon and Ezra's room, Inez, Gloria, and I found about three dozen slips of paper containing Vin's poems. Most were in his own hand, some in Ezra's, and one -- the poem that provided the title -- the very first to be written down -- was done by Mary Travis. I found a calligrapher and had them transcribed on heavy, deckle-edged paper, and then I took them to a binder who used buttery-smooth buckskin to create this beautiful little volume.
I love these poems and will read all of them today, but right now, in the first hour of the new day, I will read my favorite, simply titled 'You Are Love.' Vin wrote it for the first Christmas he and Ezra spent as lovers, and to my admittedly prejudiced mind, it compares favorably to any of the poems written by Shakespeare, Byron, or Browning. Seeing my son through the eyes of the man who loved him is always a revelation and always brings tears to my eye -- today is no exception.
Closing the book, I return it to its place of honor on the table. I pick up the picture and the snifter and rise from my chair. I walk over to the fireplace and place the frame in the center of the mantelpiece. An odd assortment of objects adorns the mantel on either side of it, but all have meaning to me, and I touch each one lightly. To the far left is the small but deadly sleeve gun that saved my Ezra's life so many times, a worn deck of cards, and a wooden box containing cuff links. To the right of this grouping is a silver pocket watch with a chain and elegant fob. If I were to open the watch, I would see the words 'Always my hero -- Vin' engraved inside. Gloria and I found it among the things taken from Vin's wagon, and I think it would have been his Christmas gift to Ezra. To the far right of the mantelpiece is another small collection -- Vin's mare's leg, spyglass, and harmonica. I had thought that Gloria or Nettie might want to keep one of these items, but they felt I should have them. To the left of these things is a leather holster for a sawed-off rifle resting on a silk bandana, the initials V.T. and E.S. cleverly hidden in the heavy embossing -- it's oiled regularly so the leather remains supple. Inez and I found it in Ezra's room, and I know it would have been Vin's Christmas gift. I don't know where they could have gotten the watch and the holster -- certainly not in Four Corners where they might have raised some eyebrows.
I am not a sentimental woman -- never have been -- but having these mementoes here gives me comfort on the rare occasions when melancholy threatens to overwhelm me. I was correct when I said a mother should not outlive her son, and every now and then I am engulfed by regret at the lost years -- years when I could have gotten to know my son even better. Visitors are always curious about how I've decorated the mantelpiece -- the objects so out of place in this refined room -- but most are too polite to ask any questions, and I do not volunteer anything.
It's time for bed, so I caress the picture one last time and step back. I finish the brandy, set the glass on a table, pick up the small lamp that will light the way to my bedroom, and walk to the door. I pause on the threshold, look back towards the fireplace with its mantel full of memories, and speak out loud.
"Happy Birthday, sweet boys," I say and leave the room.
The End
NOTES:
1. The statements made by Judge Travis about sodomy laws in this story are accurate. New Mexico, unlike many areas in the West, adopted common law in criminal cases in 1851. This meant English common law, which had many capital offenses including sodomy. Great Britain changed the maximum penalty for sodomy from death to life imprisonment in 1861. Because of the way New Mexico's 1851 statute was worded, this also became the law of that territory. On 7 January 1876, New Mexico passed its first sodomy law, which set the minimum penalty at one year in prison and/or a $1,000 fine with no maximum penalty. It sounds like the territory was more tolerant thant many places in the West during that time period. See www.sodomylaws.org for information on the history of sodomy laws around the world.
2. This main part of this story has been set in mid-October 1876 in order to conform to the changes in New Mexico's sodomy laws, even though that date does not fit with the timeline established by the television series.