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Remember . . .
by Tree Climber
Mmmm . . . yes . . . blue sky . . . Texas . . . don't stop . . . mmph . . . What? Ow! That hurts! Chris? Shit, didn't mean ta fall asleep like that, Chris. Ya all right? Chair sure ain't meant fer sleepin' -- neck's gone all stiff. And m' back -- well, don't hafta tell ya how m' back feels, do I? Sure could use one o' yer backrubs -- gonna hafta wait a while fer that, though. Gonna walk around a bit -- mebbe work out these damn cricks -- but I'll keep on talkin'. Guess I was dreamin' there 'bout Texas. Ain't done that in a real long time. All this rememberin' must be gittin' ta me.Ya know, me and you been tagether more years now than I'd been alive when I first come ta town. Cain't say I was livin' then, 'cause I really wasn't -- always lookin' over m' shoulder . . . jist waitin' ta git shot in the back. Haven't had ta worry 'bout that fer a lotta years now, thanks ta Judge Travis -- jist one o' the things I owe him for.
It was September and me and you was workin' in the corral real early . . . What was that horse's name? Lady . . . Lally . . . Lulu . . . That's it . . . Lulu -- real sweet-tempered little filly. Yeah, we was workin' with Lulu, and we heard a bunch o' horses racin' our way. Grabbed our guns and headed fer the barn, expectin' trouble. Remember? Then we heard 'em callin' out our names and recognized Buck, JD, Josiah, Nate, and Ez -- all five of 'em. Thought somethin' real bad must've happened in town ta bring 'em ridin' hell bent fer leather -- bad enough ta wake up Ezra.
JD was off his horse b'fore it even stopped and handin' me a telegram. Remember? It was from the judge, tellin' JD ta destroy that wanted poster on me 'cause m' name had been cleared. Jist sat right down on the ground -- legs wouldn't hold me up no more. And there was this buzzin' in m' ears like a whole swarm o' bees'd settled down in m' head. Ya knelt down and was shakin' me 'cause ya didn't know what was goin' on, but I jist kept readin' them words over and over ag'in. The boys was grinnin' and laughin' and slappin' each other on the back. Finally, Josiah told ya the good news, and I reckon you was 'bout as stunned as I was. Good thing we had a few bottles o' whiskey on hand -- lotta celebratin' goin' on that day. Sure is a wonder them boys managed ta steer their horses back ta town -- know me and you woke up next mornin' with hangovers like ya wouldn't b'lieve.
Course, they wasn't no details in that telegram -- had ta wait fer the judge's next visit. Unbeknownst ta us, he'd sent telegrams ta lawmen all over -- but 'specially ta Texas -- with a list o' names -- Yates and the others who rode with Eli Joe. Asked if'n any of 'em was taken inta custody would the sheriff ask 'em 'bout the murder of Jess Kincaid and send the answers ta him. Took awhile but the judge finally got answers. Yates and Edwards got themselves arrested, and both admitted ta hearin' Eli Joe confess ta the murder -- didn't have no reason ta lie -- nothin' they was involved in. Judge Travis notified the sheriff in Tascosa, and he cancelled the poster, lifted the price on m' head and the weight off m' shoulders.
Right away ya started pesterin' me 'bout goin' ta Texas. Ya knew I wanted ta visit my ma's grave, and now I could without worryin' 'bout no bounty hunters. Said we oughta go while the weather was good 'cause it's a long trip, and I kept sayin' no, tellin' ya ta wait and see. God, there's them words ag'in. Winter come, and I know ya didn't understand why I kept puttin' it off, but I had a plan. Remember?
Then it was spring, and it was time. Arranged fer Buck and Josiah ta look after the ranch, packed up what we'd need, and then jist told ya one mornin' it was time ta go. Ya asked if'n we was goin' ta Tascosa, and I said no -- didn't have no reason ta go back there. Only reason I'd been 'round there b'fore was 'cause I was trackin' Eli Joe.
No, I had somethin' else in mind and visitin' m' ma's grave was only part o' it. Ya didn't ask no more questions -- jist mounted yer horse and told me ta head on out. Trust's always been there fer us, ain't it -- from the very first when ya looked across that street and caught m' eye. Think we'd follow each other ta hell with no nevermind -- knows I would.
So we rode off ta Texas without a care in the world. Sometimes we rode easy, and sometimes we raced jist fer the hell of it. Swimmin' in a stream, . . . shelterin' in a cave ta wait out a storm, . . . makin' love in the shade of a tree -- it was a perfect time -- jist the two of us. Remember?
We found m' ma's grave, and I tidied it up real nice like and put some flowers on it. I's right happy I had the chance ta introduce ya ta her -- let 'er know how happy I was. Showed ya 'round some o' the places I used ta play when I was little, and then I told ya there was one more place I wanted ta go. It was a little more than a day's ride from where I lived as a kid, and I'd discovered it when I was 'bout fifteen or sixteen and runnin' from the last bunch o' folks that took me in. When I got tired o' the work and the beatin's, I took off and never looked back. Then I found m' special place and stayed there fer three whole days b'fore movin' on. I went back a few times until . . . well, until Tascosa, and I couldn't go back there no more.
We stopped 'bout a mile from where I was headin', and I told ya ta git off yer horse. Told ya ta trust me, and ya jist smiled and nodded. Took my bandanna and blindfolded ya and then helped ya mount up ag'in. I was leadin' yer horse, and we traveled that last mile slow and easy.
I knows ya think that blindfold was 'cause I wanted ta surprise ya, and that's true, but I was scared, too. Was a lotta years since I'd been there, and if it was all changed, I didn't want ya ta see it -- woulda jist turned us around and ridden away. Didn't wanna hafta describe what it'd been like -- didn't want ya ta see m' disappointment.
Needn't have worried, though. It was ev'rythin' I remembered and more. Sat ya down on a rock and went ta take care of the horses -- planned fer us ta stay there awhile. When I was all ready, I walked up b'hind ya, told ya ta keep yer eyes closed, untied the bandanna, whispered 'I love ya, Cowboy' in yer ear, and told ya ta open yer eyes ta see -- a little piece o' heaven on earth. Remember?
I can still hear yer gasp as ya tried ta take it all in -- the small lake sparklin' in the sun and reflectin' that clear, blue Texas sky, the grove o' flowerin' willows with their bright new leaves, and the meadow covered in bluebonnets and other wildflowers as far as the eye could see, up and over the gentle slope of a low hill -- surely a spot created by God ta lift the spirits of any traveler weary in body or soul.
I stood behind ya, leanin' ag'inst ya with m' hands restin' on yer chest, and ya looked up at me and jist said thank you, real quiet-like. I knew ya understood -- ya knew how this place had been callin' ta me all them years the bounty was on m' head. Then ya stood up and came ta stand in front o' me, raised yer hands ta hold m' face and kissed me. That was a kiss like I never felt b'fore in m' entire life -- and how many thousands o' kisses had we already shared?
But that kiss . . . Somehow that kiss healed ev'ry hurt ever done ta me, even though I'd have sworn ya already healed 'em. And that kiss promised me . . . promised us . . . tomorrow and the next tomorrow . . . and ev'ry tomorrow forever. I don't know what that kiss meant ta you, 'cause we ain't never talked 'bout it, but I died in that kiss, and then I was reborn in it.
Ya drew back slowly and stared in m' eyes, grinnin', and then ya laughed -- a joyous laugh from the bottom o' yer heart. Ya give me a little shove, tapped m' shoulder, said 'Yer it!' and then ya took off runnin' through all them flowers, headin' up the slope. I jist had ta laugh, too, and chase after ya. Caught ya, too, didn't I? Tackled ya, and then we was rollin' helplessly down the hill, laughin' like a pair o' loons -- and it was so much fun we had ta run back up and do it all over ag'in. Remember?
We spent the rest o' the day there -- not another soul fer miles around -- playin' like a coupla kids, swimmin', fishin', and makin' love. Oh yeah, makin' love. Finally, we set up camp and built a fire not long b'fore the sun went down. We was sittin' there waitin' fer the fish ta cook. I asked ya if this wasn't the most beautiful place ya ever seen, and ya said almost. Felt a bit disappointed and guess I musta showed it 'cause ya leaned over and stroked m' hair. Then ya said, 'Blue sky, bluebonnets, blue water -- they don't hold a candle ta the blue in yer eyes. Don't ya know ya carry this place in yer eyes? Wherever you are is the most beautiful place I've ever seen.' Yer words made me cry, Larabee, and then . . . well, reckon them fish got a tad well-done b'fore we was fit ta eat 'em.
Woke up at sunrise the next mornin', ate breakfast, and then saddled the horses and rode away without lookin' back. Didn't need ta -- a pitcher o' that special place is burned inta m' mind, inta m' soul. It was always there from the first time I seen it, but now yer in the pitcher, and that's what really matters.
So we come back here -- come back home. Ain't never gone back. Ya asked a few times, over the years, if I wanted ta, but I said no, and I always will. Sooner or later, it'll change -- somebody'll build a house there or somethin' -- progress, ya know -- and I don't wanna see that. I buried m' past there that day, and I think you did, too. There was a new peace in ya, and I was right proud ta give ya that. You'd already given me a future I never thought ta have, but now it felt diff'rent somehow -- more . . . more . . . more solid. That ain't really the word, but I don't know what other word ta use. It's like ev'rythin' was brighter, and it's stayed that way ever since. Cain't explain it, but that's how I've felt.
Until now . . . until that fuckin' horse and yer own damn carelessness. Yer stealin' our future, ya know, the longer ya jist lie there. Day by day by day, I see it disappearin', and it makes me mad. Ya cain't do this ta me . . . ta us. Remember how I've always teased ya, callin' ya ol' man? Well, yer pushin' seventy now, but ya sure as hell ain't old. Oh, I knows we're gonna die, and chances are, yer gonna go b'fore me -- I knows that, too -- but I need ya ta tell me ag'in that ya love me and ta say goodbye.
Don't ya know that if'n ya . . . go, . . . it won't be long till I follows ya -- jist chasin' after ya like all them years ago in Texas? Tag . . . yer it . . . catch me if ya can . . . Ain't sayin' I'm gonna shoot m'self or nothin' -- ain't gonna do that. All I knows is if'n ya go like this, it'll be the death o' me. Is that blackmail? Mebbe it is, but I don't care . . . as long as it works. Always knew ya was willin' ta die fer me -- jist like I'm willin' ta do the same fer you -- but now I'm askin' ya . . . no, now I'm tellin' ya ta live fer me. Wake up, Chris, ya gotta . . . Aw, shit!
~O~O~O~O~
Sorry 'bout that . . . sorry 'bout runnin' out and leavin' ya alone, Chris. Cain't have ya wakin' up and seein' me cryin' like that . . .
Guess what! Ez brung me a present when he come this afternoon. Yeah, a real surprise. It's a book, and how's this fer a title? A Texas Cowboy; Fifteen Years on the Hurricane Deck of a Spanish Pony -- ain't that somethin'? And you'd never guess who wrote it. Charlie Siringo! Yeah, that's right, the Pinkerton man. Remember sittin' in the saloon with him eight or nine years ago? He was tryin' ta find out who done them shootin's up in Santa Fe -- don't reckon he ever did, though.
Back in October, when it was my turn ta write ta Ezra, I mentioned Charlie comin' through here this past September. He was huntin' Butch Cassidy, Kid Curry, and that Wild Bunch gang o' theirs 'cause they was wanted fer that train robbery up in Wyoming. Remember? Stopped here on his way headin' north ta Utah. It was pretty late in the afternoon, and ya said he might as well stop fer the night -- there was plenty fer supper, and he was welcome ta use the back bedroom. He said how he 'preciated the offer but only if'n he wasn't gonna be puttin' me out.
And ya said . . . ya said, 'It'll be okay -- think I can tolerate sharin' m' bed with Vin fer the night.' Lord, I thought I was gonna bust out laughin' -- couldn't hardly keep a straight face. Thank goodness ya took 'im out ta the barn so's I had a chance ta recover m' wits. Remember? Wonder if he figgered out nobody was usin' that bedroom reg'lar.
Man's sure had a whole passel o' adventures, ain't he? Settin' on the porch, drinkin' whiskey, and listenin' ta his stories -- sure was a pleasant evenin'. Anyways, I wrote 'bout all that ta Ezra, and he found a copy o' Charlie's book. I'll read ya some from it a little later. Gotta use the privy, so don't ya be goin' nowhere, ya hear? I'll try ta hurry.
~O~O~O~O~
Here I am, Chris, back ag'in. Thought I heard somethin' out back but ain't no tracks or nothin'. Still snowin' . . . them big fluffy flakes . . . ain't gonna amount ta much . . . prob'ly jist a coupla inches. Looks mighty pretty though.
Did ya ever wonder how we come ta be here? I mean, was it God . . . or fate . . . or somethin' else what brung us tagether? Me -- an innocent man with a price on m' head, and you -- a man bowed down by grief over losin' yer fam'ly. A coupla loners then -- me 'cause I was tryin' so desp'rately ta stay alive and you 'cause ya was almost courtin' death on a reg'lar basis. Who or what arranged fer them cowboys ta be tryin' ta lynch Nathan at jist that moment? Ta have you standin' by the saloon and me by Potter's Store . . . jist so's we could each look across the street and see the other. Ain't neither o' us been alone since.
Yeah, like I said b'fore, I was hurt when ya rode off that time like ya didn't care what happened ta me. Think that was when I realized I loved ya. The love was always there -- I jist didn't know that's what it was. Then all o' us got tagether ag'in, and I had ta watch as ya got closer ta Mary.
Knew I couldn't never show m' love -- knew ya didn't feel the same way. So I fell fer Charlotte, remember? I needed someone, Chris, . . . someone ta hold me in the night . . . someone ta ease m' pain. Never told ya, but at the end, Charlotte was still willin' ta run off ta Brazil with me, and I'm the one what told her no. Ya see, I'd discovered there was gonna be a big hole in m' heart -- in m' soul -- if'n I left ya. I knew ya wasn't gonna love me, but I thought it would be enough jist bein' yer friend . . . bein' with ya . . .
And then Ella Gaines come along, and ya decided ta stay with 'er. Wasn't no place there fer me or the rest o' the boys, and it hurt, Chris -- it really hurt. Besides, I didn't trust 'er, and when I told ya the truth, ya didn't wanna hear it. But it made ya suspicious, didn't it? Ya found out what really happened ta yer fam'ly, and it almost killed ya. Held ya in m' arms that day tryin' ta protect ya. Do ya know how fast m' heart was beatin' or how m' fingers tingled from touchin' yer skin?
Then we was all back here ag'in, and you was gittin' better. I was watchin' when that letter come from Ella, and Mary turned her back on ya and walked away. I stayed close after that, jist ta be there if'n ya needed me, and it seemed like ya did need me -- until Mary started pursuin' ya ag'in. Looked like ya was gittin' more int'rested in her, too -- takin' her ta dinner and goin' ta church a few times with her and Billy.
And me? Well, I was findin' out I wasn't as strong as I thought I was -- wasn't sure I could stay around jist ta be near ya. I was certain you was gonna ask Mary ta be yer wife, and I couldn't stand the thought of ya makin' love ta her -- not when I wanted ya ta be makin' love ta me.
Then one day, almost two months after ya got shot at Ella's place, ya invited Mary and Billy on a picnic. Remember? Ya hired a buggy and got Inez ta make ya some fried chicken and all the fixin's. I was watchin' when ya stopped in front o' the newspaper office ta pick 'em up. Mary come out carryin' a quilt, and Billy had his fishin' pole. Y'all got even with where I was sittin', and Billy piped up and asked, 'Can Vin come with us?' Ya told me ta go saddle m' horse and catch up if I wanted ta, and I jist nodded and headed ta the liv'ry stable. Couldn't help m'self -- jist had ta be with ya.
So there we was -- me, you, and Mary sittin' on the quilt in the shade o' them trees by the pond south o' town. 'Most all the food was gone -- not many leftovers when Inez does the cookin' -- and Billy was runnin' around playin'. Me and you was reachin' fer the last drumstick at the same time when Billy suddenly yelled fer us ta watch what he was doin'. We was both distracted, and ya ended up latchin' onta m' hand 'stead o' that there piece o' chicken.
Well, I jumped, so did you, and ya dropped the glass o' lemonade you was holdin'. Mary started scoldin' ya fer spillin' yer drink on her grandmother's quilt. I figgered it was 'bout time fer me ta head back ta town and leave ya alone. Ya didn't say nothin', and the look on Mary's face made it clear she was glad I was goin'. Billy was the only one who said he was sorry I was leavin' so soon.
So I rode back ta town. I knew I was gonna hafta rethink m' notion o' stayin' around after ya married Mary. I knew 'cause, when ya touched m' hand, I felt a jolt like I's hit by a bolt o' lightnin'. Wanted ya so bad I couldn't hardly stand it -- had ta git outta there. Always felt somethin' when I touched ya, but that day, it was . . . it was . . . jist . . . more than I ever felt b'fore -- cain't rightly explain it. Still feel that jolt, that tingle when ya touch me, 'specially when ya touch m' hair.
Didn't see ya much durin' the next week, and a hole started openin' inside o' me. Ya see, I'd pretty much decided I couldn't stick around and watch ya git married -- not like Buck stayed when ya married Sarah. Course, he wasn't in love with ya. Ya assigned me ta lotsa patrols that week, and I was gettin' real tired what with all that ridin' and not sleepin' very much 'cause o' all the thinkin' I was doin'.
Then one night I was on late patrol, and I wasn't ridin' Peso 'cause I wanted him ta be fresh in the mornin'. Me and you was supposed ta go ta Eagle Bend on business fer the judge when I got back. Remember? Well, m' horse picked up a stone and bruised his hoof real bad, so I walked 'im back the last coupla miles. Got back 'bout half an hour late and discovered ya was already gone, takin' Buck 'stead o' waitin' fer me, and that hold jist got wider and deeper. Buck returned the next day and said ya went straight ta yer cabin 'stead o' comin' back ta town.
I told m'self m' special place in Texas was callin' me . . . told m'self it was time ta clear m' name, but that wasn't completely true. No, . . . truth was it was hurtin' too much bein' 'round you and Mary and hurtin' even more when ya wasn't there. Knew ya was keepin' yer distance 'cause ya was gittin' ready ta ask Mary ta marry ya, and ya knew she wasn't too happy 'bout me hangin' around. Had ta git away, but I still wasn't absolutely sure.
So I packed up m' stuff and headed out here ta yer cabin -- couldn't leave without sayin' goodbye. Ya see, I had ta know that, if'n I did clear m' name, I'd be able ta come back here, at least fer a visit. We shared too much over those coupla years fer me ta break things off completely. Besides, ya once said you'd go ta Tascosa with me, so I had ta ask if'n ya still wanted ta go. Knew ya was gonna say no, but I guess I needed ta hear ya say it ta give me the strength ta really ride away. Don't know what I'd've done if'n ya said yes -- never have figgered that out.
The door was open, and you was sittin' inside drinkin' when I got there. I walked up ta the table, told ya I was leavin' fer Tascosa, and asked if'n ya wanted ta come along. Remember? Ya finished yer drink, starin' at me, and said no, jist like I'd expected. Yeah, I'd been expectin' yer answer, but, God, it hurt ta hear ya say that word, 'specially when ya said it so fast and sounded so certain.
I nodded, said I jist wanted ta say goodbye, and started ta turn away, duckin' m' head 'cause I didn't want ya ta see the tears in m' eyes. Whatever happened in Tascosa -- and right then I didn't care if'n they hung me -- I knew I was never gonna see ya ag'in -- was never comin' back here -- and m' heart was breakin'. Ya were m' best friend, Chris, the man I loved, and the other half o' m' soul -- and I was sayin' goodbye ferever.
'No, I ain't goin' with ya ta Tascosa,' ya said, jist rubbin' salt in the wound. Had m' back turned and never sensed ya movin'. Next thing I knowed, you was grabbin' m' jacket and whirlin' me around. 'And you ain't goin' ta Tascosa neither!' ya yelled, slammin' me inta the wall by the door. Think I yelled at ya, askin' ya who the hell ya thought ya were, and I knows I tried ta push ya away.
Remember? But you was pressin' ag'inst me -- chest ta knees -- and all I could feel was yer body. I could smell the whiskey on yer breath and had ta close m' eyes. M' head was spinnin' like I'd been drinkin' m'self, and I thought I was gonna pass out. Then ya let go o' m' jacket, grabbed ahold o' m' hair, and . . . kissed me . . . hard, forcin' yer tongue inta m' mouth. When ya stopped, I'd've slid right down that there wall if'n ya hadn't been leanin' ag'inst me. M' eyes flew open, and all I could see was yer face right in front o' me. Ya let go o' m' hair and cupped m' face in yer hands.
'Ya ain't goin' ta Tascosa,' ya repeated, real quiet-like. Then ya set yer lips ag'inst mine, and that kiss was so gentle . . . so tender . . . so full o' love, m' eyes filled with tears, and I knew . . . I wasn't goin' ta Tascosa. I jist put m' arms 'round ya and held on fer dear life.
But it wasn't jist m' life, was it? It was yers as well. Ya always trusted me ta watch yer back, but now ya was puttin' yer whole life -- yer whole future -- in m' hands. I mean, ya had no idea how I'd react when ya kissed me. Coulda pulled m' gun and shot ya -- hell, coulda used yer own gun hangin' on the peg by the door. Then I coulda jist rode away, back ta town or wherever, with nobody the wiser. Woulda been days b'fore anybody come out ta check on ya. Who'd ever suspect me?
That kiss was offerin' me yer love, . . . yer life, . . . ev'rythin' I ever wanted . . . ev'rythin' I ever dreamed o' havin' and never thought I could.
Ya leaned back then and used yer thumbs ta wipe away m' tears ever so gently. I looked in yer eyes, and I jist 'bout drowned in all the love shinin' there. Then uncertainty and . . . fear began ta edge in -- never seen fear in yer eyes b'fore. 'Say something, dammit!' ya demanded. Remember?
But I didn't, did I? Decided ta show ya instead. So I pulled ya close ag'in and kissed ya with all the love I'd been holdin' inside fer almost two years. When we finally broke apart, there was a fire in yer eyes that was the most excitin' thing I ever seen in m' whole life. Then ya grinned -- barin' yer teeth like a wolf what's jist seen the rabbit he's gonna have fer dinner.
Well, if'n I was gonna be yer dinner, you was gonna be m' dessert. Then ya was kissin' me, tuggin' m' jacket off, and I was tryin' ta undo the buttons on yer shirt. Heard the door slam and then we was kinda staggerin' over ta the bed. Clothes off . . . tumblin' on the bed . . . and a few minutes later, it was all over. Remember?
Yeah, that first time was fast and furious -- we was like starvin' men findin' a morsel o' food. In a way, I guess we were -- neither o' us had been with anybody we cared for in a long time. When our hearts stopped racin' and our breathin' slowed, we looked at each other in amazement. Did I . . .? Did you . . .? Did we jist . . .?
And then we started touchin' . . . and tastin' . . . and learnin' each other's body -- what parts was ticklish and what gave pleasure. Remember makin' love slow and easy and oh-so-satisfyin'? Every time with you is like discoverin' somethin' new and returnin' ta home ground all at the same time. Sometimes, when we're lyin' tagether, I hafta wonder -- is that leg mine or which arm belongs ta me. Yer part o' me, Chris -- part o' m' very soul -- and I cain't stand the thought o' losin' that. We both fell asleep right afterwards -- reckon neither o' us had been gittin' much sleep.
Don't know what woke me up that day, but I suddenly remembered Peso'd been left tied up out front fer hours. So I slid outta bed real careful-like and put on m' pants and boots. Picked up m' shirt and the rest o' the clothes trailin' across the floor, but nobody was gonna be wearin' that garment ag'in. Yer shirt wasn't much better off -- reckon neither o' us had the patience ta handle the buttons when rippin' 'em off was so much faster. Good thing I brung m' stuff with me -- woulda raised a few eyebrows in town if'n we'd ridden in with me wearin' one o' yer shirts.
Anyways, I went out ta put Peso up in the barn. Remember that ornery, stubborn ol' mule? Sure wasn't happy I'd fergotten 'im fer so long -- got me a few nips b'fore I got 'im took care of. Fed and watered Pony fer ya while I was at it, too. Peso and Pony -- sure was mighty fine horses.
I walked back inside, and there ya were -- sittin' on the side o' the bed, elbows on yer knees, and yer head in yer hands. I remember sayin' yer name, kneelin' in front o' ya, and pullin' yer hands down, askin' ya what was wrong 'cause ya was cryin'. Ya called out m' name and slid off the bed so ya was kneelin', too, and then ya grabbed me and hugged me so tight I couldn't hardly breathe. Ya jist kept sayin' m' name over and over and over, touchin' me and strokin' m' hair. Remember?
It hurts me even now, after all these years, ta know what ya was thinkin' when ya woke up, and I wasn't there. Had ya been dreamin' or had I really been there? Had I run off and abandoned ya? I's so sorry, Chris -- ya knows I never meant fer that ta happen -- never thought ya could think I'd leave ya like that.
But it all turned out okay, didn't it? I mean, here we are almost thirty years later, still tagether, still lovin' each other. And ya knows we could be lovin' fer more years ta come if'n ya would jist wake up. Cain't ya do that fer me, Cowboy? I's beggin' ya . . .
Guess yer not ready ta wake up jist yet, so I'll try ta keep talkin'. Was remindin' ya 'bout when we first got tagether. Stayed out here fer three days, remember? Lovin', laughin', talkin' -- never had nothin' like that b'fore. First thing I wanted ta know was when -- when had ya figgered out ya loved me 'cause I never saw nothin'. Ya said it was at the picnic when ya accidentally grabbed m' hand -- I wasn't the only one feelin' like I'd been hit by lightnin' that day. And when Mary scolded ya fer spillin' yer lemonade, . . . well, ya realized ya jist couldn't see yerself spendin' the rest o' yer life with her. All ya wanted ta do was ride after me, but o' course, ya couldn't do that.
Ya couldn't b'lieve what ya was feelin' towards me -- kept denyin' it ta yerself. So ya sent me out on all them patrols and tried ta avoid spendin' time with me -- like when ya took Buck with ya ta Eagle Bend -- but ya jist ended up missin' me somethin' fierce. Ya come out here ta try and decide what ya was gonna do, and then I showed up out o' the blue, ready ta say goodbye. So ya made yer move, and I'm thankful ev'ry day I come out here and that ya had the guts ta do what ya did, 'cause I sure didn't.
We had plans ta make, too, 'cause we didn't really know how ta handle what was happenin'. I don't mean the lovin' -- that was rock solid -- no, the problem was whether ta stay or go somewhere else and what ta tell the rest of the boys if'n we stayed. Wasn't hard in the end, was it? We stayed and didn't say nothin' ta nobody.
When we rode back inta town, the boys was all worried 'cause they'd discovered I was gone. Ya jist told 'em ya asked me ta come out here ta talk business. Said ya asked me ta go pardners with ya in the ranch and ta start buildin' up the horse business 'cause we wasn't gonna be peacekeepers ferever. Ya even told 'em we'd started expandin' the cabin so's it'd be fit fer the two o' us livin' there. And we had -- 'cept there wasn't a whole lotta work that got done in those few days 'cause we was takin' all kinds o' int'restin' . . . breaks. The boys dragged us off ta the saloon ta celebrate and ta make plans on how they was all gonna help us. Remember?
They really have helped with the ranch, haven't they? Yer cabin is still here, but they's been so much added on, ya'd never know it. You, me, and Buck started chasin' after wild horses -- buildin' up a herd -- then breedin' and trainin' solid, dependable animals. Sellin' ta the Army -- that helped an awful lot. And by the time we stopped keepin' the peace, there was more'n enough work out here ta keep us busy. Folk was comin' from all over jist ta git one o' our horses, and they still do.
Ya don't usually make a mistake when it comes ta horseflesh, 'cept fer that damn Gideon. Shoulda put 'im down the day he was born! Always was a wild one, but he's long gone now -- and the damage is done, ain't it?
Did ya ever wonder what the boys think about us -- if'n they know? I mean, none o' them ever said a word 'bout us bein' tagether, and we ain't never said nothin' ta them. Ez knows -- that's obvious -- but ya know, I'm still curious 'bout the rest. Course, it don't make no diff'rence, not now, but it's jist somethin' I's always wondered about.
Do ya know what m' favorite time is, Chris? It's in the evenin' with me and you in the sittin' room, mebbe a fire goin' in the fireplace -- you in yer easy chair and me sittin' on the floor leanin' ag'inst yer leg. One or the other o' us is readin' out loud -- a book, the newspaper, or one o' Ezra's letters. Sooner or later, ya reach out and touch m' head -- pettin' and strokin' m' hair -- and that old familiar tingle starts in m' scalp and works its way down ta m' toes. After awhile, yer finger starts outlinin' m' ear, m' temp'rature starts ta climb and not much readin' gits done after that. Happens two or three times a week, and I's sure missin' it, so ya gotta wake up and make up fer lost time.
Ya know, Buck asked me, not so long ago, how come I didn't finally cut m' hair. Jist smiled and said I's used ta it thisaway -- sure ain't gonna tell 'im the real reason, now am I?
It's long past midnight, Cowboy, and I'm gittin' kinda hoarse. Gonna hafta stop ta rest m' voice in a little while, but I gotta talk ta somebody else fer a few minutes if'n that's all right with you.
Lord, I ain't never been one ta talk ta Ya much, leastwise not direct-like. Always thanked Ya, though, fer Yer creations -- the mountains and valleys, the sunrises and sunsets, the eagle soarin' on high -- all the things Ya made fer me ta enjoy. Most of all, Lord, I've thanked Ya fer puttin' this man in m' life ta take away m' loneliness and give me love.
A wicked, wicked woman broke Yer commandments and destroyed his fam'ly. Now I know that was part o' Yer plan and all, but it was a cruel thing ta do. I also b'lieve it's been part o' Yer plan fer me ta come inta his life ta help ease his pain and make him whole ag'in.
If'n it's part o' Yer plan ta take him now . . . well, Thy will be done, but I'm kneelin' here, bowin' m' head on this bed, askin' Ya ta reconsider and spare his life. Chris Larabee is a good man who's helped a lot o' folks -- jist ask anybody 'round here, and they'll tell ya.
Lord, do Ya really need him right now? 'Cause if'n Ya don't, I do. Ya know, I's kept m' hair long all these years 'cause he loves it thisaway. And I love it when he runs his fingers through m' hair -- it eases all m' ev'ryday aches and pains and relieves m' weariness. I jist been remindin' Chris 'bout that.
So I'm askin', Lord -- let Chris wake up. Let me see his eyes open and filled with life and love. I need ta feel his hand on m' head, strokin' m' hair . . . yeah, jist like that, Lord, . . . strokin' m' hair . . . strokin' . . .
Chris?
CHRIS!