The Long Trail Home (20 page)

“But . . . but . . . I didn't even know there was a wedding. Honest.”

“And the story about the telephone exchange?”

“It's all true! I had no idea in the world about the wedding until you told me.”

“Well, it's true that Rebekah Fortune is my best friend. There hasn't been a holiday in five years that Amber and I haven't spent with your family. And, I might add, there hasn't been a holiday that your name wasn't mentioned and prayers said on your behalf.”

“Then you know about me?”

“Yes, I do. But you have no idea about me,” she replied. “Are you going to tell your sister you're here?”

“Did you tell her I'm here when you took Amber to meet with the others?”

“I told no one. I wasn't absolutely positive about your identity until I saw your tears over the twin's names. No one but family would shed a tear over that.”

Just then the processional began. “I don't want to spoil the wedding. I'll wait until later,” he said.

Sam didn't look back as the bridesmaids came down the aisle. He studied the face of the grinning young man in the black suit standing next to the preacher at the front of the church. “Is that the groom?” he whispered.

“Yes, that's Carty,” Abigail replied.

“How old is he: Sixteen?”

She poked him in the ribs. “He's twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one? He can't be twenty-one!”

She put a warm finger on his lips to silence him. “Yes he is, and he's an assistant store manager.”

“At that age? Who would be foolish enough to do that?”

“Your brother, Todd.”

“He's the assistant manager at Fortune & Son?”

“Yes, and he's quite a good worker, I hear.”

Sam was still taking it all in when Rebekah Fortune stood up at the change of processional tunes. The congregation stood, too, and gazed back up the aisle. Sam stood, but he stared forward at the faces of Todd and Robert.
You've gotten a lot older, boys. Haven't we all. But if you're both up there, who's givin' the bride away?

Sam spun around and was startled to see a beautiful young woman dressed in a flowing, white silk gown. Her eyes focused on her trembling hands that carried a bouquet of white daisies. Her chin slightly pointed; nose, round; cheeks, perfectly smooth.

Sam tried to swallow but found a huge lump in his throat.
Dacee June, you look just like Mama! I had no idea. You're . . . you're so grown up. What are you doin' marryin' that . . . that kid?

He watched her expression as she glanced over at the man by her side.

His hair was solid gray. His face, tan and wrinkled at the eyes. His chin, proud. His large mustache drooped. His tie was crooked. His eyes danced as they looked into hers.

“Daddy?” Sam blurted out.

Abigail flinched.

The crowd grew silent.

The organist continued to play.

The bride and her father searched the aisle.

Then Dacee June dropped her bouquet and her father's arm and shouted, “Sammy! I just knew you'd be here!” She ran down the aisle dragging her silk dress.

The crowd gasped.

The organ stopped.

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips on his. For a minute she wouldn't let go. He could feel her warm tears flow down his cheek and mingle with his. When she pulled back, the crowd remained completely quiet.

With a voice that sounded more twelve than twenty-one, the groom called out, “Dacee June?”

She bounced on her toes and grinned when she looked around at the astonished crowd, “It's all right, everybody—this is my brother!”

The congregation burst into applause as Brazos walked over to Sam.

“Thanks for coming to li'l sis's wedding.” Brazos offered his hand.

Sam grabbed it, and his father didn't let go.

“I'm glad you got the invitation,” Brazos added.

“I . . . I didn't get an invitation. . . . I didn't even know it was today. . . . I didn't even know I was comin',” Sam mumbled.

“Didn't you get my package?”

“I got your carbine. There was no invitation, no note, no letter . . . just the gun.”

Brazos nodded. His eyes pierced straight into Sam's heart. “That's all I sent.”

“You just sent me the gun and expected me to show up?”

“Son, what could I say in a letter that I haven't said in twelve years? I just sent the gun.”

“And you figured I would come to Deadwood?”

“I was right, wasn't I?”

“But . . . but . . . I . . . this is . . .”

Brazos still didn't let go—he pulled his son close and threw his arm around his shoulders.

Suddenly, two strong men grabbed Sam and pulled him aside.

“Just like you to get the first kiss from the bride!” Todd gibed.

“How did you get so old?” Sam prodded.

“Me? I've always been old, remember? How about you with all that gray hair?”

“It's all those nights worryin' about you two,” Sam laughed.

“Us?” Robert countered. “We're all surprised that you're alive.”

Sam lowered his eyes and murmured, “So am I, boys. So am I.” He glanced up and put his hands on his little brother's shoulders. “General Fortune, you look mighty good in that uniform.”

“Captain Fortune,” Robert corrected.

“They sewed the uniform on him, and he can't take if off 'til he dies,” Todd joshed. “Jamie Sue says he takes a bath with that thing on.”

Robert continued to stand at near attention. “Can you believe it, Sammy, I'm thirty-one years old, and he still torments me like that?”

“If you boys have finished ruinin' li'l sis's wedding, we could at least get on with the vows,” Brazos insisted.

Todd motioned for Sam to join them up front. “We'll squeeze over and make room for you.”

Sam glanced back at Abigail Gordon, who nodded for him to go ahead.

“I'm fine right here, boys. You see, I brought Mrs. Gordon with me as my date, and I don't want to abandon her.”

“Abby?” Todd laughed, “Sammy, how long have you been in town?”

“About two hours.”

“And you already have a date with the most beautiful, eligible woman in town?”

“Two hours?” Robert grinned. “Todd, I do believe Sammy's slowing down with age!”

The brothers laughed.

The women cried.

The organ resumed.

The children squirmed.

The preacher said some important words.

The vows were said.

The ring was given.

And a very nervous twenty-one-year-old man kissed a smiling twenty-one-year-old woman on the cheek.

A noisy reception at the ballroom of the Merchant's Hotel followed the wedding. After dancing with young Amber Gordon, Sam Fortune spent the first hour being introduced to his sisters-in-law, nephews, and nieces. Finally he walked Abigail and a very tired Amber Gordon home, then toted Dacee June's wedding present back with him. After having the bride draped around his neck for a good thirty minutes, Sam scooted out to the front porch of the hotel where he spotted Todd sitting alone on the railing.

“You feelin' like the older brother in the prodigal story?” Sam asked.

Todd laughed light and easy. “Not me, Sammy. It has been a very good day. I haven't seen Daddy this relaxed since Brownsville. I don't know if he's happier to see you—or to let some other man take responsibility for li'l sis.”

“I'm surprised he let her go.”

“He'll be sixty-one his next birthday, Sam. She's a very enthusiastic young lady. I think he was getting a little worn out.”

“I have to admit, it has been a great day,” Sam confessed. “I didn't know what would be waitin' for me up here. The Lord has been good to me.”

Todd studied Sam's eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“Yep.”

Todd loosened his tie and unfastened the top button of his white shirt. “This day has turned out so good, it's fretful.”

“I know what you mean, big brother. Let's enjoy it while we can.”

Todd studied him head to toe. “You look good, Sam. I figured . . . you know, after you being in prison and all.”

Sam Fortune pushed his hat back and rubbed the back of his neck. “You knew about that?”

“I heard you were in prison, but I didn't know which one . . . or which state.”

“Did Daddy know?”

“I didn't tell him. We never talked about it. But I think he suspected as much.”

“How did you find out?” Sam asked.

“After that dime novel about me came out, we had—”

“A what? You had a dime novel written about you?”

“It's mostly all lies, of course. I'll give you a copy so you can laugh about it.”

“What's it called?”

“Now you're embarrassing me.”

“I'll find out sooner or later.”

“It's called
The Flying Fist of Deadwood Gulch
.”

Samuel chuckled.

“Anyways, after it came out, we had a number of men come through claiming to be pards of yours down in the Territory.”

“I reckon they all wanted handouts.”

“Mostly.”

“And what did Mr. Flying Fist do with them?”

“Daddy bought them all a meal, no matter how ridiculous the story.”

Robert sauntered out on the porch. “What are you two planning?”

“Come sit a spell, General Fortune,” Sam invited. “I just heard about big brother's dime novel.”

Robert scooted up next to the rail, placing Sam in the middle. “He's an inspiration to us all.”

“All right, you two. Hawthorne Miller said he would write the story whether I gave him any facts or not—I tried to explain things.”

“Did I tell you I met Miller down in Arizona at Stuart Brannon's ranch?” Robert said.

“Brannon? You're a friend of Brannon's?” Sam questioned.

“Me and forty other soldiers met him one day.”

“Is he a big man? I heard he's big man,” Sam commented.

“He's about Todd's height—but stronger, of course. Todd's always been the weakling,” Robert teased.

“Yeah, Bobby, but he does have the ‘flying fist'! None of the rest of us have that,” Sam joined.

“All right, you can both quit acting like—”

“Brothers?” Robert completed.

“Bobby,” Sam said, “do you remember the time that Todd taught us the flyin' dismount?”

“Was that the time he taught us how to dig a ditch with our noses?” Robert recalled.

“Nope.” Sam stood and threw an arm around the shoulders of each of his brothers. “I'm thinkin' about how he would organize us into a Texas Ranger posse, with him as captain, of course. He must have been about ten, and I was nine—”

“I must have been six,” Robert calculated.

“We reined up next to the Garcia Barranca . . . and he tumbled right out of the saddle. He just picked himself up, brushed off his hat, and said, ‘Now, that's the way to have a flying dismount, men.'”

Brazos Fortune strolled up while the three were still arm in arm. “Is this a private matter, or can an old man join in?”

“I'm glad you came along, Daddy. Your youngest sons were ganging up on me,” Todd said.

Brazos stood next to his three sons and gazed out on the street. “Well, that's different. It seems to me most of the fights were when you and Bobby ganged up on Sammy.”

“As I recall, I usually deserved it,” Sam Fortune admitted.

Brazos surveyed the crowded ballroom. A lively fiddle orchestra played. “Li'l sis looks happy, doesn't she?”

“Maybe she'll stop tormenting Carty now,” Todd added. Then he grinned, “Probably not.”

“He's a brave man,” Robert concurred. “Maybe a little naïve . . .”

“I'll tell you what's a tad naïve,” Brazos said—“having Sam here own a telephone exchange. Hard to imagine you as a businessman.”

“Me? How about you, Daddy? A prosperous store owner and enjoyin' it.”

“I've prospered, but I've never enjoyed one day of it.”

“You getting restless, Daddy?” Robert pressed.

“Maybe. . . . Somethin' about havin' an empty house after all these years. Not that I want to move. This is home. But maybe it's time for the four of us to saddle up and go huntin' for a day or two, providin' Mr. Telephone Exchange can spare the time.”

“I'm ready,” Sam replied. “You want to leave tonight or in the morning?”

“Whoa. I'll have to check with Jamie Sue and the kids,” Robert cautioned. “I've only got another week before we all have to be back in Arizona.”

“I can't get away. With Dacee June and Carty gone on a honeymoon, I'll have to be at the store,” Todd explained. “Besides, Rebekah just told me she was expectin' again, so I can count on a sick mama for a while.”

“When that lady made up her mind to have children, she didn't hesitate,” Robert razzed.

Brazos shrugged. “That's good news. Keeps an old man lookin' forward. Maybe we can try it later in the year. Bobby, why don't you get up in the fall before it snows too much, and we'll do some elk huntin'. I was just thinkin' it would be nice for the four us to do something together.”

“I doubt if I can get back up here before Christmas,” Robert said.

A large, unshaven man rode a mule straight up on the wooden boardwalk in front of them. “Say, do any of you men know a Sam Fortune?” he bellowed.

“I'm Sam.”

“There's an ol' boy from Dodge City down at the Piedmont Saloon. Said he was lookin' for ya and gave me two cash dollars to deliver the message. No one down there knew there was a ‘Sam' Fortune. Anyways, if I were you, I wouldn't turn my back on him, if you get my drift. He looks like he's tryin' to rile himself up for a fight.”