by Joyce Armor
“Jenna!”
She turned her head and saw her father walking unsteadily toward her, using a cane. He was holding a rifle. She had not even seen his carriage approach. And then behind him she spied the sheriff and another odd man in a bowler hat.
“Father! Oh, thank heavens!”
He looked somehow both joyful and rueful at the same time. “I had to shoot him. He would have killed you.”
“You shot Carter? I thought I got him with my knife.”
Bodie looked at the sheriff, who was checking for vital signs on Carter. He shook his head. He also pointed to the knife, which was on the ground several feet from the body.
Rexwell Dunne, who was dressed expensively in a finely tailored black waistcoat, crisp white shirt and black trousers, had the gray pallor of a dying man. He looked from his daughter to Bodie. A lesser man than the young rancher might have been intimidated that Jenna apparently came from money. However, that’s not what he was feeling at that particular moment. He was feeling tenderness. That’s when the rancher realized he was still holding the young woman, and still reluctant to let her go. “Who is this?” her father asked.
Jenna smiled. “This is my…This is Bodie Farnham. He took care of me after Carter shot me and threw me off the train. He saved my life.”
“What she meant to say, Mr. Dunne, is that I’m a successful rancher in these parts and I’m your daughter’s fiancé.”
Rex looked stunned. He turned his eyes on Jenna. “Is this true?”
She looked at her father and then at Bodie and then back at her father. She smiled. “Yes.”
Bodie’s heart just about burst, and he instantly knew the truth. He loved her. She was his Abby. Or rather his Jenna. This was not the time or the place to tell her, though. He waited for her father to object to the betrothal. It never happened. When Bodie looked up at the older man, he was smiling broadly. For a brief moment, it made him look almost healthy.
Once they got Jenna—it would take a while for Bodie to get used to that name—on her feet and determined she truly was uninjured, the sheriff and Rexwell Dunne followed Bodie and his beloved fiancée back to the ranch while the man in the bowler hat, a railroad detective, Sheriff Langdon told them, took Carter Dunne’s body to the undertaker in Medicine Bow.
Both Rexwell Dunne and his daughter felt sadness at what Carter’s life had become and how he had died. He had made his own poor decisions, however, and while Rex had regrets on how he had raised his son, he knew he had not driven him to attempted murder. That was his own doing.
Mrs. Glines returned to the ranch shortly after the others, and they all watched as Aurelia Farnham and the still rustling Caroline left the ranch in a huff, with Dex elected to drive them to the train station. He purposely had not told her his fiancée came from a wealthy and prominent New York family. He would save that news for later. She had refused to speak to Bodie other than to give a very insincere thank-you for his hospitality.
“She’ll get over it,” Bodie said to Mrs. Glines as they watched the carriage wend its way down the road, knowing in his heart he was done tiptoeing around his mother.
It was almost as if a black cloud had left the premises, and it wasn’t long before those remaining enjoyed fresh biscuits and coffee. The sheriff took statements from Bodie, Jenna and her father and then departed. Rex was chatting with Mrs. Glines when Bodie grabbed Jenna’s hand and pulled her from the table. The older couple didn’t even notice when they left the room.
In the foyer, Bodie turned and kissed Jenna with all the passion burgeoning inside him. And then he pulled back, holding onto her upper arms. “Now that we know you’re an heiress, you’re too good for me, Abby…I mean, Jenna. You should know, though, that I love you, and if you’ll have me, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy and keep you safe.”
“You mean you want to be engaged for real?” She looked at the ring shining on her left hand.”
“I know the ring isn’t much…”
“Bodie Farnham. I love this ring. It’s perfect. Don’t you dare criticize it.” Then she smiled. “And I love you, too.”
They were married the following week by the north fork of the stream that Bodie renamed Abby’s Creek in her honor. Her trunks had arrived, and she wore a beautiful cream-colored gown with delicate lace. Mrs. Glines, the ranch hands, the sheriff and his wife and several other folks from town attended the simple ceremony. Rexwell Dunne proudly gave the bride away. Aurelia Farnham was invited to the wedding but chose not to attend. Bodie felt a sadness about that, more for her than for him.
The dying man stayed on at the ranch, finding a contentment he had rarely known during his working years. He lived almost two more months, long enough to know that his daughter and her fine husband were expecting their first child. He didn’t miss the irony that Carter’s perfidy had indirectly brought about this miracle. His last words, as he passed peacefully into the next life, were “It’s a girl.”
And it was.
* * *
About the Author
Award-winning scribe Joyce Armor is a former television writer (“The Love Boat,” “WKRP in Cincinnati,” “Remington Steele”) and the author of numerous books, ranging from romance novels to parenting and humor books and a combination thereof. Her credits also include hundreds of newspaper and magazine columns and articles, children’s poetry and several produced plays. The mother of two grown sons, she lives in Mentor, Ohio, with her current soulmate, Darby, an Aussie/spaniel mix, and spends much of her non-reading, non-writing time walking/running/getting dragged by the dog.
Email: [email protected]